A first-hand account of the fallout from one drunken summer night in July 2005.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Dirty Houses! Crazy Weather! A Broken Chin! huh??

...but it's still a mess inside. Everything is covered in dust; sawdust; and gyprock dust. Oh my. Whatever. It can be cleaned. Hopefully soon though. I wanna move in. Livin' in ole' mom and dad's basement got really old about 3 years ago. With the amount of crap laying everywhere in there, I'm prolly gonna need a blowtorch and a sandblaster to even get through the door. Let's hope my insurance has been approved. Speaking of which...


So yeah, yesterday, it was so hot yesterday morning, the sun was blazing, the air was heavy, nice day for doing nothing. Friend of mine calls me from a few towns over, says they just had tornado warnings, there was severe lightning and rain, hail was flying everywhere, sounded like a good time. Not here! At that time, anyway. About an hour later, same deal here. That all lasted for 20 minutes, it was hot & sunny again. I don't fuckin know what was goin on. Thats the way it went all night. Trippy, man... really trippyyyyy....

What's that on your face? Oh. A softball. Sa-weeet.

So me, being the nice guy, volunteer to play on my friends' coed softball team last night, because they were short on players. Which I don't mind doing at all, because I like to play. I can't swing a bat or throw a baseball for the life of me, but I like to try... It's coed, so it's all in good fun anyways. So I'm playing centre field, and this she-giant steps up to the plate and cracks a ground ball my way. So I squat down to grab it, and right before it gets to me, the little bastard hits a rock and bounces over my glove and smacks me right on the lefthand corner of my chin. My hat and sunglasses fly off, and I just grab the ball and throw it back to first base. You know, whatever, then I see half the team running out to me, asking me if I'm okay. I was like "Uhh, yeah, think so... Why?" Then someone points out the blood that running out of me and down the front of my shirt. Thats when the pain set in. My jaw hurt soooo bad, and my chin was completely numb, like when the dentist freezes your cheek. It was all good though. I sat out the next inning, and after that I was okay. So in the bottom of the 6th inning, I'm up at bat, and she-giant is catching at first base. I hit a line drive her way and SMACK! the ball hits her right in the tit. Now that's poetic justice bitch. Suck on it. She's like "Owwww, thaaaat huuurtsss" I look at her and I'm like "No shit, Amazon, you see my FACE yet??" That shut her up for awhile.

So there you have it. I wake up this morning hung over, with the sore-est jaw I've ever had and I didn't even get it the way I wanted to *tee hee* Anyways, I'm now taking resumes from illegal immigrants to help with the cleanup of my house. The pay? Well, heh heh, it ain't very good, I can tell ya that...

I should get back to work.. I just read an article about how bosses tend to get pissy at work if they catch there employees blogging at work. I guess reading that really had a positive impact on my life. PUHleese.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

3-Day Weekend = Misc. Rant

Hello to all...

Ha, I just realized that probably no one else in North America had a long weekend, unless you live in New Brunswick, Canada. Like me. Hellz yeah. Long weekend was awesome. Weather couldn't have been better (except yesterday) and I was sooo fucked up from Friday night to Monday morning... Believe me though, I'm paying for it. I really don't wanna be at work this week, I have way too much shit to do, not at a desk.

On a totally unrelated note, I had an extremely difficult time speaking this weekend. Sometimes it would be backwards, sometimes it would be overly vulgar, sometimes I'm not even sure it was English. The endless supply of booze no doubt had something to do with that though. That was also the cause of me having to throw my new neighbour out of my house already.

I haven't even officially moved in yet, I'm still renovating, an he staggers over on Sunday, completely shit-hammered, and tells my buddy to "shut the fuck up, I'm tryin' to talk" which was pointless, because he'd been there for an hour and was so drunk no one could understand him anyway. But when he told my buddy that, I had to kick his ass out. And I felt really bad about that, because, and here's the punchline, he's a 5'2", 75-year-old man. But I mean seriously, I don't want him lurking around my house all the time, drunk, and bitching at my friends. I just felt really guilty though, like I was the bouncer at a retirement home. So screw the old saying that "old people are so nice and small and sweet"


Now I'm not saying all old people are like that, but, hopefully by chance, I've run into a LOT of these snappy wrinkle bags lately. They all think they fuckin run the world because they've been here longer. The older they get, the shorter they get; their cars triple in size every year, their eyesight declines at such a shocking rate, you can hear tiny alarms going off somewhere. They all need to be like my dear old grandmother. She's 87 years old, still lives by herself, which totally pisses off my 2 snaggly aunts, and she smokes a pack a day, has a little nip of scotch or gin every now and then, knows enough not to drive (her Cadillac, no less) because she hasn't a snowballs chance in Hell of seeing over the wheel, and she glides through her twilight years without pissing anybody off. Except my aunts, but she pisses them off because they piss her off. Eye for an eye, bitches.