Alright men,

How many of you are with me when I say a drunken urination, outdoors, without hands and or regard for smaller and therefore worthless life forms is a proud proud moment.

That feeling when the wind is at your back, your pants are at your ankles and your hands are resting on your hips like you have two 45 magnums in holsters and you urinate, by god you urinate from your throne. I once had a science fair project in grade six where I rigged a cardboard box and cheap fan together, I then tied paper airplanes (I make unreasonably poor paper airplanes) to a piece of yarn and demonstrated the properties of flight, NASA called it a wind tunnel, the judges patted my head and called it a good effort. I was pretty studious as you might imagine. But anyway, I’ll be damned if my true self, when spouting a half case of beer into the gutters of this world doesn’t fly by Bernoulli’s principle, as if it is lifted and nodding in agreement to the truest things ever spoken. When you are on the horizon it is a sensation not unlike making sweet love to god in her gaping vagina that is the universe. It is great. Girls, this is just one more of life’s more urbane pleasures you will never know, prove me wrong though.

Sincerely

The drunkard who beat Ed senseless and stole his identity…and his shoes.

Ok now I am laughing just thinking about that science fair project. The planes did not so much fly as they were mercilessly beaten against the interior of the tunnel (flimsy cardboard box). I believe I calibrated everything to the scientifically universal 1-2-3 setting on my fan. 1 being gale force winds, 2 being a catastrophic hurricane, and 3 being the noble attempt of some early flying machine attempting to re enter earth’s atmosphere. I may have single handily confirmed the flaws of the AVRO ARROW that day, those 15 minutes in my parents basement. Be thankful I wasn’t an A student or I may have recruited your dog to commandeer the maiden voyage of some far more elaborate upheaval, some belligerent affront to knowledge and discipline, to the entire scientific method. It most likely would have been a lawn chair caped with a Canadian flag and perched on top of a pile of TNT. They gracefully called that one piece of shit space craft the CHALLENGER (ED) but I wouldn’t feel bad if you called mine RETARDED. It doesn’t really know you’re talking about it anyway.

Oh, and tonight I heard a story about some guy who got decapitated in a Georgia amusement park. Apparently he lost his hat on a roller coaster and when he got off he hopped two fences to go in and get it, the ride came down and that was it. What a fucking idiot. Two fences and not a clear thought in between them. I wonder how elated he was when he picked up that hat, I wonder if his last words were something along the lines of “This is the greatest fucking hat in the history of the world” or, “How could I have gone on without you?” I wonder if he had the hat on when his head got severed, that is the ultimate question, did he fulfill his destiny?

My drunken heart goes out to his loved ones.

***

Man I was loaded last night. I just spent about an hour correcting grammar errors here that would condemn all my previous schools if I brought it to attention. I found this MSN message left to Luke on my desktop when I woke up.

Ed says:

that girl who loves (censored) i have told you abuot has bout (censored) and wants to hook up. haha im on fire flirting with right now to. for example

Ed says:

Jen says:

but yeah i’m a lightweight still

Jen says:

so if we did drink then.. yeah i can be a handfull

Ed says:

thats ok i can be a mouthful

Ed says:

my eloquence knows no bounds. i simply could not let that one by. she loved it…i dont know what to make of that, i should have a lawsuit on my hands

I deserve to be hit by a car.