Random thoughts which peppered my head today:
The first time I heard about man boobs was on DeGrassi Junior High: “Dad? Kids at school say I’ve got boy boobs!” (Crying) “It’s alright son, it’s gonna be o-kay.“
Today, I stubbornly refused to flag down a bus I actually wanted to catch. I have no explanation for this, except that I didn’t want to appear needy.
Sometimes, I wonder how good I’d be in a hostage situation. I hope I’d MacGyver myself outta that puppy but in truth, I’d probably fall apart as if hearing the news Bea Arthur was dead.
I find it odd when people announce intimate details to the room at large: “Guess what everybody? I’ve been diagnosed as clinically obese!” Good to know, fatty.
What’s with the guy who gets on the lift and spends the whole ride watching you? It’s a drive-by stalking and I won’t stand for it.
Wind makes me angry. After venturing out for lunch today, I looked like Keith Richards after an aggressive handshake.
I hate people who follow me. I don’t care if you’re going the same way. Fuck off.
Sometimes my back is so painful, it feels like it’s gonna throw a Christopher Reeve. I wonder if I could ask the chiro to give me a Jennifer Grey evaluation?
I’m training myself to stop raising my eyebrows, it’s my version of Botox.

June 9, 2011 

Laugh out loud (I refuse to acronym).
I like your anti-acronymin’ style, SV.
Props, yo.
Awesome thoughts! Your head is a wonderful, crazy amusemnet park, my friend!
Rollercoaster wucs.
BEA ARTHUR IS DEAD?!
Wucca wucca and a poignant (hangs head) wucca.
There there (strokes arm like a special needs trapeze artist) …
I like to think of wind as an expression of my anger. Just me? Okay.
Cracks. Your anger expressed itself all over my hairdo, yo.
I guess DeGrassi reached Australia too. Bizarre since I used to walk up DeGrassi St. on my lunch hours. Now I get to walk in an industrial mall, not much to see. When someone is walking the same route I get suspicious. But then they probably think that I’M the scary guy.
I have the same thoughts about the hostage situation. I’d like to think I’d be tough and unbreakable, or deviously escape, but actually I’d probably cry like a newborn til they let me go in disgust. Screw collecting a ransom, they’d probably pay my family to take me back.
Wuccles. That still counts as throwing a MacGyver (in my book).
This blog you’ve created is well done! I’ve read some of your posts, and each one has my attention locked (hard to do, sometimes). Loved the “not wanting to flag down the bus” thought. I hate to say it, but I do the same at my campus (I convince myself that walking is better, haha).
Wucs, thanks muchly K. Funny to have this in common.
Who knew, yo.