The last post was uncatagorized, yeah, that's happening.

I hung out with both Brendan and Lindsay today, and I noticed that I seem to have alot of subconsiously gender-confused friends. Not in any negative way. I just have stereotypical girl conversations about who's a bitch, life, big plans, etc. etc. with alot of my guy friends, and stereotypical guy conversations about hot chicks, cars, getting smashed, etc. etc, with my girl friends. Both are nice, since it's a different perspective in a weird way about shit I wouldn't think about other wise on one end, and actual fun casual hanging out on the other, but it still comes out that a good chunk of the guys are more womanly than the girls*.

I think this says alot about me, but it's not much of a blog if I say just what.







*Either by being gay with more girlish interests, or by being weiners.

The Rise And Fall Of Western Catagorization

To all concerned: We here on this here blog thing are going to try to start fucking with catagories, so that all my reader can enjoy re-reading all her cherished moments and favorite tales here at Barlies At The Beach.

Due to a lack of any federal funding for this great project and the lack of any real substance in any of the posts here, coupled with the fact that our wonderful fan probably reads all this shit once and has no need to go look any of it up, we doubt this project will ever be completed.


But yeah, gonna start trying to think up tags and shit anyway. Cause I'm horribly fucking bored. Obviously.

And he did open the seventh seal...

This blog is for Lindsay because she's sad over a wang doing wang stuff. I wrote it while really drunk, and drunk stories always make me feel better. So feel better, now that Sam's my buddy again we need to get smashed, and a manically hyper Lindsay is better than a sad one.

I also wrote this from across the room. So fuck spellings.


You scurry home after a nice late meal, full and fat. You make the long distance quickly and with ease, possessing an almost unnatural and earily beautiful agility, hurling along with a stamina given to few. You're nearly home to your warm, dark little abode, when the ground begins to tremble and shake with an almost divine fury. You look up towards the painful light-sky and see massive shapesfar above yu. A thuderous sound comes from above, as a terrifying shadow falls over you. You move supernaturally fast across the landscape, seeking shelter. Left, right. Anything you hide behind, anything you cover yourself with is ripped away, as the world seems to fly apart around you. Suddenly, you sense something hurtling down towards you. You let out a silent chittering scream and try futily to escape as the Book of Revelations smashes through your head. Your body explodes with a satisfying pop as you are reduced to a twitchy pulp by the Big Red Bible O'Death I just dropped on your furry ass.

"AND YOU SHALL KNOW MY NAME I THE LORD, WHEN I CAST DOWN MY VENGEANCE OPON YOU!" I say, as I clean the nasty spider guts off my bible. I feel quite righteous and Godlike, and I know I'm totally going to blog about this.


So, see, it could, uh, always be worse? You could be a creepy fucking bug with eight legs and body hair? I don't know, killing spiders sure cheers me up!

I really hate when I'm insanely bored, and hang out with people I don't have much in common with. They're nice to get high with or have a drink with or whatever, but for some reason they typically just amplify my boredom and I find myself wanting to tell them absurd lies and excuses just so I don't have to be around them anymore.

Yup.



Edit: I think I hung out with Brendan right after I wrote this. Should be noted that I don't mean him since we still have good stoned chats without having anything much in common.

Such pretty, pretty, pretty girls.

I haven't had a whole lot to write about lately I' nice and perfectly comfortable and don't want to leave my cave at all today.

I'll probably have to go buy pot off R, which means hanging around and meeting his bipartisan mentor guy who's staying with him. In R's own words: "He's a good guy like I'm a good guy". So yeah, I'd buy off Alex, but she's living there as far as I can tell. Oh well. Maybe I won't buy weed today

Well, I'm too lazy to write anymore right now too. Back to sleep, it's early-is.

We're so pretty, oh so pretty.. vaaayycant!

Here's some pretty things while I come up with some shit to write. It'll probably be boring and about dwarves. YOu'll see.






So yeah. Lame placeholder, now Lindsay must write shit.

I always think it's funny when people try to insult my intelligence.

I know I'm pretty dumb when it comes to most things. I know ALOT about certain things, but I can admit I don't care or know anything about anything outside of those interests. The only people who ever really imply I'm smart are those who think calling me stupid is somehow offensive.

Personally, I think the less you know, the happier you are. I used to have some big thing with "truthiness" and all that shit, but now that I look back, I wish I actually knew even less about shit. Knowledge and the ability to figure things out are not your friends. There are alot of unpleasant truths in the world, and quite honestly, I think nowdays that the odds of them no affecting you directly are pretty good, and you're better off just leaving them alone and not trying to put anything together.

So yeah, I wouldn't worry too much about opinions on how smart I am. I like being ignorant and dumb sometimes, and I'm completely willing to admit it.

More happy things!

It's been a while since I've written anything. I don't know if I mentioned it elsewhere, but I was up in FSJ working for about five weeks, and I wrote alot of sort of half decent shit then. I'll probably put it up later.

However, the overall summary:


Fort Saint John Job:
Duration: Apr 10th - May 22nd
Hours Worked: ALOT
Money Blown: $1500<
Numbers Gotten: 4, none of whom are really all that callable now that I'm not stuck there.
Drug Connections: 2, one also being a number.
Weed Smoked (gs): 210 plus a little hash.
Beers Drank: 10?
Shit Dealt With: 3 (My boss, Demo boss, old fucker who I should have let get himself killed anyway. DO NOT WALK UNDER THE BUILDING WHILE IT'S COLLAPSING is not something I should have to tell people who are just going to be dicks about it anyway).
Things Looted:
Sin City DVD and Book
Good Fellas DVD
Bottles of Wine (didn't count them, probably around a dozen. And I ended up finding the owner and returning them anyway after drinking one with some dude)
Four Canadians (Which I gave to the aformentioned dude, who got me good and smashed in return)
Parties Attended: 2
Steaks Eaten: 5 (my weed buddy really could BQ like a champ)
Times Thrown Up: 3 (all within 20 minutes, right after I'd eaten an apple on a sober day. Yeah, I don't get it either)

Anyway, that's about all I remember right now. I've got like a chest cold or something, so I'm kinda feeling shitty and can't think too good. All and all, it was a good time, and I actually didn't really want to take off since they were supposed to be getting their fair the day we left (they postponed it due to shit weather).

I'll have to call M (what she's listed as in the phone. I think it was Melissa or something, but I'll really have to stop abbreviating EVERY "M" name (from Marissa to Mike) as M), since I promised her acid if I could get some, but really, I was a shocked as anyone else at home by many numbers I actually got. Especially since I had very few clothes and looked like shit the whole time. FSJ girls are REALLY friendly (to be polite), and I guess they just haven't ever met guys who aren't totally convinced that women should be silent cleaning tools yet.

Well, that's the trip. I'm sick and tired and doing something else now.

Cabbages

So, since I know there's a decent chance you'll find this if you haven't already, at least if you do any looking for blogs in Dawson, here's a thought I have that I honestly think you're too worthless of a person to actually be told:

If everyone constantly "betrays" you and your life is always miserable, maybe it's because you're some kind of asshole. I mean, that makes more sense than literally everyone in the world being a dick.

I realized it, and even if I'm not there yet, I'm really trying to grow the fuck up and not be such an ignorant emo faggot about absolutely everything. Thus why I have actual friends now and don't need to hang out with shit like you like I did in highschool. Make a better effort to stay out of my life this time and don't guilt me into talking to you by crawling to me and moping like a pathetic little bitch again.

Toodles.


P.S. The reason you'd whine to that Eden chick about me thinking her "vape pipe" is actually just a crack pipe Ironheadz probably made her overpay for (had you been paying attention, I didn't critize the pipe, just the likely price) is because bitching about all your "friends" behind their backs to whoever will listen is a very you thing to do (remember how many years you did it to me?).




Names have been changed because in retrospect, you'll know who you are if you wander across this.