Snickers Satisfies.

There certainly is some fucked up satisfaction in seeing your divorced parents get on like best friends after 15 years of separation. We sit in the living room eating ice cream and maple flavoured Caramilk bars. I feel like Mike Myers in So I Married An Axe Murderer as my British parents describe the complex fudgey flavours as if it were a fine wine.

So this is what it's like? You grow up with one parent and dream about what it'd be like to have your real Dad around with your Mom. And then it finally happens in a weird way. Geeze, all that therapy with flakey social workers for this? For chocolate bars?

Some kind of fucked up satisfaction indeed.

As you may have gathered my Dad is over visiting from Scotland again. Which is cool 'cause it means he buys dinner and pays for stuff. Plus we geek out a bit and damn, you figure we're actually establishing some sort of worthwhile relationship? It's still a bit tepid, to be honest. But I don't want to, you know, hit him anymore.

This is good, this is progress.

Parlour Tricks

This Week's Goal: Avoid getting into confrontational discussions about politics in the checkout lane. Given the big Mormon convention today this may be difficult. Somehow their slogan "Knowing the Bible The Way It Was Truly Written" came up. How fucking presumptuous is that? Yup, "Mormonism: We've Got The Motherfuckin' Caramilk Secret!"

Dude got downright offended that I'd, you know, possibly question the all encompassing truth of his faith. I mean, shit, are there that many weak and wounded people in this world that they require catch-all solutions to belief? That's just lazy and sad. Sympathetic sad for the emotionally wounded people but not for the lazy bit, that is still just lazy. This is complex writing here, two terms and two opinions. Like math really but without any proof at all.

Now a little drama to distract you from that turd of a complete thought. Be gone! Gone!

Subliminal Purgatory

I don't often blog about my dreams 'cause I don't often have any. Which might indicate Sleep Apnea or just cause to take more drug vacations. Regardlessly I had a wicked sex dream the other night! I was totally making out with this stupid hot bear and we were all getting hot and heavy and he's all "My girlfriend is in the washroom. I have to look out for her." So I'm all "SHIT!" on the inside but play it all like "I'm a modern dude, I've seen Chasing Amy. Bisexuality is easy." We make out more and girlfriend comes out and is all "Now you have crabs! He has crabs!".

I can't even get any dream nookie without having complex romantic situations and STIs. Jesus Christ.

After than shit got all spaghetti acid trippy and involved arriving at school naked to a classroom full of kittens with German accents and impeccable taste in records.