As an added bonus, I can also use my wife’s lower back to rest my poutine. She says it provides a nice warming sensation.

Wow. I’ve never seen this before and I really liked it.

Honestly, that’s on her for not liking the smell of cumin.

Yeah, you’re gonna wanna eat some catfood, chug a beer and huff some glue. It’ll make you feel really sick and then put you right out.

Bruh…

Rockstar (2.25), 4pk of Snickers (4.40), Burger King Double Cheeseburger (3.50)… Shit, I went over. I don’t know how I could make any compromises here.

While I don’t have it anymore, for years I had a recurring nightmare about the house I grew up in. There had always been unusual occurrences within, mostly auditory but sometimes visual. Looking back, I was never that spooked about it while living there. I honestly loved that property and have fond memories of growing up among all those old apple trees. But for years after moving out I would dream that I had returned to it, and it was very, very different.

In the dreams the house was dark and full of shadows. Completely devoid of furniture and decor. It was gray, empty, and wholly abandoned. While inside I could feel an overwhelming and foreboding precense. It was this feeling of fear and panic. Pure dread. There was something disturbing there with me as I traveled from room to room, nervously anticipating every new corner as the sun sank low and the shadows grew deeper inside. As the years progressed, I would find the house to be filled with spectral cats that accompanied me throughout, or darted around the rooms inexplicably, sometimes out of the corner of my eye and other times as clear as day. Though I couldn’t quite focus on them, I had the feeling these were all the cats I had owned growing up. Some of them cats I had owned and lost since originally living there. It was as though they were trapped in the purgatory of that haunting, empty dream house, and even though the cats seemed to be full of spunk, there was an immense sadness about them being there.

The dreams occurred with greater frequency into my late 20s-early 30s, until one night I simply stepped inside and realized there was nothing left to fear. Suddenly the house no longer bothered me. It stood still and silent. Cleansed somehow. There were no more shadows, ghostly cats or smothering prescences within. It was as though the both me and the house had been freed.

I haven’t dreamt about that house since, other than a snippet from another unrelated dream, where I found myself briefly gathered with a co-workers family on the back deck, but I didn’t realize where I had been until waking.

I wish I had learned piano. I’ve spent my entire life wishing I would learn piano, but I’m too awkward to book lessons and/or commit to sitting down with an instructor. But as a kid I had a natural ear for playing and could figure out a portion of most songs if I spent enough time poking at the keys. My daughter (4) has been fidgeting with her little keyboard a lot. I’m wondering if we shouldn’t learn together in the future.

I often close my eyes and move my fingers as though I’m playing naturally, and I swear I know where all of the keys are. It’s more than just pretend. It’s like it’s been here all along, but I’ve never honed it. I know that I could play something beautiful if I just fucking tried.

You’re absolutely right. When I ope about I am 100% saying “Whoop…”, but it’s clipped down to nothing. It’s like a word with a silent letter in it. I’ll say “column”, and feel the N in my mouth when I speak, but we both know it isn’t really there.

I live in Alberta now and am dealing with the conundrum of using “ope”, “sorry”, and “just gonna sneak on by…”

The Midwestern varieties actually say “ope…”

What is this… Xavier’s school for ANTS?!

I wish I agreed with this, but every day more forests and fields are knocked down to make room for more shitty subdivisions in my area. The few farmers that have held out and still use their land on the middle of the city are heroes, but I know that within a few decades they will slowly dissappear, as the farmers die and their kids cash in on that appreciated land.

I woke up once with what felt like a large scab between my lips, stuck primarily to the bottom one. In my sleep and stupor, I thought it maybe dried blood, or food, or perhaps I ate a large booger in the night. The aroma was something else, though. As seconds passed and my brain began to make sense of what was actually happening, I realized that I had an entire stinkbug pressed flat between my lips.

People like Hip Hop because it makes them feel cool for listening to it.

The Zone from the STALKER games disturbed me for years, but I’m such a grizzled veteran of the Zone now that I enjoy being in it. Night is still a little terrifying, though, and I don’t care to use nightvision. Kills the vibe.

You could smell that boy’s clam wafting down past the wharf.

Don’t you know that horses love stegosauruses?

https://youtu.be/7MMxqntYVyw?si=9qCTO75-eE7IFS52

My pug used to shit right on top of rocks.

Just gonna drop this here, since Ross has blown up suddenly. It’s important this masterpiece never fall into obscurity.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6PNZBb6b9LvDWpI-5CPYUxG1Rnm-vr9V&si=dLKBo06GqI30I3QP

How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence! How could you be so naive? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention can work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy!