Drinking With White People

We've all met bad people before. Some of us are even bad people ourselves. Some of us even listen to Madonna on a regular basis. But there is one thing that I cannot stand: shortening my paragraphs! I mean come on, who cares if what I am writing looks like the most pretentious stew of written diarrhea to ever escape someone's mouth. I now have my very own website with my very own captive audience that actually thinks I am in Korea. The limits of this are endless.

NEW PARAGRAPH (see how easy it is?)

So I am out at this club in Korea (or Montreal, I mean nobody has ever really confirmed that we actually left the country in the first place) and this chick comes up to me and starts getting in my grill. I start thinking of all of the things I can say to her, all the things that I have always wanted to say to a woman, but was just too afraid of getting knocked out by a retaliatory blow to my 113 pound frame. So I called her the C word. Little did I know that the Material Girl does not take too kindly to this form of communication. So I did it again. I mustered all of the courage that I could get out of my 140 pound (soaking wet) body, and released the F bomb on the Erotica woman. Looking out of the corner of my eye, the silhouette of GGGGGGGGG gyrating his oh-so-good-looking butt on the dance floor made me temporarily lose control of the situation. Seeing her opening, Madge cold-cocked me right between the eyes.



Hours later I was awoken to the sounds of my own body convulsing from choking. Standing over me were my wife KA and this little man dressed in a too-small set of Habs pyjamas. Clearly the Yellow Dust that I had been living with (not the Meth that I had recently become addicted to - another story) for the past couple of days had taken its toll on my respiratory system. As the grogginess settled from my eyes, I said goodbye to Lyle Overbay and the little Habs midget and got to my feet. Little did I know that Mrs Ritchie had taken her shoes and walked/climbed/rubbed all over me (or was it my wife?)

Anyways - St Patty's day came and went without anyone saying that my wife's outfit looked ridiculous. I mean how ridiculous is it wearing green on St Patrick's day in Montreal?

I'm out of here. Got to go head by Golf Town to get my rocks off.