How strange. There’s nobody on my home computer! Cyanotic is playing shows in Canada for a week, so Sean isn’t here to monopolize the machine. I hardly remember this “Internet” thing, except for the code I unleash upon it from work.

So, what have I been doing with myself… Not a whole lot. We are so incredibly broke. I go to work, I come home, and we gather around the TV’s warm glowing warming glow. Thinking is overrated, so we mainly stick to trashy reality shows. Lately we’ve been murdering our braincells with the train-wreck that is “Daisy of Love”. That is, indeed, the proper name for the show. Daisy has had to correct us several times. It turns out that neither “Daisy of Kill” nor “I Love Liquor” are official titles for the program. (I, for one, would definitely tune in to a show called “I Love Liquor”. Then again, that’s every reality show, isn’t it.) “Daisy of Love” features a house full of dumb-as-bricks men vying for the attention of a plastic leprechaun who was discarded from “Rock of Love”. You have to be in a certain mindset to convince yourself to even press play on the DVR to start this show…

“Daisy of Love”, however, is but a poor replacement for our old standby, “Tool Academy”. If you haven’t seen it, this clip will tell you everything you need to know:

The rest of the show mainly consists of these douchebags saying “dude”, “fuck” and “bro” and flexing. Speaking of which, meet Matsuflex:

We were “lucky” enough to be in the same place at the same time as him the other day. Look at this shit:

That was a memorable evening. If only I could remember it… I still can’t stop laughing. [Correction: I can remember Sean yelling "Man Panties" at him repeatedly...] You should follow Matsuflex on Twitter. Trust me, he has only the most profound things to say. I know I couldn’t live my life without knowing if he was presently at the beach, at the gym, getting a tan, eating, or getting paid to make an appearance at a club (as far as I can tell, he doesn’t ever do anything else).

And that’s essentially my life lately. Here’s what I do to cope with its crapitude. Mmmmm, breakfast:

(10 points for each one of those pills you can identify)

It’s about that time now, actually. I suppose I should go and put on pants, or something. Stupid USCIS! Stupid work!

But I’m meeting up with Sean and the band for their Toronto on Saturday. That’ll be fun. That is, if I manage to get out of the house on time to make my USCIS appointment in two hours, and they don’t hassle me about rubber-stamping my passport. I can easily leave the country, but getting back in is more of a problem… (Or, um… inconvenience? I wouldn’t necessarily call it a “problem”. As in, who the hell would ever say “oh no, they won’t let me into the United States”. Well, who from Canada, anyway.)

So four days until Toronto, Ontari-ari-ari-o. Haven’t been there for quite a while, so I’m not sure what I’m gonna do. Ideally, I would hit Queen street with my mighty, powerful American dollars, but it seems that I don’t have a terrible lot of those…

La la la. I’m mainly writing this because I have the chance for once. Maybe I’ll come up with some non-retardedness later in the week.