Wow, ok, so it’s been a while. So I will start out with simply this: I LOVE POUTINE. What? Yeah I said it. French fries, cheese curds and gravy. So damn delicious. Anyhow I had a ton of fun in Canadialand. I mean really, how can you not what with the drinking and golfing and golfing and drinking. I will however say FUCK CANADA. I had to pay duty on 3 cases of beer, yippie shit right? Throw em a fin and be done with it right? FUCKING WRONG BITCHES! After a 5% duty, 7%GST and 38% MOTHERFUCKING PROVINCIAL MARK-UP I am now paying 50% in taxes which just took my $45 purchase and turned it into an almost $70 purchase. Everything is so much more expensive over there, and that’s without the 15% sales taxes you pay on everything. But, I guess that’s the price you pay for shitty socialized health care. I would absolutely love to see the percentages of provincial mark up on all goods, cuz I’m pretty sure it would be fucking scary. You pay around 30% in income tax right out of your check, then 15% on everything you buy, plus the province skims their own vig on the provincial mark up… fuck that. This is why Americans who want social health care are retarded. Talk to Canadians, most of them hold private insurance, otherwise they’d die in line waiting for any kind of operations. Anyhow, I’m done with that. Moving on.
On the drive back there was an accident, and an odd looking one at that. Someone flew off the road at a high enough rate of speed to smack into a telephone pole about 5 or 6 feet up the pole and around 15-20 feet off the road. That’s hard core. However, you know bad shit happened when one ambulance leaves with siren blaring and not 2 minutes later another one leaves, driving slow, and without lights or siren. Guess there’s no rush when you’re just delivering a corpse.
A couple nights ago Rev and I were out doing our thing (read: getting shit faced) and boy did we do it right. We burned through a half gallon of cheap whiskey then decided to hit the bar. I know for certain I was telling the waitress I wanted to do shots off her ass, which, apparently I thought was a spectacular ass. Then I proceeded to have a full conversation with the 50 year old bartender lady about women’s breasts. A bunch of whiskey and jager bombs later we headed to a diner, I have no clue what I ate, but I know for certain I was hitting on the waitress like mad. She also had a stellar ass and for some reason when I’m drunk I feel that the more I tell a woman how great her ass is, the more smooth I am being. I was told she’s a lesbian, but I refuse to believe it. I want my illusions.