Tonight I browsed through some old pictures in my phone. I like this one, but it makes feel guilty because I haven't talked to this guy in a while. I guess that's easy enough to remedy.

My car is fucked up. I do not look forward to tearing it apart tomorrow. Which is why I've been glomming rides off co-workers and friends for two weeks.

Motorcycle or expensive symbolic jewelry? The decision has been made...

Gas station food for dinner every night: I love taquitos and Icees.
Gas station food for dinner every night: My stomach hurts as if I have been bayonetted.

I am proud to work for a Canadian company. As soon as I learn French, I'm moving to Montreal.