Big Fat Hairy Living

Lester Burnham:

My job requires mostly masking my contempt for the assholes in charge, and, at least once a day, retiring to the men’s room so I can jerk off while I fantasize about a job that less closely resembles hell.

Lester Burnham is the main character in American Beauty, but it could perfectly describe my job.

Yesterday on the bus on the way to work, there was a big daddy bear and I was totally giving him the eye.

Today on the bus, there was a short, chunky, hairy guy I sometimes see. I think he works at the Ontario Sports Alliance building. He usually wears a suit, but today he was wearing business casual with the top button of his shirt open, and he had a nice furry chest. Some scrawny chick and I were both ogling him.

“You have a real nice house here.” —George W. Bush on Buckingham Palace, speaking to Queen Elizabeth.

What a loser.

Yesterday afternoon, I visited my pigeons in the pidgie park, Frank Stollery Parkette. I brought half a bag of seeds. The pigeons were crazy! Usually I have to coax them to land on my arm and peck out of my hand, but yesterday they landed on me even when I didn’t have any seeds in my hand. Some of them got a little agressive with each other, so I had to keep them playing nice.

Looking back on my last relationship and the way it ended, I think that both of us approached it pretty maturely. Given that we were both living in a one-bedroom apartment after the breakup, it was really stressful, but that was not because of any explicit behaviour on his part (and hopefully not on my part) but rather just because it was awkward having to live and sleep in such close quarters while both of us were trying to develop our own independent lives.

Now, we’re good friends. Somehow I was able to overlook the pain and hurt he caused me (and he was able to overlook the pain and hurt I caused him) and get on with our lives. I’m inclined to say that the passage of time is what brought that mature perspective to both of us, but I’m not so sure anymore. I seem to remember us being pretty OK about everything (close living quarters aside) relatively soon after the breakup.

Fast forwarding to a newer situation, I wonder whether it’s possible in another relationship, a non-romantic relationship where someone hurt me, for the same thing to happen. I hope time will heal, but part of me doubts that will be the case.

I had a really weird dream. I don’t know where it was, but I was with Eric and we were in the room with two pigeons that were fucking. Eric was on the computer and even though I kept telling him to turn around and look at the pigeons that were fucking, he wouldn’t look. The pigeons ended up landing on my glasses and twisting and scratching them as they fucked on them. I remember telling Eric that pigeons are the only birds that don’t have penises.

Last night at the gym, there was a really annoying guy doing leg presses. Every time he pushed, he’d exclaim “Oh Yeah!” or “Oh, that’s good!” It was like the audio track to a bad porno.

I finally restored my hard drive after I installed Netscape 6.1 Preview Release 1 and totally trashed it. Norton Utilities took overnight to fix the 12000 cross-linked files. Luckily, all my porn was safe.

A mule, frolicsome from lack of work and from too much corn, galloped about in a very extravagant manner, and said to himself: “My father surely was a high-mettled racer, and I am his own child in speed and spirit.” On the next day, being driven a long journey and feeling very wearied, he exclaimed in a disconsolate tone: “I must have made a mistake; my father, after all, could have been only an ass.”