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Dec. 17th, 2018 03:10 amWhee inhaler insomnia.
1. Dear husb. If you want to actually get your rocks off with sex, it’d help if you didn’t need 40 minutes of grinding to come. Good gods. You should be in porn. You have the fucking staying power which I’m sure every lady in the world wants but I need to bring a book. Even my characters don’t grind off thrusting for that long and I write erotica. I’m “did they just blow too fast?” No. I am just used to Sir Nevercome.
2. Dear husband: paracetemol is 99c for 50 tabs. I have no idea how you missed this concept.
3. Dear husband: how the FUCK do we go through a pot of butter a week when you state “I don’t use it much”. I barely touch it and it’s GONE. the fuck, man?
4. Canada: Reasons I’m never coming back:
- your deranged obsession with cars over bikes and pedestrians. I’m sick of “driver loses control and goes up on sidewalk” and “14 pedestrians hit in 6 hrs, 4 killed in one evening” because heaven forfend anyone not in a car deserves death.
-your utter delusion that canadians are “nice” because from what I’ve seen online you’re a xenophobic, bitchy, nasty lot that won’t consider a moment for anyone else because its “weakness” and its such a good look. Granted, we got us some racists and bigots here, and i mean geert wilders too but we don’t fucking laud it like being a rampant dick is a good thing while saying “canadians are so nice.” You’re not. You’re inconsiderate, pushy, self absorbed and passive aggressive about it.
-the lovely not shitbomb weather here. It’s mid december. A small dusting of snow.
-the joie de vivre of this city. We can go out and have fun and there’s not a herd of rowdy shitty drunks trashing the place because Eermagerd berrr. Dear Toronto, the fucking hooligan booze culture is why you can’t have nice things.
-less shitting on parents and people who have divergent work history. Hey. Life happens. Not a big deal. Got some skills? We have jobs.
-a sense of living, as in, you are more than your job. Do you have interests? Hobbies? You should. What, you don’t fill your life with six side gigs.
- a sense of ease making friends here. Ah canada you’re so closed off from each other, paranoid and bitchy. Three months in here, we have friends, we know our neighbors.
I would be devastated to have to return. This is where we stay, even if I have learned that the grannies invade Hema at 130 and lord above they shop ruthlessly, and some are nosier and meaner than they should but by and large people are NICE to each other and not constantly treating parents and kids like shit.
That alone, is a relief.
I’m still confused about our house’s butter consumption tho. Upside it’s only 1.30 euro but WTF.
No, really. WTF.
1. Dear husb. If you want to actually get your rocks off with sex, it’d help if you didn’t need 40 minutes of grinding to come. Good gods. You should be in porn. You have the fucking staying power which I’m sure every lady in the world wants but I need to bring a book. Even my characters don’t grind off thrusting for that long and I write erotica. I’m “did they just blow too fast?” No. I am just used to Sir Nevercome.
2. Dear husband: paracetemol is 99c for 50 tabs. I have no idea how you missed this concept.
3. Dear husband: how the FUCK do we go through a pot of butter a week when you state “I don’t use it much”. I barely touch it and it’s GONE. the fuck, man?
4. Canada: Reasons I’m never coming back:
- your deranged obsession with cars over bikes and pedestrians. I’m sick of “driver loses control and goes up on sidewalk” and “14 pedestrians hit in 6 hrs, 4 killed in one evening” because heaven forfend anyone not in a car deserves death.
-your utter delusion that canadians are “nice” because from what I’ve seen online you’re a xenophobic, bitchy, nasty lot that won’t consider a moment for anyone else because its “weakness” and its such a good look. Granted, we got us some racists and bigots here, and i mean geert wilders too but we don’t fucking laud it like being a rampant dick is a good thing while saying “canadians are so nice.” You’re not. You’re inconsiderate, pushy, self absorbed and passive aggressive about it.
-the lovely not shitbomb weather here. It’s mid december. A small dusting of snow.
-the joie de vivre of this city. We can go out and have fun and there’s not a herd of rowdy shitty drunks trashing the place because Eermagerd berrr. Dear Toronto, the fucking hooligan booze culture is why you can’t have nice things.
-less shitting on parents and people who have divergent work history. Hey. Life happens. Not a big deal. Got some skills? We have jobs.
-a sense of living, as in, you are more than your job. Do you have interests? Hobbies? You should. What, you don’t fill your life with six side gigs.
- a sense of ease making friends here. Ah canada you’re so closed off from each other, paranoid and bitchy. Three months in here, we have friends, we know our neighbors.
I would be devastated to have to return. This is where we stay, even if I have learned that the grannies invade Hema at 130 and lord above they shop ruthlessly, and some are nosier and meaner than they should but by and large people are NICE to each other and not constantly treating parents and kids like shit.
That alone, is a relief.
I’m still confused about our house’s butter consumption tho. Upside it’s only 1.30 euro but WTF.
No, really. WTF.
