fil and i have a wedding to go to on the weekend so i went out and bought the most not appropriate wedding going dress i could find. not that it is scandalous or anything, it’s just, dumpy the way of 1977 teenage babysitter and is not anywhere near the neighborhood of fancy. so i guess that makes it perfect.

so then i went on a spending all of my money in ten minutes spree on clothes. i haven’t bought clothes for myself in eons, not including the cheap wife beater i buy monthly that shrinks up to nothing that i never ever wash and then leave at my apartment in toronto which i never go to.

i got new jeans. yay. oh and a new purse so if anyone wants to buy that furry ragamuffin purse that i am always toting in photos for sentimental reasons let me know. i may even leave a bunch of junk inside of it. ok i WILL leave a bunch of junk inside of it. you like canadian nickels and busted eyeliner pencils right?

yesterday i brought home the most orgasmic butter chicken in the entire universe and called fil to tell him not to eat dinner so he says fine ok i won’t. when i finally taste test it myself with aimee it was all we could do not to pour the shit all over ourselves and foam at the mouth so i called fil again and was like DOOOOOD you get your ass here STAT otherwise we’re going to eat this entire thing.

that butter chicken was so good i wish i was eating it right now.

so then we go to the watering hole and get our drink on and aimee is chatting up some guy about some work and i am sitting at the megatouch machine and aimee is talking me up like this genius of a bitchgirl something or other and because of that i start carving into this sod as a way to get him to not like me but no the complete opposite happens and aimee is pissed cos it happens everytime. why is that? i mean fuck, men are retarded. i was seriously being an asshole.

ok so we leave fil and me and we rent sin city and try to get into it and it’s not so bad when you’re completely trashed as is was me though i’m certain it’s a lot better when you’re able to concentrate on the storyline for more than three consecutive minutes at a time.

i started thinking about that butter chicken again and my stomache went psycho and there was nothing salty to eat, there was only this lemon cake bread thing so i ate some of that but i was really thinking about onion dip and chips, the bane of my existance.

anyway i went to bed thinking that the second i wake up i’m going to buy some of that onion dip.

and that’s what i call a cool story.

Sent : September 1, 2005 2:16:44 AM
To : Subject : we were meant to be yes we were

I have a fancy email gadget that lets me
drunkmail people I don’t know while hammered in the back iof a cab on the way
home.yes I’m cool

I am skinny and tall and your twin. I read you blog and ran scrweaming for
reasons obvius to you by osmosis alone. Yes they are.

Don’t tell anyone its a secret. I think the cabie knows thoug because I have to
say the words else I focault them up on this little keyboard.

Tonight at the bar a yuppy girl was all ‘po-mo this and I’m so smart’ I went
like : dude deconstruct this cock in your ear” she didn’t get it and then I
barfed and the bouncers politely draged me out the end