Thursday, August 31, 2006


A young man goes over to his girlfriend's house to meet her family and enjoy some supper. However, he is a very nervous guy and the stress of the situation plus the meal he had just consumed were playing a cruel game on his intestines. He needed to let go of some gas pressure and finally let one slip by silently.

The girls dad apparently smelled the evidence and looked at the dog under the young man's chair and yelled "Damn it Fido, get out of there!" The young man was pleased that he had a scapegoat for his gastric abomination and felt comfortable enough to release a little more of the noxious substance into the air.

Again the father yelled "Fido, get the hell out of there!" The boy was becoming increasingly secure in the situation and finally let a bit more out.

As the smell hit the father's nose for the third time he shouted "Fido, seriously, get the hell out from under that chair before the boy shits on you!"

School Supplies... check

Went on down to Staples today to pick out some shiny new school supplies. The usual binders, pens, paper, etc. I'm a bit of a stationary snob and decided to proceed with my usual moderately priced, quality binders. They smell awesome... new binder smell - if only it came as a fragrance... damn would I douse myself in that shit every morning.

When it came to pens, however, I couldn't find my high quality writing sticks that I've become accustomed to. Although I can't remember the name, they were blue, clickable type, with a soft grip on the end and a smooth writing tip. They were heaven in my fingers as they converted my thoughts into words... delicately recording notes for future reference. But alas, I had to settle on an 8 pack of BIC Atlantis. The package states that they are 'super smooth', which I guess I should like, since so am I... but I'll keep you posted as I'm sure that you will be deeply concerned about this issue.

Moving right along here, I found my all time favorite little supply - the Post It flag. It keeps my therapeutics notes neatly organized and easily referenced for midterms... when I keep up with it.

So, there you have it - I'm all organized for the upcoming year. Now you are informed, and probably bored to fucking death, as am I, which is why I wrote this.... apparently it didn't unbore me. I need a drink.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

The $300 T-shirt

Scott and myself headed down to ol' Winston's last night for a few refreshments and good times... what we didn't expect was to come home with our 50th pint prize... a Winston's T shirt.

A little background, if you will:

Picture this - a frosty February day, perhaps during winter break, Scott and I head down to Winston's for a pint or ten. We see on the table a little notice informing the patrons of the drinking establishment of the Royalty Club. This 'Royalty Club' rewards its members for drinking pints, martini's and something else, wine maybe. We instantly joined and by the end of the day we had reached our five pint Knighthood and qualified for a pint glass. Granted, I've stolen many pints from that bar in the past so this 'prize' was less than stellar. However, I was now a knight, so that made me feel pretty f'ing spectacular.

Flash back to the present:

So we believed we were somewhere around 50 points, (or pints, I guess) but were not exactly sure. We inquired with the waitress and it turned out I had somewhere in the high 6o's. We decided right then and there to bring home our tshirts, and I think we're Baron's now or something like that.

I'm proudly going to wear my shirt, which cost me... at ~6 bucks per pint... $300. Hope it fits well, ha.

All Done Work

So I'm done work now and just bumming around home for the past few days. Life is great.

I've been doing pretty much nothing for the past few days except watching tv, bbqing, having some drinks and checking out the city.... its nice to finally get some time off from work.

Yesterday I went to school and bought some textbooks, spent 140 bucks, so wasn't too terrible, I guess. Decided to get a new dispensing coat too, not sure why, but I like how white and clean it looks... I'm pretty fuckin' professional now. Later on we went to Broadway for a Booster Juice and checked out the new river landing thing and then on to the Mendel to check out whats new... apparently art is weird and I just don't really get it.

Been a good time thus far, and I have a whole week left before I head back to the depths of Thorv, so I'm gonna squeeze every good time out of the next 7 days, you might be included, feel special.

Viagra Jokes Are Still Funny.

An old couple are sitting on the couch together. The wife is knitting and the man is reading the newspaper. The man quietly folds his paper, stands up and heads towards the door. The old lady looks up and says, "Where are you going, dear?" To which the old man replies, "To the doctor to get some of that Viagra stuff."

The woman puts down her knitting, proceeds to the door and grabs her coat. Her husband inquires "Are you coming with me? What do you need to see the doctor for?" The old lady says, "If you're cracking that rusty old thing out, I'm getting a tetanus shot"

Friday, August 25, 2006

Name Change?

Not really much of a tale here, but today at work I was pondering what name I'd pick if I was going to change my name.

Of course, the first one to come to mind is to leave my first name, cause it's awesome, but change my last name to the comical "Hunt".* I told this to Andrew and we shared a brief chuckle at our elementary humour. He then told Marcie, who wasn't a bitch today, and Lindsay.

The climax of my story is when Lindsay yells it out... trying to find out why its funny. She didn't really get it until we all chuckled again at hearing the name.

Lynne, on the other hand, still doesn't get it, I'm pretty sure.

*For those blonde readers out there, it's Mike Hunt... or 'my cunt'. heh heh, cunt.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

And Then There Were 8

Breaking News: Pluto is no longer a planet.

In a bold move, the International Astronomical Union has passed its judgement on the fate of our solar system's smallest and dearest planet. Because Pluto is smaller than our very own moon and has a drunken orbit that veers into that of neighbouring, and much less attractive, Neptune, Pluto has been stripped of its planetary title and has been demoted to the less sexy 'dwarf planet'.

I, for one, am appalled at the new decision. I went through elementary school knowing of the nine planets - not eight planets and a dwarf. Will the IAU's power go unchecked? What's next, will they decide that Jupiter is now a star? Will they decide that we can no longer be between Venus and Mars? What planet will women and men be from, respectively?

Either way, we will remember you fondly, Pluto.

My Dog the Graduate

After a long and gruelling introductory obedience class Maddie has finally graduated. Of the original 10 or 11 dogs that started the class we had a whopping 4 dogs show up to the last class. Seriously, I'm surprised that that many showed up. This class was like special ed for dogs.

The class started with us doing a 'loose leash' walking course where we had to hold a tennis ball on a spoon and the leash in the same hand. If our dog pulled on the leash the ball would fall off and we'd look like fools, demonstrating how embarrasingly poor we had done in the class. Anyways, we finished the two laps in record time (I assume, there was no stopwatch or times to compare against, but I'm pretty sure it was a world record).

We then moved on to a game of musical chairs. Three chairs were put into the middle and we walked around them to The Call by the Backstreet Boys (or BSB as a superfan like me would refer to them as, ha). When Vanessa (V-Dog, the teacher) turned down the music we were to put our dogs into a sit/stay outside the chalk line and then grab a chair. We couldn't sit until our dogs were staying and if they got up we had to give up our chair and put them back into it.

The first round was easy. Rocky, the white german shepherd, who I thought would be my biggest competition, blew ass and ran all around the place. We were down to three. Hub (or Pug, or some stupid name), the angry stray border collie with the whiter than white trash owners, and Lucy, the miniature rottweiler mix dog. We continued on our merry way and this time it was a bit of a challenge. I had Maddie in her down/stay and sat down, leaving Hub's owner without a chair. Just as we were cinching the deal she got up though. I thought ti would be in poor taste to kick her (JK). Instead I got up to put her back into her stay and that skank stole my chair. However, Lucy, who I actually have to give credit for coming a long way since the start of the course, got up. I took that chair and cruised to the final round. The Lightning Round, lets call it.

Hub and Maddie. He kept turning around and growling and lunging at Maddie, something he had been doing for a while. Maddie was oblivious to him though and was concerned only with finding stray treats on the ground. God love that little garbage disposal. The music stopped, Maddie knew the drill and dropped down into her stay. I ran to the chair and sat down just before she got there. As Vanessa counted down from five the sweat was running like bullets out of me, I was so nervous she'd get up. She didn't though, and we won. Fuck yeah, we're awesome.

After that stellar performance by my dog and I, we listened for a bit to the dog sport options out there. Flyball, Agility, Rally Obedience. Then we did some Rally Obedience and again, guess who kicked ass. Although that violent little border collie can listen well to his skin head owners and did quite well.

We ended off with a little certificate. Yeah, my dog is a graduate. Autographs available on request.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Summer Jobs... the final chapter

Almost done work at the ol' Drugstore now, with only 4 shifts left. I can't wait to finish up that last Saturday shift and never look back. Damn that place sucks.

Sunday, August 20, 2006


What do you do after you rape a deaf mute?

Break her fingers so she can't tell the cops.

Deep Thought?

What color of shoes match an ostomy bag?


Not sure how to spell that Belgian beer, but lets pretend its Hoegaarden (the two a's make it Belgian). Anyways, sometimes Scott and me go down to the ol' Winston's Pub and sometimes it happens to be Belgian night and sometimes I order a Hoegaarden.

First of all, if you've never experienced this flavor explosion, you're in for a treat. It resembles used dish water and tastes like Thrills gum (those soap gums... I think they're purple). My favorite aspect of this unique refreshment is the large pint glass it comes in, and yes I know all pint glasses should be the same size, hence 'pint'. BUT, this one is a large bowl like glass. This is where the fun comes in. When already slightly intoxicated I like to order one of these large pints and put my hands around the glass and pretend I'm drinking from a giant's shot glass. Sort of like Jack and the Beanstalk...

Wow, that was a waste of time and just made me look a little unstable, but I'm publishing it anyways, ha!

Tim Horton's

Just watched a video online about retards and it got me thinking to the retards in my life... Coming to mind is mainly the tard at Tim Horton's on 8th Street, Josephine* (names have been changed for comic effect).

Anyways, so Josephine has some sort of syndrome that allows her to serve coffee, donuts and other overly processed fat bombs to the waiting snack holes of our already obese population, yet prevents her from doing it with any sort of efficiency. I'm generally one of those 10 minutes behind the rest of the world types of people and when I'm running ten minutes late for work and need to get to the Drugstore before I catch more shit from Marcie, yet need that shot of caffeine to prevent me from slitting my wrists in front of the first cranky customer of the day, I don't have time to listen to the Timmy's Tard say hello and make small talk with every fucking customer.

Now don't get me wrong, I love tards. They are great people who deserve love and respect and are just as valuable as anyone else on the face of the planet. However, I also believe that everyone has a role in life and I just don't agree that Josephine's role is behind the Tim Horton's counter during the morning coffee rush. I'm sure there are myriad other jobs for her to do there that wouldn't slow down the efficiency of the otherwise well oiled Tim's machine.

Anyways, thats just my two cents.

Saturday, August 19, 2006


What's red and bubbly and scratches at glass?

A baby in a microwave.

What did the deaf-blind kid get for Christmas?


Enough said, ha

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Almost done...

Do I ever hate work... 7 days left. Each and every minute that I'm there drags by like a little miniature eternity. The closer I get to the end the longer it seems to take to get here. I wish I could just quit now, tell that smug ass bitch of a manager to suck it. Who gives a shit if I'm 5 minutes late? You have 20 other people back there in a 5 square foot area... make sure I get packed in there too to do the zero work I have. Its not enough that I stay there till about 5 after msot days, or that I don't get a coffee break. My half hour lunch is rarely taken in full. This job sucks.

Plus... why the fuck should I be running the till when there is a tech or 'cashier' on duty who is paid to do that job.... should they not be doing that instead of talking to patients... which happens to be my job? Fuck you Drugstore Pharmacy.

End rant.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006


Check it out, I discovered how to get comments on here now... post away, I know my many many fans are reading my adventures. Hah... do I hear crickets? Nope, just the fucking railyard that never shuts down behind my house. Anyways, now you can post comments if you want.


If you were offered to eat either a) a crusted old booger or b) a scab from a filthy hobo... which would you pick?

Its not one of those 'neither' questions, you have to pick something.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Friendship Bracelets, the Unbreakable Oath

Last night was a night of nights... Michelle and myself were down at the Yard on Broadway having some drinks and telling stories back and forth having a good old time, eventually Lance came by, was a nice day. Little did we know that a few hours later we would be best friends forever. Skip forward to the end of the night. A couple of beer and the sexually charged atmosphere of the fringe... scratch the sexually charged part, I just like saying sexually charged... we were browsing some exquisite wares presented by the local freaks and hippies. We had a twenty dollar bill burning a hole in our pockets and were cruising for some homemade shit. We decided to blow it on booze but to our great fortune we had a toonie left over. Michelle and I headed back to this shady little shop with the incense and unwashed hobo and purchased two friendship bracelets to immortalize our eternal bond as BFFs. Of course as we head back into the beer gardens Lance felt a little left out... so we decided to get him one too. However, we had recently made the aquantaince (I can't fucking speel) of two luscious geriatrics named Flora and Georgia. Now Flora was a nurse at RUH and Georgia... I can't remember cause her story was significantly less interesting. Anyways, they commented on our awesome bracelets, which in hindsight I believe I asked "Hey, check this shit out, we're BFFs". So... long story short, we bought them some too.

Now there are five people in our awesome circle of friends, and I know you're all wishing you had been there.

These bracelets are fucking ugly and it sort of itches, but I guess it represents my friends. Ha.

Wednesday, August 9, 2006

Salamander Video

I was just thinking about disgusting things... as a direct result of that hooker joke (see directly below)... and the horrific images of the salamander video came flooding back. For those of you who don't know what the salamander video is... count your lucky soul as innocent. I can't unwatch that video, ever.

However, if anyone has it, please email it to me, I think its almost time it made another round of forwards.

A Joke...

Whats the difference between a hooker and an onion?

Sometimes I cry when I cut up onions.

Props to Steph B for that little gem. Always makes me chuckle.

Hookers, one step below midgets on the evolutionary tree. Still above those fucking albinoes though... sick.

Active Ignorance

This morning at work the first customer of the day couldn't have any dumber if he had been the offspring of Helen Keller and Terry Schiavo (thats right, Terry Schiavo jokes are still funny, if anyone remembers her). He approaches the drop off counter and begins to talk to my boss, Marcie. He says to her he says "I need my pills" like they always do. She says 'Which ones?" and so on and so forth.

Finally we, the listener, come to the conclusion that this man is out of refills and therefore must talk to his doctor to be reevaluated on his condition for which the medication is being prescribed. He says "Fax my doctor". Marcie replies "We no longer do that unless its an emergency because it compromises patient care. The doctor must reevaluate you to make sure what he has prescribed is working effectively." Details emerge that this man has only had this prescribed once since the dose had been changed and therefore more than likely should see his doctor to make sure that he's okay at said new dose.

The man continues to argue that he doesn't have to see his doctor, that we should do this for him. Marcie continues to say that although she might do it this once for him (yes, she caved... but she's a woman and they're emotionally weak creatures) she will not do it in the future and that he must be responsible to get to his doctor. The man decides he's had enough and shouts at her "Are you done with the lecture? All I want is for you to get a new prescription." Marcie responds "I'll be finished when you understand why I'm telling you this." to which he replies "I'm tired of listening to you" and walks away.

Needless to say he got his drugs, but what a fuckin' stupid old goat. I hope he chokes on his pills. Just kidding, that would be tragic.

In hindsight, that was a boring story... one of those 'you had to be there' things. Sorry if you've read this far, thats a part of your life you'll never get back. SUCKA.

Sunday, August 6, 2006

Seriously... wtf?

What is wrong with my face? It has been almost 5 days and the swelling/bruising is still right there. I feel like a bag of shit... so much that I missed yet another day of work.

I went to the doctor and after a 3 minute highly in depth examination he decided that it must be an infection despite not asking me if I had taken antibiotics yet. When I volunteered to him that I don't feel infected, that I took penicillin and that the neck pain was muscle and not lymph nodes, he responeded that it was probably an infection.

He wrote me a script for clindamycin... a ten day course. Fuck that... I'm not taking that shit. No wonder bugs are so resistant to antibiotics.

Anyways, I'm still left with the question, wtf is wrong with my face?

Thursday, August 3, 2006

Confirmed... Rolling Stones playing for Me

Thats right... I have one of those golden tickets to see Mick Jagger and company at Mosaic Stadium or Taylor Field or whatever the hell you want to call it... this upcoming October. Gold seating, which apparently is pretty swank. You heard it here first... I'm gonna see some wrinkled old legends and have a fuckin great time doing it.

Be jealous.

And loan me some cash, cause I'm strapped. Ha...

Veterinarians are crooks

I know that vets go to school for a long time and deserve the money they get for the services they provide... however, I find it a little offensive that I am required to pay 32 dollars for prescriptions for amoxicillin and metronidazole. These drugs should cost somewhere around 10 to twelve dollars maximum but my vet dispenses them himself with some ridiculous upcharge. YIKES.

Working as a pharmacy student I feel the need to question this practice and ask him for a written prescription to take my business elsewhere. I am then informed that there is a 10 dollar fee for writing prescriptions. What a joke. My dog's diarrhea had damn well better clear up... she's apparently eating capsules of diamonds wrapped in gold and platinum for that price.

Wisdom Teeth Removal... not a wise choice

I regret getting these things out. I look like I have some sort of palsy and the pain is not going away. Salt water rinses, Advil and morphine are not making things that much more tolerable. I want another day off work... I'm such a baby.

Tuesday, August 1, 2006

Swollen face

Getting my wisdom teeth out was a little more painful than I had been expecting. It's not terrible but lets just say I'd rather not be feeling this way.

Bless you morphine, although you may bung me up, I will always appreciate the numbness you bring to the gaping holes in my head.

Wisdom tooth extraction and the tale of three kittens

I woke up this morning, August 1 of 2006 and had my coffee and a cup of apple sauce - the breakfast of late risers. I headed off to my dental appointment on Broadway to get my last two wisdom teeth removed. These teeth had not yet come out and were cowering away within my jaw, fearing the dentists drill. I decided I should get them removed before school and before my mom's dental coverage expired, plus they were starting to hurt a bit.

In I went, walking up the winding stairs to check in with the smiling receptionist who directed me to the waiting room. No more than five minutes elapsed before a portly nurse invited me into the back room and directed me to sit in the comfortable, yet intimidating chair. Fast Times at Ridgemont High was playing on the tv as they discussed the risks of extraction. The time came for me to assume the position... reclined and open mouthed. Dr. Britton wasted no time in slathering some anasthetic on my gums and before I knew it he had poked me 7 times with his mouth and head numbing needle.

After a brief intermission to let the drugs work he came back and sliced open my bottom gum and cut my tooth out. Stitching 6 knots into my jaw he moved on to the top tooth. Man, did he use a lot of pressure to knock that bastard out, had he sneezed or blinked or whatever, he could have slipped and that chisel would have been balls deep in my brainstem. Luckily, I'm okay... I know you were probably holding your breath.

Anyways, a few more stitches and a prescription for hydromorphone and penicillin later, I was on my way back down the stairs to my car.

As I strolled down twelfth street a tiny black kitten ran up to me and rubbed his filthy little head on my jeans. I bent down to slap it away but it only licked my hand, making me feel all soft inside and sad that it was out on the mean streets of Broadway alone. I then noticed another orange kitten walking out in th emiddle of the street. A British chap asked me if I knew who's cats they were. "Nope" I replied, "do you?" I already knew the answer... he had no idea. We looked around and discovered another black kitten hiding under a car but there was no sign of a responsible cat to care for her brood.

I decided to take them to take them to the SPCA where they would be put down or adopted, or whatever. "Help me load these guys up, eh?" I asked of the British man. He picked up one of the black cats and headed towards his car to find a cardboard box. I crawled under the truck to find the shy cat while the orange one was busy chasing ants. I picked them both up and walked back to my car. Throwing them in the box and into my back seat, I hopped in the front and took off towards the pound. The orange kitten was having none of it though and climbed out of the box and onto my shoulders, licking my face and purring loudly. I stopped at the Extra Foods on Clarence to pick up a bigger box, one with a lid so that I wouldn't step on the little orange bastard.

After that stop I made haste to the SPCA where I dropped off the three kittens to await their fate. Hopefully they all make it and find good homes. If you're looking for a cat, go ask for those ones... they were wicked cute. And to whoever dropped those kittens off there, or whoever is responsible for them... I hope you get cancer.