on the road part one
hi simpletons how’ve you been oh wait i just remembered i don’t care JOKES i so care! i bet i like you more than you like yourselves. alright, here’s some shit we did yesterday while you were beating off to judge judy, enjoy!
ah so good, we begin this quest by ignoring fil and reading to ourselves until we turn up at ikea to exchange our bath mat for one without a rubber lining and then buy some shower rings THAT DON’T FIT OUR ROD but we don’t learn that until today, radical. i know some of you are on the edge of your seats about this.
gave the ole tresses a break yesterday so it was on-the-go italian shower of power day. no you smell. ps. best laundry dramz day is happening ever and it does not involve me but would have had i not got down there in time to snag a washer.
groooooooooooan.
the worst thing about ikea is the waiting in line part, for exchanges/returns they have a ticket system which fil totally dug cos we got to chill a bit.
then a woman ruined the system cos her turn was skipped cos she had buggered off, um get a new ticket you cunt! i seemed to have been the only person annoyed by this or who noticed. how about your ticket system now fil?
that’s her fucking shelf behind me too.
what’s up dudes. their owner turned up just as we were pullin’ out so i wasn’t busted, phew.
then i enjoyed myself a five minute long piss. clean your mirror tim horton’s! ps. if you are “one of those” who calls it timmies 1. we can’t be friends 2. you sound like a total baby 3. die – in whichever order you want i’m feeling generous right now.
so starved can we eat here?
then fil had to go to the toilet so i went art small town homo ‘cept everything was ugly on this corner, i tried.
bahaha see?
don’t trip over yourselves callin’ up national geographic now.
here i am bored and in love with myself.
another boring parking spot obviously.
fascinating.
tuna wrap it was alright, i was more into the pretentious chick behind me bragging about her toronto friends and how much of a snob she is for discussing england (she said look at us we’re soooo snobby), i tried really hard to get her to make eye contact with me so she could see my squinty beady eyes but she was so immersed in her blowhard chit chat she didn’t look my way not once not even when i tapped the lamp above our booth to make it sway back and forth. GOD JUST LOOK AT ME. then i became more interested in staring at the guy with a gross blond pube beard with one of his gf’s long strands of hair velcro’d to it SICK.
fil’s meh chicken salad i paid for more than half of i must be pmsing hard i’m full of haterade right now can’t wait to hit publish and see how much of a bitch i am being. before this we stopped in at a terrible restaurant and saw some mennonites, i used the bathroom and came back to the table to find that fil had not been given a menu so we bailed. why do small town restaurants fuck it up so much who are you by the way cafe? (notorious worst service in the annex ever no wonder someone got shot on your doorstep you probably made the dude wait half an hour just to make eye contact with you)
someone write a guide to surviving a small town. maybe i should based on the teeny experience i’ve had i’m sure that will go over well.
mmmm gettin’ hungry over here.
dad, this barn’s for you.
i wish i was an architect in the 70’s.
why did you spell that the american way? and why are you so full of shit too?
world’s biggest meth pipe oh and kudos to natalie for pointing out that our bartender at the fox was kinda methy best description ever and i’ve been using it as much as possible since.
+++++
Now this…THIS is Blogging
nsfw
http://raymitheminx.com
It’s really no different than any other spoiled rich brat’s blog but the sure amount of effort and acclaim really put it into a surreal spot.
aw thanks, you think i’m spoiled and rich. total geniuses in that thread much.
“It’s like someone who didn’t know about MySpace decided to make a blog.”
seriously, bringing up myspace to make a point are you eleven?
alright, i’m going to take a BORING shower now.
i just said timmies in my last post, so shamed right now. i think the best way to live in a small town is while you are young, get out in your teenage years, then go back to it when you are old. the teenager-20s kids in the small towns where i lived were either prudes or arsonists.
timmies coincidence no offense sorry, how’s your hand? i want to see pictures.
I was in that Timmy’s last night. Random. That’s quite the detour from any Ikea near here, to ‘downtown’ Waterloo on the way to Stratford; i need to just get in the car and drive more often.
i think you meant to say TIM HORTON’S.
Is that last picture the Brantford balloon-looking thingy? Or are there more of those that I didn’t get to see on my vacation?
i believe it’s stratford and it’s a water tower and they are everywhere although i don’t “get” them.
oh great fil just explained them to me thanks kristin.
fil’s purse is rather nice: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3295/3150922705_a627a1d22e.jpg
BAHAHAHAAAAA these pics are awesome
and
thank you so much for saying the tim—- thing
thank you
so
much
world biggest meth pipe. love it
Chad (my baby-daddy) told me they were telephone related. are they? I only ever saw the one when we visited. Nothing like that here in Vancouver
ha ha raymi’s nerd, nice one*.
*you owe me a wordpress site now.
What ‘s spelled the American way. Favorite? Shop? Bears?
People who view Myspace and Facebook as superior to a conventional blog make me laugh. Screw social networking. If I wanted the dumbasses from my past to know my whereabouts and the details of my life, they’d already know.
@ Kristin..veritablevindication..update your blog.
Mark’s orange pube beard totally velcroes my hair every morning, and cat hair, and his scarf and everything pretty much. (Dear Mark please SHAVE)
fil’s beard collects everything too.
the fact that people forget/don’t know blogging existed well before myspace and that my loooong available archive list proves it amuses me as well as makes me feel very embarrassed for these people.
favourite is canadian for favorite.
I keep forgetting we have to reschedule that Fuck Kitchener Day.
I DON’T!
lol i was reading, reading and i thought fuck this is venomous, i hope raymi’s aight n shit, and then i saw you noticed it yourself and its pms.
good times.
rad shoes.
dope tattoo.
great fanny.
boom ting.
i could go on.
Agree with Krista. Best way to survive in a small town is to get the hell out (or, if you’re not already in one, stay the hell out). If you have to spend any time in one, you need to try to blend in. If they don’t recognize you (everyone usually knows EVERYONE) and you don’t even at least LOOK local, they’ll treat you like shit. They don’t take kindly to yer kinda folk around here etc. Your fancy city-folk duds probably screwed you over.
What about saying T-Ho’s? Or Timmy Ho’s? Is that acceptable? Not that it’s relevant, since the nearest one is in Detroit (though I’m sure they’ll take over the world eventually). When I worked there we were all chicks so we called each other the Timbitches, get it? Har har har. Random lame fact. Trying to avoid working…
calling it simply horton’s for short is acceptable and that’s it.
but what if you can’t get out of the small town and yer a city guy, then what?
i got fat and crazy and lasted 3 months in maine.
Trying to think of what things I miss about living in Nowheresville, Ontario, because those are obviously the things to do. I don’t think there’s any way to avoid going crazy if yer into cities (I lived in Vaughn just long enough as a kid to get spoiled on it). Unfortunately, #1 isn’t very helpful: drive 45 minutes to Toronto. #2: Get drunk. #3: Get high. #4: Mushrooms. (Do you see a pattern emerging?) All of these are improved around a campfire, BTW. Other than those… #5: Get fat while watching broadcast TV (because you don’t get cable). #6: Spend 3 hours downloading a single webpage (because you don’t get cable). Yeah, it’s basically doom, no way around it.
Wait, here’s what I mostly did… #7: Create angsty teenage bullshit about how much your life sucks. Spend 3 hours uploading it to the internet. Use it in your portfolio to get into art school. Use art school to get the fuck out of Nowheresville. Drop out of art school, stay in the city.
yeah write in a journal about how much you hate your life until you leave said small town then when you move to the city reference small town non-stop til you move back.
Oh god I’d post the link to all that life-hating high school webjunk (poetry? prose? proof that I’m a complete dipshit?), but I think I’d die of embarrassment.