No swimming until an hour after you eat!

Last night I dreamt about this scene. It had apparently been just a regular park with a pond, but was now converted into what you see. Essentially, a lot of fast food places had set up shop, with KFC actually setting up in the pond with a wharf leading to it. Also installed was a giant flat screen t.v., placed in the pond as well. In the dream, I had been travelling with the family of a longtime friend and we had stopped here for a break. It was all new to me. The purpose of the redesigned park was to offer people a place to come and eat, hang out, and watch television. There was also a lot of trash around, as tends to happen around take out joints. I remember thinking in the dream "This was probably a cool place before," and also "Was this really necessary? Couldn't people just hang out here without the restaurants and t.v.?" Unfortunately, it seems my dreams have taken an activist turn.

Current Events

Saturday

While on the bus heading for our workplace bowling get together, we saw an older "gentleman" with an open bleeding sore on his forehead. We're talking bright red, new blood.

Bowling! I did decent, rolled 120 bowling balls down the alley, got a square blister on my thumb and was sore for about half a week. Good times.

It was cosmic bowling no less. Black lights make for amusing outfits.

Bowling party also included lame pizza.

Sunday

Pizza Diarist's dad and I have the same birthday. We celebrated his by having a fancy dinner, also with hot dogs and hamburgers. I ate two hot dogs, two chocolate chip cookies (which were my present to PD's dad) and some weird vegetable that starts with an A wrapped in some stuff that starts with an F. I did not enjoy that portion of the meal. Hot dogs!

Monday

To celebrate my birthday, Pizza Diarist and I got a car and hit two Value Villages for 50% off day. I got "Celebration" on VHS, a stuffed hippo to add to the collection, a cool '70s dish for my birthday ice cream and some kind of weird robot toy.

We saw

Land Sharks!

We listened to a very special mixed tape, which I pretty much constently made fun of, which is the only thing that made it good. Except for two songs I actually liked, and one that bish sang.

We hit Steak and Stein and I actually had a T-bone steak. It was great, the fries were lacking in excitement, but the garlic bread made up for it. I however, got sick later that night. The meals were only five bucks each, since two funeral homes gave me $30 worth of coupons for the place at Christmas time.

PD got a polaroid camera at Value Village and blew some cash on film for it and we took a couple polaroids. Yay for film!

I got a foil birthday balloon because I am in love with foil balloons.

Birthday!

I eat pizza and cake and ice cream.

My presents consisted of:

Nine various hippos.

Cat clock, retro lamp/candle holder, picture frame coasters, candy and chocolate.

Camera tripod!

Turns out high fat cake + current medications = very bad idea. For three days in a row. So far.

Hunter S. Thompson

1937 or 1939 - 2005

Here's an oldie but a goodie.

This is from cbc.ca:

Neighbours in Thompson's Woody Creek neighbourhood said a broken leg had recently kept him from going out as often as in the past, including to his favourite tavern. Mike Cleverly, a longtime friend, spent Friday night watching a basketball game on TV with Thompson. He said Thompson was clearly hobbled by the broken leg. "Medically speaking, he's had a rotten year," he said. But he added: "He's the last person in the world I would have expected to kill himself. I would have been less surprised if he had shot me."

Hilarious. But I, like the jerk that I am, summed it up more appropriately: "The best thing about Hunter S. Thompson was Johnny Depp." But seriously, one medically bad year is all it takes for suicide? Pff. Pussy.

Sorry Hunter. Please don't come back to haunt me with that eerie scream.

Bunny Toast!

Christian Balentine Day!

I saw "The Machinist" today, the movie which the lovely Christian Bale lost a reported 63 pounds for in order to portray a man who hadn't slept in a year. It looked more like 150 pounds. He went from Greek God to Geek Bod. Apparently he had "only a single vitamin consultation with a nutritionist to guide him. For the most part he only ate salads and apples, chewed gum, smoked cigarettes and drank nonfat latte." Sounds like fun. I guess it was the opposite job of Vincent D'Onofrio's "training" for "Full Metal Jacket". I was truly disturbed by how skinny this man could be, considering what he normally looks like.

"American Psycho"

"The Machinist"

I enjoyed the film which included a funny run that may have beat out Ryan Gosling's funny run in "The United States of Leland", a Christian Bale vs. Car scene, an epileptic freak out, numerous hand washing with bleach events, a hooker with a heart of gold and an eye of black, and a spine that constantly threatened to cut out through it's protective flesh. It's all a girl could want on Valentine's Day.

Thursday, February 3, 2005

First, I lose my mind and scream "Shut uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup!" through my door at the neighbours because they won't shut up their goddamn kid.

Then, walking to a job I hate, I see some dog crap that looks like a Timbit.

Next I see a pair of frozen pigeon wings, sans pigeon.

The next half block is actually lined with garbage. Not like in the bag as drawn, but ripped out of the bag and strewn all over the place. I was just too lazy to draw it like that.

More dog crap. This time smeared by some unfortunate person who stepped and slid in it.

Yet more dog crap. This time sunken into a pile of snow, with a soggy wet cigarette butt next to it.

I finally get to the job I hate and get my paycheck and it's super weak because, as I learned, I don't get paid for sick days.

I get up to my desk which I share with a territorial jackass who thinks she's in a pissing contest with me, which she's not, and find that she's once again written some unnecessary phone number across a drawing I have in the office, despite already having that number twice in a 12 inch radius of the drawing. What a fucking bitch.

Things smell bad for the rest of the day, and it's not me.