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So I'm finally on friendster, which naturally, I'm the last in the world to join. Anyway, I only have one friend there now, and already, I'm already in a network to meet 905 other people. To say that homeboy is popular is an understatement.

I don't know how much time I can waste on yet another website, and I'm sure that this is all another internet fad. Plus the server is so slow, sometimes it's just not worth logging on.

Anyway, I don't have much to post right now, except I'm sleepy.

Add me as your friend. I only have one. *SNIFF*

....asiliat at hotmail dot com posted by losir at 10:38 AM

Quick non-related updated below.

Get better soon mute!

On another note, I had to look for evidence that I was once allowed to hang out with credible women. I found two pictures that may help the cause.

....living on past glory sucks.

posted by losir at 3:08 PM

I ain't gonna lie, I'm no ladies' man in the looks department.

I happened across the show Cupid last night, and I realized that I'm pretty much scraping the bottom of the handsome barrel. I've always known I'm not exactly soft on the eyes, but compared to these dudes, I'm their Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Never was it more apparent then when I was checking out the pix of myself in Montreal. I'm pretty hideous. I thought I was okay, but I was wrong, oh so deadly wrong. Could I look any more ugly? Thanks mom for loving me the way I am.

I feel sorry for the girls that I made eye contact with.

....Frankenstein's monster ain't got nothing on me. posted by losir at 1:23 PM

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

To make a long story short, I spent the Canadian Long weekend up in Montreal. Apparently, the French don't much like civic holidays, so it wasn't one for tthem.

If the Qu�b�cois know one thing though, it is partying. They have some really, really wicked street parties up there. Maybe too good.

So the Toxic One and I found ourselves wandering in the heart of Montreal, Ste-Catherine, loving the weather and feeling the vibe. We were really enjoying ourselves when we then heard some good danceable grooves wafting through the air and into our eardrums. We picked up the notes like a bloodhound smells fox and proceeded to see what's up, what's up. As we got closer the beats became more rhythmic, more euphoric. Maybe it was our sore, tired feet and being a little dehydrated, but the idea of a happening street party perked us up and made me at least feel quite kiltered.

So while we hunted for the source of the beat, I began bobbing my head like a pigeon searching for bread crumbs. I'm sure I looked like quite the fool, but I cared not. It sounded good.

When we hunted down our target, it was a park in the center of several tall buildings. There was a big stage set up and quite a few number of people were already scattered on the lawn, waiting for the main acts to arrive.

My chick radar came on, searching for some good eye candy to go with the beats. "Aw man," I groaned to myself, none yet. "All sausages."

But wait, Montreal was famous for nice women, and that stereotype was true up to this point. There were a lot of beautiful women on the streets, but none here. Why?

I looked again, well they weren't all men. Some of the women were, how do you say it, "Butch."

Wait a tick. All men, butchy women -- I then noticed the rainbow flags flying high and proud. Oh!

So she and I accidently walked into the Gay Pride festivities. It would have been okay too, if some of the men weren't checking me out. I felt so cheap.

....No, I wasn't on any of the floats! posted by losir at 2:31 PM