This song is just awesome....Is it okay that I like Tegan and Sara so much? They are twins. They are gay twins. Both of them. When guys say "I wonder do they make out with each other?" I reply "I dunno. Do you make out with YOUR sister?" Gets 'em every time.
When getting a battery of tests to see which STIs you got or don't got, they do a test for chlamydia. Apparently, there are two ways to do the test. The old way, and the new way. The new way don't hurt. The doctor I saw the other day don't know that way. He didn't know much. He didn't know where the tests were and spent the better part of 15 minutes scouring the clinic to find them. He ended up calling his doctor-buddy who let him in on the stash.
I get up on the table and remove clothing. This is the first time I have ever had to show my genitals to someone whom I didn't know their first name. Then he says something like "Yes by', shaves yer balls do you ya?" then jabs the stick where the pee comes out.
It hurt. Ya knows it did. Buddy said it would hurt. He talked like he was going to cut it off. It wasn't that bad. I made a little whimper and then it was done.
I hops up and says "Sure that wasn't bad at all!" He looked at me like he didn't believe me. He was trying to see that shimmer of pain that would be in my eyes if I was trying to be macho about it. I guess he psyched me out. I felt like saying "I once smashed my finger in the end of a piece of pipe and continued to work without looking at it for 15 minutes" but that's sprinkler talk. I feel really embarrassed when I talk like that. It kept hurting though. all the way to Dairy Queen. I said "Fuck this minor pain, I'm getting a sundae" and I did. And my bird stopped hurting. And everything felt right in the world. Until I got home. Syrup Turnip wasn't there. She was around the bay. I'm sure she would have said something clever that would have degraded me in some way. What a sweetheart.
Me: "Hey, that's that missus..." Syrup: "Huh?" Me: "That waitress that really likes us. She works at Montana's too. I hope we get her today." Syrup: "Huh?" Me: "The waitress by', the waitress!" Syrup: "Oh, sorry. I was thinking about Jurassic Park...."
Today I feel bad. I feel bad for Syrup Turnip. I feel bad for Ashley Ryan. I feel bad for Johnathan Clark.
Last night was intense. I have never had quite an experience like that before. I didn't know he was drunk. If I knew that, things would have gotten worse, and I would have felt worse today.
I tried to look for a video. Most of them hit a little too close to home. I found this one.
I want drums. I found drums. I don't have the money for drums. I am selling shit in order to pay for drums.
I'm selling my ps2. It got a Modchip and a 250 GB hard drive in it. This means you can download ps2 games off the internets and load them on the hard drive and play them. It'll play import games and everything. I got 2 Guitar Hero guitars that are going along with it. Guitar hero 1,2 and guitar hero rocks the 80s will come with it. Guitar hero 3 is on the hard drive along with a mess of other games. I got 3 or 4 controllers to go with it. Memory Card as well. Multitap is included. I got a hard shell carrying case for it too that I'll throw in. I'm asking $250 bucks for the works of it.
I'm also selling my electric guitar. it's a 93 Ibanez EX3700. It's a rare model. They only made it for two years. It's kinda like a RG. I'm asking $225 for that.
I might be selling my Wii. Haven't decided on that one yet.....
My mother listens to CBC radio. Exculsively. I listen to it from time to time. Especially in the morning. My mother used to listen to the FM stations form time to time, but no longer. It all stems from a couple of years back when the CBC staff was on strike. The programming on the public broadcaster was reduced to reruns, crap, and the BBC. Mom was growing tired of it and switched to the top 40 channel. Unfortunetly for her, this was during the peak of "My Humps" so-called popularity. That would deter anyone from moving radios from 640 on the A.M. dial. Mom thinks Green Day's "American Idiot" is a great album. I love her for that. She also digs this tune.
Sarah Turpin has her own place. And just when couch surfing was starting to become popular. I was down there yesterday. She was unpacking boxes from what seemed like a different life that she had. She came across this box of photographs. I sat next to her as she skimmed through them, placing them into piles, but it didn't really seem as if they were becoming anymore organized. Every now and then she would come across a picture with her in it and say either "I was soooo drunk here" or "I am soooo drunk in this picture" The only pictures where she didn't say that was when there were pictures of her and Peter Miles (It might be spelled with a y, whatever). I knew him from before but didn't know that I knew him until I saw those pics. That guy went downhill a bit. He probably doesn't read my blog so I can safely say that without reprocussions. I'm not too worried either way. I probably look as good now as I'm gonna get. I was fat before and I'll be older and deformed from a workplace accident soon enough.
There was a wedding last night. Warford drank wine out of a shoe and I drank the water out of the centerpiece in the middle of the table. Classy.
Paul Warford and Sarah Turpin showed up as my house on Thursday afternoon. They do that. I don't mind. They sit to the table and make fake lesson plans. This day it was different. Warford was doing the funny-ha-ha racket downtown that night and he was supposed to pose as Mitch Hedburg. The Afro wasn't making it convincing. Turpin was going to straighten his hair. I have seen pics of Warford with straight hair and it looks unnatural. Like two-headed dog unnatural. With their combined dedication and willpower, they got about half-way through before deciding that they didn't want to do it anymore and decided that just wearing aviator glasses was convincing enough. He did the voice pretty well, and told half-jokes. That's dedication.
