Journal

Dave goes to Florida. Does he die? Well, he’s back at work so what do you think, asshole?! Click on the picture for all the photographic evidence!

Not sure how I’ve waited this long to mention it, but on the Saturday night I went down to Florida and we went out to a club, I found myself in a good old fashioned dance off. I guess as I was wobbling around acting retarded I bumped this guy’s chick in the arm. He got all pissed off and started calling me names and I screamed at him that his girlfriend was a stinky whore. He didn’t take too kindly to that. He began to motion for everyone to leave the dance floor. I guess he was friends with the DJ because it only took a complicated hand gesture from this dude to get that guy to start spinning Drop It Like It’s Hot by the great Mr. Snoop Dogg. ...

I played volleyball with a toddler on Sunday. That was cool. I think he got hurt pretty bad.

Just returned from my Florida weekend. Damn good times. Have many photos and some stellar videos to share. Off to bed right now. Thanks to Florida Joe, Florida Pat and Calgary “Hamster Dick” Matt!

So I was supposed to leave for Florida today. Weather ruined that. Flight was canceled. Nothing left all day or tomorrow morning. Re-booked for tomorrow evening. Southwest airlines customer service lady Peggy had a deep Southern accent. She was helpful and seemed sincerely sorry. The next dude had an unintelligible name and an even deeper accent. He acted like he was making a huge batch of deer jerky and was in a rush to tend to it. Last call was to a soulful woman named Linda. She was efficient without being overly gracious. My requests were all met and she even gave me a giggle by pretending the adjustment of my return flight required senior approval. Oh Linda, you are a magical delight. I hope when you get home your husband treats you to a choke-free Friday. You’ve earned it. ...

During my brief stint as a worthless human being in late ‘95, early ‘96, I had a notion to write an autobiography. It was going to be called “This Mind of Mine,” because at the time I thought I was smarter and better than everyone. I now realize that I may not be and that coming up with such a title proves I’ve got problems. What was this book going to be about? I suppose it was going to detail my late night sub feedings and the time I ate two Burger King chicken sandwiches and threw up. It was probably going to conclude with the tale of me eating 3 full tubes of Pringles and then (again) throwing up. The preface would later be written by my future college roommate “Poobag.” He was going to write about my first ever experience with the “Century Club” drinking game where the grand finale saw me run to the washroom and throw up. You know, the more I try to mock myself here, the more I think this is a fabulous idea. The book is back on, baby!! ...

Assembled the garbage the other night and found myself with one large bag of refuse that wouldn’t fit into the garbage can. I lost a couple hours of sleep over it, but I was eventually able to drift off once the rye kicked in. Woke the next morning and prepared to head off to work. As I stood in the driveway, I took a look next door and saw that they only had one small can of garbage at the curb and neither of their vehicles were present. I looked around to be sure no other neighbours were watching, said a couple Hail Mary’s and hastily tossed the bag by their driveway. I then got the hell outta there. Everything seems to have worked out just fine. I mean, everything worked out fine for me but the Baltic hooker I had stuffed into that bag might have quite a different tale to tell. A different tale indeed! ...

Woke this morning and put on my Monday’s finest. Headed out around twenty to nine. Planned to stop in the Falls for gas but started day dreaming of what I might smell like on the inside and ended up driving right by. Stopped a bit later on in Beamsville where I celebrated the frigid weather with a coffee and bagel. I tipped the girl 4 cents and drove away with my head held high. ...

I had a dream last night. I was driving a very large pickup (it was a British model as I was in a right-side driver’s seat). I was taking my Mom and brothers out to buy a humidifier. We went to a store where an inconsiderate salesman gave us the run around and refused to help us. I told him off and then told the family that we should go somewhere else. We headed outside and loaded ourselves into the truck. As I was getting ready to pull away, I saw the salesman approaching my door. I said, “Well, here we go” and exited the truck ready to throw down. The guy was quite animated and explained that he doesn’t make much commission on humidifiers and that’s why he wasn’t paying us much attention. That part of the dream ended and I then found myself driving the pickup around a carnival or circus. I’d look all this up in a dream book, but it’s certain to suggest that I’m gay. Let’s just say I’m gay and save me the time to find that book. ...

This, the fifteenth of January on the 2008th year of modern days began early in the village of Fort Erie. I woketh at 4:30. Took a showereth. I plowed down a small tub of heavily-sauced macaroni salad in the car. I drove 20 minutes to the gas station where I quietly polished off that tub and disposed of the container in the garbage. No one will know my delicious secret but you. Please don’t tell anyone. Doc says I’m supposed to be limiting my mayonnaise intake. Doc also says that thing on my back is a “serious concern” though I’m pretty sure it’s just a bit of Crispy Crunch. You know I like the Crispy Crunch. Used to be my favourite until Skor came along. Where did you come from, Skor and where were you when I needed you most? Off practicing your badminton skills, huh? Well where the heck did that get you? Exactly nowhere if I’m not mistaken. But cheer up. You can still lay hardwood with the best of ’em. ...