Thursday, October 27, 2005

 

Random stuff

Hey yaaaa... heeeyyy yaaaaa....

I have not been high in over four months. or drunk, actually, but that i don't miss. I can't write like I used to. I draw now. It's relaxing but its very difficult. The best thing about drawing is that you know where you want to get before you start. You have an image in your head of what you want to see on the page. Of course, it usually doesn't come out that way. But that's the challenge, to get as close to it as you can. Writing is relatively a mess. You have no idea where you want to get before you start and nothing to say to get there.

Kind of like this.

I got stood up twice today. The second time was just two hours ago. Fucking people. They tell me I can meet them and then they're not there. I'm busting my ass here and all I get is shit like this. Wow, this week has been useless!

Gas is very expensive. One gallon costs more or less a shit load: $3.41. Wait, is there a price difference between a shit load and a crap load? I forgot. Anyway, I blew $36 on gas today, and there went my supper. When it gets to $48 I'm selling the car because at that point it will be cheaper to take taxis. I got it all figured out already. That's how much free time I have.

I went with Mary Jane to a Thai place today. Outdoors, very nice. The only problem is the amount of flies.

The thing I hate most about flies is when they land on you and you flick your hand so they will go away, and they don't. Then you have to flick your hand again, harder, which causes unnecessary stress. Stupid flies.

I'll build a huge net in midtown and catch them all. Then I'll eat them. hahaha... just kidding. I wouldn't put the net in midtown!

Well, this is pointless. I have to get back to even more pointless pursuits!

Cheers.
Peter

Monday, October 10, 2005

 

The Case of the Suck

Something just happened that really, really, really sucks.

i was parking my fucking car and accidentally tapped the other car
next to where i was going to park mine. no big deal right, happens all
the time. lol.. to me, anyway.. so i park it and the guards come up
and they're all like, you fucken scraped the car man! and im like no
way, i barely even touched it! i mean there was a scrape there but i
was like there's no fucken way i did that one, it was just a little
tap! so i walked to work and all, happy go lucky..

then this guy comes barging into the room ten minutes later and pretty
much screams at me, you hit my car!!! im like wtf no i didnt, and hes
like yes you did you fucking guy! you hit my car and now my car needs
repair!!! im like jesus christ calm down, i barely tapped it. anyway
this went on for a while, then he barged out quickly as he came in.
moments later he shows back up with his guard friend and is all like
yah, he saw you. and im like omfg ok fine, if he says he saw me then
all right, but dammit beavis, this just aint right...

so we go down to the parking lot and look at the fucking thing, and
obviously this guy is really proud of his fucking car... and then he
let me off the hook, i have no idea why, after i admitted that ok fine
i did it, ya happy, you fucken shit???

wow, i just reread the post and it is full of curses. sorry about
that. i am just a little upset... anyway... how is your day going?

ok, at this point i am ready to let it go and now it becomes part of
my collection of stupid and funny stories... which is a good thing,
right?!?


Friday, October 07, 2005

 

On the Human Condition...er

Sometimes, when I sit here at the job, editing a story by some nincompoop who can't tell the difference between "it's" and "its", my mind starts to wander and sway like a big red balloon over the Nile. I start to think about the stupidest, most interesting... thingies. Like the human condition...er.

Here is what I was thinking. Yesterday, a brief, violent encounter with a certain evil individual left me in a great deal of pain. Stomach-wise, to be precise. There I was, being miserable, and not for being miserable was I allowed to skip work, of course... so, here I was, reading drivel, looking at photographs, matching colours, all sorts of jobs. I noticed I couldn't help but feel incredibly angry, which is something I hadn't noticed before. It was the physical pain in my stomach that drove my fury. It was all I could do from lashing out at the editor rechecking my work; the photographer rechecking my colours; even the porter rechecking my steps.

Ladies and germs, I am the human conditioner.

Spidey is to the human race as conditioner is to hair. It's true. Figure it out. Well, don't bother, I know you can't do it. I'll explain it to ya. Conditioner leaves old crusty hair nice and untangly. Then it gets washed down the drain. Spidey makes the big bad world a safer place. Then he gets punched in the stomach. And rechecked.

Come to think of it, I could be the human shampoo, too, but that just sounds retarded.

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