It has come to my attention this winter the number of drunk assholes that are snowmobiling on the trails. Fucking pieces of shit. A lot of them are just driving them because they are scared they will get caught DRUNK on the road. A bonus for them is that there are almost no snowmobile cops. It is kind of nervewracking when those drunk pieces of shit are flying past you and your trying to go for a fucking walk. And people wonder why they get in accidents. GIVE YOUR FUCKING HEADS A SHAKE PEOPLE! I am a snowmobiler myself and I firmly believe that snowmobiles are not the problem. It is the fuckers that are driving them. They need a good bootfucking!

Well, I came to this conclusion since yesterday I began to become overly depressed over trivial issues. I found myself wallowing in self pity after i found out that someone used up all the fucking butter(I really needed that butter for toast) I then went to check if there was any cream cheese, but then I realized that there was none left. At that point I was about ready to go over the edge. I found myself hundled up in a corner, head in my hands, crying, and feeling sorry for myself. How did this happen. Now it seems that I had become part of a trend that is spreading faster than SARS in a Hong Kong Subway Station. I blame this all on one person. Every time I was in his fucking car he would have fucking shit emo playing. Some days it would be modine, other days it would be get up kids, but most of the time it would be the dreaded weakerthans the most addictive and insidious of all the emo bands. I was able to resist the urge to download the weakerthans for 2 long months, but then I fell apart, I began listening to them everyday, more and more, soon I found myself becoming overly depressed and placid. I someday hope that i may overcome this crippling emo addiction, but until then i have only this advice to give you... Download Pamphletier by the weakerthans it is some dope shit.

If you find yourself dreaming about clouds, go and kill yourself. If you find yourself feeling lonely and unwanted, what are you waiting for, take a dive off the closest bridge. If the store down the street has run out of your favorite snack treat, go and put a fucking bullet in your head you useless piece of shit.

Okay, true story: Today I decided to head down to the local cineplex and catch the 1:30 showing of Anger Management starring Adam Sandler, the lovable manchild commonly seen in extended SNL skits they like to pass off as movies, and Jack Nicholson, that 70-something geriatric studmuffin notorious for dating women half his age. I settled comfortably into my stadium seating with my Coke in one hand and my bag of popcorn with sour cream and chive flavored powder in the other. The movie started and as my anticipation for that uber-kickass Matrix Reloaded trailer kicked into hyperdrive, something unexpected and definitely unwanted occurred: Commercials. Commercials. Fucking commercials! What the fuck?! I pay $10 to see a goddamn movie, not Loriel Paris's shameless marketing propaganda. Sure, you get to see Jessica Biel strut around in a tight fitting and arousing ensemble, but it just wasn't worth it. I can see Loriel commercials at home on T.V. and get half-naked/naked pics of Jessica Biel using a decent search engine and a will of iron...for FREE! I don't have to lift a finger or pay a goddamn, motherfucking cent. As if that didn't already test the capacity of bullshit my gag reflex was able to handle, another commercial follows that one to try and get me to buy an even more useless product in the form of some retarded fruit gel to make your hair "Supa Crazay". I realize inanimate objects are incapable of mental retardation: it was just an expression. But anyway, in conclusion, commercials can suck it and swallow. It's the least they could do for making ME try to swallow THEIR bullshit.

I was frolicking about my local convenience store recently, buying Dorito chips, Vanilla Coke and other assorted foods heavily saturated with cholesterol and extreme awesomeness, when I happened to notice a slightly obese woman exiting the establishment and proceeding to her car. Now, the first thought that immediately popped into my head was "Man, dat one fat bitch!" followed by spontaneous animal sounds, in the vein of something like the offspring of a goat and a duck who got hammered in the barn and had a regrettable one night stand. Anyway, back to the story. I observed this noticeably depressed human being from the safety of my getaway vehicle as I was about to leave. How would you know she was depressed, you may be asking yourself. Well, I could tell right from the get-go that I was dealing with a person of low self-esteem. How? The obese part should have made that point self-explanatory, but what really cinched it for me was the fact that she was driving a Civic. This got me to thinking that this person, much like many overweight people, was probably self-conscious of their physical appearance and somehow felt ashamed of their love for the delicious taste of candy. I understand, because I'm somewhat on the portly side myself. And I thought "Why must we label people as different based on appearance in our unfair society. If a fat person is happy, do they not smile? If a fat person is sad, do they not cry? If a fat person is kicked in the temporal bone do they not yell 'OW! HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT FUCKIN' PIECE OF FUCKIN' SHIT ASSHOLE!!'?"......Of course not. Because they're fat.

Well as I and everyone i am associated with knows that going to church is about as much fun as getting your fucking penis caught in a blender