I Need You So Much Closer. Literally. Come to Edmonton. Please.

Some of you obviously noticed what was written in teeny-tiny font in the previous post, so, I thought I'd clarify things before we get to the real meat-and-potatoes of today's lecture.

I quit school.

I am now framing with PJ, JF, FT, and TP.
Oh rad! Check that out! The second initial of each name is the first of the next and it even loops all the way around! Fantastic! What luck. This post is truly blessed. Oh shoot. I forgot one. ST. Dang. Way to throw it all out of whack, Steve. Darn new guy. (I only had to be the new guy for one day. Now I'm an old hat.)

So, yeah, that's what's up. Or what's gone down. Or where I'm at.

Anyways, on to the reason we're all here: To hear me whine about how I can't get to Vancouver for Monday's Death Cab concert.
Euunnnnnggghhhhhhhhhhhh... This sucks, I can't get to Vancouver for Monday's Death Cab concerttttttt... Uunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhh... Suck attack.
I had a ride, I thought, and then things changed without my knowledge, thus, I'm hooped. Alas. I will shed many tears.

Poopy. Poopypoopypoopypoopy. Frick.

I cleaned my room today and it appeared as though I got a lovely visit from the Dust Bunny. He's the less-popular second cousin of the Easter Bunny. His job is primarily going around hiding little balls of dust everywhere instead of eggs and candy. He's a large promoter of household uncleanliness. And he's my very best friend.

That's all.

Ready to kick the ever-loving crap out of the Dust Bunny,

Daytona Splendor.


P.S. Ian, if you are reading this, could you buy me a sweet t-shirt or two from the concerto? Preferably rad-looking ones about size medium. Thanks. I'll probably email you.