Oh the pressures of being an internationally acclaimed diarist, orator and wit....
Last night I saw a dog get hit by a car. It was really traumatic/terrible but the dog walked away from it... after a while. And two crackheads got called "fucking idiots" - one was the dog's owner, one was "just trying to fuckin help!!!"
The jury's still out of whether or not the dog was on crack- causing him to walk out into the street when a cab was coming. Dale suggested he was looking for cigarette butts.
Today I'm supposed to go apply for EI but like... I honestly can't remember the last time I worked, and where and for who- and that is the type of thing those people ALWAYS want to know. Like shit. I'm a designer. Why don't I just design a big bag of money and Photoshop it onto my doorstep. The same doorstep where my Winsor Pilates tapes should be arriving any week now.
Dude. My 5 yr high school reunion is in 32 days and I need to lose 20 pounds. I am not exactly sure how I am going to achieve this but I'm hoping our increasingly thin-obsessed society and ruthless fashion media can give me an eating disorder like they are supposed to. Just like how playing those video games totally desensitized me to violence and I ended up blowing up a bum infirmary on Queen St. You know?
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July 18 - 16 July 2007
Weekly recap. - 28 May 2007
That's Immaterial! - 25 May 2007
A Shalom to Arms! - 07 May 2007
YEAH RIGHT - 20 April 2007