last year i drove around the country and parts of canada and i saw strange and usual lifeforms and histronics. and i took photographs and i wrote blog entries and i lived for once in my socalled life.

female readers of the busblog promised me things that i didnt deserve and when i came to their towns to collect on their promises i was greeted with excuses and claims of new boyfriends.

my heart broke with each timezone and my secret blog flourished.

depressedblog did gangbusters among the whoah-is-me crowd and i dedicated my life to LAist, as you know.

problem is, the readers of LAist are not like the readers of the busblog, in fact its safe to say that if i dropped dead here in beautiful british canada, those readers would probably be happy.

which means, for the last several months, ive been without any female attention.

at all.

high and dry.

so for my vacation i chose to go to a country where id be loved, appreciated, and respected. sure its for all the wrong reasons, but i figured i might at least be able to achieve the thing that ive been missed so much – the touch of a ridiculously young lady out of my league, and the access to some bc green bud in a somewhat legal situation.

last night i found myself at The Cambie. it was late. i met several irish girls. i was with a blogger that some of you may know.

she claimed to have a boyfriend so i said be loyal, look at all these irish girls

and she looked at them and she said, how is it that you can come up here, and these people who dont know you or know who you are, treat you just like i do, with love.

i said yes.

she said, even with that fucking beard!

and i smiled. but you couldnt see it because my beard covers my beautiful mouth.

and this blogger had the nerve to cockblock my advances with the irish lasses.

so i said i thought you said you had a boyfriend, why are you doing this to me?

and she said, i never said i wasnt evil.

so we got in a cab and i took her to my hotel room.

for some reason bars close early here in the land of the braver. sure the round mugs of Pale Ale were going for a mere $2.75, and you could get a pitcher for $8, but shit closes early leaving me with only half the buzz i was hoping for.

got back to the room and i said let me kiss you.

no.

let me just rub my beard up against your hottness.

k.

ok now let me rub my beard across your back.

my back?

yes and i bent her over the bed, lifted her shirt and she had the most beautiful back.maybe it wasnt that beautiful to you, because youre a normal person and have probably gotten some in 2007 but to me, in the moonlight, it was perfect. so i rubbed my dirty beard all over it and tried to get a whiff of, i dont know, something. anything.

she laughed and said she had to go home.

i was all, let me see your belly. she said no. i said come on, i could have brought 5 or 6 of those irish girls back here and i coulda gotten em all to show me their irish bellies. and then some!

she showed me her belly and i wished she hadnt.