No one knows where I buried my sweet Virginia Madison

My life is absurd. I had a hell of a weekend, waking up on two couches that were not my own, fully clothed. I also went snowboarding, which was great. I didn’t have enough money to make rent, but I did all this anyways. Thinking that I should settle down for the week, I find out that Tuesday is Bourassa’s birthday, and that as a friend I should go out for that. Get home at 1 last night, to sleep for 5 hours before heading off to work. Now I should have a lull prior to Scott Megaffin’s going away drinks on Friday. I could always not drink, but then I feel like I would be letting him down. I also feel like I would be letting down Rob if I didn’t drink at the Deuce-Deuce. I have no idea what I am trying to prove or accomplish with this, but it appears my entire personality has devolved into me getting drunk. I don’t get it.

I would say that part of it is being in Calgary. Here I don’t have access to the same things I did in Saskatoon. I can’t just hop in a car and head out to do something, as I have no car. I can’t go to shows unless Mark is in town, because I have no one else to go with (and even at that most of the shows I want to check out here and not Mark’s cup of tea. Our Common Struggle is playing on Thursday, and I hear good things about them, plus they are street punk. Just awesome). I am trying my damndest to think of how I can once again become a multi-faceted person, but I can’t do it. I don’t even have the proper gear to get my bike road-worthy here. It sucks.

So here I end up, sitting at work writing the whiniest blog post ever. This could be the result of serious lack of sleep, or the rank fast food I had for lunch, but whatever. I think the point of this post was that I am pumped to be going back to Saskatoon. I’ll leave on that note.