Flying back in the night from a good but tiring week just outside of portland, the amber glow of city lights below and the mellow tunes playing on my ipod made me crave only one thing tonight.

A friendly lap to rest my head on.

I bought a bottle of Odwalla juice called Glorious Morning, named for the 5 grams of fiber it contains that will help push all nasty american food I've been eating this week out of my pooper tomorrow morning.

You better believe I'm excited.

I'm flying out tonight for another working week in portland, so updates will be sparse.

My only plans are to fill myself with as much terrible food as possible to make my american dream come true.

Spurred on by those images from Super Size Me, I hit McDonald's with a friend and ate my first Big Mac combo in years along with a real coke rather than a diet coke.

I was a bit surprised at how salty the burger was despite my love of all things salty, and had difficulty finishing my fries or my coke. An hour later I'm feeling downright terrible.

I generally pride myself on being able to take down any meal but this was a surprise. I realized I hadn't eaten a full fast food meal in a long time, usually only having a burger and a diet soda when I do. I'm sluggish, tired, and feeling gross in general.

All this excercise and better eating seems to have weakened me against eating garbage food rather than helped.

If I actually used one of those porn name formulas (middle name, dog's name, street name etc), I wouldn't have something as authentically awesome as 'Mao Tse Dong'.

Either one of my neighbors is cooking anchovies or some type of salted fish or I just never realized what I really smell like.

At first I thought this was stupidly hilarious, but then I thought... going on that cruise would be really awesome.

One moment of tv history I can't seem to forget oddly enough is a conversation from the second season of the bachelor between the utterly adorable but hopelessly dumb amber and the wealthy firestone heir... I somehow think that manchu wok (found in mall food fairs near you) could be more representitive of chinese food than olive garden is of italian.

Maybe the girl at the gym had a point when she said that kissing your own biceps should be reserved for private moments.

The cable man showed up today to set up us the bomb, and so far I've already watched 'A Very Brady Sequel' along with 'Kindergarten Cop'.

How can anyone think tv is a waste of time?

This weekend, I got up close and personal with the meat curtains at my new place.

While moving to yaletown might have lessened the amount of junkies I'd face than if we had indeed found a place near tinseltown or citygate, yaletown offers its own nighttime treats.

One of my neighbors went full on coked up werewolf tonight, beating the ever loving shit out of his apartment while yelling "fuck you", "fuck off", and "fucking something or other I can't quite recall because he woke me from my short lived sleep".

He quite narrowly avoided having me phone the police in the hopes that they would throw his stupid ass off the balcony or drive him out to stanley park for an old fashioned Vancouver Police Department vigilante beating by shutting the fuck up each time I stepped out onto the balcony trying to locate which apartment he was in.

It's now late and I'm tired and wired, caught up in the excitement that is domestic violence. Maybe I can surf my way to sleep.

Even after hearing chris recount his tale of crazy gluing his splitting heel back together that was caused by excessive sandal wearing, I'm unable to stop wearing mine.

The skin on my own heels has toughened and started to crack, but the comfort of open toes all day in the summer heat is proving too much to pass up.

I'm thinking all this damage can just be undone by wrapping my feet in plastic bags full of vaseline while I'm at home.

For twenty-five years I grew up with a rice cooker that powered this chinese machine with white rice on an almost daily basis, but tonight I threw the levers into reverse and turned my back on centuries of tradition.

I put a small pot of brown rice (grown by white people even) onto the stovetop, brought it to boil and simmered it covered for 50 minutes without being able to open the lid. After resting it for 10 minutes, I got to open it up and reap the rewards of my boldness.

What I actually got for my efforts though was a mess of shitty soggy brown rice. All my culinary talents couldn't save this one. I scraped the starchy shitpile out of my pot and sent it into the bin and had my lemongrass chicken dinner with sauteed carrots and zucchini instead.

Maybe I will need that hello kitty rice cooker after all.

This book will make a great addition to my bookshelf, right next to dogeared and worn out copy of "How to date a Woman".

Only a week after moving down here, I'm convinced that all bad live music in vancouver will gravitate towards david lam park.

If any of my neighbors ever complain about my music, I'll punch them in the cock.

What's good about working in the office on a sunday is that you can work shirtless and there's nobody around to notice.

What's bad about working in the office on a sunday is that you can work pantsless and there's nobody around to notice.

Congratulations go out to Steve Bond and Sara Richardson for marrying the shit out of each other yesterday.

What can I say about you two but that you're now two snakes, coming together, facing each other, but you are one.

Ikea stopped making the one tv stand I want because it was just too practical.

Does anybody know where I can get a big black box of a tv stand like it?

I need it to be at least 50cm tall, black, and able to hold 3 electronic devices. I prefer it to look boxy rather than stupid (chrome, glass, things that will make me see it in the dark when I'm trying to watch a movie).

Am I the only one confused as to why veal kept immobile in pens is the luxury item, but free range chickens are the premium bird?

I figure I really want my chicken organic and immobile, not running around getting all tough on me.

We're moved in but far from settled; still assembling furniture, still buying kettles and blenders and wastebaskets.

Life after work (and even during at times) revolves around creating some semblance of normality around the apartment. Today featured the rather large steps of getting our couch, dining table, and home internet access.

My chinky ass sheets are out of the dryer finally and my room changes moods from blue to red, but my mattress still lies on the floor awaiting my bed frame to show up. I've named my bedroom 'chinatown'.

Tomorrow: fried eggs for breakfast, right here at home; a small but meaningful step.

It was a sad moment yesterday when I realized I wasn't man enough to pull off owning the pink haired anime girl duvet cover at Bed on 4th.