Max: The Declaration of Unemployment

41cm. That's the official amount of snow the befell my city. Within a day, however, the streets were functional. It's amazing how quickly the city adjusted. Me? I just sat back and took it all in. It's not like I had to go sit in traffic and work. What a majestic spectacle though.

The guy who lives next to me; I guess he's a neighbour, is a specimen. He bothers me like tartaric acid or cottonseed oil. Mind you, I've never had them on their own but with a high cholesterol count, I shouldn't even consider eating food with this stuff. It's unfortunate since they are part of the ingredients that make up my favorite Peek Freans cookies. Back to the hydrogenated old hag. He's the owner of a piece of junk automobile I call 'The Car that doesn't Drive.' All it does is sit there 365 or 366 days a year soaking up the sun and parking spots of residents. He and this other fag are always working on it. It's an old white trash unit with rust stains everywhere. It's nowhere near a classic so I have no idea why he hangs on to it. Each time I see him I want to make him drink break fluid.

My insomnia is consuming me. I now get migraines and use 222's to alleviate the pain. Tylenol, Advil are candy next to 222. One characteristic of being an insomniac is on how we get fixated on sights and sounds. Once our minds lock in to something that's it. Picture yourself listening to the slow drips from a facet...for two hours. Every drip, every tick, every car that passes outside, you mentally document. 12 days and counting and no sleep. It's to the point I'm afraid to go to bed.

Jeebies is back from rope singing in Nunavut. He has some stories to tell about his adventure. He now speaks Iglatituk or whatever it is they speak up there. He plans to use it to pick up women. And knowing Jeebie he will.

That's it for now. Please go to my Max link on the side if you want more stories. The Commentator, whoever he is, was gracious enough to provide me with archive space. He's probably sensually caressing my wife behind my wet ears. I, Dale Gribble, he John Redcorn.