fuck lily…i know what dry saliva smells like. i forgot to tell you 19:23Lily hahha ok good 19:23Christopher my own brand. wasn’t so bad. but there was a definite pong. 19:23Christopher is offline. 19:25Christopher is online. 19:25Lily haha, did you do some kissing recently? some sloppy kissing 19:26Christopher no, thats what i said, my own brand. i think i might have just done some dribbling…again but i was outside 7-11 though 19:28Lily LOL 19:28Christopher ‘atta boy 19:28Lily this interaction is worthy of online publishing 19:28Christopher if only 19:28Lily Chris, I could blog it just give me the go ahead and I’ll do it 19:30Christopher i don’t know what that really means. twitter? 19:30Lily no, i have blog 19:31Christopher well then do it
About a week ago I smoked a cigarette for the first time in 8 years. I practice restraint with cigarettes as a means of control, it is like the healthy person’s anorexia. Anyway I get a real kick out of denying myself this sinful pleasure but last week I had a “fuck it” moment. Apparently Adam took a picture of it, he also gave me the smoke and lighter. In attempts to put an end to my new party trick which consists of me saying “hey friend i smoked last week” and then actually doing it, I’ve put this pic up here so i can refer to it rather than demonstrate it.
As I prepare cover letters again for the old job search, I am reminded of the last time I applied for an office job. Under the disillusion that working in an office is non stop pranking with your soulmate at the expense of a plethora of unaware comedic individuals, last year I landed an office job with much enthusiasm. After two days of finding the novelty in every life credo clad mug and telling everyone that “I hate mondays” I soon realized the pain that encrusts office life. The individuals that were sitcom fodder were just plain annoying and depressing and there was definately no sign of any sort of Jim/Tim (british or american) figure there to save my soul. I found lunch to be the most painful, there was one guy from IT who seemed to be given the same lunch break as me and thus we were forced to mingle. After a day or two we had exhausted almost every topic that he was capable of handling. His command of conversation seemed to rival none other than an eight year old’s and therefore we were doomed to discuss how many siblings we had, what hollywood blockbusters we had seen in the theatre and of course pets. Here is an example of what I was forced to endure over sandwichs and fruit cups:
Guy: so like do you have pets?
Lily: ya, cats
Guy: O wow, so like do you have to walk them?
Lily: No you don’t have to walk cats, i think that is dogs that you are thinking about.
Guy: So you just leave them and they walk themselves? they must be pretty smart to know where they live.
Lily: ya i guess. so what about you, do you have any pets?
Guy: ya birds
Lily: what kind of birds?
Guy: I don’t know
Lily: How many do you have?
Guy: o like a lot
Lily: All in one cage?
Guy: No they just fly around
Lily: Why do you have so many birds?
Guy: cos they are the cheapest thing at the pet store, and they are so cheap so i just figured i buy a lot of them.
That is like buying 20,000 paper clips just because you have a fifty dollar bill in your wallet.
Remember when YM had those most embarrassing stories section? They were mostly about getting your period on your crushes face or accidentally shitting your dress while accepting the prom queen award.
I waited my whole teenhood for something like this to happen and much to my surprise my shit and blood never let loose on to my crushes face. Yay!
However, as an adult (young adult?) i have the most irrational bouts of humiliation. One of them being renting movies. Yep, whenever i walk into a rental zone i have this nervous and self conscious shuffle around the store. I hate the idea that people are aware of the fact that i don’t know how to download movies or tv shows. Every time I slam down another disc of freaks and geeks for 8$ I can just hear the clerks internal dialogue “smarten up, yo, dawg, you are in your 20s, go home to your mac book and download this shit on your own, and omg are you actually looking on the staff pics wall? Are you retarded and don’t know any cult film blogs”. I just want to crawl into a hole and die! Especially when it is a clerk that i have a crush on.
I tend to panic when things are too perfect. I’m not a religious person however i do believe that there is an angel constantly hovering over me, or perhaps perpetually rollerblading two chevrons back. In any case this angel will give me one opportunity to strike on the immaculate fate that she (he?) has aligned for me. This perfection only strikes once and it struck today. Of course I fucked up. I thrive under chaos and imperfection and apparently choke under angel alignment. Anyway, as I am sure you can guess this has to do with a guy. I am sitting by the Oakville waterfront on a bench reading a book. Now, no offense Oakville, but you are not exactly the babe capital of the world, you are more the kind of place that your mom agrees to drive all the way out to so that she can teach you how to drive. Due to the fact that you are filled with retired people and babies. So you can imagine my astonishment when this image of perfection gets off his 60’s motorcycle and saunters into my waterside view and parks himself down on a rock meters away from me with a book. Now all of a sudden there appears to be a male counterpart to me. We are the male and female version of whimsy and romance stationed just meters away from each other. Where did he come from? He clearly just rode his motor bike from Brooklyn or Paris and thought “After this long journey from Brooklyn, i will stop in Oakville, find myself a wife, and continue on to Toronto, but first that potential wife must assert herself on me”. And so I sat there behind him on the bench and panicked for 30 minutes trying to think of the perfect opener. I couldn’t do it, the fact that it was too obvious that we should get married was really impeding my opener. I mean two good looking people both reading, both sitting by the water in the middle of nowhere, aaahhh! And more and more time went by, and then he got up and looked at me and I diverted my eyes, i couldn’t confront the perfection and serendipity. Now, I have no problem talking to gentlemen in imperfect settings. But it is those ultra romantic meetings that really mess me up. Like at the grocery store when your hands meet grasping the same organic tonic water, or at a wedding when he’s the groom’s best friend and you are the wify’s. I just find it so embarrassing.
If that wasn’t bad enough, my mom forced a delay on the lesson for 45 mins because she said driving while feeling lovesick regret is a hazard.
The 45 mins allowed us to think of the openers that could have been:
1. You look a little pensive, you aren’t going to commit suicide are you?
2. That’s a sweet ride, how long did it take you to get here from what I assume is Paris?
3. I love you
4. You are too goodlooking why are you in Oakville?
My Response to “Explain the Boogie Boarder Inside Joke”
Ok Boogie Boarders. Hmmm…ok warning this utterly retarded. I’ve always had this fear about being reduced to a headline, i might have mentioned this to you before. The whole “teens die in car wreck” headline scenerio? More specifically the fear lies in how headlines reduce you to have a certain identity based on a very abstract detail about your life “teen dies, loving mother dies, cyclist dies…” so by this logic if you died boogie boarding you would be commemorated as and forever remembered as “boogie boarder dies in horrific wave crash” and on top of that, if you are under the age of 40, it would most likely be “teen boogie boarder”. So ya, the inside joke started with that and was solidified by some other events which are as follows. In Dawson, a whole bunch of different people get to meet. And basically people all group, and judge each other based on their respective sub cultures. It isn’t as bad as it could be, but of course people are human and do judge to a certain extent. With this comes, all sorts of retarded statements from people. Like people asking you if you are indie or hippie. Or people start questions like, well as a hippie you must… So ya this hippie girl was complaining about how everyone judges her and i was all like ya, no one understands what it is really like to be a boogie boarder. So whenever someone asks if i am a hipster, or indie or whatever i explain to them that i self identify as a boogie boarder. She obviously didn’t get it because she is a hippie and hippies are not funny. The reason why it is an inside joke with myself is that no one is impressed, yet i keep returning to the boogie boarder gag
On Solstice everyone climbs to the top of the mountain to watch the sun never set. I didn’t go because i was “tired”. I know lamest excuse ever. However, my sweater did go and it had the time of its life, here it is basking in the omni-present midnight sun. Sure it came back dirty and stretched out, but it was worth it wasn’t it little sweater?
They even have Perez Hilton up here in the Great White North. Like O My God leave me alone.
This is said shack. I live here, here in this shack. Rent is surprisingly expensive. It is $380 per room. Don and Lauren live in the van. Some exciting features of this shack:
- My leg went through the wall of the shower during a routine shave
- There is no lease but there are certain obligations that come with renting, such as mandatory parties that the renters have no say in
- Local teenagers make fun of me for living there, i caught some peeing in our tepid pond water, and they said “whatever guy, you live in the crack shack”. Local teens also made fun of my radio show, and walked by shouting “why don’t you play better music”. Apparently teenagers hate me and i care. And apparently teenagers do not talk amongst themselves because it just so happens that one teenager said i was the only “datable girl” in town. Make up your minds teenagers, do you like me or not?!
- The town refers to it is as the crack shack, apparently because there are so many cracks in the wall
- A fun roomate game is gathering around the kitchen and trying to figure out “where that smell is coming from”. We still don’t know!
- All in all, it is my home and i love it. We are looking for a new roomate, spread the word.