justnick's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And they said Captain Canuck was dead...

BGM: "Goin' Up the Country" - Canned Heat

Well, folks, it's official: Breathe Deeply has gone commercial. Yep. Signed myself up for Supergold, with all the bells and whistles. So I figure it's just a matter of time before Rolling Stone is banging down my door to give me a job. I'm playing around with a new layout, as you must have noticed, and you can now leave me comments, too, so do so. I'll wait.

Let me know what you think of the new layout, too, 'cause I can't decide.
OK, so what's new? Well, I earned my stripes as a Superhero on Thursday. No foolin'. I had been drinking with some buds at Mckibbins, surprise surprise, and was on the way home. About halfway there, I see a group of four guys passing a group of girls. Well, one of the young men does something innapropriate, because the head vixen starts yelling. Well, it turns into a shouting match before long, I can't help but think it's going to get worse before it gets better. I look around, and of course everyones pretending they don't notice. So I head over there to try and cool the drunken kiddies off a touch, but to be completely honest, I wasn't very successful. Drunk boy one takes a swing at me, and before I can blink, I'm in the middle of some rumble on Ste Catherine's Street. Well, after about a minute or so of this, I see some flashing lights, and notice the cops have arrived. One by one, they slam us all down on the hood of the cruisers, and cuff us. I was hoping I would get one of the girl cops, that coulda been kinda kinky. All the drunk lads put up quite the fuss, but I just kinda sat there and took it, much like your mom. I figured the last thing that will help is showing off how drunk and idiotic I am. Long story short, one of the girls told them I was only trying to help, so they let me off the hook. Took the rest of those hooligans right on down to the station, though. Got the ladies into a taxi, made sure they had enough cash, and then freaked the fuck out.

As far as superheroes go, I may not have been a complete succsess, but I still say it's a good story.

So my gramma came over for thanksgiving dinner. [Ed: Canadian Thanksgiving, yank] That was... different. Turns out she's having some torrid love affair with Rod Stewart. And I poop solid gold nuggets that whistle dixie. The poor woman is utterly convinced of it, though. Ugh. She's also disturbingly fixated on sex. I mean, if she were 14, fine. But she's like a million and six. She gave me a compliment on my hair, and said "I bet the girls line up to run their hands through it. But I bet that ain't the only thing they want to run their hands thrrough." Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwww. It's my freakin' grandmother, how creepy is that?

So to all you new readers that I'm pretending I'm going to get, bonjour. And to all those of you who skip over my banners, you can all run your hands through my hair, if you know what I mean. Excelsior.

2:28 p.m. - 2004-10-11

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next