Is this it?

After four years in the same fucking job, today I am free. It's a good feeling. I can't say I'll miss it all that much. Aside from the paycheque, that is.

It's time.

Knee deep in the hoopla.

I've been seeing a lot of hula hoops lately. I first spotted them on the ferry to Vancouver Island a couple of weeks ago and later saw some hiptards carrying them around Vancouver proper. Then, on Saturday night, I saw some dirty hippies hula-hooping their brains out in the parking lot next to the Black Dog. I'm wondering: is it all a coincidence, or are hula hoops, like, the new hipster "thing?" If the latter, can we nip this in the bud right now, please? I'm a pretty angry guy as it is; you dinks aren't making my life any easier with your stupid shenanigans. Just do me a favour and fucking cut it out, alright? Put down the hula hoop, the oversized glasses, the big ball cap, the headband, the bin Laden neckerchief, the gold lamé tights and grow up already. Oh yeah: and wash your hair, you look like something the cat threw up.

Christ. I need a nap.

Odd

I woke up this morning on my sofa with no recollection whatsoever of leaving my bed, going into the living room and lying down and without the faintest idea of how long I was lying there.

Hey! (Hey!) You! (You!) I don't like your hometown!

Time for another Edmonton rant (gee, can you tell I don't like it here?)

Edmonton has a pothole problem. A bad one. Don't believe me? Take a look at what commuters and pedestrians have to deal with on a daily basis:


Whoops! That's not Edmonton, but a scene from the Battle of Paschendale. My mistake. But trust me when I say this: we gots us some big ol' potholes. In fact , bitching about potholes has become one of Edmonton's most popular pastimes, surpassing "bitching about gas prices," "bitching about tax hikes" and lagging behind "bitching about rents." The situation has become so critical that the City is planning on sinking an additional $17 million into road repairs this year, lest streets suddenly swallow entire school buses.

That's all well and good, I suppose. I can't fault the city for trying to address its basic infrastructure needs, especially after years of neglect from the provincial government. But there's part of me that wonders that maybe, just maybe, if the city hadn't pursued a development policy that allowed it to spread across the prairie in all directions like a malignant tumour, if it didn't enable the construction of far flung subdivisions requiring intensive infrastructure development, if they had focused their efforts on infill development and lifted a finger to promote alternate forms of transportation (bikes, transit, your fucking feet you fat, lazy fuck), then this pothole thing wouldn't be nearly such a big deal. But that's Edmonton for you: no foresight, no big-picture thinking. So my message for today to Edmontonians who complain about potholes (but balk at the tax hikes necessary to pay for things like paving the roads) is this: get out of your goddamn car.

Dear Vancouver chick with Chanel logo tattooed on her arm...

So, tell me: how does it feel to be a human knockoff?

How many Twix is that for you today?

Boy, did I call it or what? Hope you Pelle Lindbergh it this off season, fuckface.

That aside, long time, no blog, hey? I was off in Vancouver (or "the 'couve" as absolutely no-one calls it) looking for a place to live. I'm pleased to report that we found one.

Now I've got three weeks to settle my affairs here in Shitsburgh before loading up the truck and heading back west for my new life of unemployment and cheap, quality heroin. (Maybe the Bush picture should go here?-ed.)

Thing about Vancouver is people out there are ridiculously health conscious. Unlike Edmonton, those Botox'd up Paris wannabes in the Lululemon pants are actually going to yoga class. After their double tall, non-fat, no-whip, sugar-free, extra foam enema, of course. People exercise. And they consume shit like "vitamins" and "vegetables." So I thought I'd get a jump on things and try a one-day fast (or, as about 3/4 of the world's population call it "Another fucking Monday without a goddamn thing to eat.") At the risk of this sounding like a pro-ana blog, I've consumed but one cup of black coffee and a litre of water since waking up this morning. I may have some juice in a bit here, just to mix it up. I expect this whole experiment will go down the tubes by about 7 p.m. tonight. Or maybe I'll wait until nightfall before stuffing my face, like those crazy religious people with the funny hats always do. I sure as shit don't anticipate this kind of thing being a regular addition to my lifestyle, so as to spare you, dear reader, from future posts on the subject of the colour and consistency of my stool.