(no subject)

They threatened to blow up my bar on Saturday. I was so scared I almost put down my drink. Fuckers.

My step-grandmother is going to die in two months. I picked up my drink.

The closest thing to a writing job in Toronto is selling ad time to assholes who demand to wear overpriced suits and be sucked off while drinking fig martinis. The drink involves pain pills and cocaine.

Happy Messiah On A Stick weekend.