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noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 06:44:00 +0000

tourist

well, the time has come.
im off on my crazy punk rock tour.
you can follow our adventures right here.

gonna write a whole bunch of words on this tour.
not sure what words, but hopefully happy words.
if not, even better.

this is all new, never before seen stuff.
i have flashy visions of greatness, but i am calmed by instincts of reality.
rights will be wronged, fights will be spawned, and stories will be songed.

the first song starts tomorrow, its about a gong getting broken.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 04:17:00 +0000

ghost town travel

i am a slaughterhouse discard.
a revenge of the weekend.
used and nimble, jack be slip.

shot a 90 at burnaby today.
it felt like peter pancakes.
after a sloppy start to the sunglass-sunburn-season 2 weeks ago.

the rural alberta advantage is an awesome band.

they fill this seaside condo, while i ponder such things as: what does it smell like in calgary during a missed playoffs?

i cant wait to hug greg in k-loops.
his band is also awesome.
the first time i ever heard the song "perfect government" was because greg was singing it on the tire swing at white sands.

jeffrey michael roxboughorrorshow lives in calgary.
he gets to sing.
no one else gets to sing.

the brandon lives in saskatoon.
and mel runs the scene.
im going to a nofx show with bolth of them, and my punk-friend-bandmates, on our 1 day off, with the greatest reward any musician can ask for: to see their aging heroes mid-way on the path to trying to being them.

medicine hat, we play a skatepark, if it doesn't snow.
vernon, may be kelowna.
friendship, will deteriorate on multiple occasions.

such is life in a constant can of sweaty prarie boring.

i am colin's party legs, dirty dancin round empty kegs.

it wont change my life, it is my life.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 05:41:00 +0000

nucks win, col falls

tonight i saw the save that changed everything.

in other news:

been goin crazy planning this tour.
emails, facebooks, phone calls, fish hooks.
different shirts for different cities.

i dont know what playing 6 punk shows in 7 nights is gonna feel like.
especially when our night off is a NOFX concert.
the greatest band in the history of my happiness.

apr 21 - backstage lounge, vancouver
apr 22 - the kami, kamloops
apr 23 - the distillery, calgary
apr 24 - walkers nightclub, saskatoon
apr 25 - HOFX
apr 26 - skatepark, medicine hat
apr 27 - coffee house, vernon

yes, awkward gaps and bruised holes exist in this plan, but i always repair my divots before heading on to the next green.

buying a video camera on saturday.
gonna document the whole gigantic mess.
your new favorite TV show is coming soon.

lets see how long it takes til i hate my brother.
and how long it takes for us to love again.
i give it 3 songs, or 4 meatball subs.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 10 Apr 2010 19:30:00 +0000

a lesson in the abuse of body and mind

i miss her already.
she wore an indiana jones hat.
and took classes with questions instead of answers.

me, a wheel-barrow of failure.
some day, ill spread the soil, and plant those magic beans.
'festivity failure' has a better ring.

in happy news, after 40 years, our new album is finally finished.
2 tracks from it right here.
some people cut pills to stay sane, i cut records, yet still stay no sane.

not thinking about guns, or dope, or goin' crazy, just thinking about that meal.

go for the glory huck.
paint that pastor purple.
these spills aint made for cleaning.

almost time to go to sleep, in the wheel-barrow.
where i belong, on the way outta the way.
landfill or launch-pad, same stance.

my friend steve will like the line "on the way outta the way."
he takes pictures better than you.
but dont let that stop you from being awesome with your fancy art and shit.

shit, colin got all shitty.
and suddenly became the ripest grape on the vine.
poor farmers, their crop got done ruined by loud body slam awesome airlines.
now that's gonna be some good tasting wine!
no colin, our juice got squeezed by the maritime man, you loose.

another loss, oh well, failure gets usual on this path.

none-the/never-the less,

i always shoot better on the back 9.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 08:49:00 +0000

a gusty wind

i didnt paint a picture at the paint-a-picture party.

but i played songs pretty goodly.
and i think people felt quite medium-rare about the whole thing.
cept for that chick with the dead gerbil on her head.
she just had to keep screaming about her sloppy style and lack of knowledge.
i wanted to thank her for being such a great performer, with the dead animal on her head and all, so i asked her where the gerbil's running wheel was, but i dont think she understood my drunk/mad/glad attack.

skulls make good liquor bottles, cause they know how to pack it all in.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 05:16:00 +0000

my other bike is a bike

"you were a huge dick last night, kept mocking my haircut while i carried you." -s. pearson

i couldn't walk standing straight up.
my back was an arch as i bounced down granville street.
arms flailing, people killing.

some nights, i am simply unsafe.
what with the drinking and the craziness.
concerts cut me open, and the insults pour all over everything.

bike was amazing last night.
soon after their set, the dam broke, and the rest of the night is a blur.
im already writing a song about it.

friday night was an adventure of its own, but thats another song.

i know i know, writing about it doesn't make it right.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 06:47:00 +0000

clean hand

i drank at the cambie tonight with cammy and claire.
good times, of course.
but what they missed, was the train ride home.
apparently a tim mcgraw concert had just ended.
so when the nice calm trainride hit stadium, chaos got invented.
first thing i saw was a guy covered in blood, instead of a shirt.
with 3 cops surrounding him.
a girl sat down next to me and said "hey, that was the first guy that jumped on stage!"
i said "looks like a good move."
she said "the bouncers must have done that!"
i said "the bouncers probably threw him outside, and his blind jungle adventure across the street to the train station must have done that."
she agreed, not really.
i was suddenly surrounded by legions of drunk cowgirls and angry cowboys.
all shooting their guns off at the same time.
so i just chilled, and enjoyed the luscious landscape.

had a blast.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 18:57:00 +0000

sorry if i ruined your day

weekends were built to be destroyed.
i remember breakfast, then golfing, then nothing.
a shot called a 'grenade,' which i think was more like 2 shots.
shots, shots, shots.
i also remember running and screaming at the same time.
not an easy task, trust me.

the killing game continues.
lush and plenty, these lost feelings of yesteryear.
negative positivity never smelt so great.

beep beep richie.
im thirsty for malts.
that's not true, ya it is.

our album sounds really good, almost done.
i blast it against the walls of this seaside condo.
and theo hides under the bed.

dancing is supposed to be fun.
but every time i do it, people look scared.
especially when i do the dirty-double-bunk-ba-cue.
not sure why.
better keep practicing.
and theo hides under the bed.

so, after whatever happened last night, im taking it real easy today.
replenishing fluids and self-confidence.
healing and howling.
down by the green river, where paradise lay.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 08:29:00 +0000

the dark-haired girl from the fiction department

my vice is performance.
last night exploded, and the air-time was enjoyed.
i had a blast.

music can be a job.
if given enough hours.
my bandmates and i made about 200 bucks an hour last night, each.
for 45 minutes of work, after 45 hours of practice.
and a box of shitty t-shirts that must've smelt like gold, cause we sold hundreds.
holy damn, those shirts looked good, all over everyone.

i love writing radio commercials in the 2nd largest advertising market in canada.
but i would also love doing what i did last night, every night.
until then, i'll keep my head, and my job, and writing better songs.

as sweaty as i got, it felt like forehead tears of joy.
the duke jumped, my brother slaved, and the shafe saved.
afterwords, i demanded 10 free beers from bonus wilson.

the skytrain ride home...well that's another story.

me and the duke made friends right away.
with 2 dudes, and several scared girls.
im pretty sure the dudes spoke arabic.
when i explained our band name, they looked offended.

i was slightly offended by the way one of them helped a chick who was puking everywhere, by holding her head aggressively as the black shit poured out all over the train floor. luckily columbia was the very next stop.

now its saturday night, and im home alone.
had some friends over for the nucks destruction earlier, but they is long gone.
so i got green, clean, and mean.
and now here's me, pleasing and thanking, them dreams we yet to have seen.

and obviously theo ate all the weed.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 06:54:00 +0000

iSpill

fall bombs breed new and exciting things.
surprises buried in basements.
golden tickets in chocolate bars and oil after earthquakes.

me, im safe at jakes getting wasted, cause you guys were too stupid to come here, and be safe.

im a kettle, about to boil.
soon to be all boiled and shit.
a hard boiled happy clapper.

haven't played a solo acoustic show in a long time.
cept for campfires and forgotten friday nights.
tomorrow is gonna be fun.

a concert in support of this local hero.

when the conversation turns to politics, some people like to leave the room.
some people(me) get all rowdy and shoot-off hard about the obvious.
and a rare few offer actual educated opinions, observations, and options.
james is one of those rare few, and i am honored to support his fun-raising event.

bugsy jive will grab your soul.

ruskin will swallow it whole.

i will open the show, trying to pry drinks from the fundraising committee.
that's tomorrow, sat mar 6th, at The Arms Pub in beautiful Port Coquitlam.
be there, or be without a 4-wheeler.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 08:46:00 +0000

17 days

what is tomorrow gonna feel like?
without that daily injection of uber-pride.
that stiff patriotic stab of adrenalin to the heart.

downtown was un-real tonight.
it was as if somebody gave free ecstasy to 50 thousand people.
with victory as the music bed, and high-fives instead of gum.

i will certainly miss these olympic games.
and i am humbled and amazed by the feelings they made me feel.
when life throws us moguls, we canadians bend our knees.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 04:37:00 +0000

fatriotism

the site was gone for a while.
im not sure where it went, but now its back.
fucked off for the olympics i guess.
in the meantime, i documented a few of my olympic experiences in the river.
along with my river-swimming friends.

i thrive on these great tests of athleticism and endurance and courage.
these apostles we worship, as they battle for treasure.
within our very own castle walls.
in victory, held higher than heroes of war.
in defeat, cast aside with shame at their feet.
all painted brightly, on my old friend, TV.

strange feeling this patriotism.
strange and wonderful and nervous and joyous and destroyable.
like booze, but without the syrup shits.

after last night, im right here with everyone else in the country.
jacked full of pride and power.
pomp and circumstance.
fear and fearlessness.

some TV guy called yesterday 'wonderful wednesday'.
so i wrote it on my pad, to remind me.
on the way home from the hockey game, i heard the bobsled victory live on the radio.
smiles on highways.

i remember writing years ago about how the CBC used to air the gold medal game from 2002, late at night, about once a month, and id come home all shitty and pass out all happy.

but, of course, we mustn't get ahead of ourselves, and play it 1 game at a time.

these games have brought together patriotism and partyotism.
i have over-indulged and under-slept.
screamed in victory, screamed in defeat.

words dont well describe the feeling in the city.
a socket-set of separate sizes.
each with their own special spot.

pride is a passionate beast.
it lets the pit bull off the leash.
and swallows work-day afternoons.

well, on we go, with flags in the streets.
stomping hands and clapping feet.
screaming in victory, screaming in defeat.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 05:37:00 +0000

the best paste is in the middle of the tube

i was in the shower, naked and steaming, at peace with the world, when i heard the screaming.

people-on-fire-style screaming.
i jumped out of the shower, naked and soaking, and ran out to the living room.
screaming, screaming, SCREAMING.
turned off tv, turned off speakers, head shaking, SCREAMING, smoke alarm???
oh ya...the smoke alarm...i did have a hellava good steam going.
someone with binoculars across the water must have seen a hellava show.

all part of the pre-game superbowl preparation.
at which i drank 6 tall boys, and won 40 bucks.
and enjoyed the underdog victory awesomeness.

so now im all hot and bothered.
feeling great and shit.
godda dumb myself down with something.
maybe another smoke-alarm-scream-fest.
nah, that shit scared the shit outta me.

and now, the world arrives.
drinks get topped, cars get stopped, hope no bombs get dropped.
i get to work 10-6 cause richmond will be a coke bottle full of old rusty ketchup.
out of place, and moving at a snails pace.

as usual, weekends fill me up.
so much so, that sleep is the only cure.
so to sleep i must go, right now, after stuffing some water home.

oh me, climbing hills, then rolling down.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 04:51:00 +0000

ova, anova

"alota things have been going around about me, but none of it's true."

i spice my salad with cigarette butts.

well, we got pre-mix-#1 of our new album yesterday.
its faster than eckly kid's porn career.
i like watering it, talking to it, etc.

every time i make an album, its the only thing i think about, at all times.

i caulked the wagon and floated,
with a patch on my eye, and a gut that is bloated.
i tell all the ladies im loaded,
and when my cannon fires, your boat gets exploded.

tonight, ive been really good to me, a nice dinner, and tons of great music.
lotsa nofx and alexisonfire's first album.
heckava great first album.

ours = prolly not as good.
but still real real good.
in the words of my friend SD: "pew pew pew...this gives me wayser beams!"

self gifts are better than real gifts, cause only you know exactly what you want.

my favorite thing about new technology is the fancy-TV-taping-thing that i have.
last night, before i went to destroy myself at andys, i recorded a very special movie.
and now im watching it, a whole day later.
its like a VCR, without the shame.
and i get to watch the neverending story like a proper new west gladiator.

its a good movie, cause it raised me.
other movies are better.
none of you have watched the fountain properly.
alone, in the dark, with a marijuana cigarette.
very few movies change me.

i got more, but everything is spinning around in circles of yarn.

some nights, im just a carousel,
playing that same old song,
over and over again.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 04:08:00 +0000

no students work for me

goals for today:

1. swiffer sweep.
2. make spicy omelet wrap.
3. listen to every NOFX song ever recorded (5 hours 16 min.)
4. repeat.

i may be slightly attractive again, but the troubles only rotate.
i still fill, fall, burn, and brawl.
roll huge snowballs down hills into traffic and explode with applause.

it hasnt snowed yet.
winter forgot about itself down here.
its a shock to the system, after spending 2.5 of the last 5 years in winter.
i miss it, not really.

how did i get home last night?
i usually chat it up big time with cab drivers.
not sure if i did last night, its gone.

solo acoustic show - mar 6th at the arms pub in poco.
YOU BIG IDIOT show - mar 12th at the cellar on granville.
so i have laps to do around this seaside condo.

J.D. Salinger changed my life in the 50's.
then hid in a closet for 40 years until he died a couple days ago.
but those New Hampshire walls couldn't stop millions of people from living inside him.
and inviting more to move in, every day.
that reminds me, andy has my latest copy, 5th in a series of missing persons.

his death further exploded my brain-thinking that proof rules.
if you wish to have lasting effect, you must have proof.
whether or not you hide from your creations.
so i am forced to multiply my productivity, starting now.

but wait a second, im baked on weedjitas.
pronounced: like fajitas, but with weed.
there's no hope with dope.

theo's roman name is theonitis.
pronounced: theo-knight-us.
as a writer, im an expert at phonetics.

onward and upward, as they say.
another song, another day.
the future smells great.

when life hands me waffle mix, i make pancakes.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 23:47:00 +0000

meg's birthday wine

im still wearing my cowboy costume.
and it looks like im good at fixing fences.
mike wrote me a song and i keep it right here in my front pocket.

curl up to the keyboard, lets have a moment.

every sunday is the same, i am weak and depleted, but loud at restaurants.
'loud funny' ill call it.
when something is only funny because left-over-drunk colin is yelling it.

i write lots on sundays.
songs, stories, scriptures, scenes.
being single is incredibly productive.

i pound music in my concrete condo.
and do laps.
and make donairs.

a weekend spent with mike erickson, is better than a weekend spent in disneyland. stranger, more colorful characters emerge, and blanket you with obscure gestures and polytechnic death grips. mike is mickey mouse, the leader, loved, respected, under-paid, and always smiling.

opportunity is down the hall, but its warm and dry right here.
my lyrics are getting dumber but my songs are getting better.
maybe dumb is the new awesomtastic.

if not, i stills have my fun memories.

see, i was cool then.
and ill be cool again soon, once our new band explodes.
i do miss that band alot.

life is a tree fort, the fun part is building it.
me, i plan attics, on top of attics.
with windows facing an endless skyline.

andy drinks meg's birthday wine. he drinks it up.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 07:24:00 +0000

there are no ghosts in the oven

establishment expands on stubborn sundays.
my home stereo system, although often good, is equally often bad.
sometimes paints the walls, sometimes crashes the volvo into the living room.
i pretend to have identified the problem, and thus the possible solution.
react, replace, then roll off into space.
pull fast punches, piss on face, etc.

everyone speaks easy, at the speak easy.

"not me, im all breezy" -s. deezey

"his photography is tantalizing, triumphant, and terrorized!" -demons weekly

join now, its free.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sat, 16 Jan 2010 09:26:00 +0000

here comes the drain

i taped waterworld earlier today on my fancy tv recorder box.
and sprang to life, seconds ago, when i remembered my brilliant decision.
so, its my loud background right now, expect quotes.

i was probably over the limit this morning.
a product of post concert greatness.
first time ive hit a drive-thru on the way to work.

bike is such an amazing band.
just slaughtered me last night.
proof that practice makes perfect.

maybe smokers, maybe slavers.
i just want 1 sip of hydro.
it'll cost you, half your chitts.

theo is attacking my bike setlist.
a trophy that only those who were there will understand.
so, he's jealous.

well, do something, i hate sails.

our band is going half-way across canada.
playing shows every day, in every town, on the way to saskatoon.
because NOFX plays there on sunday april 25th.
so the tour is called "Tour to NOFX"

HEY MIDDLE CANADA FRIENDS:

apr 21 - vancouver
apr 22 - kamloops
apr 23 - calgary
apr 24 - saskatoon
apr 25 - NOFX
apr 26 - drive home
apr 27 - still driving home

ill give the real details when they actually exist.

being in this band is funner than wing night at the cheap beer place.

dry land is a myth.
but ive seen it, with my own eyes.
getting back there aint easy.
but im on my way.

im a fan of you like you are fan of me -andy

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 06:37:00 +0000

sack-relidious

i never win anymore.
chicks dont even look at me unless im dancing or screaming or passed out in the garden. but even then, when i wake up and say "hey, im a flower, got some water?", they just dump their palm bay in my lap. so now, my already piss-stained pants, smell like girl-booze. takes alota gin to get that smell out.

but, as is life, we all land on free parking once-in-a-while.
dice dont discriminate against artsy fat guys with liar bi-ceps.
they just want a surface in which to tumble our fate freely.
gambling rules, kid.

when this is over im gonna write a beautiful song about it.
which i wont be able to sing properly.
but enough for me to feel that rad feeling i feel everytime i finish anything.
the wave crashes over, exhale.

the canucks won, i was there.
but not for the 1st period.
was at a bar next to GM Place watching Canada come back late in the 3rd, only to loose in overtime to the hated south.
but wow, what a comeback.

see, even Team Canada loses sometimes, kid.

well, its my roll now, and i need 11.

piece of cake, for messier.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 08:53:00 +0000

come back, kid

"the air is way less violent up here!"

i should have yelled that at them.
the backpack warriors on the platform.
oh the sweet words that breed from pre-fight aggression.

wasn't much of a fight, not really.
but both backpacks dropped like fancy boxer robes at exactly the same time, and they both had whiney managers shouting from the sidelines. the louder/drunker/smaller of the 2 took a couple head shots, then basically ducked away, grabbed his backpack and ran off around to the stairs, upon which i heard a disturbing skin-smacking-concrete-stairs sound, which could have been any number of horrifying things. i cant see the stairs from my stalk-tower, but it didnt look like anyone was calling an ambulance so maybe he landed the backflip or rail-slide to the bottom of everything.

this has been a great vacation, but its time to get back at it.
my inner-clock is totally screwed, while my alarm clock jealously awaits its turn.
tomorrow is re-bound day, featuring vegetables, laundry, and band practice.
an early night, for a better morning.

i dont call them new years resolutions, i call them post-crazy-drunk-christmas-vacation-self-realizations-that-must-be-corrected-immediately.

whatever we call them, they all start on monday, so traffic is gonna suck ass.

wow, i guess i just spoiled my positivity for some sort of 'its been a great decade...' stuff. although it has been. but im probably too young to properly dissect decades. more like sub-decades. "ya man, the sub-deck gave us some great music, pass the screaming saucers!!!"

go go gadjet gong show.

spent half the decade in prince george.
learned about winter, radio, golf, and alcohol.
made best friends, kissed pretty girls, and sang silly songs.
in 20 years when i look back on this decade, it will be all PG.

that, and grad, i suppose.

new decade = new suit.
and mine is very special.
rude, loud, and as sharp as a blender.

i drink your milkshake. i drink it up.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 07:57:00 +0000

soft eyes, windy smiles

everybody else has already made better quotes.

"showers and myself have a strained relationship, because they are so necessary after work, and after drinking, i take about 14 a week, i start to hate them." -dandy shan

theo takes naps in laps like great beaches in famous wars.
i accept defeat and loose my knees until i have to pee or my drink is empty.
in this case, he looks thirstier than me.

i cant write the right song.
its like before the matt good contest, im all strung out and lacktiviting.
pacing around with red wine and pancakes.

"im ambitious, when giving up." -dandy mangan

there's nothing soft about fizzy drinks.
barefoot backflips over kitchen sinks.
stare strong at the barbecue until the steak un-pinks.

video games killed action figures.
i hate that too, but lets move on.
i smell a rowdy amongst the midst.

most of my best friends are called steve.
some and bester than others.
some and blurster than others.

happy holidays, all steves.

and to the rest of you, a good night.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 08:06:00 +0000

instant crashic

just opened the patio door to yet another violent altercation.
between women, yet again.
ive witnessed more girl fights than guy fights from up here.
tonight was a tag team battle with 2 on 2 jump-in-illegally action.
a skycop came eventually and separated them, with a rainbow of screams in between.
i like it here.

the dimmer on my living room light gets heavy use.
incense burns as i try to seduce my ideas.
settle december weaponry, its giving me a headache.

16 hours at armoury studios on thursday.
me and the boys cut an album, a very fast album.
you'll hear it soon, then feel like its hot dog day in grade 3.
when it was girls against guys, and whoever got back to the classroom the fastest won. i was a no-condiment man for many years as a result of those battles. and to this day, i am still mocked for eating raw kaiser buns by brenton steel-wool renton elliott. he lives in japan, and missed sach's bday tonight. but was spoken of in high taste and manor.

time out.

now i have cereal, and you don't.
sorry, help yourself.
sorry, only skim.

im having a hard time with track 6.
written (or more like started) 3 songs already, but none feel right.
i try to start with a name, then not, start with a rhyme, then not.
its gonna come, i just gotta catch the right train.
not that scott road bastard.

sips and slides.
its hard to read the label from inside the bottle.
the desperation's back.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 19:19:00 +0000

you should come with severance pay

i am loud and complicated.
bad at listening, good at floors.
help the hopeless, home the homeless.

i texted hundreds of people on the unicorn ride home.
random thoughts and busted trannys.
texty text mctexterson.

lets write a song about punk rock normalities!

"fuck technology!"
"the social credit union should make a comeback!"
"gifting meat is bad because you died it!"

or a way way better name.

i just dumped coffee in my lap on this cold december morn.
damn replies from hundreds of ambulance related texters.
this season, give the gift of familiar ceiling sleeping goggles.

or a seasons pass to fuckoffittyville.

blow the bomb in breaking dawn.
mow until the grass is gone.
no one likes a healthy lawn.

kissed a cute girl last night, then she puked for hours.
the coffee not in my lap drives me to take showers.
and show up on time for things.
and not did all that stuff i did.

life is a skytrain, with many stops.

noreply@blogger.com (Colin) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 06:09:00 +0000

hello, goodbye

im finally starting to un-explode.
after spending the weekend back home in cold country.
decided to stop in for docc's birthday, i like surprises.

the santa beard was itchy and tasted like paint.
i was already feeling cautiously claustrophobic before mike began wrapping the wrapping paper around my face and bod. and i was basically hyper-ventilating as he guided me blindingly down a dusty corridor and into the thirsty moose pub. just 2 furry red legs sticking out the bottom. and, of course, my asshole shoes. luckily he didnt spot them before opening his big birthday present.

all i remember is him screaming and hugging. when i could finally see amid the painty beard, wrapping paper, hockey tape, and attack of friends and formers, i began loudly and aggressively chanting HO! HO! HO! and "HOW ABOUT A NICE FOOTBALL?!

im too tired, bedtime.

babes love santa's knee.