i don't like sticky fingers

I haven’t had one of these weekends in a long time. It went something like this: eat, play PS2, sleep, eat play PS2 sleep, eat play PS2 sleep. Yes, I was mostly a slob sitting on the couch in the war zone that is my basement. The coffee table is covered with headphone amp parts, and so is the floor, and the floor underneath the coffee table. I have gotten use to stepping over stuff.

I did manage to make it out of the house on Saturday. I had dinner with SG and some other high-school friends at the Purple Pig downtown on Richmond. This was a ribs place and I’m not a big fan of ribs. I find them hard to eat and messy. I don’t mind hard to eat and messy foods at home but when you’re dining out it just doesn’t feel right to have BBQ sauce all over your hands and face. I’m also not keen on licking my fingers in front of strangers; that’s something I prefer to do in the private. But the general consensus among the men-folk was go big or go home so I ordered a full rack and a salad. Despite what I said earlier, that was a tasty hunk of meat. And there must be something wrong with me because I finished the whole rack and the salad and I was still hungry. Must be a tapeworm or something.

Actually there was a bit of excitement on the weekend. After the ribs, we had to go pickup AF1 because he and SG were going to play hockey uptown. It was still early so we hung out at SG’s and watched Girls Gone Wild. I had my finger on the stop button in case his housemate’s girlfriend came upstairs. Oh those crazy American college-girls. Although I have heard some pretty wilds stories about the club scene in Toronto. I so need to go out more. Did I also mention there was a joint on his coffee table? I so need my own place.

Yeah so I kinda bummed out because I’ve had one of those realizations that you say to yourself doesn’t really matter but then it bums you out at the same time. What I’m talking about is how people judge your success/status/progress in life by where you live and what car you drive which are indications of how much you make. They don’t look at the finer details, the things that really matter about a person. But if you don’t meet certain expectations then there must be something wrong with you. Like you’re not ambitious or you have no goals or you’re not passionate. And then they think they can help you try to figure things out. Um yeah, you can do over dinner what I’ve been trying to do my whole life.