Canadian Pillow

12:15 a.m.

I'm marginally ashamed to admit that I've spent the better part of this evening sewing like some kind of a little old woman. But golly, did I make some fantabulous things.

I am now the proud owner of a bitchin' new pillow made utilizing two old silky dress shirts. Big pimpin'. Also, I found some old fabric in the attic that I turned into a table cloth for my dining room table. The table cloth was simple easy as EZ-Cheez work, but that pillow....aye carumba, mi Dios, that shit was fucking hard. Shirts were not meant to be pillows, I think. Although this one is cool. So maybe just these shirts were meant to be a pillow.

And now, to unwind, I settle down with a nice Mountain Lightning or Dr. Thunder soda. Name brand drinks? Not in this house, you heathen.

Has anybody ever wondered what Canada is missing? No, for once the answer isn't John Ritter (although that's a good one). The answer is: me, baby.

Those of you that remember my first diary will recall a time when I had the opportunity to go to Canada. It fell through. God, however, has decided that Canada can't survive much longer without being visited by me, so he has seen fit to send me on a quest to rock our neighbor to the North until its knees shake so hard that it can't fucking stand up anymore. That's right, Lee's coming to Canada, and he may or may not be bringing pants.

Just kidding about the pants part. I'll be wearing them. Most of the time, anyway.

Thanks to my mom's good fortune of still having a job, she has the opportunity to take me to this quaint little village you Canadians have. I believe it's called "Toronto." She tells me you have some sort of very large "mall" there, but that's surely rubbish. Not to worry, though. I'll be certain to bring plenty of shiny buttons and marbles to this outdoor bazaar so that we may barter for fine linens and spice.

And yes, before all the Canadians jump down my throat, I'm joking. Cocky American bastard? Remember me?

Well, you sure as hell will once I've brought the funk to Toronto. My only problem is that I'll only be there for a day. Yeah, one day in Canada sort of sucks, but when you think of how much badass I'll be packing in that 24 hour period, I wouldn't be surprised if you guys crapped that Tim Horton's donut you just ate right into your maple leaf boxer shorts. Ha ha!

Ah, humbug. I think I'm overplaying my machismo just to make up for the fact that I've been sewing like a girl.

So, I'm going to Canada this next week for a very brief visit. I hope your country is filled with hotties that have sexy French accents. I'll be wearing my tuxedo, top hat, cane, and monacle. Just to let them know how sophisticated I am.

previous / next