Oh, hello there.

It was a rather ordinary day at work. Another day banging away at the keyboard to hack away fruitlessly at a constantly growing mountain of data to enter.

I heard a buzzing. Faint at first, it became louder and closer until it was like a bee in my ear. This made sense because there was a bee in my ear.

“Goddammit Frank. What do you want now?” I asked followed by an exasperated sigh through my nose.

“I need your help Tyler! I’m desperate!” This question was topped off by the visual of Frank buzzing around erratically a foot in front of my face while producing rainbow sparkles and all sorts of similar garbage.

“Alright, what can I help you with this time?”

“I really really really really need your help this time! I need your help so bad I don’t know what . . . “

“I already said I’d help, please stop.”

” . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do I’m freaking out whatever will I do I can’t deal with this please . . . “

“STOP!” I demanded. I was weary of this before it even began, words couldn’t describe how annoyed I was now. “What do you need?”

Frank took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to Olive Garden tonight and I’m not sure how much I should tip?”




This was a complete waste of time. Like always. I buried my forehead in one hand and sighed again.

“I dunno. General rule of thumb is fifteen percent I guess. Adjust as needed.”

With an exuberant thanks Frank poofed away in a puff of smoke.

And that’s why this report was late. I absolutely swear that’s the case. Please don’t fire me.


I am so good at Splatoon 2. Someday I’ll even play the game proper!

Passing the time.

So I’m there in a meeting, and as I drifted off into a daydream like the model employee that I am . . . I noticed that the only thing I could think of was the value of different objects in the room. Not in their current state but rather wondering what I could fetch for various metals in the room by melting down the projector and the like. This turned out to be a rather fruitless endeavor since I’ve never taken anything other than bottles to a recycling depot and as such had absolutely idea how much various metals are even worth, or if they’re even worth anything at all.

Apparently toast sandwiches are a big thing in Europe? Lemme explain: You take a piece of bread. Toast it, flavor it up on both sides with whatever (I like garlic butter) and put it in between two uncooked pieces of bread. Then you eat it. The textures give off the illusion that you’re eating something that’s more complex than three pieces of bread.

That is amazing and I would gladly risk my father’s left testicle to become the first person to have thought of this. I know that doesn’t sound like a sacrifice on my end but if that was to be applied retroactively that’s a fifty percent chance that I would permanently erase myself from time.

Yes, I would flip that coin to have invented the best poor person meal ever.


Wait, when did I become an adult?

Today while on a break from my office job I decided to forego buying an album and bought sunscreen instead. After half an hour or so it hit me. When did I start having mature priorities in life? Why am I only thinking of this now at the age of 26? When was the moment in your life that you realized the same for yourself if you’ve done so yet?

Okay, now that I have an opening paragraph long enough to mess with the WordPress/Facebook previews, let’s get something going here. Something a little more exciting if I may . . .

Let me tell you about something that’s going to happen tomorrow that I’m not actually aware of yet.

In the near future I’m going to go completely stir-crazy. You see, I’ll be in the kitchen when . . . Ha ha, just kidding. I’m not that terrible of a writer.

It’s a little hazy but in my near future I see myself in a shabby, worn out three piece suit as if I just wore it through a fierce battle. I apparently become rich somehow.  A wrecked hummer can be found parked in the middle of a casino lobby. Whether that has anything to do with me I’m not sure, but I’m being blamed for it anyway. I get beat up and thrown into jail. I escape. Making my way to a secluded forest north of a small town in a rural area of a central Canadian province, I use my money to become their king.

Using the resources of my small town I gather my loyal subjects together and we take over a smaller town. Then I pool the two towns together and take over a town that’s slightly smaller than the combination of those two towns. I repeat this until I become the Prime Minister. Then after a long struggle I finally manage to outlaw spiders while still having time for a sweet photo op before bed.

When this happens I’ll post pics as proof.

Memos are not a thing I do well. I am so sorry.

Memos are not a thing that I do well. I am so sorry.

The life I dream of.‏

I sit in this chair,
Thinking about how life isn’t fair.
If only I could drop everything,
And travel without a dare.

To simply travel with the flow,
How I would love to make it so.
I’m envious of the people,
Who can just drop everything and go.

. . . Ugh, I can’t write anymore of this garbage. I’ve read this story too many times to count. If you’re stuck in a rut take up a hobby or something. And before you say it’s a waste of time clearly it can’t be any less of a time-waster than what you’re doing now or else you wouldn’t be complaining about being in a rut to begin with.

Let’s talk about music for a moment.

My favourite album from the past month is easily ‘Vichada’ by Kashka. But then again I’m arguably in love with the lead singer, Forest City Lovers (Kat’s former project) is my favourite band, I’ve recently gotten into synth pop in the last year and I’m generally easily persuaded by any woman who can belt out a decent tune so I’m pretty bias on the matter. Have a listen anyway: http://kashka.bandcamp.com/

I bought the cassette and just got it the other day along with this postcard. Whenever anybofy asks me why I’m a fan of Kat Burns at any point in the future I’ll just point them to this:

I love music. I love having a 5500+ song collection that’s 99.9 percent legally owned. I don’t have the patience to create any of my own however. I generally pick up an instrument, learn how to play something that’s like 20 notes long and drop it after spending a total of an hour or so, never to touch it again.

I don’t believe I’m really going anywhere with this. So here’s a .swf of Colin Mochrie dancing and a picture of a bee on the beach: http://internet.thoughtdump.net/DancingColin.swf

The Selah touch.‏

It was like having the Midas touch. Except instead of having everything I touch turn to gold everything I touched turned to squirrels. Thankfully this allowed me to eat unlike the previously mentioned curse, but man does eating raw squirrel get real old real fast.

It was something I discovered at work the other day. Not sure exactly how or when it happened but I was typing as usual and suddenly the keys began to turn into tiny squirrels and run away. It’s hard to type when your keys run into the desk drawers and the walls. I started to get up from my chair by firmly placing my hands on the arm rests which in turn made the chair transform into a giant squirrel. Angry squirrels are not comfortable seats and are more than capable of running through doors. As in the smash, bash and crash kind of running through doors.

Having so much destruction caused so quickly by my actions (As indirect as they may be.) caused me panic. I needed to get out of there before anyone knew I was involved and I had mere seconds to do something. So I knelt down and slammed my hands on the floor. The floor turned into squirrels and I feel though to the next floor down. I continued to do this for each floor. I had to be careful for the first couple floors but after that the squirrels started to cushion my fall although they made actually touching each consecutive floor more difficult. Eventually I made it to the ground floor and by this point everything was such a mess of destruction and squirrels that I managed to flee unnoticed. It didn’t appear that anybody else was hurt but I had no time to confirm that.

I made my way home while being extremely careful not to touch anything with my bare skin. Thankfully I had forgotten to lock my apartment door that morning. Admittedly I couldn’t help but pet a cat on the way home while nobody was looking just to watch it change from a cat to a squirrel by my hand. It was weird. Poor cat.

As I became hungry I knew I was in a dire situation. Other than the clothes I already had on I couldn’t touch anything without it running away, including gloves. Seeing a box of cereal I reach out to touch the box. It transforms and runs away. The bag does the same. Taking a deep sigh I quickly toss a piece of the loose cereal in my mouth.

It was the most terrible thing I had ever ate, both in taste and in emotion. But I needed to eat. So I continued until I had eaten just enough to take care of my hunger. Are these really animals with real lives that I’m eating? I had no way of knowing.

Unsure of where to go from here I went out to sit on my balcony. Taking great care not to touch anything with my bare skin I slumped down with my back against the building. My head fell back as I looked up at the tree branches above me and sighed the most defeated sign a person could produce.

A squirrel came down onto the balcony, resting within my reach. I started to wonder what would happen if I were to touch it. It’s already a squirrel, where could things possibly go from here? Would it become . . . Another squirrel? That wouldn’t even make sense. Not that any of this made sense to begin with.

Slowly I reached toward the squirrel. Thankfully it hadn’t noticed me. I gently poked it with my finger . . .


Then the tree exploded, followed by the other buildings, the balcony, the building I lived in, the ground . . . You get the idea. Finally I exploded. Painlessly thankfully.

Space is my home now, and squirrels are the only things I know. As my body is spread out throughout the universe I eventually black out from the pain. The last thing I saw was an asteroid breaking apart a squirrel.

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

I could just go to sleep right now.

There’s nothing I want to do more now than to crawl under this desk, make a fort with several office chairs and hide out in my cubicle fortress. By the time I had that thought I had already done exactly that.

I proceeded to peer out in sheer contempt at all of the various forest animals that are trying to steal my precious back pillow. I need that back pillow. Sitting in a chair all day hurts for reasons that only vaguely make sense to me!

Then I see the muskrat. I’m pretty sure that’s not a forest animal but anyway . . . Out of the corner of my eye I had seen this creature running away from me all summer long. But this was not out of the corner of my eye this time. He had crawled in between the chairs and now he staring me directly in the left eye. That’s when I realized that not only had I forgotten to construct any actual means of defence, but I had also encased myself and was unable to move any part of my body!

This muskrat or ferret or whatever it was (What? I grew up in a small fishing village. Stop it with that weird stare!) began to slowly crawl all over my face. I tried to hold my resolve but eventually it started to crawl around my neck, tickling me in the process. Taking advantage of the literal opening that was created, I suddenly found myself with a furry thing stuffing itself into my mouth. And I had a cold so breathing was an issue. I hate it when that happens.

My tongue was then bitten in a most vicious manner!

My assailant had ran off, leaving me to scream wildly as my mouth bleed faster than I could’ve imagined. I screamed and screamed until a co-worker finally dug me out. Then I had received a written warning. Apparently being stuck under my desk while bleeding all over the carpet for the third time that month was “Three times too many and I should be grateful they let it slide the first two times.”.


Tales of the office.‏

I looked up and the ceiling began to ooze high-fructose corn syrup. That’s when I knew that day wasn’t going to end well.

Not a good starting point you say? Fine.

So I woke up that morning as I often tend to do. I hadn’t turned off my special alarm clock in time so it became a ghost and chased me awake. I went through my usual routine of eating, shaving and doing my best to shower without getting any water on me.

Something was feeling a little off. Like I was being followed and/or watched. Chalking it up to not getting enough sleep I went on my merry way to work. I even walked to work that morning. Although it cheered me up a bit I still had that feeling. Still, work’s gotta get done. I went to my cubicle and sat down as normal.

My phone rang. I answered it and all I could hear is the sound of something sticky being squished. I figured it was just a bad connection and hung up. The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon went with no further incident.

But then I heard it. That same sound from the phone earlier. But it wasn’t coming through any sort of audio device this time however. I looked up and the ceiling began to ooze high-fructose corn syrup. That’s when I knew that day wasn’t going to end well. I also had a feeling of redundancy but for the life of me I couldn’t put a finger on the cause.

Then the ceiling tile gave way causing me to black out as it stuck me directly in the head. When I came to my face was mere inches away from where the ceiling tile used to be and I could barely move my arms. As I finished coming to I managed to look down a bit. Oh my sweet fuck.

When I was unconscious my body had absorbed the corn syrup through osmosis and I had swelled to the size of an elephant but with a physique that resembled something akin to the ‘Pusheen cat’. My first thought was that of concern. I’m not on the ground floor and I didn’t want to hurt/kill anybody.

Somehow the floor held well enough for me to roll through the large window. Why am I always flinging myself out of the window? How many times have they replaced the damn thing already? Thankfully the street below was empty. I had been blacked out for what must have been ten-ish hours since it was now clearly after midnight.

As predicted I fell right through the ground. I had plummeted through several hundred yards of earth until I fell into a large cavern. A large stalagmite had pierced my stomach, but for some reason I did not feel any pain. So I just kind of laid there on my stomach completely immobilized.

A scene played out in front of me that I just could not believe. The corn syrup had left my body, shrinking me back down to my normal size. The wound from the stalagmite had apparently been all in the excess fat so it was gone when the syrup had left. I stood beside the 7 foot-tall hunk of limestone, resting against it with one arm to steady myself as I became accustomed to having legs again.

The corn syrup had formed into a humanoid creature devoid of any gender-specific attributes that was of roughly my height and average build. The creature walked up and gently embraced me. I felt . . . Safe somehow. Its grip tightened and the next thing I knew we were flying up through the hole. We continued to fly straight upwards. I held my breath early on as we continued to climb.

The air began to thin but before letting out my breath became a worry we stopped for a few seconds before flipping upside down. We hurled toward the ground in a location I wasn’t familiar with. We flew towards the ground at an increasing rate of speed. I feared for my life. But just before we hit the ground the creature performed a graceful arc. Turning back around I was gently placed back on the ground feet first on a stretch of highway somewhere in the middle of rural Nova Scotia. The creature yelled “PSYCH!” and then giggled hysterically while running off leaving me lost and confused . . .

. . . Wait, what?

It’s just a wisp of a thing!‏

As I sat at my cubicle a tiny rock caught my eye. Barely large enough to see without straining. Must’ve gotten stuck in my shoe or something.

Picking it up I pondered what kind of journey must’ve led it here. Was this rock always native to Nova Scotia? Perhaps it was stuck to the shoe of a visitor. A distant visitor? More than likely a visitor from within the province, but what if it was from an international tourist?

What if this rock had somehow managed to travel here from another country? Oh, there are so many to choose from. What climates has this rock been exposed to? Was this a piece of a rock that had drifted to show from the frigid waters of the north? Or perhaps it was a rock that was at the very center of the equator. Maybe this rock was from the very center of the earth and was carried out by a volcano!

*Gasp* Could it be that this rock is a piece of a meteorite!? That would be so cool! If this rock could tell its tale maybe it would tell me a story of the wonders of space. Is there life in space that can live without air? This could . . .

. . . Aww damn, I dropped it. Now I can’t find it . . . Oh hey, that pencil is unusually shiny! I wonder what kind of journey must’ve led it here . . .