A Message to The Apple Pickers.

I like to call myself a Graphic Designer. It's been a pretty big hobby of mine since the age of seventeen or so. Occaisionally it has been a source of side income for me.

Aside from a couple basic courses in college I'm pretty much self taught and very damn proud of it. The thing is that every once and awhile my pride gets attacked by an arrogent/ignorant Mac user. They laugh at the fact that I design on a PC. It's happened a handful of times, mostly when I worked for Carbon Computing (a Toronto Apple dealer). My response to their laughter has always been that I couldn't afford a Mac.

Today I still can't afford a Mac (at least not a decent one) but I would like to change my past response. My new response is something more like; "because Macs are for stupid mother fuckers who can't handle a sophisticated user interface. Not that Microsoft Windows is the greatest operating system in the world, but you have to admit that it takes a little bit more brains to use than the Mac OS. For fucks sake the Mac OS looks like something you'd see on a childs Leapfrog computer. Also any program I use to design with comes in both Windows and Mac format. Oh and one last thing; don't you look at me or talk to me again you fucking clown. Cause If you do, I'll shove that fucking I-Pod of yours up your left nostril, pull the headphoes out from your right noststril, and listen to your Cake and James Blunt mp3's as you cry like the little bitch you are."

Vagabonds.

I lit up a cigarette, sat on a milk crate and watched the pigeons perched on the rooftops above. No bread crumbs on the pavement below for them to fight over at the moment. They just sit and I too sit watching them. Then for some strange reason (or no reason at all) they all decide to take fight at the exact same moment. They just take off, make a quick u-turn and land on the same rooftoop they were just on. They repeat this every twenty minutes or so.

Once and awhile, one or two of them might break away from the flock and hang out on a not too distant rooftop. I thought there might have be some sort of significance to that action, but I was wrong. They rejoin the flock the next time they all take off.

Band Names

Considering the success of The Killers, I would like to offer these names to up and coming bands who are having trouble trying to come up with that perfect name:

The Manslaughterers (for a band with a little softer sound then The Killers)
The Drug Dealers
The Statutory Rapists
The Mattress Tag Rippers
The Aiders and Abetters to Securities Fraud
The War Criminals
The Identity Thieves
The Masturbators (or The Jerk-Offs)

There is no cute title for this post.

When I first started this blog I was posting some pretty damn witty shit. I was even impressing myself. From breaking comedy down to a mathematic equation to writing a eulogy for a fruit fly, I was on fire. Now, this blog has transformed into some lame fucking journal (cause diary’s are for homo’s) in which I occasionally write about how I dislike french Canadians.

I don’t know what the fuck happened. I guess it’s because summer was getting closer. Could that be possible? Could the heat limit my creativity? Maybe I’m more creative when it’s like minus forty and my nut sack is shriveled up?

Maybe it’s all that worry about my credit card debt. Constantly worrying about making those monthly fucking payments. Getting those annoying phone calls. When one thought lays heavy in your mind, is it possible that it can squash all the others?

To keep it short; I’m gonna make an effort to put more effort into my posts. No more of this I hate french Canadians or Nacho Libre is a good movie crap.