Monday, August 24, 2015

2014 - Year In Review

This is the project I work on in that magical period of time when I'm too tired to work on anything meaningful, but not tired enough to sleep, and I'm too sad to masturbate. But, because I'm always masturbating, it's now the middle of 2015, and I should really finish writing about this shit at some point. I haven't seen my family in months, I keep missing work, and I'm running out of excuses. So, back by no demand at all, I bring you 2014, the year in review. Here's a bunch of shit you forgot about already:

Bono may never play guitar again
Let's kick things off with some good news! Bono, that asshole who wears the sunglasses who always looks like he's going to burst into a Gollum impression at any second, that idiot who sings for U2 who sounds like a chimpanzee stretching, he may never play guitar again. Why? He fell off his bike. I didn't read the story thoroughly, so I'm going to assume he fell off a tricycle and went, "I have a boo boo!" and stopped playing guitar. Thank goodness gravity intervened on humanity's behalf on this one. The real news here is that Bono apparently played guitar. Who knew?

Benedict Cumberbatch gets engaged
The news that produced more tears, both female and male, than the drowning horse in The Never Ending Story. I'm not entirely sure why, he looks like a melon achieved sentience that got stung by several bees, and women get wet for this man. At this point I think the whole of space should be considered below sea level.

Imagine this watching you sleep

Gene Simmons wants you to kill yourself
It seems as though Gene Simmons is the type of human being who struggles when it comes to thinking twice. He ran into trouble in 2014 when he told people who suffer from depression to go kill themselves. Shortly after he pissed people off, he essentially went, "No wait, don't actually do it." You were so brazen a second ago, Gene, what happened? In fairness, if you're the type of person who listens to Gene Simmons seriously, perhaps jumping off a building isn't such a bad idea.

Kaley Cuoco isn't a feminist
I'm a little disgusted that this warranted a mention in this article, but it does, because jesus christ, I needed to call women out on this bullshit. Yes I said it. It could have just been normal, flew comfortably under the radar, but people made way too big a deal about it, and here I am. Kaley Cuoco, the blonde girl from that Big Bang show that got old fast, with the last name everyone mumbles, appeared in an interview some time in 2014, where she said she doesn't regard herself as a feminist. Hilariously, Feminism is supposed to be a tool for women to express their opinions without being oppressed and living their lives how they deem fit, among other things, and then women bashed Kaley for not having the "right" opinion or lifestyle choice. Classy move, ladies. It's nice to know these wholesome movements don't at times share alarming similarities with religious cults.

All that's missing is the Uggs

Net Neutrality
Let's all just be honest with ourselves. No one has any idea what the fuck this is. No, don't explain it to me. You don't know either. Stop lying. This subject is literally impossible to make sense of. I could tell you that it means bad things for the internet if you create anything ever, but I don't even know if that's true. I don't know what the fuck would happen if this became a thing we had to deal with. To the best of my knowledge, it would at least change the internet, meaning everyone would suddenly have to look back on the internet right now as, "the good old days". And I don't know, how easy is it to defend the internet? Beyond hover cat, I don't think the internet has much going for it.

If you haven't heard about Uber, I hope you didn't come here looking for an explanation. When I first heard about it, I immediately thought "robot cars", so I'm a lost cause here. To the best of my knowledge, it's a smartphone app that turns everyone into potential taxi cabs. I think... I heard about this, because taxi companies the world over were sour as fuck about Uber, arguing that it was "unsafe" and "illegal". Ironically, the two words I would use to describe most taxi drivers perfectly. Despite the hilarity of taxi companies unintentionally describing their business models, Uber is catching on in a big way. It's a trend people have dubbed, "Uberification", because "Ubercation" was taken already.

Well, this happened. Eager to silence the critics that claim children develop violent tendencies thanks to video games, gamers the world over harassed a couple women, for... um, not doing anything at all, really... So far as I know, a women named Zoe Quinn released a game, and then people started threatening to rape her and murder her entire family. You know, they took the reasonable route. After the number of months she'd be harassed for hit the double digits, she left her home after her address was fucking made public, and she hasn't went back yet. Lovely! Some time during all of this, some people realized that maybe threatening to rape this woman was a bad idea, so "Gamergate" is now about corruption in gaming journalism. If that sounds flimsy at best to you, it's because it is.

People were accusing her of ensnaring several gaming journalists with her vagina to garner positive responses to her game, and to forward her scary feminist agenda. Of course, comically simple evidence was released to prove otherwise, but people still parrot the conspiracy as fact. Apparently they're actually trying to have a wholesome discussion, while also discussing the look and smell of Quinn's vagina. No one's blatantly trying to sweep death threats under the rug, not at all. Perhaps the weirdest aspect to this story, is that for some reason, Adam Baldwin started the hashtag #GamerGate.

What the fuck? Tell me if it's weird re-watching FireFly now that it has more of a rapey vibe.

Microsoft buys Nokia
Not as exciting as the headline, "Microsoft Buys Australia", but it's news. Only because we can now all expect Microsoft products to be indestructible and have more battery life than the sun. They've essentially purchased the rights to Ultron.

Push for Commercial Drones
You know those huge military grade paper airplanes that murder people from the sky? Well, apparently some government people are trying to get these to become household objects. That's fucking cool, if you ask me. I've always wanted to go to bed wondering if a fucking bunker buster is going to obliterate the entire block I live on. Jesus christ, do none of these people know what Skynet is?

Alison Redford done goofed
Alison Redford was the premier of Alberta part-time, but a full-time female Geoffrey Rush.


While in office, she sought to introduce policies in Alberta intending to make government spending more transparent. Ironically, when people heard she had travelled to Nelson Mandela's funeral to the tune of $45,000 of taxpayer money, people were understandably upset. The roads in Alberta look like Godzilla teabagged our fucking infrastructure, and this bitch is making it rain at funerals? Amid a growing laundry list of lavish spending habits, after much public pressure, she elected to "quit politics", interestingly a day before a report about her from the fucking Audit General was to be released. Good timing, Alison! It's like you have access to the report a day before everyone else does. The woman really wasn't doing herself any favors when it came to dissuading the public of her relentless fuckery. It's important to remember, however, that she has spent her time in exile in ceaseless introspection, but has mostly spent the time confused how people can just conjure rumours out of thin air like that. And how!

Also, Nelson Mandela is dead. Spoiler alert.

iPhone 6 bending
The iPhone 6 was released in 2014 to eager phone aficionados, otherwise known as people who should maybe question their lifestyle once in a while. The iPhone, becoming more and more like an NHL remake, clearly needed some new features to really set it apart from the iPhone 5. No feature was more obvious than the people at Apple electing to make the phone out of paper, so it would bend like a fucking sandwich when you put it in your pocket. That must have been jarring for the first guy, to suddenly find the letter "C" tucked in his pocket. If I got a boner and it started bending like those spoons in The Matrix, I would freak the fuck out, and my dick is free if you're a brunette. No wonder Steve Jobs got cancer. My favorite part of this story is not imagining the conversations between technicians before and after, it's about the two kids who went into an Apple store, and decided that breaking a bunch of merchandise on camera was a smart idea. They tried to blame their actions on Apple for releasing a shitty product, like Apple used fucking voodoo magic and possessed them to do it. That's like robbing a convenience store and blaming the clerk for stocking the shelves. See? This is what happens when you don't beat your children.

It just wants to be a flip phone

Bill Cosby is probably a rapist
I'll admit, I had no real idea who Bill Cosby was beyond the numerous impersonations of him. I always assumed that made him important in some way, or just stupid. Now all I know about him is that he's a bit rapey. That has a way of clouding whatever else you did in life. Supposedly, the man has sexually assaulted more people than there are people on earth, meaning the man has more rapes under his belt than Meryl Streep has oscars. Spearheading the outrage, weirdly was Judd Apatow. I guess news of rape doesn't make any headway without a man's intervention. Thank god we can turn to Judd Apatow in times of need. You're right, Judd. Guys who rape a lot are NOT cool! One day, when I am gripped by crushing sadness, I will seek your guidance so I can make sense of everything. Thank you, Judd. Our saviour. Now, Cosby is simply waiting for and wanting his day in court. It's not going to be just one day, Mr. Cosby.

Hover board
The invention that will surely frustrate mall security and sign makers the world over. Apparently someone got a little bit too inspired in the best way when they watched Back To The Future, and created a fucking hover board. The ultimate, "Why the fuck not?" invention of 2014. Naturally Tony Hawk was the first to ride it. Early reports are coming in that Mr. Hawk will be the first to ride the Silver Surfer's board into deep space.

No Oscar For Leo
The Oscars for Leo must be a lot like a game of keep away. Inception? More like INTERCEPTION! Haha, you fucking suck, Leonardo. I would say something disingenuous like "poor guy", but I doubt Leonardo DiCaprio struggles very often in life. It'll be interesting if and when the dude actually wins an Oscar. Realistically we'll all be terribly underwhelmed, or a black hole will swallow the earth, and all we'll see in the darkness is a sign that reads, "Level 2".

All-women law firm
Well, it appears the things women do aren't front page news, unless they're being raped or oppressed against, which men feel is far too often. It's so inconvenient. I had to dig for this piece of news. Apparently, some ladies opened up an all-women law firm in motherfucking Saudi Arabia. Yes, the place no one wants to be unless you want to experience a car bomb or the resulting shrapnel. No doubt this news struck the 9 men who read about it, as they immediately complained of reverse-sexism. Make a law firm that excludes men on purpose? The nerve!

Derek Jeter
I find shit swirling in a bowl to be more interesting to watch than baseball, so I have no idea who Derek Jeter is. This knowledge hasn't been of benefit to me either. He was just some guy who hit a ball with a stick and ran and stuff, and now he doesn't play anymore. Good for you, Derek. Why the fuck is this here? Why do I write about this shit each year? Goddamnit.

You think that's a bat?

The World Cup happened
The World Cup took place in 2014, the sporting event that divides people into two groups: people who imagine they're actually from the country they're cheering for, and people who take the sport far too seriously. No where on earth do people take soccer more seriously than in Brazil. Like that time when the referee murdered a kid in Brazil during a soccer game, on the field itself, maybe when the kid was protesting a yellow card, I don't know, only to find himself chopped into pieces shortly afterwards. That was going to be one of the top stories this year, but the story was missing some crucial pieces to warrant a mention.

If you thought a severed head on a stick raised some eyebrows and made people a little twitchy, there was also the riots that stemmed from the government spending obscene amounts of money making the country soccer-ready. You'd think Alison Redford was their financial adviser. They built a stadium in such a hopelessly secluded part of the country, Survivor Man would fucking bump into it. It cost 270 million dollars to build, it was only used four times, and now it's been abandoned like that Amityville shit. It was built in a place that's literally labelled "You Shouldn't Be Here" on a map, while most of the country is in poverty and starving.

Then Germany, always armed with good ideas, bent the Brazilian team over a table and spanked its ass, 7-1. Holy shit. I've seen vending machines beaten less. In the 1950's, Brazil lost to Uruguay, and some fans were so devastated, they threw themselves off the fucking stadium. Tension in Brazil was at an all time high, I half expected the fans to summon a meteor and nuke the stadium. Then nothing happened, it was totally fine. Brazilian people cried, partly because they're named after vagina waxing, and some old guy gave a trophy to a girl who definitely blew him after.

This wasn't the only good feeling that man had that day

Oscar selfie
Ellen Degeneres hosted the oscars this year, making the oscars about as entertaining as cleaning grout lines. Sometime during the evening, Bradley Cooper discovered how to use a phone, took a selfie with some well known actors, and people went absolutely apeshit. I don't know why. I assume no one knows what Google is, or magazines. I just hope the guy set his phone to silent for the evening, or he's an asshole.

Burger King buys Tim Hortons
This must be what republicans feel about interracial marriage.

Republicans win control of the US Senate
I have no idea what this means. Really, politics is the most boring fucking shit on the face of the earth, it's like watching an Aloe plant get a boner, yet TIME magazine listed this as a top story of 2014. Someone out there went ape shit over this news. This means something to someone. I'm going to assume it's important and leave it here. The only thing that's actually neat about politics, is the fact that Donald Trump is a republican, and is currently running for president. If he wins, tell me that wouldn't be a beautiful work of art, like his hair that looks like a broom used conditioner, and it's held in place with wet scotch tape.

Scottish Independence
So the Scottish voted on their independence some time last year, news that struck the world, while no one had any understanding of what was actually happening. I'm pretty sure most people in Scotland didn't know what was happening, possibly because they were too drunk to care. I myself was pleasantly surprised to learn that Scotland is actually connected to Britain. I had no idea, I thought it was just a rock in the ocean where we left all the sheep and drunk people. In the end, the Scots are still attached to the English. Sad, I was hoping to watch live footage of the Scots digging their own country out, separating from the UK entirely, and ending up in the Gulf of Mexico.

Ottawa soldier
There was a shooting in Canada this year, marking the only known violence in Canada since short white people decided to go clubbing and get angry at people. The news shocked the world, particularly America, who were left stunned to realize that there is a place called Canada to the north, and it's more than just Toronto.

Australian cafe siege
I know this means that I can't go to heaven, but to lessen the impact of this news, I like to imagine that a huge spider held people hostage in that cafe.

Jian Ghomeshi
I'll be honest. I had no idea who this guy was until his rapey vibes got him in shit. Apparently he had a popular radio show, which I assume aired in the intervening period between one commercial and the next. I guess people still listen to radio, who knew? I think the guy is a comedic genius, honestly. It takes a special kind of person to write an emotional Facebook post to try and clear your good name, while having the image of yourself randomly dry humping some lady leaning over a desk the whole time. I'm not sure how he expected that to go exactly. You're not that famous that you'll just get sent to rehab, dude. Jesus, what is it with 2014 and being so rapey?

General Motors had an interesting 2014 that involved recalling something like 30 million cars world wide. Why? Look no further than GM's rendition of The Fault in Our Stars with The Many Faults in Our Cars. The story goes that there was a problem in the vehicles that caused the fucking engine to shut off at random, and the airbags wouldn't deploy. Yes, in a several hundred pound missile on wheels, what we want is for the engine to cut off, and for the airbags to be faulty, so that I may share more in the delight of collisions. I know I'm eager to surrender custody of my life to the hidden x-lax brownie of the vehicle world. The best part is that the issue was known for more than a decade, and GM did nothing to fix it, I assume because they're into collateral damage and flat children.

Same-Sex Marriage on the move!
Gay marriage is picking up steam beyond sauna fantasy porn, and in 2014, the gay movement has shown significant signs of improvement. Now you can get married in like 36 states in the US! You can't get married at all in Russia, so be happy with what you get. You're treated somewhat like human beings now. Yay! Keep it up, guys!

Sochi winter olympics
Speaking of Russia, the winter olympics were held in Russia this year, in the wake of Russia's anti-gay law. That made more than a few people uncomfortable, while simultaneously forgetting that gay people still have some of their rights oppressed in the very country they live in. Way to take the moral high ground there, America. There was also reports of the olympics being the target of a terrorist attack, that was awkward too. Also, it's fucking Russia, so that always makes it weird. Then nothing happened. It was a bit like NASCAR without a crash. Fucking BOO, terrorists.

John Oliver
John Oliver, the man who I was certain put a book down his pants in Notting Hill, got his own show where he makes fun of news, and watches you masturbate. You know there's at least one person getting off to his show at all times. He has joined the several hundred other shows devoted to news mockery, placing him comfortably in the category of things I don't care about, like shaving my ass, for instance. Then he made a video about Net Neutrality that rocketed him to fame almost immediately, and suddenly it appears he reports on news more effectively than the news. He also looks like the reflection of Dobby from Harry Potter in a spoon, so he's in my good books. Well done, John. If you happen to be reading this, feel free to take me on as a highly paid humor consultant and exploit my genius for your own means. I'm Canadian, though, we spell some words with a "U" in them. It's fucking weird.

I tried to find a flattering photo. Did I succeed? DID I?!

Philip Seymour Hoffman died
This dude died in 2014, yet he's appearing in movies in 2015. This is some creepy Tupac shit. People remember Hoffman for his role as Truman Capote in the movie called Capote that I didn't like. I personally remember him from Twister. Yeah, that fucking shit in 1996 where we all worried about the dog at the beginning, and laughed at that idiot dad who got sucked into the tornado instead.

Shirley Temple
I kept hearing this name every where growing up. I thought it was a drink, but I guess it was also a person the whole time. Huh. You learn something new every day! Well, she's dead now.

Celebrities go to space
Commercial space travel. The thing we've heard more about than jetpacks for the last five years, much to my dismay, is the most misleading tourist attraction for rich people. This stupid bullshit made some headway in 2014, I assume they're past the point of telling people to stand on a tall building and jump up and down. It's misleading because you "technically" go to space. You don't travel to the moon, no, you just kind of skirt the edge of our atmosphere. Fucking Felix Baumgartner did that in a balloon, I'm not impressed. How much would it kill you to travel just a little bit further? This made headlines because Katy Perry "travelled to space" in 2014, making me wonder why they didn't just throw her out there. I assume her tits would cause some sort of dramatic orbital shift and throw off the world clock.

Colbert Report ends
The man who so brilliantly sat down, said words, and at random intervals, performed something that sort of resembled comedy, had a show that I never watched, and will never randomly stumble upon again. So there's that, I guess.

Dalhousie University
This must have been a slow news day, because for some reason, a group of men having a fucked up sense of humor made headlines. Apparently some kids made a Facebook group and asked each other questions such as, "Who would you hate fuck?" and "Does this rag smell of chloroform to you?" I question their collective decision to make the group public and to ask those questions about fellow female students, but I don't understand why people thought this was a big deal. To put this in perspective, the officers that arrested Jeffrey Dahmer had less of a reaction than this. If they were actually running around and raping people, that's another thing, but offensive jokes between friends? I guarantee your kid is typing worse shit in a comments section somewhere, but these kids got suspended anyway. You might as well go and suspend your fucking uncle. They nearly got kicked out of the school as well, as the parents of the "targets" were "deeply scared for their child's safety". Give me a fucking break, all of those parents grew up with Elvis and The Beatles. They've all had worse conversations through the ball gag they all wore.

Oh, and as for you stupid assholes at Dalhousie? Please. After you hate fuck someone, you have to dump the body. Amateurs.

Vince Weiguang Li released
If this name doesn't ring a bell, what's your first thought when you think, "Greyhound"? Yes, this is the guy who severed a head and ate parts of it while riding the Greyhound through Canada. He claimed he was simply attacking an alien, frankly missing out on a golden opportunity to really stick it to Greyhound with a bad customer satisfaction review, in my opinion. Greyhound: So Terrible, You'll Eat Someone. His release is particularly noteworthy, because he's been granted the privilege of unsupervised walking around... in the very city he commited the crime in. That should send more chills down your spine than a spider crawling in your dick hole. In fairness, I don't know if he's capable of doing much worse. He kind of set the bar a little high there, and he was trying to rid the world of aliens. I'm sure it'll be fine!

SWATTING becomes a thing
If you're not familiar with video games, you're a piece of shit. So there's this website called Twitch, which allows gamers to stream their gaming sessions live to the world, or to the three people who are vaguely interested at the time, statistically making it more popular than Superbowl parties. It's a haven for those eager to abandon their non-existant social lives, and the chat rooms are enlivened by sociopaths who have all been given copies of Mein Kampf. Usually these are just stupid assholes who point out what you look like as a supposed negative, but some people crossed the line in 2014. They would find where a popular streamer lives, call the local authories, and report a bomb threat, or the evergreen hostage situation at their address. The cops kind of have to take that shit seriously, so the actual SWAT team shows up, with actual fucking assault weapons, and clear every room, including the one with the camera that's streaming. Why? So people can kind of just... react to it... I really wish these people would just stick to torturing small animals.

This made headlines in 2014 because some kid got 25 years in prison for doing it. I learned the story was total bullshit during my celebrations, sadly, meaning that sometimes in life, there are horrible, stupid people out there, and they'll get away with equally horrible, stupid shit at the expense of others. But if you smoke a joint, you're fucked for life. Makes sense.

North Korea hacks Sony
North Korea always tries to insert itself into our news stream at least once a year, and they'll be damned if they don't do something ridiculous to deserve it. It's honestly impossible for North Korea to not be interesting. They will forever succeed at being accidentally entertaining. Did you know they built a city near the demilitarized zone; a massive, lavish city, and no one fucking lives there? They built it to try and convince South Koreans that the North side of the country was prosperous and that they should defect, not realizing that they might own binoculars. It's literally a ghost town. That Kim dude gets drunk and writes this shit on napkins, it's amazing.

Anyway, trying desperately to be taken seriously, Kimmy Boy decided to hack Sony in lieu of Seth Rogan's new ignorable comedy, "The Interview". In the movie, there's a plot by the CIA or whatever to assassinate Kim Jong-un, and Seth Rogan's laugh continues to make everyone uncomfortable. For years we've been subject to movies like Eagle Eye and Live Free or Die hard, gripped to our seats, shown the terror of cyber warfare, the battle field for the future. Then it finally happened, and it was mostly just sad and awkward to watch. Nobody knew anything, and nobody could find anything, like a playground full of children, and the teacher can't figure out who pissed in the slide.

Much like SARS and Swine Flu before it, Ebola was the new scary... thing that was scary for all of a lunch hour before everyone stopped giving a shit about it. It was ok when it was contained in Africa, because nobody cares what happens in Africa. Seriously, no one cares. I can prove it too. Ebola actually surfaced way back in the 70's, and I guarantee you didn't hear shit about it until it sort of became a problem to us, which is what happened when a nurse contracted Ebola in Dallas. This was a result of her treating a guy who lied to everyone imaginable just so he could get back to the States, knowingly carrying Ebola. Sure, they'll let fucking patient zero through airport security, but throw out my fucking sunscreen before my trip to Vegas.

I do have one point of concern here. How does one contract Ebola exactly? I heard it was if you came into contact with bodily fluids from an infected person. What exactly was this nurse doing to treat this patient, sucking his dick and tonguing his asshole? Also, if you contract Ebola, apparently you just shit yourself to death, meaning this is technically the Taco Bell virus.

Russia annexes Crimea
Russia, further trying to cement itself as the biggest asshole in history, decided that a part of Ukraine belonged to them, and they just kind of took it, a bit like an older sibling stealing your toy fire truck, but with more gunfire. People shot at each other, and the world got angry at Russia and stuff. It's slightly more complicated than that, but that's exactly what happened. If anyone tries to explain to you exactly what went down, they're pretending like they know what happened. Don't listen to them. It's not interesting enough to know anyway.

Shia LaBoeuf performance art
I care about celebrities as much as I care about the opinions of children, but you can't deny that sometimes they take great strides to make the paparazzi cum. Shia LaBoeuf is noteworthy for his exceptional effort in 2014, stampeding head first with no plan into utter stupidity. First he summoned his inner high school student, and blatantly stole someone's work. He later apologized for it, and then it came to light that he plagiarized the fucking apology. Unable to stop himself, he got arrested, then he did a performance art piece, which was him sitting in a room, and one by one, people who come in and they could do whatever they wanted to him. Y'know, because people believe celebrities owe them things. Shia claims he was raped during the performance, which was less important news than the fact that he stole the idea for the performance art as well. There's a point to be made there, but all I can assume is that Bill Cosby must have paid the exhibit a visit.

Gaza Strip
Ah, the Gaza Strip. The place that could only be more crazy if it started eating macaroni out of sock, and a cuddly vacation spot if you're on a budget. A lot of shit went down in the Gaza Strip in 2014, none of which I'm prepared to discuss here. Partly because I didn't bother to research this at all, but mostly because I don't care. If I could talk to the people in the Gaza Strip, I would tactfully remind them that they live in the Gaza Strip. Whatever they're fighting for honestly can't be that lavish and important.

Guardians of The Galaxy
Marvel released yet another superhero movie in 2014 to the masses of people slowly growing tired of all these fucking superhero movies. It's a bit like seeing Jennifer Aniston in the tabloids too much. She's reaching her expiry date quickly, give it up already. But as it turns out, the movie was pretty fucking great, instantly making it ineligible for best picture. There hasn't been a movie involving a tree and an animal this popular since Winnie the Pooh. That's because Pooh Bear didn't have lasers, space travel, and green tits.

Malaysia Airlines disappears
It's like the whole fucking airplane was the victim of a mob hit. They should look for it in the east river at this point. This airline officially loses more planes than luggage.

Malaysia Airlines crashes in Ukraine
You think the economy is hurting you? Just think of these poor bastards. Those performance review meetings must have been awfully silent for a while. I would say they need a serious rebrand to be taken seriously, but a guy got his fucking head chopped off on the Greyhound and they're still in business. They'll be fine. Still, there's no denying they had a rough 2014. Probably not as rough as the passengers of these flights, but you know what I mean. First was the aforementioned losing an entire fucking plane incident, like something out of Ocean's Eleven, and then another plane got shot down by rebel forces in Ukraine. Honestly though, I don't have much sympathy for this particular plane or its passengers. What the hell are you doing flying to Ukraine? Really now. That's like flying to China and not expecting to get diarrhea. Now it's up in the air at this point whether or not the first or second plane landed closer to its destination.

Guy gets eaten by Anaconda on Discovery
... why?

Oscar Pistorious found not guilty
The man who is 1/10th Terminator was found not guilty in 2014 for shooting his girlfriend after she took too long to get ready. Good to know that should my girlfriend ever lock herself in the bathroom, I can shoot her 8 times through the door, claim it was a robber, and get off scott-free. Seriously, that's a thing. It's called "Culpable Homicide". It's basically when you shoot someone in the head and say, "Just kidding" and the justice system just kind of shrugs.

Phew, close one

We landed on a comet!
Holy shit! Someone got way too in to Armageddon when they were younger, and decided to land a robot on a fucking comet. This is easily one of the most amazing accomplishments in human history, but it was noteworthy mostly because one of the guys who was involved in the project wore a shirt covered in naked ladies to the press conference. Feminists bashed the guy for his taste in fashion, not finding it the least bit ironic that they were judging someone for what they were wearing. Never mind that the artist who designed the shirt was female, and did so as a celebration of the human body, or that we landed on a fucking comet or anything. Let's react how my father does when people wear hats at the table. Though in fairness, don't wear hats at the table, what the fuck is wrong with you? And use a napkin.

Dude trips on rug while skating
It's stories like these that make me want to become a journalist. I won't get into it for the same reasons those creepy paparazzi people do, obsessed with reporting on how celebrities have facial expressions and fuck sometimes. No, I want to revel in the tragedy of others, and watch stories write themselves. This guy was skating around on a hockey rink, singing the national anthem, and somehow forgot that there was carpet present on the ice, and he tripped all up on it like a bitch, proving forever more that life is never so bad that you can't trip on a rug and face plant. That's what you get for showing off, asshole.

Live action Comic Flop logo

Michael Sam is totally gay
This story was pure entertainment for me, but was met with immense shock, sheer disgust, and profound confusion for heterosexual athletes and fat sports analysts everywhere. It was entertaining for me, because it's like the NFL collectively forgot about that time when black people weren't allowed to play football. Also, Michael Sam is simply an openly gay athlete. There are many more, lying in wait, ready to abuse your ass in a rough, yet comforting way. They do that, y'know. This really shouldn't have been too much of a culture shock. The amount of gay shit that must go down in those supposedly masculine, testosterone filled locker rooms? Even Freddie Mercury would have been like, "That's pretty fucking gay."


French Toast Crunch to return to shelves!
It was hinted at a few times that the cereal your mother never bought you would return to shelves at some point, but never would, making French Toast Crunch the cereal equivalent of ABBA. But then it was announced it would actually return to shelves in 2015, bringing joy to the what, five people who ate that shit? Great, now the new generation can understand why they stopped making it. How about you just go and make your own french toast, you ever think about that?

Buffalo snow storm
Eager to make people realize that maybe climate change is real, Mother Nature elected to completely bury Buffalo in snow. That's right. Snow sucks, doesn't it America? Enjoy Canadian weather now, you fat idiots. Buffalo looked exactly like how your parents always described their Beowulf-esque journeys to school every morning, fraught with peril and sticks and giant bears. They had to dig out of their houses, and walk in 8 feet of show! So much snow landed in Buffalo that it's still melting to this day. I've seen glaciers melt faster than that. Shout out to global warming!

Robin Williams dies
I'll be honest, I've been more upset about dropping pizza on the floor than I was about Robin Williams dying.

Celebrity nude photos
Yes, the celebrity nude photo scandal! The collection of pictures nearly as popular as Pokemon. It started off with naked photos of Jennifer Lawrence appearing online, which then snowballed into madness. Soon, more photos of more celebrities like Elizabeth Banks were released. Kirsten Dunst as well, news that would have been exciting 10 years ago. People were clearly divided into two parties concerning this issue. Some people were saying celebrities and people who take such photos deserve it, while others described it as a sexy crime, all the while missing the important point. No naked pictures of Emma Watson surfaced, and that sucked.

... what? You were all thinking it too.

ALS icebucket challenge
Well, this certainly grabbed attention for a while. Remember that thing you'd see every single fucking day, videos of people dumping ice water on their heads? Yes, the ALS icebucket challenge, which wasn't so much a challenge as it was refreshing, and a brief inconvenience for previously dry human beings. Hilariously, it ended up raising millions of dollars for ALS research, and financing new vending machines in their buildings. Finally, a way to raise money equally as productive as raising money for ball cancer research, where you basically just sit there and look like you should stay away from playgrounds.

The people who weren't invited to partake in the challenge naturally tried to find ways to tear down the challenge. They complained that it was a blatant waste of fresh water, something a great deal of the world's population doesn't have access to. I like to imagine many of those people wrote their complaints from their cellphone while shitting in something a great deal of the world's population doesn't have access to. Way to take the moral high ground there, you fucking idiots.

Donald Sterling and Ray Rice
I decided to group these together because they were released at what felt like the exact same time, I assume in an effort to see if they would cancel each other out. So there's this guy named Donald Sterling who owned a basketball team of some kind, and as it turns out, he was kind of a racist, news that surprised no one, yet offended everyone. Who could have guessed? A fat old white guy who turns out to be racist. Golly gee. Next I'll bet you're going to tell me that women can fart. After that largely ignorable story, there was this guy named Ray Rice who was caught slamming his wife's face into the side of an elevator, I assume after a disagreement about dinner. To quickly recap, we have racism, sexism, and domestic violence, all checked off. I'm not sure if even Hitler managed that. Had he paused on the whole oven thing, maybe he could have kept better score, I don't know.

The best part about this whole ordeal was when the NFL released the tape of the elevator destruction, saying how despicable it was and how they wouldn't stand for any of it, when it was later revealed that they had the tape for several months, but decided to sweep it under the rug for Ray's benefit. I'll bet that was awkward for a second.

Joan Rivers died
I have no idea who this woman was. A magazine told me she was important. To the best of my knowledge, she died as she lived, as a professional cunt.

Kim Kardashian "breaks internet"
If you didn't know, Kim Kardashian, that idiot who is famous for no reason anyone can decipher, "broke the internet" by taking a picture of her ass cheeks. Yes, this woman is so deluded that she truly believes her glistening ass has such an appreciable effect on the internet that it causes it to fracture. Bitch, do you have any idea how much porn there is out there? There is more porn out there than there are stars in the universe, and at this point, the variety is more creative than disturbing. Your ass smells like eggs, and your husband is a greasy forehead fucking stupid asshole. Emma Watson could wear a three piece suit and make a bigger dent in the internet than your shitty ass, especially if she ate a banana. I hope you and your stupid family get kicked in the cunt by a kangaroo.

Fuck her right in the pussy
The brief interview everyone took seriously in 2014. That's right, it was a hoax, just like climate change and Sandy Hook. It's sad though. It's not half bad relationship advice.

Water found on Mars
They found water on Mars. Again. Just to let you know.

Guy throws snake at employee after Tim Hortons dispute
When I first read this headline, my nipples burst through my shirt in excitement. I won't even tell you what happened when I found out there was video of it too. Of course, after I'd watched it, I felt like my parents must have looking at my report cards from high school. Disappointment. I was expecting a python or a cobra, maybe the guy serenaded it out of a basket with a flute and ordered it to strike, but it was just a little garden snake. I personally feel that if you want to throw a fucking snake at someone, you have to go all out, or for a nominal fee, I'd be happy to whip my penis out at your request.

To quickly recap what happened in Ferguson, it all started with a black man named Michael Brown getting shot by a white man who looks like he was breast fed until he was 23. Then we all learned that there was a place called "Ferguson" in a place called "Missouri". After the whole murder thing, people lost their shit harder than a city who just lost the Stanley cup. People were rioting violently, and for some reason people started looting around the scene of the crime. Hey, just because someone gets shot, doesn't mean you can just pass up on a free blender. Then the police sent out riot squads, and unnecessarily heavily militarized police to maintain order. What you probably didn't know, and this is interesting to me, the riots occurred in waves. The first wave happened in August and it lasted a couple weeks, with news outlets mistakenly swapping out footage of the Gaza Strip and Crimea and not noticing. Then a second wave occurred towards the end of November, admittedly not the worst excuse to get early Christmas shopping done. Oh, and the white cop didn't get in trouble, so there's that. I can't help but feel that Ferguson must be really awkward right now...

Eric Garner
If you don't remember, this was the guy who was probably just tired of being black, and a white officer obliged by choking him to death. If I make a joke about "doing him a solid", I wonder if people would get the rigor mortis reference... Anyway, what's interesting about this, is that this happened before the Ferguson unrest, and people went absolutely stone crazy there. They were setting fires and spray painting dicks on things, stealing DVD players, and then using said DVD players to break additional windows, it was madness. But with Garner, the reaction was largely equivalent to a one word text message. I mean, a lot of people blocked traffic in some cities for a little bit, but that's about it. Frankly, I think black people should be happy. If a cop choked me out in the street, you wouldn't find me trending on Twitter. Silver lining, man!

Jeez, had I known it was legal to kill black people in the United States, I would have moved there a long time ago. Wee!

Atlanta snow storm
Let's face facts here. It's impossible for this not to be funny. This was easily the hardest I laughed in all of 2014. Yes, a raging snow storm hit Atlanta in early 2014, burying the city in a thick carpet of snow, paralyzing it, causing disaster. Oh, did I mention that barely two inches of snow fell? That's correct. The length of a poodle dick fell on Atlanta, and the city fell into disarray faster than a pepper spray bomb at a school dance. The unfamiliar snow fell on the city, and it shut down major roads, most businesses, the fucking government, and churches, meaning God finally had a snow day.

People tried to make this into a tragic story, likening two inches of snow to, and this is real, famine and natural disasters in foreign countries, and it only made me laugh harder. I finally lost it when it was revealed that people were trapped in their cars, and making desperate calls for help via, wait for it... Twitter! It's physically difficult to continue writing at this point. This city full of idiots did all the work for me. I like to imagine the looks on their faces when their cellphone batteries started to die. "Oh god, honey. WHAT CAN WE DO? This is how it ends..." Children were left stranded, really? How about you just walk home, have you thought about that? This really doesn't instill a lot of confidence for when the zombies come.

Dude ran into The White House
Those fucking idiots in Atlanta almost took top spot in 2014, but were severely out classed by this, truly the greatest story of 2014. This is fucking amazing, I hope you heard about it. If you didn't, well, here's what happened. A dude fucking ran directly into The White House. It's the illustrations of the incident that really get me. Someone drew a diagram of The White House grounds, with a little dotted arrow marked, "Suspected path of Omar Gonzalez", which was just a straight fucking line to the front door. I'm delighted someone took the time to do that. I don't know what motivations Mr. Gonzalez had for wanting to burst into The White House, except perhaps to give credence to the claim that "Gonzalez" is the only Latin last name. Granted, the fact that he barrelled over a Secret Service officer while wielding a knife likely means his intentions weren't savory, I still think this is amazing. I like to imagine he just wanted to carve the fuck out of a melon for the president. I believe he got within a checkpoint or two of the Oval Office before being tackled, or at the very least a bathroom.

I would have drawn the actual white house, but it kept turning invisible. Curses!

And there you have it! That was basically 2014. Until next time, when more shootings, celebrity gossip and political jargon make it confusing and awkward to write about shit. Here's hoping at least one person came here wanting to learn something, and they're just angry now. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go jump the fence on Pennsylvania avenue, dropkick Jason Bourne, and find the nearest bathroom, because they didn't let me use the one at McDonalds.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

The Hunt For Our First Apartment

It's been almost four months now, and I'm still alive/not in jail, meaning my girlfriend and I have successfully refrained from murdering each other. Yes, us cute kids finally decided to move out together, though I don't know why we thought close proximity forever was a good idea. Relationships are fragile. One minute you're happy eating pizza in bed, and the next, you're being chased with a fork because you fucked up the IKEA instructions. But it's been over three months, and I expected to want to murder her way more than I really do. I like, barely want to murder her at all. Things have actually been comically great here. I don't see my family nearly as much, which is great because I hate them, Susie and I watch the Food Network every day and give Chef Ramsay the finger, we eat nothing but chicken nuggets, and I walk around naked all the fucking time. Fuck me, if we never had to buy groceries, I'd say I'm living the dream.

What'd you style your hair with, boy? Cat semen?

Oh and did I mention our apartment is fucking baller? This place is amazing. There are flaws, like the fact that we're in a basement suite, and the small child that lives upstairs sounds like she has sledgehammers for legs, is continually smashing grandfather clocks into walls, while on horse back. I wouldn't go so far as to describe this place as "divine", but you put any of those HGTV people in here, and they're cumming all up in their pants. But how did we get here? Oh yes, there was a road that lead here. A journey that I would describe as "interesting", in a word. "Creative" is oddly fitting as well. I didn't have a whole lot of expectations going in to apartment hunting when we started. I figured as long as wasps don't shoot out of the shower head, I'm happy. And then we visited some places, and if I had to come up with some things to avoid, these places came up with things better than what I could come up with.

I don't remember exactly when Susie and I decided to move in together. We'd talked about it for years, and then at a certain point we were buying spoons and shit and looking for places. Being an adult is funny, because no one bothers to explain the timeline to you. Just to prepare any younger readers, I have news. There is no timeline. At some point it becomes awkward living with your parents, and you just kind of find yourself doing shit. It's a strange time. Eventually showering with another person becomes more economical than sexy, it's weird. Moving out is fucked up, because eventually it just happens, and then you have to pretend you know how to take care of yourself. But first you have to find a place, and it's not too hard, but finding the right place can be a little tricky. Your trials will mostly be filled with errors, sorry to say. Until you find the right place, shopping for apartments is like going shopping for dildos. You're getting fucked no matter what.

Factoring everything in, we narrowed our list down to four properties. That's a lot of fucking work embalmed and dumbed down to a single sentence... But anyway, the first place we went to look at was a main floor, 2 bedroom suite. It was within our price range, it was in a nice neighborhood, and the pictures of it looked really nice. I would later make a note to never trust pictures again, but I also have to praise that photographer. I don't know how he or she managed to make that place beautiful. You'd have an easier time making a dead body look beautiful. That's Susan Boyle's make-up artist talent right there. We scheduled a viewing with the owner, or landlord, or someone, we don't actually know who the fuck the person was, on reflection. We found the place easily enough and parked around the corner. I was excited, we were so close to a lot of nice things like parks and grocery stores, and then we started walking towards the house, and some red flags went up immediately. If you've watched any home improvement shows before, and they make you nervous to own a home because of all the insidious, small issues that plague homes, don't worry. The glaring issues are easy to spot.

For starters, the wet toilet paper posing as a storm door on the side of the house looked as though someone attacked it with a combine harvester. The door, which was a plank of wood that was on the verge of surrendering to the aggressive termite clearly invading the house, looked like a hatchet wielding tiger laid siege to it, and yes, I meant one giant termite. But it wasn't all bad. The two foot tall weeds growing on top of the souls of the Indians those people angered for living there was an attractive feature, and that jagged, re-purposed set piece for the Saw movies pretending to be a fence? That just tickled me pink, to see what looked like evidence of bolt cutter use from the fucking inside. We travelled further up the walk to discover an abandoned baby stroller that had blood in it, and at the top of the stairs leading to the front door, was a bucket full of cigarette butts. There were a few peppered around the front yard as well, though I wouldn't go so far as to describe it as a "yard", the same way I wouldn't say a meth addict "has teeth".

I was ready to run in the opposite direction fast enough to set a land speed record, but for some reason, I wanted to at least tell this person, "We're not interested." It's moments like these where I almost hate my parents for raising me too well. I wish I was the type of person to scream "Oh my god fuck this stank ass place" and throw a rock through the window for good measure, but someone had already done that. Upon further study, it looked more like someone had thrown a brick through the window from the inside. I'd be interested to know what kind of argument took place that warranted that as a response. Eventually a guy answered the door, and that's when all my hope was dashed, like if Emma Watson grew a dick on her forehead. Although even then I might want to make that work... This man's eyes were blood red, either from the perpetual smog inside the house, or from the demon that lived inside him. His pupils were the size of plates, and they appeared to be salsa dancing, and his face looked he used it to head butt a land mine, or a Hellraiser cosplay went seriously wrong.

For convenience of reference

Out of morbid curiosity, still at a safe distance, I took a look inside, and if I had walked in there, I would have chopped my feet off and needed eyeball transplants. I told the creature we weren't interested, which is when he told us the guy we were supposed to talk to wasn't even fucking there, and thank god. I wasn't too jazzed at that point to meet patient fucking zero. As we were walking away, I heard screaming from inside the house, either from the hostages screaming for help, the ghost of the baby clearly murdered in that stroller, or from the tenants running for their lives from the ever encroaching army of nuclear ants. We went home to collect ourselves, regroup, maintain our enthusiasm and optimism about moving out, and headed over to the next property we had lined up that day. Surely this one will improve our outlook. Moving out is a great idea, it must be! Yes!

We got to the second house, located near the University, this time we were investigating a basement. The pictures made the house look cute, it was small and yellow, the area looked charming, and then we walked up to it ourselves, and "cute" wasn't the first word that came to mind. "Yellow" didn't spring to mind either. Dehydrated piss looks better than that house. I wasn't exactly sure how it was standing. It looked like there was a perpetual rain cloud above it, because every house around it was immaculate. This house looked like it was being eaten away by sea water. If another tornado touches down in my city, that's the first house it's going after. As we walked up the front steps, or that pile of wood with nails in it, if you want to get technical, I noticed the unmistakable scent of weed. The only thing more obvious is old lady perfume. The people who lived in the house had made an effort to mask the smell by drenching the exterior walls in cologne, but covering up weed is like trying to disguise a boner in class. It can't be done.

It took a while for the guy to answer the door, mostly because he was getting dressed in the front foyer. I could see him, there were gaps in the black spray paint on the glass. The fact that he had to wrestle with the door to get it open wasn't a good sign. Once he got it open, he told us to go around the side, for which I was very thankful. I wasn't very confident about the stairs we were standing on, or whatever they were. It felt as though they'd used the perfect material to absorb as much water as possible and never let go. You could renovate those steps with a spoon. We went around the side and got ushered into our desired basement, and this is when I realized I shouldn't have bothered bringing my flashlight and outlet tester. When you're looking at a place, you're supposed to shine a line in corners, test outlets, test the lights, flush the toilet, etc. If you don't, and you flush the toilet the first day and a dead rat shoots up your ass? Well, there's a couple problems there, as you can imagine. There was no need to investigate thoroughly with this place. Looking at this place was like being a doctor, and having your patient walk in with a pair of scissors in his head. Easy to see the problem there.

First off, walking down the ridiculously steep stairs to the basement, the railing looked like someone ripped a branch off a dying tree and glued it to the wall. The basement itself looked like someone started to dig a hole, and then gave up. Susie and I would have the posture of the letter "S" before long. Those ceilings were so low, I half expected the guy to put on a helmet with a light on it, and dive into a squeeze. The flooring I would describe as "creative" or "dungeon-esque". Someone was hanged by their thumbs in this basement at some point, though I don't know how effective that would have been with their feet firmly planted on the ground. Some sections of the laminate flooring looked like they'd be ripped up by the aggressive rats living there, and whatever that carpet was that resembled pubic hair, fell off the spectrum of appealing colors long ago.

This was when we realized this was obviously a student property, meaning it was reserved entirely for foreign students who probably slept on tire beds, who don't give a fuck about their living situation, so long as it's not next to gunfire or explosives. The two guys who gave us the tour were super nice, but they kept saying that all of the furniture was included. To them that probably sounded like a great selling point, but to me it sounded like they were desperate to get rid of it. It's like they'd mistakenly built the crawlspace around the furniture and couldn't get it out. One guy pointed out the "newly renovated" shower, which looked like an array of sample tiles were stolen from Home Depot, and affixed to the wall with scotch tape. And I don't know what species of insect it was that was clearly trying to tunnel into the shower, but I wasn't eager to find out. I would sooner shower in a tipped over outhouse. I wanted to get the fuck out of that bathroom as quickly as possible, I was waiting for a hand to come out of the black fungus in the shower and choke me to death.

Oh god, and the kitchen? There's more room in airplane kitchens. There were no cupboards, and that easy bake oven they called a stove? I was horrified when he went to turn it on. You could bomb Hiroshima all over again with that fucking thing. I don't know why the stove top was colored orange or why it was covered in bite marks, but I was ready to conclude this tour, but he had to show me the fridge. If I put a 4 gallon jug of milk in that fridge, it would have fallen over. You could play volleyball with that piece of shit fridge. I've made houses out of blankets more sturdy than that fridge, and my shoe has more space in it. Had we lived there, it would have been great. We could eat one apple at a time and maybe a saltine. We were on our way out of the place at this point when the guy pointed out the air duct they labelled "laundry room". Someone definitely got murdered in that broom closet. I saw nail marks from the last person dragged in there.

Then the guy showed us the back yard and said, "If you like to barbecue, we have a barbecue!" Really? Because sometimes I like barbecuing without a fucking barbecue. That poor barbecue looked like it had been under a tarp longer than most mummies. If we had started it, it would have looked like the bomb at Helm's Deep in The Two Towers. I'd explain what the back yard looked like, had I been able to see it. It was trapped under a thick carpet of dead leaves, beer bottles, and thatch grass taller than most children, I'm almost positive I saw a shoe with an amputated foot still inside of it, and there was a tooth dangling from a spider web. Every unsolved mystery in the world is in that back yard. Big Foot sleeps there, directions to Area 51 are there, O.J. Simpson's other glove is in there, and so on. As much as I was curious to see who shot Kennedy, we weren't sold, so off we went to the third property.

At this point I was comforted by the fact that the last two places on our list couldn't possibly be worse than the first two, but on reflection, that was just the side of me that was now desensitized. We could have walked into the place and seen them shrinking heads, and I'd just ask if utilities are included with the rent. We found the place easily enough, and we were looking at the 2 bedroom main floor. We got there early, and soon after we did, a guy came out of the house and asked, "Are you Jennifer?" "Who the fuck is Jennifer?" I thought, before I realized that some stupid ass bitch was supposed to be here to look at the property, and she didn't show up. "In your face, bitch!" I thought, as I strolled up the attractive walk to shake the attractive man's hand. Seriously, he was an attractive man. There's something about a man holding a screwdriver and fixing a light that gets my balls tingling.

Mike Holmes in a suit. You didn't think you could cum 8 times before now, did you?

The house looked nice from the outside, the yard was well kept, the stairs leading up to the front door were brand new, and extremely well built, plus this guy was actively fixing the house. Couple all that with the beautiful pictures of the interior? This place looked like a winner, albeit a bit out of our price range. And then of course we had to actually walk inside.

My boner wouldn't drop that fast if your vagina had barb wire in it. The smell of this place was immediate, and glaring. I've smelled that smell before when I used to own a guinea pig that was a shit factory. That little rodent shit every where like open bags of dog food on helicopter blades. Those shavings smelled like someone had diarrhea at Home Depot. That's about what this house smelled like, except magnified to a disturbing extent. The fact that we weren't choked by that fucking miasma ten feet away from the house is astounding to me. It was like a petting zoo, inside of a cow's asshole. Did a fucking goat live in that house? We'd need pressure washers to get that stink off of us day to day. If a skunk waddled by us he would ask if we farted. If I dutch oven'd Susie in that place, she'd think it was a breath of fresh air, regardless of how many tacos I ate.

It was so heart breaking for a couple reasons. First off, we had finally found a beautiful place, and the stench had to go and ruin it immediately. Sure, you laugh at how I'm using the word "finally" after looking at just two houses, but your mother still makes your lunch, so go fuck yourself. Those were stressful times. My shits have never looked as weird since. Secondly, the guy who was showing us the house was so nice, and he believed it was amazing, and I didn't have the heart to tell him a horse had clearly been farting into this house for years. We had to suffer through the entire tour, or rather, I did. Susie didn't seem to mind so much. I think she may have been in a state of both shock and delirium at the time, and managed to repress the experience while it was happening. Meanwhile, I couldn't get the thought out of my head that a flock of sheep dragged their stinky asses on the floor and ceiling of this house.

We continued the tour out of the kindness of our hearts, and all I'll really say is that the place had a nice layout. I still feel terrible about saying that because of how nice the dude was, but I'm already going to hell so it doesn't matter at this point. The floors were so creaky, any time sex would be going down, it would sound like an old rocking chair going supersonic. Every step I took sounded like a goose getting hit with a golf ball. The guy started showing us all the storage space, of which there was lots, but all of the cabinetry was stained a bizarre shade of orange, not unlike the grease that collects on the base of tomato sauce marinated meatballs, or earwax. What the fuck were the previous tenants doing? Smoking incessantly, rubbing their ears in closets and feeding ponies x-lax brownies? I kind of want to know, actually.

I started inspecting the place a little more carefully, and noticed two dramatic cracks directly underneath the sink plumbing in both the bathroom, and kitchen. Houses rocked by earthquakes have smaller cracks than these. What was strange about it was the fact that there was no evidence of sitting, stagnant water in a puddle. Why? Because the dent in the floor was fucking convex, not concave. You wouldn't find dents this strange in the ceiling of The Mythbusters' facility. I don't know if the water dripped and the flooring swelled upwards instead of slowly buckling under the acidic power of shit tap water, or if The Hulk punched the ceiling of the basement. At the very least, the land lord was gracious enough to remove the stalagmite from the cupboards, but neglected to remove the evidence of vermin. It's both a good and bad sign when you see a mouse trap in the place you want to rent. It's like having an orgasm in a library.

The one thing you didn't need a fine tooth comb for was the floor. The floors were a selling point of the home in the listing, stating that it was the "Original hard wood from the 70's." That's a bit like trying to sell pubic hair from the 70's. Barely anything from the 70's has held up well, except maybe those awesome jungle stripe phones. I didn't even have to look very hard, I could see the asbestos underneath this floor, as the edges of the floor had been eaten away by the fucking Venom symbiote. Great, I can't wait to live here for a while, develop a new strain of super cancer, and grow some new eyeballs on my fucking ball sack. I had to shit my pants after we'd left just to mask the smell.

Then we found this apartment we're currently living in, and while I didn't enjoy that one night I ran into Shelob in my fucking bathroom, or the fact that my upstairs neighbors are perpetually throwing bowling balls at gongs, this place is incredible. I love it here. I get to shit with the bathroom door open, son! I ran out of fucks to give a long time ago. I'm a little disappointed the apartment hunt ended so beautifully. I was looking forward to finding a dead body stuffed in a freezer at some point down the line. So, until we go house hunting and stumble on an abandoned meth lab, as always, go fuck yourself.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

My Trip To San Francisco with Susie - 2015

Here's hoping the term "brain function" still applies to me. I know my brain is physically there, but it's up for debate whether it still works at this point. It's been a while since I've properly used it, that is, been an asshole. In that spirit, San Francisco! The trip that had about the same amount of planning that went into the KFC Double Down.

"I guess do it..."

I say that because our first choice was Mexico, but Mexico only really works if you go there for a week. The shit's more expensive if you go for less time, it's something to do with a package deal, which sounds like it makes no sense, but I price my dick much the same way. It's cheaper if you get the whole package, individual pieces are bit pricey. I'm not sure if I just insulted myself there, but in the name of dick jokes, it was worth it. Mexico was out, so we looked at Las Vegas, but given that I'd already snorted cocaine off of fake tits there last year, that wasn't the best option. Then we thought about New York, but not only is New York too expensive, it's also over hyped. I guarantee I make better pizza here, after that, what else is in New York? The Port Authority? Some bitch holding a candle? No, I didn't care to have a nuclear sewer rat gnaw off my ballsack, so we then looked at Jasper.

For my American readers, if you don't know what Jasper is, congratulations, you just took the shortcut to understanding why we didn't go there. For my fellow Canadians, fuck Jasper. What is there really, a partially frozen lake with a bear fucking mountain sheep in a tree? Ok, it's not that bad, but I wouldn't break an appointment to go there, let's put it that way. Then in the middle of wonderment, randomly my brain burped up, "San Francisco!" At best there's beaches and a prison on a rock, at worst the anal sex would at least be sensual on a bed of weed. It seems mildly tourist friendly, why not? It was relatively cheap, so off we went to San Francisco at the most inconvenient time possible, right in the middle of moving out. Just so I don't dwell on this too much, I'll just leave you with a small dose of reality. Here's what to expect when moving out: moving out sucks dick.

Moving on. This is the story of my trip to San Francisco with Susie in May, 2015. Similar to Drumheller, Vancouver, and Las Vegas, this is my odd way of preserving memories, beyond taking pictures. I'm getting old, man. My balls already look like my brain, it's only a matter of time before my memory goes. I'm sure that makes medical sense.

Thursday, May 7th, Day 1
Well wouldn't you know it, Susie and I finally travelled at a reasonable time! Unreal, I know. Normally we end up travelling when the sun is considering that maybe our side of the planet exists, but this time, we actually had a decent sleep, there were birds chirping outside, vomiting worms and garbage into their infants faces, it was magical. We got to the airport three hours early, as you're apparently supposed to before an international flight, and thus marks the second time I have been supremely unconvinced of this fact. When I travelled to Las Vegas, there was zero reason for us to be there that early. There was less of a reason this time around. We even suffered a delay thanks to my fucking passport, and we still made it to our gate with two hours to spare.

Long story short, my middle name was on the itinerary, but my middle name isn't on my passport for some fucking reason, so the airline was confused as to who this "Anthony" person I'm bringing with me is. If only they knew it was the biological twin I absorbed in the fucking womb... We were at one of those self check-ins, because there was no one at the United desk, and the process halted thanks to my middle name crashing the system. I guess most people don't have middle names, who knew? We were told to wait for a United employee to come by, but as previously mentioned, they don't exist, so we just waited in line. Eventually some lady noticed a growing line of frowny faced people, so she waved us through. We made it through Cerebro from X-Men easily enough, or should I say, obnoxiously quickly, because no one was at the fucking airport. Seriously, we were the only ones who went through security. Who the fuck were those people in line behind us?

I elected to get a Quizno's Sub for some reason during our wait for the coming of Christ, until finally we boarded the plane. I buckled up, got my Calvin and Hobbes out, got my phone all set on airplane mode and shit, still disappointed that that setting doesn't make it rocket into the sky, and then waited. Then I waited a little more, and then some more, until finally the captain blurted over the intercom, "Our water systems don't appear to be working." In other words, we couldn't flush the toilets, or wash our hands. It took them a fucking hour to fix the problem, with no one from the crew having the balls to stand up and say, "I clogged the toilet." I don't know who did it, but how they cleared security with a biological weapon like that is beyond me. But, at long last, after I'd raised my first child to adulthood, we were finally taking off.

Landing in San Francisco is interesting, because it looks a bit like the entire city clapped a bunch of chalkboard erasers prior to your landing, and instead of landing on a runway, it looks a bit like you're performing an emergency water landing. Suddenly the runway appears, and you're free to collect your bags and make your way to the taxi cabs. Now, fair warning, tourists heading to San Francisco, your taxi driver will be a fucking insane person, and San Francisco is weird. Driving into the city is nice, it's very green, but it also looks a bit like Brazil got lost. The best way to describe the housing near the airport would probably be "slums", just to sound mean but somewhat accurate. The houses are tightly packed and on hillsides, like they're in a perpetual game of The Floor is Lava. In lighter news, taking pictures in San Fran is fun, because it's like going on gay safari.

Now, the fucking crazy taxi driver. Taxi drivers have a reputation for two things: buying their licenses, and being insane. Often the two are clearly linked, and nowhere is this more apparent than in San Francisco. Holy fuck, this guy was hauling ass, and gave no shits about hitting other cars or other people if it meant getting us to our hotel quickly. He didn't actually run anyone over, but the way he was driving, it seemed like he wanted to. Then all of a sudden he took a sharp left turn and we were at our hotel. It seemed like a mistake, but I was just grateful he'd stopped. I thought our flight in was bad enough. Our plane was doing a marvelous impression of a Jackhammer being attacked by Mike Tyson, while stuck in an elevator, and now we found ourselves on the set of Death Race? Time out, America. While we're talking about the sky, if birds fuck in the sky, does that mean they join the mile high club, or does that only apply to humans? Passing thought.

Anyway, the best part about our insane taxi driver, was the fact that he was listening to slow dance music. I mean bad slow dance music, like the kind of shit your parents would slow dance to. Like the kind of shit cheap softcore porn is edited to. Elevators don't even consult this genre. Not only that, but it was on a CD. It was all different artists too, meaning either this man took the time to make himself a special mixtape, or he loves the genre so much, he bought a "Greatest Hits" CD, unafraid of a bad egg sullying his music. I'm not sure which is worse. Either way, the gentle sounds of drunken shower singing captured on recorder, serenaded his madness. I know the guy lives in San Francisco, the place is pretty tolerant, and we Canadians are supposed to be nice and all, but let's just call that what it is, that's gay as hell.

Moving on, Susie and I stayed at the Stanford Court in Union Square, or maybe it was on the outskirts of Union Square, I didn't really pay attention. If "inbetween Powell and Mason on California" means anything to you, then good for you. The elevators in that building are pretty fucking rad, and I know I should be beaten with sticks for using the word "rad", but they play great music in those elevators, it's appropriate. The only issue was that Courtney Love was advertised on the wall next to Metallica, and while I don't hold Metallica in any high regard, saying Courtney Love was "one of The Bay areas greatest musical hits" is a bit like saying bird shit is haute cuisine. The woman is only special because she murdered that asshole who inspired a generation of people to not have sustainable jobs, fuck her. But don't actually do that, that's how the zombies start.

The carpets inside the Stanford Court are interesting, in a word. They are dehydrated piss yellow, covered with optical illusions. We finally reached our room after being mildly hypnotized, which could only be further away from the elevators if it had been in another building, and there wasn't much to say about the room. It was a place to sleep and shit, that's about it. One noteworthy aspect to the room was the enormous yellow stain on the blankets, which I photographed:

Note the token pube attached to the bizarre stain that probably wasn't produced by a human. The stain was never addressed by the staff there, they just kept making the bed, staring at the weird yellow stain and thinking, "I'm sure that's supposed to be there." Now this is a weird segway, but we were hungry at this point, so we went out to find food, electing not to just eat at the fucking hotel for some reason. We walked down two hills and ended up at Nob Hill, which is right next to "Bush Street", just to go down the checklist for a dick joke, and found a little pizza place on the corner called "Uncle Vito's". All I can really say about Uncle Vito's is that Vito has watched The Godfather too much, is kind of a dick, but makes a decent Panago knock off. Then we had to climb back up the two hills we walked down to get to Uncle Asshole, and at this point, I'm not sure if it was one hill or two. It's all blurred into one big hill for me now. Regardless, walking those hills was a bit like torture, having destroyed our bodies moving just days prior. I thought Susie was going to pass out, and had that happened, I don't know. At that point, I may have cherished the pizza more than our relationship. She would have just kept rolling forever, and I vowed never to chase women again...

After we ate, I left the hotel to ascertain exactly where the fuck we were and exactly where the fuck we wanted to go. Keep in mind I live in the prairies, I can see a dog running for three days if there isn't a building in the way, and you throw me in the middle of a city that looks like it was originally a roller coaster park? That would be like throwing Paris Hilton in the Serengeti, admittedly a good pitch for a reality show. But I found some maps and sort of figured things out, Susie then helped further, and then I passed out next to that weird stain that looks like someone cock slapped a row of lady bugs to death.

Friday, May 8th, Day 2
My day began with "The All-American Breakfast", which was some eggs that looked like someone used them for kleenex, some dry toast, and some bacon they found at the back of the freezer. Frankly, I don't think these people understand "All-American" too well. Where was my complimentary firearm, with a side of freedom? This is America, damnit! If I go to sleep, I expect to wake up racist! Anyway, I ate that breakfast that looked about as sketchy as it would to a starving man, and then we went to catch the cable car. Word of advice, eager San Fran travellers. When you get there, depending on how long you're staying, buy a Three Day Transit Pass. I can't remember what it was called exactly because I currently don't have internet and I threw my pass in the garbage, but find a Walgreens and buy one. It will save your life. Fuck walking those hills, and fuck those people who say, "San Fran is a walking city!" It isn't. It's a cable car city, so hop on one of those things like a stiff rebound dick and enjoy the ride!

Luckily our stop was right next to our hotel, we just had to somersault a little and we were there, so off we went to the Fisherman's Wharf, a place the internet told us to go. First off, supposedly there's a difference between Cable Car and Street Car, but no one knows what it is, and even less people care. Secondly, the cable cars smell like an old deli. Go there and tell me that's not accurate. Third, going to the Wharf, I could only picture one thing:

We got to the Wharf, the place that smells of panties, rounded a corner, and all of a sudden, Alcatraz. Just sitting there on a rock like a magpie on a McNuggets box, Alcatraz. It's always a bit jarring seeing something like that, you feel like you've just stepped on to a post card. Speaking of sitting on a rock, because of the sheer number of people there, and the amount of those people who like eating the absurd amount of seafood in that area, the area has become home to very brazen seagulls and pigeons. Over here, those birds look at you like a freeze frame during a jump scare, but over in San Fran? They don't give a fuck about you. You can walk right up and kick a seagull in the balls, and it doesn't care. It's just waiting for someone to drop their weird bread bowl full of boiled sea creature, so it and its brethren can swarm.

After we ate some icecream, we went to the Aquarium of The Bay. Susie and I enjoy aquariums, because the ocean is something we don't often see living near mountains and boredom. The aquarium is nice, and if you decide to go there yourself, you will be glad to hear that "The Tunnels Under The Bay" is false advertising. At first I thought that meant there were tunnels under the ocean, which never made sense to me, who wants to see a bunch of seaweed and fish shit, maybe some algae on a rock next to a drowned shoe? It's actually just a huge fish tank underneath the aquarium, with a tunnel that you can walk through, while the animals rub their dicks on the glass. Seriously, this Ray kept doing it over and over again. I called him Mr. Squishy Dick:

Rays look a lot like if you drew a face on a boob, and then stretched it out. We walked about the Aquarium, amongst loud faux-spanish people carrying selfie sticks, fulfilling at least two of the requirements for douchebaggery. We stayed to watch the otter training session. One of the otters bit the fucking trainer in the leg and then swam away. I laughed. Eventually we left, only to discover that I had lost my sunglasses. It was only a matter of time before I lost those things, and to be honest, I'm glad I lost them. I fucking hated those sunglasses so much. I just feel bad for the person who stole them. Their life is now a cavalcade of persistent misery and occasional UV protection. After lunch at some place named Johnny Rocket, we went to check out the Sea Lions. They're over by Pier 39 I think. When you get to the sea from the Powell stop, and you're staring at Alcatraz, look to your right, and walk in that direction until you hear Chewbacca and smell wet shit.

Those Sea Lions are awesome, because apparently they just straight up swam in there one day, anexxed the pier Crimea style, and now they just sun bathe there, until it's time to swim off and fuck bitches. Seriously, that's their life. There were two sea lions play fighting on a plank, battle royale style, trying to push each other off. Oddly amusing to watch a soggy sausage with flippers throw another one into the water over and over. We then decided to walk down the Wharf in the direction of Crissy Field, where we heard some guy advertising a $15 cruise under the Golden Gate Bridge, and around Alcatraz. Before this, we'd heard from a reputable person that they were doing a $30 cruise for the same trip, which made Susie and I not even question the worth, but simply ask, "What's going on here?" The man yelling about the $15 cruises through his stolen traffic cone, neglected to mention if there would be complimentary cannibalism in addition to being thrown overboard on the "cruise".

We walked along and discovered a sign that read something like, "No Stealing Dungeness Crabs". You're allowed to fish at some points in San Fran, and I guess if you catch crabs, you're not allowed to do anything to them, or else you get a $1000 fine. That would be an interesting thing to try and explain to your wife, a $1000 fine for crabs. I'll let you finish that joke. It wasn't very good, so you get to shoudler that responsibility. Anyway, turns out it was a really great idea to walk away from the Wharf, because as the smell of shitty seafood disappeared, the smell of chocolate entered our noses. We of course ended up in Ghiardelli's Square, the most amazing place on earth. Ok, maybe not that amazing, but oh my god. I can see why San Fran turned gay, the smell of that chocolate was like a boner potion. I dropped my pants and started fucking a keychain in a gift shop. After briefly losing my phone in the bathroom, we bought a shit load of chocolate, and then waited fucking forever for the cable car.

Here's another piece of advice for eager travellers. If you're going to San Fran, bring a fucking hoodie, maybe some arctic gear, one of those hats with the fur in it, and a dick cozy. Evenings in San Fran, particularly near the ocean, are cold enough to freeze the testicles of any Eskimo. All you can really do is huddle together for warmth with the enormous amount of people waiting for the cable cars, and hope that the homeless street performer is playing decent tunes instead of trying to sniff your ass, or whatever homeless people do with their free time. Also, fair warning if you're waiting for a street car, be prepared to wait longer than the last guy in line for the iPhone 6. If you've ever waited to be treated at a hospital, just imagine that wait, but multiplied by forever, and that's about what it feels like to wait for a cable car at the Wharf. Just picture the cable cars as indifferent nurses and you might not cry so much.

Saturday, May 9th, Day 3
Despite the fact that someone coated their tiny dick with mustard and slapped the bedding with it, I slept like a baby in that bed. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the stain helped lull me to sleep. It was my dreamcatcher. The morning only got better, when we turned on the TV, which was normally full of bullshit channels and no Food Network, this time it was MYTHBUSTERS! Seriously, who the fuck doesn't have Food Network? But Mythbusters certainly made up for it. They were marathoning it too. Gathering the will to leave the hotel that day was a challenge, but after a few commercials for a show called, "Outrageous Acts of Psych" on the Science channel, we decided to do tourist-y stuff before I threw the TV out the window. Fuck that show. Why is that on the Science channel? That isn't Science, that's a whole lot of people that weren't beaten by their parents as kids infront of a camera. "If people stare at you, it makes you uncomfortable." Wow, I wouldn't have called that. This really needed a social experiment to uncover the answer to a question no one was asking. Thanks for your in depth experimentation and hypothesis, now let's see your degree you fucking whack job.

Right, San Fran. That other shit, different time, different writing. So we went downstairs for breakfast, and being Canadians, we elected to eat pancakes. Oddly enough they were on the dessert portion of the menu, which in fairness, that's right where they belong. But we figured they were normal breakfast pancakes, so Susie ordered a plate. If you're accustomed to pancakes in Canada, which are sweet when covered in syrup, but not over powering, let me prepare your palate. Or hey, if you want to do it yourself, just eat a ladle of icing sugar, after dumping it on a bed of brownies, icecream, and skittles, and actually that sounds ok. I mean your heart is liable to skip a few beats, but it's delicious. I've come to the realization that it's impossible not to sell these pancakes. Basically, after you eat them, you'll spend most of the day in outer space.

Turns out the pancakes were a good idea, as I just threw a saddle on Susie's back and she galloped us over to Golden Gate Park. Actually we took a cable car down to Market Street, found a bus, and it just kind of took us to Golden Gate Park. That's about as interesting as that gets. The neighborhoods on the way there are neat, because it looks like some asshole put all of his houses on a single property in Monopoly.

I didn't realize it until we got there, but there's a stadium right next to the park. It's almost as interesting as the horse shoe court inside the park. Come to think of it, you could put a horse shoe park anywhere really, it's not that special, but it was similar to the rollerblade park we saw later on. You don't even know you want it until you see it. I wasn't sure who was performing at the stadium to attract the same crowd that gathered outsides Helm's Deep, or why they bothered to show up. It was essentially live radio, without the commercials, but equally as shitty. Just some asshole yelling "HANDS IN THE AIR!" constantly. He didn't say anything else, he just kept yelling at the crowd, demanding they raise their arms. I'm not sure what a personality is really, so I'm assuming putting your hands in the air means you're excited. The man could have been more creative trying to hype the crowd up, my mother would wreck him at Scrabble. How about, "Place your hands slightly above your head!" or "Raise your appendages!" or "Quick, fix that pot light!"

We went to the Conservatory of Flowers, and looked at, you guessed it, flowers. They neglected to mention that flowers flourish when placed inside an oven, so my armpits melted by the time we got to those weird cup plants that eat ants. In my mind, they look like a 3D print of a vagina, but they are actually Victreebel from Pokemon, but without the chewing tobacco habit.

Looks like the guy who delivers cheese to my restaurant

After that, Susie and I ate weiners while staring at each other longingly, then we found ourselves at the Academy of Science.

I researched this trip lightly one night long before we went, and this place wasn't mentioned at any point. I don't know why, it's fucking awesome. If you want to go to San Fran, go there. If you live in San Fran, fucking go there. There's an exhibit on whales at the time of this writing. They have a fossilized whale dick, you could have 25 women sucking on that thing at the same time. You could knock a city bus over with a cock slap and get a home run with that thing. There's a big ass aquarium there, and some rain forest globe you get to walk around while butterflies endeavor to scare you and the parrot hides from you. We took the bus back to Market, and this time it was actually interesting. Thanks to my skills as a stalker and people watcher, which basically mean the same thing, I got to listen to some great conversations between these girls. I don't remember them all, but there was one in there about a guy doing acid, and texting her. It was the casual tone that sold the story for me, like this was just an average thing in her life. People come out of raves just thinking, "Shit, I have to text this fucking girl!" Then there was a black girl talking about how she has servants in her house. It doesn't matter that she's black, but it totally does. I'll let you decide how you feel about that.

When we got back to the hotel, I ordered a sandwich and some chicken strips. Had I known the sandwich was literally a live turkey inbetween two pieces of bread, I would have paused on the chicken strips. I bring this up only to ask a question. Why the fuck is a sandwich the size of the table you're eating it off of, worth more than four tiny strips of chicken and some fries? The sandwich was 13 bucks, the chicken, 16 bucks. For three extra dollars, that chicken best be jerking me off under the table.

Sunday, May 10th, Day 4
I don't remember how this morning began, just that we woke up. I think I grabbed Susie's boob. That sounds like something I'd do. We decided today was the day to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge, so we made our way down to the Wharf, and rented some shitty bikes. Saying these bikes were shitty is an understatement. You couldn't pay someone enough to steal those things. The frame was made of rolled up magazines wrapped in tinfoil, and the wheels were so thin, I think they were the inspiration for 4K flat screens. Felt like I wanted to floss my teeth with those things. They managed to survive the journey, though at a certain point while crossing the bridge, I half expected to be turned into a paper airplane. Oh, here's something no one tells you about biking across the bridge. It is freezing fucking cold. Wear a good hoodie and some gloves. Don't wear under armor and shorts because you're pretending to be an athlete, wear a polar bear. Also, why is it called the Golden Gate? I get the bridge part, but at this point they should just call it, "That Red Fucking Shit".

After you cross the bridge and you stop crying about losing your hands to frost bite, you have to travel another couple miles to get to Sausalito, which is the gayest place on earth. That's not an insult, I mean literally it's the gayest place on earth. Come on, it's called Sausalito. That's a great word if you're gay, lots of S's. Also the sun never stops shining there, that has to aid in being gay some way or another. This was the portion of the trip where we got burnt to a crisp by the sun, while not experiencing anything about Sausalito beyond the ferry back to the Wharf, where the smell of eggy sea lion ass doesn't diminish in time. By the time we got back, we were hungry, so we ate at Subway just to be uninteresting. We did so because it was quiet and not packed, until some assholes kept shooting fire crackers off in the alley. On reflection, I should have strapped some to the guy's dick, but going across the street to buy hoodies was a better idea.

You know what else was a better idea? Going back to fucking Ghiardelli's and getting a big ass sundae. I still remember it, it was called "Treasure Island", the richest thing I've ever eaten until I finally get to eat Bill Gate's ass. It's amazing. It's a brownie drowning in icecream and ecstasy, and your penis bleeds pure hot joy while you eat it. My advice is to only order one thing off the menu and share it. If you're by yourself, god be with you. Partly because there's a lot to eat, but mostly because you'll have someone there to possibly stop you from fucking the sundae, or at least offer to block for you while you fuck it. It's so good. It could only be made better if they gave you some extra chocolate sauce on the side to smear on your nipples. Then we walked up to, and down Lombard Street. Our legs had adapted to the landscape at this point, our calves were the size of watermelons, so we hulked up to Lombard no problem. Then as we were walking down, we realized that people live in Lombard Street.

Bit obvious sounding now, but when you get there, it's not as obvious. I thought it was just a fancy street, a tourist attraction, but people actually live there. Seeing people go into their garages or driveways in San Fran in general is bizarre, it looks like everyone lives in trap doors. Lombard Street though, it looks like something Martha Stewart masturbates to, it's hard to believe people live there. But those rich bastards do. May their lives forever be tainted by tourists and an endless stream of cars. Then we caught the street car back to California Street, which was being operated by some asshole. He stopped to pick up two people, and instructed them to go to the other side of the car by yelling, "OTHER SIDE!" In fairness, the man shouted AND pointed. To be unfair, you're in a city that's a huge tourist destination, and you stopped in the middle of an intersection. What makes you think these people heard you, much less that English is even their first language? No need to mutter, "My god..." under your breath, like these people caused you grievance. Just drive the car and ring the fucking bell, boy.

We got back to the hotel which is when we noticed our insane sunburns. I was happy to be far away from the Wharf, I thought someone was going to mistake us for lobsters and start ripping our limbs off and dipping them in butter. We watched some idiots on TV on a show called "Naked and Afraid" and laughed at their misfortune. This one girl in particular, who described herself as, and these are her words verbatim, not mine, "A ball of awesomeness." To no one's surprise except her's, she tapped out after like a day because she didn't realize the sun was hot. Stupid bitch.

Monday, May 11th, Day 5
The final day, the travel day. You would think there's not much to write about here, but oh there is. We got an early start, as we decided leaving this city early and thus arriving in our home town early was a good idea and ok, I can see you're not interested. We were up and out of the hotel by 7:00, and braved yet another taxi driver. This time this guy would be going mostly down hill, so this was marginally worse. While this driver didn't do anything to cloud his road rage with gentle tunes, he did have a serious phlegm problem. I can only assume he tried to eat amoeba in the morning and it got stuck in his throat, because he was just coughing up balls of glue.

He got us there alive, which is I suppose his primary function. We went to check in for our flight, and some dude comes up to me and says something I can't remember about my passport. I don't remember because I paid more attention to him saying, "You won't be able to go back to Canada." Oh really? You'd be fucking surprised how hard I will go back to Canada. I will Canada all over your mom's face. What the fuck was really so bad that I couldn't go back to my home country? Was I put on the fucking no fly list? Jesus. So he sent us to some ticket lady several miles away, and during the journey there I finally realized why they want you at the airport three hours before an international flight. It's for bullshit like this. We got to the lady, and she had a great, all too familiar question for me after looking at our itinerary. "Who's Anthony?" Again with this slippery Anthony character. Goddamnit, literally every other passport on earth, people have their fucking middle name on it. Not me!

So because of this discrepancy, I was allowed to travel to the United States with this mystery Anthony in tow, but was unable to travel back with my imaginary friend. Where the fuck would I be hiding an entire person, you idiots? Anthony's in my pocket, want to see? He's actually jammed in my luggage, I'm hoping the fucker can breathe cruising at 30,000 feet. Who's Anthony. What kind of a question is that? Look at my girlfriend, she exists, she's not harboring a fugitive or something, we only have two seats booked on the plane, where is Anthony going to sit? In the over head bin? Can I stash him in the fucking seat back pocket? Eventually after all this madness, she just kind of checked my ID and it was all fixed, but before we walked away, she had to leave me with a shard of wisdom. "Get your passport fixed!" Sure, let me just grab a sharpie right now and save some time.

Finally we ended up at our gate, ages before our fucking flight. Even with all of this bullshit, we were still obnoxiously early. You could chop my head off and I'd still make my flight on time. I am never going to the airport three hours before a flight ever again. That's an hour I could spend masturbating and eating. Not speaking of that, I really had to shit when we got to the gate, so I found a bathroom and had my way with the toilet. There was some weird music playing in that bathroom. I'm positive softcore porn originated there. After that, I was back to waiting at the gate, when the dude called everyone up for a "documents check". I guarantee they were still looking for this elusive Anthony character, those fucking idiots, but the important thing to mention at this point in the story, is the guy who didn't understand how lines work, who just kind of stood beside me and Susie while we were walking up. Fucking pompous asshole budding in line, I bet he plays the Ukulele and owns a share of IKEA or some shit. Then eventually we landed in Edmonton after I farted a lot on the plane, and wanting to clap the irritating stewardess's head in my Calvin and Hobbes.

And that was San Fran. A good city to travel to if you want to come home, and listen to everyone annoying in your life be confused why you didn't find the time to visit obscure places while you were busy being a tourist.