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blythe drawing was a disaster had to paint over, you can still see through the orange too, this canvas was annoying to paint also a speck of dirt cast a shadow on one part of it making it look like a dark smudge, i may or may not have spent five minutes trying to cover up the shadow of something that wasn’t even there.

lots of do-overs, maybe my show should be called second chances.

fil says he cannot believe that his first EVER box of salt purchased is almost empty, i know, stop the presses.

this time for real i am taking a steak break, i don’t think it’s entirely healthy choking down all that bloody meat, no wonder my heart feels like it’s going to explode every time i lie down.

nice shirt becky, you can’t tell in this picture but it was super big like a tent, going for the gypsy slutty androgynous look i guess.

the stir crazy got me so we went to kilgour’s where everyone seemed to be wasted and out on the patio this old white guy ripped the longest volcano eruptive fart and it traveled down to my end of the bench, fil was trying to tell me a story and i kept smirking, which annoyed fil and he’s like what what i’m like CAN’T TELL YOU YET KEEP TALKING, fart machine’s date was in the john and he was totally looking at me for a reaction i could tell from the corner of my eye. this is what i have learned about stealth farting and benches: NON-EXISTANT. if you are trying to silent fart away the last 3 pints you chugged don’t do it sitting on a bench cos the chick on the other side of the patio will know. also, after he unleashed this minute long bowel-emptying blast there was a brief nothingness and then one good singular after shock came out. gross. his date was loads younger and cocked to fuck, i was trying to deduce if she had tourettes or was just that drunk. i think he could tell i was disgusted by his watering the crap out of her cos once she started whining for a whiskey he distracted her out of it.

it got chilly so we went inside where i eavesdropped on some more fab conversations. we were trying to figure out the scene at kilgour’s, kz help me out here, my prediction is that these regulars used to hang there say 10 years ago at least, then they left the annex to do their worldly bidding and all eventually funneled back again to establish the regular homey vibe what is kilgour’s, all white comfortable in their skin oblivious to their cheesiness get-up, not all of them, but you know what i mean, white dude dreadlocks, stereotypical snooty artist crowd, very the real world, that’s the only comparison i got. late 20s-mid-30s crowd, i call it annex syndrome and i can say that cos i live here.

but more importantly, why do i care? derno, guess i should save that question for my future therapist. i think i’m pointlessly suspicious and curious of everything, i’m certain there’s deeper meaning to all the goings-on around me and it’s a constant battle to shut it all out. jesus, just be happy i don’t live on queen w hahaha, too easy.

then we left cos i wasn’t anywhere close to drunk and everyone else was doing shots and bla bla blahing their heads off.

i think i’ll give this little chap a fine suit of blue.

we watched the killing of john lennon, my thoughts are just pure rage and sadness, someone at the movie store put a note on the cover of one of the copies which is why i rented it, saying you could not take your eyes off it, dude who plays chapman is amazing etc and so forth – i disagree because it actually took us two days to watch it, v easy to take my eyes off, and the chapman squire repulsed me so much, i suppose that’s the point. i find it hard to admire the guy who is playing the villain in movies, hard to separate, unless it is a dark comedy. which i guess is ironic coming from me seeing as i am basically the villain of blogging.

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