I have something that I need a lot of help with quickly.

I don’t want to wash the dishes. I do want a pet. Which pet would be the best for me to get if I want to teach it how to do the dishes?

***

The last in the trilogy of pictures that Danny sent me, it may not be a bee but this recreation of one of the greatest scenes in movie history is still relevant. Thanks again!

I got a ticket!

I had opened my mailbox to find an envelope labelled “Here’s your ticket.”. Holy shit! This is exciting! I wonder what it could be for?

Maybe it’s a ticket to a grand adventure! Perhaps I’ll finally be able to experience the high mountains of Louisiana or the lakes and rivers of The Mojave. I could see the large cities of Wyoming or the tiny, sparsely populated India.

Or it could be a ticket to a show! Maybe this ticket will allow me to see the band that I never knew existed but have always desired to see! I can feel the new love growing within me now as the sweet sound of that guitar washes me inside and out.

I ran to my living room and held my breath as I opened the envelope . . .

Oh, it’s an advertisement for a travel agency. I guess I’ll just go sit down and stare at the wall or something then.

***

Another one from Danny, this time we have Bumblebee! Thanks man!

Ever have that thought that just rewrites your childhood?

My mother, sister and myself moved around quite a bit throughout my early years. I spent my preteens in a small farming community and before that I lived in a trailer park for a few years. My teens were spent entirely in one of those tiny fishing villages that Nova Scotia is frequently associated with.

Growing up I never felt at home. Somehow I was a city kid trapped in the countryside despite never having actually lived in a city. The slow paced rural life always bored me, and living in a fishing village with an ever-increasing higher percentage of homes being owned by those who only intended on living there in the summer didn’t exactly help to create any illusions of excitement. Once I turned 18 I set about fixing this as quickly as I could which resulted in me living in a nearby town for a couple of months before moving to The Halifax Regional Municipality.

A year and a half or so at the age of 24 I was living with a couple of friends of mine in Halifax. It was the first time I had lived in a full-sized apartment building with a double-digit number of floors, balconies, shitty superintendents, etc. One day I got off the elevator on the eight floor and was walking down the hallway back to our place when a thought hit me and I stopped dead in my tracks to ponder it aloud.

“Wow. This single building has a larger population than my entire hometown.”

It took me a couple of days to get over that one.

***

Funnily enough a friend of mine who is from the same village sent me several pictures last night. I’ll start with this mspaint bee straight from my nightmares. Thanks Danny!

Here’s the story of a shitty day I had in January of ’08.

So here’s the setup: Basically I was underemployed going on unemployed. I had three jobs, but two of them ended due to seasonal issues (Yay for my Travel and Tourism degree! >_>) and the third was a mere 12-16 hours a week. Since I was nowhere near making my bills I put in my notice so I could job-search full time.

Right off the bat I applied for and was hired on full time for a dishwashing position at an Indian food restaurant. A more tactful person would probably leave the name of it out but fuck it the place was the Taj Mahal in Halifax close to the Westin Hotel. I was to work five evenings a week, 8 hours a night. The pay was bad but that was to be expected really. The owner of the place mentioned that he had a lot of people take the job and leave after a single shift. He said so in a bragging manner. That should’ve set off some red flags but I was too busy being relieved that I finally had full time work for the first time in half a year.

Showing up for my first shift I could only find a single server who was getting ready for the evening. It took me awhile to find him even after walking around both levels of the restaurant. The upper level had a small room behind the bar with a small mattress with pillows and sheets. Weird.

After meeting the gentleman who was setting up, he led me to one of two kitchens that I would be cleaning. One of the two kitchens that I would be expected to keep clean. By myself. On separate floors with no way to move between them without moving through the dining areas. Oh jeez.

There was a mess but they were short-staffed with regards to dishwashers before I was hired so I was ready for that. Then the cooks came in. I like to think I don’t generally have a problem with cultural/language differences and the like but when you need to work directly with a staff being able to communicate with people would be pretty neat.

It was about this time that I realized that the dish pit was nowhere near as warm as it should be. Asking one of the servers I learned that the hot water tank for the building is extremely small/poorly made and it runs out quickly. So basically I was expected to sanitize everything with cold water. Awesome.

Now I will say this: The cooking was good at being stereotypically Indian. Unfortunately so were the hygienic practices of the people preparing it (Note: I’m not saying that stereotypes are true outside outside of this one specific incident!). At this point I couldn’t help but notice that the entire side of one of the fridges was covered in Food Safety Regulation notices.

The other dishwasher employee came in later to check up on me. I won’t get too much into it but basically the only person I could communicate with in the entire kitchen was a little . . . Off-kilter. When I asked him how I was supposed to sanitize anything while pressed for time with no hot water he responded by hastily scrubbing a few pans by hand and tossing them aside.

Falling behind and disgusted with the poor sanitation of the place I walked off before the end of my shift, crossing off all of my shifts on the wall and writing on it that I quit.  Depressed and feeling like a failure in life I began the walk/bus ride home.

Walking down the sidewalk with my head hung something caught the corner of my eye. Looking up I saw what was the most oddly inspiring thing I had ever seen in my life.

An older man was standing outside of a cafe with an electric guitar. He had headphones plugged into it and was calmly playing it, cigar(ette?) dangling out of his mouth as gentle snowflakes fell down in a poetic manner. He just looked so . . . Peaceful. Like he was doing what he truly wanted to do and nothing else.

It made one of the worst nights of my life slightly less shitty.

P.S. I never did get paid for the hours I worked there.

P.S.S: The place burned down sometime in late ’09/early ’10 if memory serves me correctly. Hopefully in rebuilding they at least fixed the hot water thing.

***

Adam sent me this picture of his dog. I’ll let it speak for itself ha ha. Thanks man!

I’m going to be so tired after this week ha ha.

So this week is the Halifax Pop Explosion. Starting tomorrow I’m going to be hitting up various places downtown and staying out stupid late for five nights straight. Even though I don’t drink (usually) I’m 25 going 0n 60 and I only have one day off after to sleep in before I start a new temp day job on Monday. That’s going to be like a four coffee day.

Last night I finished Xenoblade Chronicles. It’s kind of an amazing game. I was going to start The Last Story but decided I should probably play something stupid first as a gaming wind-down of sorts. After finding a cheap copy I decided on 50 Cent: Blood on the Sand.

Gameplay-wise it’s actually pretty decent. But man is the story ever terrible. Terrible in the most brilliant way. I’m a third of the way through it and I still don’t understand exactly what they’re trying to convey here. Ever see something that . . . It’s like you don’t understand it, but it’s not over your head? Is it possible for something to actually be under your level of comprehension? Also, his music plays in the background at all times. This is the most rap I’ve listened to since junior high. I imagine that’s still the demographic for modern rap.

From the game’s article on Wikipedia: “Charlie Brooker mocked the game’s perceived infantile pretense of maturity on the BBC program Gameswipe. “The game’s so desperate to appear grown-up it ends up looking downright ridiculous, like an adolescent straining to grow a whispery little moustache and bragging about how many girls he’s fingered.” ”

Yep.

***

Nathan from Newfoundland sent me this one. I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume this wasn’t hand-drawn. Thanks Nathan!

Sitting down with a mug of hot chocolate, I begin to type out my heart.

*Whew* This writing thing can be tough sometimes. A mug of hot chocolate always helps though. I’ll just take another sip . . . Wait, why is my lip stuck? I tug on the mug to no avail.

Then the hot chocolate began to slurp me. The slurper has become the slurped? Confusion from having my lip being sucked in turned into horror as my head was thrust into the mug. Nothing in my body felt broken though as far as I could tell. Was I being shrunk somehow as well?

The next thing I knew I was trapped inside of the hot chocolate itself. Upon realizing this I hear my girlfriend coming back from work. I yelled and screamed as much as possible but all I heard was a disappointed “Why did he leave half a mug of hot chocolate sitting around?” as she dumped it into the sink.

Moving through the drainage, the hot chocolate held together quite well. It held me together the whole time. No. That’s not it. I was fusing with the hot chocolate. I had become one with the corn syrup, the corn syrup had become one with me.

Surviving the waste treatment facility I (We?) had made it to the harbour. My high internal heat had caused me to evaporate at an alarming rate. I was only held in a cloud for mere hours before pouring down onto an office building in downtown Halifax.

Despite all of this I already knew what I had to do next. After all, it’s not ever day that you get to torment yourself in the third person.

One should always question their own wisdom.

I for one question my own wisdom frequently. I ask questions like “Why do I have so much wisdom?” and “How do I know so much about everything ever?”. But I already know the answers to these questions. It’s because I’m so wise you see.

One time I was depressed because I was home alone on a Friday night. I started to cook a steak for dinner. Then I realized that people often cook a steak to celebrate anything. Not actually having anything to celebrate I instead decided to celebrate the fact that I was doing something that could be construed as celebratory.

So I started a close to two-week vacation today with minimal plans. Day one and I’m remember that having infinite possibilities paralyze me. And apparently it causes me to write like shit as well ha ha.

***

The following was drawn by a friend when Marsha insisted on having her use a drawing tablet for the first time. Marsha seems to be forcing a lot of people to draw her bees these days. I mean, whoo less work for me and stuff but I’m starting to become concerned.

My (completely true) Fallout 3 story.

For the people out there who aren’t all up in the whole modern gaming thing, Fallout 3 is a game that takes place after World War III. It’s played in the first person perspective (Meaning the point of view is from the character’s eyes.) and features a lot of traveling around by foot. Although you’re given details on what you’re supposed to do to advance the story you’re also free to just roam around, explore old buildings, scavenge stuff, fight weird radioactive things and meet random people as you please. So with that said . . .

So I’m wandering around the former town of Grayditch this one time a couple years ago. Grayditch is a rundown town that is completely covered in mutated ants, some of which breath fire and are the size of a large man.

I slowly made my way though all of the buildings I could find above ground, sweeping the area completely and killing all of the ants along the way. After finishing this I made my way to the entrance of a tunnel that led underground. I figured that the queen’s nest was down there and I wanted to gather whatever information I could regarding the source of these ants.

The tunnel proved to be a slow crawl. As expected there were many, many large ants in my way. After fighting my way for what must’ve been at least an hour (Hour and a half?) or so when accounting for both the above ground and underground portions I came across . . . A metallic door? How perfectly odd.

Approaching the door it suddenly opened itself as I was a mere two or three steps away. They haven’t learned how to open doors on their own, have they? But this was no ant. This was an ordinary human being. A scientist of average height and build greeted me. The fact that the door opened so suddenly and the fact that the man was so drastically different from anything I had seen for hours scared me.

It scared me to the point that I threw the controller onto the floor and screamed as loud as I could.

Apparently this is the most terrifying creature in the ENTIRE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE!

I was living with a couple of friends at the time. One of them was already in the living room and was wondering what was so scary about this man/how potentially insane I must be. The other ran out of his room, asking if I was okay. To this I responded by pointing my finger at the television and yelling:

“A MAN JUST WALKED OUT THAT DOOOOOOOOOR!”

It’s been said that I’m an extremely high-strung person.

*Cough*

Just like the wheat,
I sure am beat.
That’s right, I’m freestylin’,
Time to move your feet!

I’m gonna rock it all the way live,
While I’m getting ready to jive.
The mic is in one hand,
The other is slapping you a five.

Don’t look at me like I’m a mutt,
It’s totally my turn to strut.
My rhymes are going to hit you
Square in the gut.

But you have nothing to fear,
Come lend me your ear.
Here are some words,
That I hold quite dear.

Are you listening now hun?
Good, let’s have some fun.
Stay as I dispense wisdom,
I don’t wanna see you run.

Good, I’m about to start.
My words will fly true like a dart.
I got a better selection of lyrics,
Than your local Wal-Mart.

This is for my biggest fan,
From every woman to every man.
It’s time to start this show,
It’s time to show that I can!

*Drops mic and walks off stage left*

***

Another picture from the local Lolita group featuring bees drawn left-handed. Thanks everyone (This time don’t just hotlink the image ha ha.)! ❤

How did I get a whiff of body odor off of that SUV that drove by?‏

The rest of the morning that was all I could think about. How did I confuse the smell of vehicle exhaust with that of human sweat?

After a couple hours of sitting at my desk I finally noticed something was off. Where was this faint smell of wet grass coming from? Moving my head around slowly whilst sniffing led me to notice that it was coming from my monitor? That’s just weird.

Do my hands smell funny? That is always on my mind even at the best of times. I looked around to make sure nobody would notice because I’m sure sniffing my monitor didn’t already make me look weird, and I held my hands over my mouth and nose as I took a huge huff of the . . . What was that smell? I hadn’t smelled anything like that since I used to live down the road from a pig farm.

I ran to the bathroom to wash my hands, wondering all the while why the hallways smelled like the open highway. I slammed my body through the door and ran the water on it’s hottest temperature. As I noticed the water smelled like burnt rubber I realized that for some reason my brain was registering random smells that didn’t match what I was actually smelling. Soaping my hands up with soap that smelled like a shaggy carpet that was just vacuumed caused me to break.

I shut off the lights and retreated to a bathroom stall while crying. This dark space is my home now, and constant olfactory torture is the only thing I know. The last thing I smelled before I passed out from my frenzied stupor is the smell of an asteroid breaking through the ozone layer.

I wake up in a grassy field. And only the panda suit remains.

***

This excellent piece was made by all around awesome super-mom Laura! She also has a great blog that she needs to update more about her weight-loss journey. Go encourage her to do that here!