Maybe the Bathroom Ceiling's Not Enough

I remember what I dreamt about you last night, Darce.
We were on some dark vacation and my dad was there and we were eating these really huge plastic tubes of candy that were like those banana candies but in thick liquid form.
We were in a paint store.
I said that I didn't think the living room was that important because it's been looking good with all the art up in there. Maybe we should do the hall next?
You started buying a five gallon thing of white without conferring with me. You said we weren't going to paint until winter for some reason that sounded gay to me. Then you bought his ugly texture net thing that I didn't understand. I suggested maybe painting the wainscoting in the dining room glossy red and leaving the walls the same color. You said that was stupid and wouldn't talk about it. I couldn't find any wallpaper to look at. Then I got mad at you. I got all high pitched and cold. The salesman was on your side.

Along with a picture of John MacKay...

this was also in today's paper:

Lobster thief a double-dipper
By Richard Dooley


A rollerblading bandit who poached a handful of lobsters from the Quinpool Road Atlantic Superstore on Wednesday night may have escaped the long arm of the claw earlier in the day.

A witness who wishes to remain anonymous said Wednesday’s theft of live market-size lobsters was the bandit’s second catch of the day at the store.

The witness told The Daily News the Rollerblading bad guy had made a quick trip past the fish counter in the afternoon and escaped with an unknown number of live lobsters.

When the thief skated past the fish counter again around 7 p.m., an alert plainclothes security guard spotted the crustacean crook and tried to reel him in. The Rollerblader managed to get outside the store before the guard wrestled the wheeled thief to the sidewalk.

The Rollerblader reached into a pocket and pulled out three or four syringes and began jabbing them at the security guard.

The thief dropped one of the syringes, which appeared to be clean. But the others were obviously dirty. The witness said the Rollerblader was trying to stab the guard with the needles.

“There was a pale, yellow fluid in the other ones,” said the witness. “They were nasty.”

The Rollerblader skated away, but the guard managed to retrieve about $100 worth of lobsters and return them to the store.

It’s not known how many lobsters were taken earlier in the day.

Halifax Regional Police still have the matter under investigation. They’re looking for a slimly built 19-year-old, wearing shorts and T-shirt. The crook had a backpack and wore a blue cap. Police are testing the syringe to determine its contents.

The guard wasn’t injured in the tussle with the thief.

This man is a hero. Oh, and a drug addict.

Post # 30!

The Chronicle-Herald reports:

Lobster thief escapes on in-line skates
A lone suspect escaped from a Halifax grocery store on in-line skates after stealing an unknown amount of lobster from the seafood tanks Wednesday evening. The male suspect entered the Atlantic Superstore on Quinpool Road just before 8 p.m. Described as about 19 years old and thinly built, he was wearing a T-shirt and a hat.

Police said when the security guard tried to stop him, the suspect waved a syringe, which he later dropped on his way out the front doors.

Johnstreet residents darsaur and eldee would like you to know that suspect was not wearing a cap and the men in pursuit were hilarious. According to what we assume was a floor-walker, the thief stole "$100 worth of lobster, and he stabbed me with a needle!"

Please note that spellcheck would like me to replace "Quinpool" with "gunplay". Gladly! Now that's a story.

"You're turning on me too.."

Avocado just made me feel sick.

How can this be? Just imagining the texture is making me gag.

This is a black day.

Everybody hates it.

And I don't care. I like my new hair colour, even though I really do feel like I'm wearing a wig.
Men hate it the most. They just don't understand.
Things I've heard so far:
"It's just not you"
"But I liked your old colour"
"Is this your natural shade?"
"Lemme guess, you're wearing contacts"
"WOW"
"It's sure different"

Ungrateful fuckers. I am clearly a knockout.

Things not to do if you're depressed and confused
:drink three beer in the afternoon.
:kill the ditch weed.
:start on the red wine
(even if it is a new kind and you rather like it)
:put any sort of stock in yourself. Like, if you start out at a perfect 10 you can only go down, right? Same's true in this mind set even if you credit yourself at a five in the beginning.
:check in on your ex-boyfriend in the morning. Of course his bed will be unslept in, shithead.
:smile at people you know on the street. If they look at you in anyway that is not 100% clearly amicable you will die from it.
:talk to anyone about it. They'll just know you're weak.
:sleep. The red wine will just make you dream about awful nightmarish things that everyone else seems to think are ok as they do them to one another, why are you running away? And Mark Black will have a legless girlfriend, complete with stumps, and you will see him carrying her to bed on a short swing.
:wake up. Oh god no. What are you going to do now? Think? Fool.
And your mouth's all dry from the red wine.
:touch the Internet.

No shipping.

No scary hobo dogs in the tunnel this morning. I was sure that would be a sign of a good day.
Thanks to Coffee Crisp and my bulging belly, maybe it still can be. Oh, and Harry Potter. Oh, and my new hair.
The Oh God show isn't until next week, like Melissa said. That's good because my wallet does not resemble my belly in any way.
Offices are murderously boring. No wonder we're all so fat.

Any time someone calls, I've taken to writing down their name which would be helpful if I didn't leave them laying all over my desk. "Hi, Krista? Oh. Kathy? Okay, sorry. Trina?"

Frig it.

A Pound of Shit.

I certainly don't think I could sleep with a pound of thick green shit secured to my ass. Especially if it smelled so bad that I could taste the smell on my toungue. Especially if it weighed 1/35 of my body weight.
I cleaned that shit up but he's still quietly getting out of bed. I feel like I did that night we watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre at Star's house. But seriously, seeing a toddler standing silently on the stairs in the dark is sketchy. I don't care how cute he is in the day in the garden when he's talking and playing boats and shit. Freaky.
I don't want to look behind me in case he's standing there and a grownups voice comes out of his mouth.
AHHHHHHHHHH.

He's Not Sleeping

No he's not no he's not.
He's just walking around up there alone, talking away and trying to figure out how to scar me for life by maiming himself. He was so tired. SOOOO tired. He was sleeping when I left him in there. He was sleeping when I had that super shower and remembered why water pressure is the shit. He was sleeping.
Countdown to go outs.
I haven't been to Hell since before we left for tour.
I pray that Searching for Alexander will welcome me back to the fold with a rousing rendition of "EveryTimeItHurts". It hurts everytime.
All us girls will slay leatherbacks tonight. Hopefully it's cheque day so we can all get some free drinks. Ha ha who'm I kidding? If it were cheque day I'd be buying the drinks.

My heart hurts.

Physically and romantically.

Fuuuuck.

Seriously, guys. I'm tired of this.

But I am not tired of new bathrooms!

Please call my boss and tell her I need to come home. Also, tell people here to stop being so mean to me.

Blogs are no fun when you're not being funny.

I Don't Feel Like Posting Either.

But I will Darcie. I will. I refuse to leave you at work with nothing but flour to coat and protect your sanity.
Although if you fry it up...
I refuse to leave you to reading those other blogs that are so boring beause they do not direct relate to us all the time. You know what I'm talking about.
Like looking through other people's photos, you keep flipping through hoping to see yourself, right?
I swear to God Emily and I are painting the bathroom today. YOU WILL HAVE A NEW BATHROOM. I imagine she won't be up and at them until two hours from now.
In the mean time I will paint my toenails and read comic books for girls I guess. It's almost father's day though, I should really send my mother her birthday gift. Include one for Heather too 'cause her day's coming up. Maybe I'll just gp do that right now so I don't waste today like I did yesterday. Melissa's not working today, right?
Oh yeah and Gerry is a stupid asshole.
More when something's happened.

Yarp.

I don't even feel like posting today. Not even at all.
My stomache hurts and I feel a million pounds heavier than you. How depressing.
Melissa and I might go for breakfast, but I'm feeling really indecisive and it may not amount to much. On second thought, off to Vienna for a greasy breakfast which may or may not contain mysterious pieces of ginger.
Also, I think Jef is mad at me.

Mull It Over

More like Mullet Just Beginning!
I was talking to Darcie on the couch and she wasn't listening but just laughing and laughing. When my story was over I asked her why and she told me that MY MULLET IS WORKING!!!! I learned earlier today that the key to a short/long is not just the longer back, but also the shorter front, which I cleverly achieved with a hair clip. Watch out gentlemen, hearts will break tonight.
In other news JOHN STREET MISSES CHRISTIAN!!!! We will give Ontario two jobs (that's one each) of any variety it would like (options include: blow, hand, rim, foot, et cetera) in exchange for his safe and prompt return.

Developing Fronts

and I'm not talking about adolescent girls.

Jeph and G.Rog are off to steal us our very own patio table, with hardly any lots of prodding. Say goodbye to melancholy and hello to outdoor meals.

Melissa paid me back the ten dollars that I almost forgot she owed me. Ritchin'!

I am formulating a plan for this evening and subsequent morning. It looks like this
:rearrange and admire deck
:smoke
:drink Darcie's last week wine with her
:cook dinner for my lady friend
:trade my $10 for boozes at the LC
:go to Rachael's clothes swap
:swap clothes
:get faced
:take my lady friend home early even if she's drunk and thinks she can make better plans
:sleep hard so we can get up at dawn and do our stretches for the
:YARDmutherfuckinSALE!

On other fronts Mr. John Street had his first ever portrait painted today. He begged me to nail it to his front door but I told him he knew better than that and that we'd have to ask mom and dad when they got home from work. I wasn't really even poised with the nails and hammer when I said it, either.

That silly spellcheck thought G.Rog should be Gooey and Rachael should be Rascal. Actually maybe it's not that silly.

Considering my incredible fear of explosions...

So I've had too much caffeine and I'm at work and the fire alarm has gone off a total of 7 times today directly into my left ear.
All fine and dandy if you don't work in the Most Explosive Building on the harbourfront.
My nerves are shot and suddenly business is booming and I am pulling all my hair out.
Only 40 minutes to go.
p.s. Firemen! (and even a lady! sexy!)

Just Woking Around.

Darcie and I just finished a super dope dinner of stirfry on this weird (but good) ectoplasmic vermecelli. The new wok wins prizes (#1 best free wok).
Do you know where the HC is? We're dying for it. Did we drink it all already?
Tear NXNE a new asshole for us, 'K?

I Just Wrote This

but somehow lost it in my inaptitude.
today while Faith was here she said "soybean" when referring to Siobhan. What does this mean?
Darcie and I have accumulated several articles of evidence suggesting that Blogger uses a universal type spellcheck. In this case Faith could have picked that up from an email or Word or whatever. Or is there a security breech at only sixteen entries? We're working hard to manufacture more than ten entries a day here, but we're not gods. I also maintain a suspicion that Christ built this Blog to fit only us three, in which case Faith is safe.
I like her and all but I'll mute her if I have to.

In the key of bathroom paint accusations.
That Lagoon paintchip was in the bathroom for over a week, admired by myself and Darcie. You had all the time in the world (approx. one week) to voice complaints. I thought you said you didn't care much about our Interior Decor dreams. We thought this was settled and you'd just as soon piss all over the seat in an Oasis colored room as in Prison Pink. The paint's bought. It's the one at the bottom of the chip. We're sorry. And excited. New bathroom Yay! Will you forgive us?
(I know you never piss on the seat but it made the rant a little edgier, yes? In truth I rather admire your toilet etiquette)

this is the saddest news i can think of:

guys, am i missing the duncan/lawrence/allen street(s) yard sale? this hurts me to the core. i think i even missed it last year, too. i need this dammit!

you guys better have fun without me and get some rad stuff.
or is it you guys better have no fun at all and don't get anything and actually why even bother going without me?

you pick.

...

SUCKS!!

I am a Hormone Machine.

It's quantity, not quality.

Unrelated: Christ, I'm glad you're not dead.

the burdocks are actually too poor for the ho-tel.

...the prostitute motel.
i got to see it when sean rubbed shoulders last night with a real live call girl. she was on her way to catch up to the mullet -wearing man (you)my roommates would have been just a little reticent to admit attraction to, despite what would conventionally be called bad facial hair, and the stains on his shirt. sean was on his way to enquire about the cost of a room. to do this, he learned from a hand-scribbled sign, he had to actually go into the office(strip bar) and talk to the owner(bartendender). he learned that the room would cost some sixty dollars, he did not chance to ask what (whom?) the room included. this was too rich for the burdocks collective blood and so they endeavoured to sleep in the sedan, in which four can be seated somewhat comfortably, five would be a stretch, and one person could maybe get a good night's sleep on his or her own. needless to say i was a little stiff this morning. get it.

learn about our near deaths at ivecos.

I don't want to scare you

A spider that is for real the biggest spider I've ever seen in my life is on the computer table.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Props to Poops

I just went to B&L's with the Special Noise. Not only is their food my super favourite in the city, but it makes me have to poo a real good one after every single meal. Satisfaction. The only other edible that gives me that rolling tummy without fail is plain Ruffle chips, but they're not heart smart.

Guess what I'm listening to AGAIN? I'm getting embarrassed that the mailman will notice my lame unwillingness to change the record. He totally fucking loves me after letting me off the hook during the whole scarf-stamp fiasco. He only brought you some boring grown up mail. I offered him a nickel if he'd give me something fun tomorrow. He seemed like the pissy old MM again, but he just didn't hear me. He started flipping through his handful, asking what I wanted. I said postcard and got indignant when he asked if I cared if it was addressed to some one else. I guess he likes this Neutral Milk Hotel too.
Maybe we can get him to put in a good word for us with the garbage men.

I saw Kate outside and she said Louis' hand isn't swollen or anything, so none of his fingers were broken in my care. Thank Jesus. Can you believe I made $28 by bringing him on our errands with us, traumatizing him window-wise and playing on their interweb? I feel like the smartest woman alive. That actually only covers my smallest bill.

I feel way better today and I'm going to paint the bathroom after I clean my room, but do you think it might be rad if the ceiling were still pink?
I really do wish we'd filmed since the beginning and we could try and sell the "transformation" of John Street to TLC. They'll run anything.

We're one third of the way to our goal. The thing is, people who aren't on blogger could be reading this and be unable to comment, Christ has it set to no anon users, and I can't change it because he didn't award me that kind of power. Greedy son of God. I miss him. I drunkenly slept in his bed last night. Aw.

Also
:meet us at the Paper Chase after work
:Super Pony II is turning into a wood pecker
:the boys are going to pick up our new patio table after work if it's still there. If not: YARD SALES BABY.
:this was so long because there was no Christian here to distract me or reign in my boring.
:Blogger's spell check doesn't know the word "(b)(B)logger". Huh?

Repetition

So, for the fourth day in a row I've arrived at work with sweet nothing to do. I find it unsettling (I'm accustomed to a non-stop busy workday from 8 'til 4:30) but mostly it's just boring.
Am I getting too good at my job? This is supposed to be the busy season.
Oh, and I'm also becoming severely addicted to the internet.
Update: The day has picked up so far, but I've spent the last twenty minutes hunting for a load of flour that has gone missing. How do you lose 25 tonnes of flour? It's not behind the milk, I can tell you that much.
Tomorrow is Friday. On the agenda: binge drinking.
Saturday: Flea marketing. Binge drinking.
Sunday: Imminent death (cause? sunstroke from over-indulging in the joys of other peoples garbage).
Word on the street is that a stranger has found our blog. Johnstreet residents agree that this poses no immediate threat.

Also: Spellcheck hilarity - Sunstroke: Replace with Sinisterly. Johnstreet? Constrict.
Oh. Right.

The Sickness

One nostril is totally blocked but liquid was still pouring out of it when I finally got up and staggered to the bathroom. I couldn't suck it back up. Jesus.

I have to babysit both Saisen and Esja in a half hour, Melissa's going out. Chasing the tots should be a breeze, it only took me forty minutes and help from Christian to pick out clothes and get dressed.

Our boy is leaving today for five days, did you know that? I found out last night in a fog of headache. He's going all out on taking care of me in these last fleeting minutes before his freedom from my whining- he's made me chicken noodle soup! Sure it's just real-chicken-less Lipton, but what a gesture. A lonely five days it will be. I hope you do get fired.

The toilet is fixed but we have no toothpaste. And those snotty garbage men didn't have any sort of change of heart. Assholes.

I'm going to get fired

if I don't cut this shit out.
So stage nine sucks, I wrote it on the chalkboard. Melissa and I giggled and compared Geoffrey Pie's bum to Philip Clark's (Geoffrey wins because you could actually see his).
The GCO were there so were deerfield. They both suck so bad and have that same bonehead guy (who I heard talking about how much Hunter Streeters hate him, rightly).
It's beautiful out right now and I wish I could wake up with you guys and go garbage hunting. Today is paint for the bathroom day!
Don't you just hate days when you're obscenely aware of your face and the fact that you don't know at all what it looks like when you talk?
Christ, Melissa said when you got those fishes you mentioned something about how much I would like them. I really do.

It's Green!

Don't worry, I wiped it up after I coughed it onto the floor.
Our rooms are green! Yay!
My face went green when I saw that Greg had sopped up toilet water with our for real towels. Oh, and the toilet's broken. S.N are going to steal a plunger from work (the church). I want to name the new fish Bruno, Boots and Laura.
Being sick is boring. Come home and keep me company and let me paint you in your skivvys. And make me go to the doctor already, will you?

Fuck we're cute.

Adorable roommate #1.

Do you want to come and rescue me? Seriously, I'm bored and my legs are on fire so you'd better bring a getaway car.
I love you guys. Have fun for me today, got it?

Is it okay that dreamed about Stacy Ho having a penis?

Make Up Party

At twenty-three Nancy discovered her love of cosmetics. The Nancy Horror Picture Show. Darcie and I had already tripped and fallen into wearing all black, so we were defenseless against pull of war paint. Suddenly everyone was all Eli Cash. Melissa showed up in the black and we formed a sentinel of hot. Emily took off her pink jacket and we screamed at her black dress. Rachael mocked our conformity. She was jealous.

There was too much to drink so Alf and Dale started skinny boy chest offs in the hall. All our chanting made room in us to drink more, so we were ok with it when poor Alf chipped his tooth. Dale may dress up like a girl but he'll man chest his best bud to death if he's on the sauce.

Our porch had a trap door we never knew about. It revealed itself (not, to JS horror, to any of us residents) by nearly killing A.Bomb and Greg when it fell through. Miraculously no one was hurt, but Siobhan did report falling in while making her exit. We discerned that if it weren't for the drunk she had on she likely would've broken her ankle.

We all enjoyed trips to the bathroom and the atmosphere was one of planning and camaraderie. Boss Bill was out in high style, regaling us with stories of scallop ships and his youth. I met 1 (one) Mike Day, 3 (three) nice haircuts, and harassed poor David about his sour puss. All in all I rate this party 7.5/10.

The Next Day
Darcie floor looks like a golf ball. Fashion pumps plus fake wood flooring equals destruction. Also damaged by high heels are our lawn and the tender tendons on the top of my foot.
We have no porch and my hangover tries to push me into the hole.
No one throws up but we are too tired to Marquee.


When I spell checked this they told me to turn Siobhan into soybean.

War paint makes the party. Oh oh and zits.

When we said our party sucked it was only 10:30 and not 1 a.m.. So actually our party ruled. Bitches kept their paws off my fella.
I rate this party a 7 of 10.
I rate our landlord a 7 of 10 also, for coming by this morning to observe the porch disaster but later tsktsk-ing us for having chairs on the roof.
Best quote of the night:
"I love black people, man! I was the blackest kid in my highschool." twitch twitch - Gerry Hubely
Thanks to everyone who didn't puke, steal or turn off the water supply to our toilet.

I hear that work is in fact no good.

But what is work anyway?
Does getting high with Faith and making a picture count as work?
What about sex?
It was work not to die when Darcie walked in on us.
Watching the hackey is hard work, but you get paid in pizzas.
I worked all day cleaning the house.
For you. You'd better be coming over. We had this great idea about a carnival style makeout curtain. I would've made it but it was too much work. And what if you weren't into it?
Safer to just work on a healthy glow.

down with work.

I think it's really hilarious of us to publish this kind of thing for anyone to see.

But if anyone does: we're having a party tomorrow (being Friday June 4). There will be drinking, viewing and maybe a little making out.

p.s. the time on this thing is verymuch incorrect.

shit kids

so i made a blog for us to use as a home page. also we can write messages to one another when we're real bored. this is the ugliest template of all. oh man.