Haiku of times past...

Old friends read this blog
Fecalfeliacs, they are
I miss Freddy town

Another...

Hovey's in China
That makes me laugh many times
He is so damn tall

Another? Sure...

Bill has gone missing
Ken replaced me with Kora
I miss my roommates

And to some up my years at school...

Beer Beer Beer Beer Beer
Tequilla, yes Tequilla
Rum Rum Rum Rum Rum
  ¶ 9:03 PM (3) comments

  I got to thinking...

Since people are actually reading this thing, maybe I should try to sound a little more intelligent.  I talk enough sex and drinking in my day to day (outside of work and away from parents) life.  Shouldn't this forum be about my other thoughts?  Thoughts I don't normally share with the rest of the world?

The answer is yes, it should.  But it's not. I types what I thinks.  Sometimes I just type and see what comes out.

I had a dream last night I wanted to post about, but I can't remember it now.  I think I was telling off Chris and Andre in front of everyone for some reason.  They were fighting maybe? Meh... I can't remember.

I'm debating going out again this weekend.  It was ok last week, and I didn't do anything overly stupid.  I just like doing something instead of being bored on a Saturday night.  If anyone's up for it (Mikey?), hit me with a message.  Or a massage.

I am actually concerned about spending money now.  I managed to save a bit during my no-drinking, and I'd like to keep it up and buy something nice.  Like Harvey's soul.  Or Hippie's mom.  Or Albania.   Wait... none of those are nice.  I'll just buy more booze.

I need motivation to go to the gym more often.  I actually enjoy myself once I'm there, but getting myself to go there is a struggle.  I never see any progress because I can't get myself there regularly.  Someone pay me to go.  Or start going with me.

I want to keep typing because it gives me something to do between calls.  But I have nothing left to say.

I need to pee.

  ¶ 7:34 PM (1) comments

  Check this out...

http://sexykevy.blogspot.com

 

  ¶ 12:05 AM (0) comments

  Someone just tell me what to do...
 
My friend Ken (who is an inspiration to me in more ways than even *I* realise) once told me his goal in life was to marry a rich, older woman.  Then he wouldn't need a job and just spend his days working out and being a sex toy.  That's life.  I'd go to the gym a Helluva lot more often if I didn't work.  And sex is nifty.
 
But back to my point, someone just tell me what to do with my life.  I'm tired of trying to figure it out.  Nothing seems to work, and I quit easy (as I'll demonstrate later on).  Someone decide for me, and make sure I get laid while I'm at it.
 
I talk about sex a lot.  I used to be very conservative with sex talk.  I used to only swear when I was mad, too.  Fuck, I'm horny.
 
[Haiku]
I see you are here.
I don't care if you are queer. 
Just get me a beer.
[/Haiku]
 
So I did it.  I drank last night for the first time in sex weeks.  Regrets?  Nope.  Was it a Helluvalottafun?  Not really, but it wasn't bad.  I didn't do anything perticularly stupid.  I didn't do anything perticular of note, either.  I was let down, though.  There are certain people I only usually see within the bar setting.  I ran into them, but the fact they haven't seen me in six weeks really didn't seem to faze them.  It was "Hey" as usual.
 
I had (a) crazy dream(s) last night.  I'm at strip club with  combination of people I know in real life, and people my mind made up for the sake of the dream.  There was a huge, black stripper that would let me fuck her for $20.  I (not so politely) refused.  So one of the guys I was with paid her the $20 for me.  She was trying to get all over me and I was fighting her off.  Then we left the club.  Some little Eminem wannabe bitch then came out screaming at me for trying to fuck his girlfriend (the fat stripper).  He threw a punch at me, but I moved and then tried to talk him down.  I told him she was doing it for money, which he thought was ok as long we paid the full amount, which was $60.  Someone said I only paid $50 to get him going again, so the guy who paid the original $20 gave the dude another $20 so he would leave us alone.  Then we left.
 
So I started walking home.  I've had a lot of dreams where I walk home on the Salisbury Rd.  It's a recurring dream, actually.  So I'm walking home and along the way I see the store my Uncle Barry used to own (but sold like 12 years ago.  It's also on the old Trans Canada in Lepreau.)  There was a huge dirt pile behind the store, so I climbed up it and onto the roof.  From the there I was many cop cards driving by or pulling into the parking lot, talking to each other, then driving off.  Finally, one spotted me on the roof and a half dozen cops pulled their guns on me and ordered me to jump down.  It looked really high, but when I jumped it was like just a step.  Then the cops threw me inside the abandoned store and stripped me naked.  Then some female (does that matter?) cop put on a rubber glove and gave me a cavity search for drugs.  Instead she said she found gun powder, which I vehemently protested.  Then my parents came with clothes for me.  Then all the guys from the strip club showed up.  Then they left.
 
I think I had another dream after, but the only thing I can remember is I started shitting ground beef, which was caused by the earlier cavity search.
 
Wow, this post had nothing to do with wrestling, which was my original intention.  Stream of consciousness rocks!  But I'm tried of typing now.
 
I need an answer.


  ¶ 6:32 AM (1) comments

  Haiku of 1000 delights...

The streak ends tonight.
The will broken by desire.
Regret it later.




  ¶ 10:35 PM (3) comments

  Cannot find the words...
 
Pissed off, confused, angry... I want to post but can't compose thoughts.
 
drinking, wrestling, Myah, work, sex, Chris, life, death, Clovis, drinking, women, drinking, money, drinking, drinking, drinking...
 
I'll post later.
 
I need a drink.
  ¶ 4:00 AM (0) comments

  Time to start over...
 
I think I can finally work this blog.  Part of me needs to.  Too much I've been leaving inside since I stopped drinking.  No sex and no beer make Kevin go... aw to Hell with it.
 
So I don't drink anymore.  My reasons are my own.  If they were yours, I'd tell you to shove it and down one.  If you know why I stopped, then you don't need and explanation here.  If you don't know... then you don't know who I am and have no reason for reading this drivel.  But thanks for stopping by.
 
I think about drinking a lot.  Not as much as sex, but still quite a bit.  I really miss going out to Oxygen on Saturday nights, even though none of my friends wanted to go and I'd end up pissed off at something.  Or do something stupid.  Or drink and drive.  I think I understand why battered women go back to the asshole who beats them.  No, wait, I don't.  They're fucking retarded.
 
I keep telling myself I won't drink until the wedding (no, not mine, Chris' you silly goose).  I don't know.  It feels like a waste.  Not that the wedding shouldn't be celebrated, but is Kevin getting drunk what the night really needs?  What will I do if I do get smashed?  I can't do anything stupid.  Various relatives will beat me.  What will I do if I stay sober?  I'll end up driving everyone home.  I'd rather take the beating.  "But wait, Kevin.  Can't you drink just a little?  You know, moderation."  What the fuck's the point?  It's all or nothing in primetime, baby.
 
Harvey... You want to know what I expect of you?  I expect you to be the guy I met in 2000 and loved in 2001.  That guy is needed.  While we're at it... Tubb, Ryan, and Chris need to be themselves from that time period as well.  Chris can't (he's not allowed), and Tubb and Ryan don't even realise they've changed.  And yes, I realised I'm different now too.  But c'mon... do you guys REALLY want that Kevin back?  He makes people smash wood belts.
 
Songs about turning back time depress me.  So does "Don't Stop Believin'", but in a kick ass way.  I don't even like Journey.
 
I don't feel like typing anymore.
 
I need a drink.

  ¶ 5:32 AM (0) comments