November 20, 2005

On Sunday Morning, the Interet Guy said, "Well, do you want it or not?"

Breakfast at Floyd's, a supremely busy place, yet on top of their game this morning. Well done lads!
Shopping at the Patch, me trying on a pink shirt with PICTON written across the chest. Joy swooning over gyspsy attire.
Laundry at home.

Homeopathic Motorcycle the most accurate terminology I could think up regarding Swift Current. Ever seen it?

Our phone company is a suprely bizarre poop monster. I believe in the Union. People were knocking on our door, surrounding our house, then knocking on our door again, at about 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning. This after a few days earlier I told the Telus woman, "Screw this, I'll go somewhere else." This after four scabs lied to me four different times. What the shit is this all about. But now, it's here, and well, I didn't want to turn away Union dudes working at 9 a.m., or maybe they were the SCAB remainders, finishing up their income straws.

Posted by matty-b at November 20, 2005 3:03 PM
Comments

Stick it to the Man.

(you
always
do)

Posted by: joy at November 20, 2005 3:51 PM

I mean, why don't you put a cock in your mouth and shut your face?

Posted by: joy at November 20, 2005 3:52 PM

dude, how the hell am i supposed to get in touch with you these days? We wanted to practice yesterday and didn't know how to find you.

Posted by: ben at November 20, 2005 6:23 PM

we've been using the postal service a lot.

Posted by: joy at November 20, 2005 7:15 PM

Yeah, a lot of letters. Anyways, things are all organized, so let's get practising. You know what, we could practise at my place. Brushes, snare, sort of thing.

Posted by: m at November 21, 2005 5:19 PM

i'd be down with that

Posted by: ben at November 22, 2005 8:57 AM

Morbo DEMANDS that you update the weblog and write down the recipe.

Posted by: joy at November 24, 2005 12:19 AM