Sticky Beak
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The Skinny
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...life in small Northern towns, working for assholes, boys who refuse to become men, synthetic personalities, anorexic models and their link to emotional scarring, bad marijuana trips, crazies on BC Transit, beer, piece of shit cars, living out of a suitcase paycheck to paycheck, unrequited love, Seinfeld, minimum-wage jobs, broken New Year�s resolutions, and over-limit Visa accounts.
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I hate my Karma. Some days I wonder... "Why the fuck do I even try?..." Seriously. Earlier, an ordinarily shitty day surpassed all expectations and skyrocketed to extraordinarily shitty when I arrived home to the scent of poo and a puppy that had been left alone with full reign of the house for over 9 hours... Hesitently stepping into the livingroom, I quickly surveyed the house for damage, and my eyes fell to the tattered hemp necklace lying in the centre of the room, devoid of all its beads. It wasn't until I stooped down to pick up the necklace remnants that I noticed the variety of colour scattered all over the couch. "Paper? What's this...?" And then slowly the realization crept into my brain..."OH.MY.GOD. Maaaaaxxxx! Max you little SHIT! What did you DO????? There on the couch, shredded into bits of colourful confetti, were the $350 that my brother had sent to me for his stained glass project. Green. Red. Brown. If I hadn't been having an aneurism, I might have been able to appreciate the beauty of the colours woven together. And that's the story of how I killed my puppy. Only kidding. But barely. THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS. Can you imagine??? Maybe to some people that's an insignificant amount of money... but for two people living in a shoebox filled with craigslist furniture and surviving on a solid diet of pasta and tuna casserole, $350 is a small fortune. I frantically scoured the couch and surrounding area, collecting the dozens of tiny stray pieces of the shredded bills... I gingerly carried the collection of green, red and brown confetti to the table where I desperately pieced the bills back together... All except one earlobe on a hundred dollar bill. Now, two centimeters thick with tape, my frankenstein bills showed some semblance of their former selves. A quick call to my former-bank-teller cousin to confirm that the money puzzles still qualified as legal tender - apparently you don't need all the earlobes to be in tact, just the serial numbers - and....breathhhheeeee..... "Looks like you'll live to see another day, dog." Oi. There went an easy seven years off my life. Oh well. Who needs to live to be 80 anyway....? Fast-forward to my first attempt at writing this blog entry where my computer decided to throw a tantrum and go tits up half way through so that I lost everything I had written, and combine that with the tension headache and liquid shit I've been battling all day, and you've got yourself a pretty shitty fucking day, all in all. So again I muse... Why do I bother? Christ, I H-A-T-E my Karma. |