Operation Dumbo Drop

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I’m getting up at 9 in the morning, no matter what. This late-night cycle has to end. Although it is the only time I’m sure I’ll ever do my course reading for Labour Relations, because let’s be honest: Who needs that shit during the daytime?? There is so much to be done. And I’m doing none of it. Snooze limit tomorrow: 5 times. Not 15. (I’m serious.)

Sometimes I see a light on in my house, and I almost walk past it, but then I think to myself, Suzuki is going to fuck your shit up one day, Comm-erson. Then I wise up and flip off the switch. But you won’t see me not eating meat or wearing grain-fed horse manure for foundation anytime soon, that’s for sure.

The two angelfish I got on Friday were ripped apart by the one angelfish I already had and his red-tailed shark friend. $11 well spent. Fate, I guess. I’ve been saying for a long time that once these two die, I’m going to empty the aquarium and never have fish again. It was wrong to think that I could go back on that vow.

Two roughly dressed people I didn’t know at a sushi place tried to help my friend convince me to try Sake by saying “it’s only 14% alcohol.” When I joked that I stick mostly to guzzling Life Brand isopropyl, the woman laughed and said through blackened teeth “We were almost at that point once!”

Aw shit.

About Nik

Writer, occasional photographer, common street juggler. I enjoy cooking, crafting, a clean house, animals, and senses of humour. Oh yeah and being the mom of my boy John.
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2 Comments

  1. Danner Q. Rockefeller

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