At least four days this week I found myself thinking of things I wanted to write here when I got home, but then when I get home, I just don’t feel like doing it any more. What a loser I am.
Now I could try to salvage the things I would have talked about on those days, but it wouldn’t be the same, so instead, here’s a story ’bout Crebo.
Crebo shot a man and ran away. The man didn’t die, because Crebo had shot him in the foot. Also, Crebo had shot him with a pea shooter. Nonetheless Crebo ran until he couldn’t run any more. Then he fell in a ditch. In this ditch, Crebo found a stick of dynamite. Crebo decided to take up smoking and start with that smoking that dynamite. Luckily for Crebo he did not have a lighter. Unfortunately for Crebo, he did have a grenade. He tried to use the grenade to light the dynamite. This did not work, but Crebo was badly wounded. Fortunately the man who Crebo had not killed made it to the ditch while there was still lots of time to call for an ambulance. Unfortunately the man did not look in the ditch and thus did not see Crebo and so did not call an ambulance. Crebo died, but fortunately he left all his money to medical research. Unfortunately Crebo didn’t actually have any money. The end.
Golden Grahams cereal. I like it, but it has vanished entirely from the sphere of my ken. It has not ever been at the Superstore I live above, but it was always at the Sobeys five minutes away. When I had a bad enough urge, I could find Golden Grahams with minimal effort. That has changed. When Marq and I made a trip to that Sobeys yesterday they had no Golden Grahams. The world is doomed. I must remember to do some actual research and make sure that particular cereal does indeed still exist.
On a similar thought, why are conspiracy theories always out to get me? Why aren’t more conspirators using their massive influence for my benefit? It’s thoughtless of them.
Haiku!
Immediately.
That is when I want money.
For I am a thief.
I had a long night at work and am about to not get very much sleep. On the plus side, I’m listening to Spinal Tap. So I’m doing something right.
After something akin to a late-evening power nap, I heard rain and decided Patrick D Ryall had to go for a walk downtown, since that’s something he generally doesn’t do any more.
While I was there I was approached by members of a metal band with the respectable name of Knifehammer. Apparently they are playing a show tonight and handing out t-shirts in preparation of this. They told me where the show was and handed me a shirt. It was all cool. Then I went into Shoppers, bought a chocolate milk and forgot where they were playing.
I probably wouldn’t have gone anyway, what with being a reclusive loser, but it can’t be a good thing that I can forget that quickly.
But thanks to them, wherever they are, for coming all the way from Ontario exclusively to give PDR a t-shirt.
I’m not sure why, but it feels so right to be wearing a trenchcoat with bare feet. I only wish I could find some reason to do that more often.
Also, I wish to learn to swim. But without a pool or a lake or anything, that would be difficult. The bathtub is a huge disappointment in this field. If I were rich enough, I would have a pool in which to teach myself. It would be great. Greater than five sandwiches.
This week there was a riddle in the newspaper that asked “How many times can you subtract five from twenty-five” and gave the answer as being once, because then you were subtracting from twenty and so on.
I disagree. I think you can subtract it as many times as you damn well please. Look:
25 – 5 = 20
25 – 5 = 20
25 – 5 = 20
25 – 5 = 20
25 – 5 = 20
25 – 5 = 20
I could go on all night. But since I don’t like math, I ain’t gonna.
I have begun saving up to go on a trip to London. I am not smart enough to go alone, though. I just don’t have anyone to go with. It makes me sad. I’m sad a lot.
In other news, I am now being monitored by aliens. They are spying on me through plant life. But it’s cool. They’re not insidious. They’re just really bored.a
