i get a kick out of the shopper’s drug mart “cosmotologists” what with their tiny little cash-out booth, and they get really annoyed when they actually have to cash you out like hello that skanky fat ass can choose her britney spears perfume ON HER OWN! i’m sorry to inconvenience you out of NOT doing your job so fucking sorry let me make it up to you how about come over to my place with yer wigger poser boyfriend who hangs around your little jewellery section and he can feel you up whilst i get completely wasted and then you can complain about having to ring through some baby oil and gillette razers OMG! ps is the make-up section cashier kiosk like optional? cos if it is such a big fucking deal to let people pay for their items there opposed to the grocery store style cash lines why not perhaps GETTING THE FUCK RID OF IT YOU PIECES OF SHIT FAILED MAKE-UP ARTISTS!!!!!!!!!1?
That is the sound I always make when I have an opinion that is not going to be shared by anyone else in the room but I’m determined to share it anyway because I have some complex where I need to hear the sound of my own voice or somehow satisfy a desire to be right. Not to say that I’m always right, actually I’m very often wrong. You would think I’d learn to keep my big fat trap shut but I don’t. I annoy myself, and probably everyone I know. Maybe I’m that kid that everyone keeps around because they feel sorry for him. Or more likely because I make them feel better about themselves because they can all say “at least I’m not as annoying as Jarom” and other slanderous shit like that. But screw them, if I had it my way I’d reinstitute public floggings, and every Saturday I’d choose a child at random to be tossed into the sun. All to satisfy my demands for justice… have you ever read A Modest Proposal? It’s jacked but a must read.
Anyway, I did have something to say… You’re a mess! A beautiful tragic mess. I’ve been reading your blog for a bit now and it’s like being caught in the black whole of daytime television, the Maury Povich show. No matter how much I want to change the channel I can’t, I must know who the daddy is? What did the lie detector reveal? What is the terrible secret she’s been keeping? It’s been like discovering an awesome band that you think nobody knows about only to find out you’ve jumped on a very large band wagon that has been rolling down your street for three years two months six hours and thirty-seven seconds.
As someone with OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) reading about your life drives my fckn batty, I can’t stand it, its disorganized chaos yet I’m ensnared and captivated by it. You live like I only imagine, and when I do it’s a nightmare that I wake from in a cold sweet. But it leaves me more alive and invigorated.
I keep lists, not your ordinary lists like one of all the amazing things I want to see before I die but retarded list of things I want to say at the most perfect moment, a moment that will come along only once and if I don’t use my quote that perfect moment my chance to use it is likely gone forever. I have a new list; it’s a list of all the brilliant things Raymi has written. I’ve had to rewrite it a couple times because my printing wasn’t neat enough… but it’s a good list.
the problem with helping people other than it being a total waste of time is that it only serves to perpetuate their helplessness and validate it for them. people that need help are lazy and the only reason they don’t get it is because they don’t pay attention when someones there to show them what the fuck they need to do. they are somehow under the assumption that you are there to do it for them and that its gonna do them any good to have the right answers if they don’t know how they got there. it is pretty much decided i am not interested in tutoring because smart kids don’t need help.
i have to go blow my nose now because fil said he will punch me in it if i don’t, i keep sniffling. ps i never really learned how to blow my nose properly what with the fanatic picking of it and all.
last nite i smashed what is most likely a family-heirloom hurricane lantern, just the glass part though and spilled red wine every fucking place i stood/sat and all over the boat and today four separate people commented on my drinking ok fine i GET IT. yes there’s nothing sexy about being a drunken fat pig but when the guys do it it’s ok but when me and my big mouth do it everyone wants an intervention fuck off.
i am sick as a dog and my arms fucking kill from tubing, i cannot lift my arms to put a stupid gay hair elastic in my bird’s nest hair and i have a massive mosquito bite on the bridge of my nose what looks like a volcano about to erupt, i have wicked funny gossip to share but i can’t say it cos too many people read my blog, too bad, i can’t even mask it oh well, maybe i should make a turn for the better and not talk shit about people anymore, i know, booooring.
fil wanted to mention on his blog how hilarious he found an advertisement to be about toronto’s new trash megabins but the ad was on the side of the regular trash bins, ya fil hahahahahalarious also he got me a vodka tonic from the bar at the horseshoe and me being drinklor was all I CAN’T TASTE THE BOOZE YOU GAVE ME TONIC BLEEEEARGH! and he’s all NO NONONO IT’S VODKA WITH TONIC AND GIN! both vodka AND gin?! so nice!
then me and kane spent a solid five minutes praising the simplicity of mustard and ketchup on a hotdog versus ten hundred condiments, it was a very passionate discussion i will tell you that.
ps toronto teens i wrote a song called STOP STABBING EACH OTHER! it’s gonna be a big hit.
what else can i tell you?
uh.
i have this wicked clip of a drunken guy who ruled at edgefest who had the best moustache and hockey jersey and wal-mart runners and he was drunk swaying by himself, his hair was pretty good too it was like hey fubar, FUCK YOU I’M THE REAL DEAL!
mad props to joel for being the opposite of homo and getting us passes and letting me feel up raine and then smoking everyone’s pot and then not stop talking i don’t know what?
You know that feeling of having something itchy rub against your bare bum-whether it be synthetic negligee or a woolly blanket? I hate that feeling, especially when you scratch your cheeks profusely and the irritation still doesn’t cease, as if the itchiness has instilled on your fanny semi-permanently.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m a fan of yours. I am a new one, however. I don’t claim to have been reading your entries before they existed, or read every single one while memorizing random lines from ‘marketable depression’ on the side.. in fact, I don’t claim to anything except finding you interesting. On the other hand, I have now added you to the list of my heroes.
Here is the list:
-Thom Yorke -Bjork -Raymi
Now, I am accepting the fact that you don’t rhyme with the other two, but I have always thought that my third would somehow rhyme too..by fate, or something… if only your parents had named you Hork or Mork.
I haven’t read enough of your entries to figure out whether you like rap or not. If not, I suggest you check out the album Sage Francis-A healthy distrust. It may change your mind. And if you already like rap, I guess this paragraph is kind of pointless.
I don’t want to tell you that I am exactly like you, because I’m sure you have heard that enough times. I think if I actually thought that, I would just be trying to match my a, b and c traits to your d, e and f traits, when probably everyone has an a, b and c trait that matches to your d, e and f trait.
Right now, I’m watching the movie Proof. Have you seen it? It’s about this family who has this insnae genius mathematician father who dies( ie. sexy anthony hopkins), and his daughter Catherine who may have inherited his gift. Gwyneth Paltrov is lovely-she is a wonderful crazy bitch in it. Jake Gyllenhall isn’t bad either. I probably wouldn’t recommend it though. I can already tell it’s going to have a terrible ending.
But, I kind of like this line so far:
Claire(some random blonde actress): Did you use that conditioner I brought you? Catherine(gwyneth): No. Shit. I forgot. Claire: Well, it’s my favorite. You’ll love it, Katie. I want you to try it. Catherine: I’ll try it next time. Claire: You’ll like it. It has jojoba. Catherine: What is jojoba? Claire: It’s something they put in for healthy hair. Catherine: Hair is dead. Claire: What? Catherine: It’s… It’s dead tissue. You can’t make it healthy. Claire: Whatever. It’s good for your hair. Catherine: Like what? A chemical? Claire: No. It’s organic. Catherine: It can be organic and still be a chemical. Claire: I don’t know what it is. Catherine: Heard of organic chemistry?
I’ll tell you later whether I was right about the ending or not.
my throat kills i think maybe wearing a tank top in the pouring rain wednesday might have something to do with it. last nite everything i said was fucking hilarious. more later.
