I met two of the girl's best friends yesterday and through some background storytelling and strange coincidence, I learned that her friend's sister was going out with an old highschool friend of mine.

I've only met the sister on a few occasions at parties, but it was enough for her to recall me as being rude.

I must object though and assume that she mistakes offensive for rude, as I always finish my child rape jokes with a please and a thank you.

I should have noticed it earlier; more vodka gone from the bottle than would be reasonable. The ribena was moving quickly as well. Neither ren or I had been drinking much yet either so the vodka must have been disappearing into the alcoholic well that is vic.

I should have looked him twice in the eye when he spilled drops of his 1:1 blackcurrant syrup and vodka mix onto the kitchen floor but I was distracted. That he was filling a very short glass very tall didn't seem too far from ordinary as he doesn't always make the greatest sense.

His long absence from the living room, and noticable time spent in the washroom was the trigger that finally told me something was very wrong. I rose to find droplets of purple ribena on the carpet of the hallway and even more on the floor of my room. He was trying to clean up the spills with toilet paper now which shredded and balled as it tore apart against the ground.

"I'm amazed you got it into my room" I said of the droplets I had seen. "There's actually some on your bed too" he admitted. The color drained from my face and my lips went from creased dismay to form what ren had titled "the frown" many years ago. "The Frown" is the polar opposite of the "O-face"; a frown using every available muscle in the face to embody the spirit of disappointment and anger.

My bed is my temple. It is where I find my greatest rest, comfort and pleasure. Every piece that forms its whole was chosen carefully and at fair expense, and to find the anchor that makes my apartment my home covered in the syrupy purple vomit of another was sin. That he somehow missed vomitting on my freshly laundered pile of white towels lying on my bed was a miracle, but it was little relief to me seeing that my goose down duvet was not spared the same fate.

I spent the rest of the evening sobering up and laundering my linens. Being a modular thinker, I had the fortune of having a removable mattress pad that protected the mattress itself but it was little consolation for the damage already done. I spent the morning cleaning purple vomit from in, on, under, behind and beside the toilet and I was also lucky enough to find even more vomit in my room.

I had turned down the "retard warranty" from sleep country canada (why buy a mattress anywhere else?) when I bought my mattress. It's the warranty that allows you to shit, piss or vomit on your bed with little consequence. I had figured that I was responsible enough not to shit my own bed but it turns out I hadn't factored in that my friends may stumble into my bedroom on their own accord while drunk and do the job for me.

I'll let this story stand as the warning for all that may enter my home from now on. If I see your drunken nauseous ass start stumbling towards my bedroom (and if you're not a hot female in the process of removing your pants), I will wrap a thick plastic bag around your head and beat the living shit out of you and hope to god that you choke to death on your own vomit. If you're lucky enough to die from that, you'll have the good fortune of not having to wake up to the realization that you've also been sodomized.

It seems that after cutting fast food from my regular diet, the few times I do have it, it just doesn't taste good anymore.

Byron and I hit the macDonald's (I know it's mc, but I pronounce it mac just to be an asshole) and against out better judgement, put a down a couple of sausage mcmuffins with egg and hashbrowns. From memory, I remembered the hashbrowns there being some fine eating; crunchy, salty wonderful potato cakes were what I was expecting but instead I tasted a nasty, greasy piece of crap. First thing out of my mouth was "wow, this is really gross".

My excursion into my sausage muffin wasn't much better. The oil soaked english muffin was pretty wretched tasting until I hit the fatty salty pork sausage. All foodies know one thing; Pork makes everything better. While the pork pulled the sandwich out of the gutter, it was still a greasy nasty sammich that I had recalled as tasting much better in my past.

With a similar experience eating a whopper (after a year absence) earlier in the month, I realized I've lost my desire for fast food. My lack of mass market fast food consumption doesn't mean I don't eat burgers and fries and their ilk; I just choose better places to eat it (like the amazing moderne burger on broadway). Once your palate loses its familiarity with junk fast food, you start to realize how awful it really tastes.

I've been called a food snob before but upon second thought, "fuck you".

I eat way more cheap crazy weird shit than most people as long as it's been prepared well and tastes good. My preference that my food be prepared properly by someone who isn't a useless shithead in the kitchen isn't food snobbery, it's just practical sense.

For the last two weeks, I've been dealing with an insufferable itch all over my back and shoulders and I've just started to clue in that the itch strangely coincided with me using a new laundry detergent.

I'm really hoping this is indeed the source of my troubles because I'm going to peel my skin off otherwise.

After spending many months of the summer and fall passively listening to kids shrieking daily in the apartment complex courtyard late into the evening, I managed to get my first noise complaint as one of the neighbors found the bass from my moving pictures (yeah, I mean a dvd) too loud for a saturday night.

While I tend to err on the side of the courteous neighbor and keep things quiet later at night, the complaint came in well before 10pm.

I figure the next time I need to watch a movie, I'll stuff one of those screaming children inside my subwoofer to dampen the sound.

Since it's almost time to celebrate the commercial dominance of christianity over judaism, islam, and those other coloured people religions, here's a list of holiday movies to watch.

A Christmas Story - The greatest christmas story of all time. You've seen it on KVOS TV Twelve a multitude of times and it's always just as good as the first time. Licking freezing flag poles, stocking clad leg lamps, a red ryder bb gun, christmas dinner in a chinese restaurant, and hearing chinamen sing "Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra ra-ra-ra-ra". Christmas Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh rolled up in one.

Jingle all the Way - Don't let the fact that it's terrible dissuade you from watching this. Arnold as a dad is the coolest thing ever. Relive lines like "jamie... PLEASE!" and "It's tuuuurbo tiiime" while celebrating the commercial mess that christmas is.

Die Hard - Fresh off of Moonlighting, Bruce Willis celebrates christmas by killing a lot of bad dudes. Watch the whole trilogy. Why the hell not?

Ernest Saves Christmas - Why the fuck not? You're not taking me seriously anyway.

Top Gun - Top Gun is the story of a fighter pilot who finds the true meaning of christmas in a naval air station locker room after playing some beach volleyball with the boys.

The girl has her own blog and in doing so has accumulated herself a fan base of horny lonely geeky guys (much like my own audience and even me myself). Part of the difference between our oddly similar fan bases though is that her horny lonely geeky guys write her emails full of masturbatory praise and sappy pathetic horseshit while my fans only write to ridicule me.

Being too full of myself to become jealous, I just enjoy the fact that she shares some of these emails with me. Even better though would be if she caved to my request to let me answer these emails as her and lead these boys on in the cruelest ways I can imagine.

I couldn't feel quite as bad about the hot tea incident after my brother scorched a bag of microwave popcorn at my place despite me warning him a moment earlier that two minutes in the micro would light the bag on fire. He did claim that he hadn't reached two minutes yet, but his failure to understand that there are several undesirable stages to microwave popcorn before full on bag fire isn't my fault.

Vic also managed to chip in by using his hand as a cutting board for a small dinner roll using my very sharp serrated knife. Said blade went through the roll in about half a second and spent the other half of that second cutting cleanly into his hand. (I have an aircraft carrrier sized wooden cutting board on hand to prevent such incidents)

There's a good reason I often decline help in my own kitchen.

Despite being a very sensible and experienced consumer of both food and drink, I still managed to toss back a mouthful of searing hot tea before spitting it right back into my cup and grimacing while feeling the fur grow like wildfire across my tongue.

I curled my tongue back over itself and managed to suck on it for some relief but was still left wondering why I'm such a fucking idiot.

While the HR department and I disagree on whether or not sexual harassment is funny, this video helps outline what's appropriate in the office.

Your office environment may vary obviously, but this was helpful to me and my coworkers in better understanding the line.

The Top Gun Collector's Edition DVD comes out today which will now officially be referred to as "Best Day of My Life Evar".

Related, maddox lists Top Gun as the shittiest movie that everyone loves. I totally agree except for the part where he thinks it's shitty. His summary is pretty spot on though.

I'm a guy who never thought he'd buy a cookbook who bought a cookbook written by a guy who said he'd never write a cookbook.

Tony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook isn't so much about the recipes for me as it is a chance to read the words of a foul mouthed crazy fucker who also loves neglected and obscure cuts of meat like I do.

Is it weird of me to have brought it to bed with me and the girl?

(oh, did I forget to mention 'the girl'?)

It's nearing that time of year when we all celebrate the pagan holiday that Pope Julius I stole in 350AD by buying each other cool shit and getting plastered on rummed up egg nog. So, whatchu gonna do about it bastard guy? Buy these.

Top Gun Collector's Edition DVD - gayest most awesomest movie evar. Beach volleyball has never looked this good. Miss this, and you might as well be flying a cargo plane full of rubber dogshit out of Hong Kong.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory - based on the wonderful roald dahl book (by a slightly different title) and starring gene wilder and lots of orange midgets! If you fantasize about orange midget blowjob orgies as much as I do, this movie is a must have.

Roku Soundbridge - tekken wireless music playback around the house. So sexy.

Nintendo DS - I don't really dig on handhelds but for $200CAD, this is totally awesome (read: sweet). Draw pics of cocks in Pictochat and send them wirelessly to children within its range.

A Katana - Seriously, who wouldn't want a totally rad sword to flip out and chop off heads with? Sure they cost a lot, but when your friend gets attacked by pirates in the middle of the nowhere and survives solely on the fact that you bought him a totally awesome sword to kick pirate ass with, you'll feel like a million bucks.

Steve asked upon viewing this (last) morning's post and attached comments "do you get ever get sick of your smart ass friends?".

Answer is no. Really, smart ass friends are all I have. The dumb asses I don't really give a shit about.

A good fun read written by a waiter in the New York area.

If you haven't read Tony Bourdain's 'Kitchen Confidential', then some of this might be new to you.

unrelated: where the fuck are all these visits coming from? I haven't written anything good in weeks and the numbers are way up. You people have low standards. Also unrelated, next month when Robbie Burns day rolls by, I'm not going to miss out on haggis again. Me wants me innards!

I could still smell her scent on my pillowcase, amplifying my misery even further. I had spent the day wallowing in it, finding its familiarity relieving yet wholly unsettling. I'm too used to these old haunts and too scared to take shelter by the fire.

I'm going to need to find comfort somewhere other than in these graves I dig for myself one of these days.

Bruce Newer Guy (he's newer than Rodrigo New Guy) asked what kind of search terms brought some of the non-regular visitors here to my lovely site.

Well, today it was "grandpa's massive cock fucking me".

addendum: It seems google has reindexed and I've lost my ranking on the list of people encountering Grandpa's massive cock. boooo.

I'm back from a distracted week in Toronto spent sleeping in a lonely shitty hotel bed and producing equally shitty work.

It was great seeing some awesome people again and eating at The Real Jerk, whose oxtail drives me completely insane (their fried chicken was great too) as well as a wicked little diner called Mars for corned beef hash with peter. I also managed to stuff a real smoked meat sandwich in me which is nothing like the wimpy shit they serve out here.

The travel diet does severe damage to my system though and my colon can be heard gently weeping at night from the lack of fiber and fresh produce and the excess of greasy crap food flowing through me. My lips also feel like I've been applying a hot iron to them frequently from the dry cold air out there.

Homecoming feels better than ever this time.

I've really gotta start moving myself into a management position of some sort, since I really bullshit a lot better than I can code these days.