Things I Hate: (in no particular order)

Sarah Michelle Gellar
Sobey's
wet dogs
Saint John NB
burnt toast
kids that don't pull their socks up when they put boots on
sheppard's pie
football
camping in the rain
Ted Rogers
cat litter
financial restriction
pimples
liver
the smell of egg salad sandwiches
tequila
pretending to be busy at work
dirty fingernails
accommodating everyone else
the price of gas
budgets
people who think I owe them ANYTHING (emotionally)
moth balls
wet hands
outer space
anything tv shows relating to outer space
the SPACE Network
NASA
Astronauts
stars
telescopes
(have I made my point clear yet?)
canned vegetables
cats
Cindy Day
splinters
Charlotte County, NB
self-tanner (never works)
being short
maps/geography
licorice
SPAM
cold coffee
ringtones
fog
paper cuts
people who don't return phone calls
maps
Steven Harper
wedgies
people with 6-pack abs
wallpaper
feelings/emotion
lawn ornaments
swimming in the ocean
Monica from German class (UNB 1997-98)
Randy River
High School Reunions
allergies
toile
popsicle sticks
mullets
Filet-o-fish
rust
turnip

(to be continued...)

Dolly Hearts Drag Queens

well, where to begin...
I have to say, this had to be one of the more memorable weekends of my first year in Halifax. This may have been the case because I was actually sober enough to recall most of it. Regardless, I had a blast.
It all began friday after work. Immediately after work. At 5pm I made my way to the Lower Deck with a group of co-workers for Erin's Co-op Farewell send-off. We sat on the patio, blinded from the sun, drinking pitchers of beer courtesy of Dana the CFO. Spending only $5 so far, I was quite happy with the progress I had made on my buzz... but had to stop so Erin and I could make our way to her apartment to prepare for our real outing.
After a quick cleanse, costume change, and some drinks we headed out to Reflections. Megan, Christy and I were abandoned by Pocket Gay who couldn't make it out -work in the morning! (aka, I'm going home to get plowed by my geriatric lover).
Ref's was dead... Friday nights are not ideal. The bar fights were mildly entertaining. I was accosted by a loud bald newfie approximately 30 seconds after entering the bar. I had no clue who/what this was, or why he/she/it was talking to me... and why he/she/it felt it was appropriate to talk let alone look at me. I didn't know what to say. I had NO clue who this person was, but had a feeling that I wasn't about to lose he/she/it very easily. I had a stage-5 clinger on my hands and despite several attempts to lose him, he managed to make his way to our after-party at Emily's rabbit shack. It turns out his name is Darren (all credibility lost instantly), a nurse from NL. Apparently he had hair the last time I saw him, but I was too drunk to remember. He explained that we were introduced a few weeks before through his "friend". How fun... clearly he didn't make a lasting impression, and if I didn't make a move then I'm not interested now.. and won't ever be. This "friend" was clearly not a "friend" of mine, or I wouldn't have had this shadow follow me around the bar for 5 hours... ARGH! I may need to go into hiding. Thank God I avoided the phone number request.
4,5,6,7,8 and 9 am all passed as we sat in Emily's shoebox-sized apartment rolling massive amounts of weed while packed like sardines in her single bed. It was awkward to say the least. I apparently passed out for a bit and woke up sprawled out over everyone with my face packed quite efficiently in a bookcase. In all, it was not an ideal situation, but we made do. Waking up in a sea of co-workers is not something I would say that I want to experience ever again.
Then it was home to rest.... er, not quite. Oddly, I spent the entire day wide awake running errands, doing laundry and getting shit together before the concert that night. Yes folks, we were heading to Dolly Parton for Charles' surprise bday! It rocked. She's one hot bitch. It was a sea of grey-haired grannies and fags in the Metro Centre. Charles, Chase, Darcy and I were gawked at during most of it... which may have been the gay-factor, but more likely it had something to do with the emotional collapse Chase and Darcy experienced during Coat of Many Colours. lol Luckily, I was void of emotion (mainly from lack of sleep) so I was able to keep my composure. It was a great show... the only thing missing was Kenny :(
The concert ended and we headed back to Chase's to regroup and decide our plan for the night. We agreed that a swim and bonfire was in order, so we headed to the house. I was THRILLED that we weren't going out. There was a high probability that I would run into nurse Darren, which I hope never happens again.
Then came Megan's drunken distress calls from Glen Arbour. She had quite an evening... I won't get into too much detail, but it ended with her wandering for half an hour in her bare feet looking for her car. Lucky for us, she stopped to take notes as not to forget any of the details for her recap in the am. lol
Sunday was a well-deserved binge-fest of cookies, burgers, beer and of course countless hours of Dolly music. If the neighbours didn't hate us before, then we've certainly confirmed it this weekend.

Watch it. She bites!

Cougar:
1. A woman in her sexual prime who prefers to hunt rather than be hunted. A cougar's victims are usually under 25, as cougars prefer to mate with men who still have hair. Cougars generally feed and then continue hunting, as they enjoy role reversal.
2. A woman who lusts after men clearly her junior with extreme vigour and gusto and who is quite forward and sexually cunning.

The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie, or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity ( particular the true hotties ), as young men not only get a fucking incredible sexual high, but many times a chick with her shit together.
"That cougar I met last night showed me some shit I didn't know existed, I'm goin' back for more!"

Similarly...
Puma:
1. A woman, usually in her late 20's/early 30's who is not quite old enough to be a cougar, but still likes to date/mate with younger men. She is a pre-cougar.
OR
2. An acronym for panties up my ass.
"Ooh girrrrrl! My puma is so deep; I think I can taste it!"

So, apparently my predator-friend Sandra has been making quite a name for herself in the big city of Freddybeach! It appears that I'm not the only one who dares to tell it like it is... haha Even those who don't know her understand the lengths in which she'll go to get booty. She has found herself a man-servant... a sexual slave... a child! We'll call him "The Child"... TC for short.
She's apparently been dubbed TC herself... "The Coug"


Just keep this in mind...

The Cougar Rules

1. Dress inappropriately slutty.
2. Ignore anyone who says you shouldn't.
3. Avoid sex on the first encounter.
4. Well, okay, if you absolutely must.
5. Keep control when hunting.
6. Well, up to the third drink anyway.
7. Think short-term, not long-term.
8. Okay, think long-term if the sex is amazing.
9. Carry condoms at all times.
10. Use them.

A Cougar will:

* Be enthusiastic and skilled in the sexual arts.
* Initiate oral sex and expect it to be reciprocated often.
* Demonstrate imaginative and creative sexual moves. The kind he’s only read about in men’s magazines.
* Introduce him to a level of sensuality he didn’t even know existed.
* Know the power and effect of wearing just a smile.

Ship to Shore... No More.

It's been awhile since I've updated on the life and times of the Hali-Hobbit. There really hasn't been too much to share... just the same old drunken debauchery, sketchy sundays and headaches found every other weekend.

Highlights:

I found out that, although the young may give the impression of being devoted, innocent, sincere and easily manipulated; they are not to be trusted. They are conniving, deceitful, lying little shits. For this reason, I will no longer be pursuing those under the age of 23. This is my new agenda. If you find that I'm deviating from this, feel free to slap me. I'll thank you later. In a situation where an exception may be warranted,(which is HIGHLY unlikely) I will require written permission from my peers before engaging in any pre-23 activities.

This city is TOO small. I will soon need to commute for the purpose of sexual activity. The coincidences and connections to everyone else around me are not only concerning, but appalling. Perhaps the easiest solution would be to stop randomly picking up... but really, let's not kid ourselves, that highly unlikely.

I need to reevaluate why I go out. What is my reasoning? Is it to find a one-nighter? a bf? or is it just a sketchy hangover that I'm yearning for? I don't honestly know what I want. Commitment and feelings make me an anxious mess.... and that whole "love the one you're with" bullshit just doesn't sound like my style, so I can't see that being my focus. I guess what I really need is to find someone that makes it worthwhile to get off my lazy ass. Someone who won't screw me over and leave me for dead. It's quite likely that I won't find this person at Reflections... and even less likely that they're waiting for me in some raunchy online chatroom. I guess the search will continue... if it must. But where? I'm open to suggestions.

Erin is done work at the end of the week. This concerns/saddens me. I predict that the fun-factor at work is going to plummet. Christy and I will be forced to wander the waterfront looking for boys. We need a new coop student, pronto. Preferably a hot one. Work = teh suck.

Sandra, AKA the Cougar, is a true sexual predator. Her secret co-op love affair with "The Child" has recently become common knowledge in the office... thanks to a random psychic's predictions. It's all out in the open now, but she can't stop doing him. She's addicted to the DD and is willing to sacrifice everything to get some. lol

Finally, Pocket Gay is again allupons for J-A. Good for him. I support his geriatric desires and I hope things work out with that. Heels to Jesus frenchy!

Handle With Care

VS


Thoughts?

"matt"

"matt", originally uploaded by jeffmyles.

It is with great regret that I inform you of the recent loss in our Hatchet Lake family.
On Sunday, July 31, 2005 our dear Transparent Fashion "Matt" died of a spontaneous explosion. While "Matt" enjoyed being ridden all over the lake on hot summer days, it seems that he couldn't handle the heavy romping of our bi-guy Darren on the trampoline. Apparently this new guest was more vigorous than "Matt" had experienced on previous lakeside endeavours. It was, without a doubt, an accident. Charles (A.K.A. Cathcartier) was witness to this tragic event and was able to retrieve "Matt" from the windy waters and return his deflated corpse to shore.
Many of you had the opportunity to ride "Matt" at some point or another... some more so than others, and we all share in your grief following this terrible loss.
In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in the form of cash, weed or other recreational drugs to the Hatchet Lake Brothel and Resort.
Thank You.