young girl with eyes like the desert
orillia cottage junk part two fifty days later and irrelevant.
the order of these makes me want to strangle whatever the best thing to strangle ever is ugh whyyyy flickr whyyy?
thanks for the mom jeans, mom. we trade/share zellers request jeans cos they’re the only cheap ones in existence that can handle our chicken thighs. and i’m wearing leggings beneath these.
i’m also super bored and irritated at this point in time. more electrical work had to be done, not by me, and everyone else was doing yard work and there was a slight detection of tension in the air. you know when someone tidies up all around you they are basically FUCK YOU cleaning all aggressive-like so you’re forced to move as far away as possible ugh COOL thanks. even if you offered help they’d refuse it, you’d do it wrong, not their way, but still get punished (passive aggression) for it anyway? one way to deal with this is by cracking a beer and sluggin’ half it down while walking away so they have a vision to shake their head by while they furiously paint.
meanwhile nite before hung tired crabby trying to get power in the dark. the job was switching from fuse box to breaker.
jesus, have fun with that.
i lit 40 candles. even their special ones. took great satisfaction out of it.
EW. that one really grossed me out.
amazing wood stove.
note to self. adjective brother and his bros frequently use. for example: henry drank a dickload of beer.
omg these things. i’m pointing to the spoiled brat of the bunch. nice rock of love pants TURN UP THE POISON PLEASE.
nice things though, the one on the outside growled at wiley and sage. yes. five dog weekend.
keep it together.
biting my lip here cos something was just said that set me off. secretly snarked out all weekend. sometimes one nite too many gets spent overstaying your welcome at someone’s cottage and everyone has to walk around feigning manners and by the time you leave you want to pour an entire pitcher down your throat. the only solution is getting your own cottage. i would love to go greater into detail but i feel bitchy enough already.
i think dave got busted referring to the little one as a little rat. they didn’t say anything about it though. the actual quote was “get out of here you little rat” HAHAHAHA aw. he was just bitter from working.
this is how you get me to eat potatoes. as a kid i hated them so much. baked in tinfoil on the bbq is delish.
do you like the shift from drinking blog to drinking weed jokes blog?
that doesn’t even look real to me. i don’t know what i’m trying to say.
nice bush camo jacket i can’t even SEE you is that a floating cigarette?
not a chance in hell i could/would take a video while riding that shit.
then i added fear of being shot by hunters to the list.
oh you betcha. when in rome…
look i can be classy while being classy.
i realised that “part two” of orillia was really just 60 photos of me playing spicoli.
LETS ORDER A PIZZA.
hair appointment has been made. more blond more more MORE.
pukebee’s. the bartender was amazed by the addition of oj to beer. don’t you need a smart serve to be a bartender in a chain establishment therefore you’d know about this shit? rickard’s white plus orange slice? too fancy for barrie? was that barrie?
barf. not mine but still.
my ridiculous meal concoction was actually delicious but not an hour later. or for the rest of the night. beneath that cheese thing, well, that cheese thing IS chicken.
i know this post sucked you don’t have to tell me.