taking potshots at the passing cars

best hat hair ever. ive got the whole hat/face tan/burn going on. killer.

so my sister has the car at work, and my parents are out with the van and as they leave my dad says “try not to move the truck cause there’s a soccer game in the park.” which basically means that i can’t go anywhere. those soccer moms go fucking insane trying to find a space they can cram their Denali’s into on this street. so if i move the truck my chances of being able to park it in front of or anywhere near our house drops to below nil. so what’s within walking distance of my house to distract me? well there’s the 7-11…and….um…the 7-11…

i didnt think julia was going up to peace river today so when i called her to see if she wanted to go for coffee and then five minutes later when my dad said he ran into her mom at safeway buying snacks to drive up there….ya. so that’s out.

ever since we were kids her parents and my parents have tried to get us both together. we both just groan and shake our heads.

so a while back i mentioned that we have a robin’s nest in our backyard right above my window in some viney looking plant thing. in a plant. that has vines. or something. it’s leafy. whatever.
three eggs, two for sure have hatched, third one, no clue.
baby birds peep alot. not loud enough to keep me awake thank christ. but peeping baby birds means that magpies and crows come around and try to eat them. this would not be so good.
my dad and i have become defacto protectors of the nest. today he went and bought a new slingshot. we had an old one that i didnt know was broken so i was a bit surprised when i saw the box in the kitchen. anyway. two slingshots.
when i was a kid i was never allowed to have one, but my dad always kept one around to keep the crows and magpies away. considering how much time he spent teaching me how to shoot a gun, it’s sort of bad that i never really took a shot at something with a slingshot until today.

i totally guilt tripped him on the deck too. he was shooting at the magpies and i was all “you never ever taught me how to use one of these you know.”

“that’s because they’re dangerous.”

“you always tell me about how you used to make them when you were a kid.”

“but i tell you that stuff so you DONT do it.”

“you still never taught me how to shoot one of these.”

and then he kind of got that “gee maybe i should since he IS 22 now and probably wont kill himself” look on his face.

if you ever needed to find a living breathing example of Dennis the Menace meets National Lampoon’s Animal House…look no further than my dad.

holeeeeeeeeee fuck if he ever wrote a book about half the shit he’s done, it’d be a best seller over night. it’s almost to the point where i know so many of the stories that him and i can just say a few words and we’ll bust out laughing. like tonight at dinner.
“donkeys and golf balls.”

and we laugh and mom just looks at us and says “i dont want to know.” and we say “no. no you dont.”
and then i say “you know, your dad’s a real asshole.”
“your uncle is full of shit.”

really, you have to know my family to understand any of this but oh well. and i think there’s definitely something beneficial to having grown up in alberta, learned how to hunt, and go out in the fall with my dad and uncle.
find me anyone in a metropolitan city in this country who says guns are the fucking spawn of satan and that people who hunt are the spawns of the spawn of satan. ok, that’s far too easy. now find me someone, anyone, in the same city who can be driving around with two other guys, speak a few words, and everyone knows exactly what each other is thinking, everyone laughs like the world is coming to an end, and you have your quintissential joining of generations. HAH! WHERE’S THE REDNECK JOKES NOW?!?!

not so easy is it.

totally have noooooo clue where im going with this. plus i just stopped to think about it and it totally fucked up my train of thought. that’s kind of ironic isnt it? you stop to think about soemthing that you’re already thinking about and it screws up what you were thinking about.


ya, i got nothin.

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