I'd like to take this time to send off the funniest things that have happened to me in the last few days. But good stories always begin with an apology. Dear Brian, I'm sorry for touching myself. I promise I'll never do it again. Sincerely yours, Charlie.
You know you're in Montreal when you have Celine Dion as a friend on Facebook. (Oh yeah, score!)
Listening to my downstairs neighbor's conversation at four in the morning (when is the moment when you tell someone, damn you speak too loudly!) and she swears the she 'owns' the local watering hole we like to call Chez Bifteck. Yeah. That's what everyone says. I don't understand why people can't just exist as a community in the bar. Somebody's always gotta own that shit.
How are you gonna kill that fly? With your good looks?
None of this makes sense to you. That's why I have the blog. So maybe you can better understand my life. Maybe. If you're lucky.
I'm off to study the proletariat. Wish me luck.
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