Look who decided to crawl out from under the alcoholism rock and make a feeble attempt at updating this here piece of ass. Me! Just let me finish off this one last glass of liquid courage... I need it you know because frankly, writing frightens me. Here's a nice little fact about me: My stupidity isn't a recent acquisition. It stems way back to childhood when I was the only kid in kindergarten who couldn't read. Sniffle, I admit it, I was illiterate up until grade one. I couldn't tie my shoelaces either...which probably explains my affinity for all things velcro. And I have an analog watch phobia. Digital is the way to go!

What's that Voice Number One in my head, a.k.a. Voice Number Only (because I'm not a crazy schizophrenic!)? What have I been up to? Hrmm...well, I went to that fantabulous Beck concert I won tickets to. He was so damn sexy what with his hip gyrations and pink sparkly satin pantsuit. The opening band Cafe Tacuba made me pant with musical lust. Ha ha, you know what's great about crazy concert dancers? The fact that they're Crazy Concert Dancers. Horsemanure and I had lotsa giggling fits over the ridiculous people who entertained us with their epileptic dance moves. I'm not saying that I'm a better dancer, because I'm not. But like the expression goes, "I don't need to be hot to know what's not" - me. There was this one guy dressed in an entirely leather ensemble, from his floor length rain coat to his superhero old school wrasslin style knee length boots. Hotdamn, four cows must've died just to clothe him. Which is about the number required to ensure that Miss Bingenotpurge, i.e. me, is semi-satiated after dinner.

On to other things. I got a summer job! Woohoo, I won't be selling ride passes at the local amusement park this year. My position you ask? Okay, well I know you're not asking because you most likely don't care. Hell, you probably stumbled onto this site whilst downloading net porn, stickifying your computer monitor. Hrmm...that's an idea. Registering this site with an engine like Sexsearch. Since I'd like to up my hit-whore quotient, that just may get me a few more visitors, albeit angry disappointed ones who frantically click around my site looking for naked pictures of Buffy while the gentle sound of hand slapping on skin plays in the background. Wow, I digress. So yeah, I'm a "Production Technician". Sounds impressive doesn't it? I had to go through an intense interview process too! Twenty people from my university were interviewd for this position, and only two of us got it so I'm thinking, what kinda crack was the human resources person smoking to actually consider hiring me? First I was handed a bunch of parts, three allen keys, a picture, and was told to build the whatever it was in 25 minutes. Then I was taken on a tour of the shop and shown the equipment they manufactured. They asked me about various components and how they work. And I was like, Dude, do I look like I invented the damn thing? I'm a lucky guesser though. Then I took a physics test and finally had an interview with two people. I was at the company for 2.5 hours! Fuckdamn! But apart from that, I am pleased as pumpkin pie about my new job.

So for the past week I've been busy partying it up with Clubfest 2000. To cut and paste from an email I sent earlier today: Clubfest 2000 has been quite a humbling experience. Damn, if I thought I was unpopular before, this whole non-showing-up fad has really put me in my place. Despite the sadder than expected turnout, i.e. more people would show up to an Alf concert, I've had me a ton o fun. And the people who've come aren't the ones horsemanure and I expected. So we've had fun making new friends with people we barely spoke to at school but who decided to come. Monday we went to Luvafair and I thoroughly enjoyed myself despite the fact that there were maybe 30 people total at the club that night. O, and horsemanure got herself a little sumthin sumthin. Ha ha, it was great too when my mom caught her making out on my front porch circa 4am. Tuesday was eh, okay. Wednesday was superb! Hip hop night at Sonar. It was pretty packed and we saw lotsa people we knew. I even skanked it up a notch with my first ever whore purchase. I wore this black tank top deal that was totally cleavage exposing. It's probably not very skanky by seasoned skank standards, but for me I felt damned near next to naked. OOoh, we were even evacuated for like half an hour because there was a bomb threat! Is that excitement or what? Then afterwards my friends and I went to Denny's with a fellow engineering classmate who was nice enough to show up with his friend. I heart food at 4am and I also heart nice people who surprise me by showing up to a night of clubfest when I wasn't even expecting them. Thursday we went to this place called The Drink for trance dance. Lotsa granola raver types. They're very cliquey and they came out en masse for some good music. Mam and I had previously discussed the sudden lack of granolas on campus, but we now know where they have all disappeared too. They took up the entire club. Physically, no, but chemically yes. Fuckdamn, someone needs to introduce those granolies to a little friend we like to call deodorant! Yeah yeah, I know you're into being natural and blah blah blah but please mr. granola, will you please put on some of this Degree? Because damn, when you raise those arms you are definitely Unsure!

Yawn. Well today was my lone day of rest. Tomorrow we head out to Richards on Richards. Hurrah for booze. You know what sucks? Even when completely drunk I still lack the courage to jump whatever boy I have my sights on.

Me flirting sober: Uh...hi.
Me flirting drunk: Hi.

Notice the difference? It's very subtle, but there's a lack of hesitation before the initial greeting. Fuck, where was I when God was handing out the whore gene? Or looks for that matter?

More... I have a new crush. Which isn't an entirely shocking revelation because I am crush crazy! I basically like anyone who looks my way for a microsecond and has a tough enough stomach to hold their vomit at least until they're out of my line of sight. Anyways, so of course I'm completely positive that my new crush isn't interested.

Sigh. Being lonely sucks ass. Do you want to be my boy? And yes I am pointing at you, so don't even bother turning around to smirk at the poor focus of my attention... Because brutha, it's you! Hey, no wait! Please don't run away! Waiiiiiiitttt!!!! Fuck, it happens every time. Well, if you're blind or would like instant Canadian citizenship, I'm taking applications.