Just got in from KFC, and it's the first time I've been there in a very long while. The sick feeling in my gut reminds me why I never eat that tripe.
There was a sad scene in the lineup at the place, where I saw two girls who were waiting for their orders. I'm pretty sure they were sisters, one being about 13 and the other maybe 9 or so. The older one had to weigh at least a buck 60, and the young one was over 100 lbs I bet. They had ordered 5 Toonie Tuesday meals, and I had a strange urge to yell at the older one, just tell her to eat something healthy for a change of pace.
It's sad to see anyone overweight in a KFC, and I'm left to wonder where the hell the parents are. Probably sitting in the car, because they're too lazy to go into the store themselves to order up their greasy dinner.
The answer to the "Fat Bastard Vicious Cycle" paradox likely isn't at the bottom of a chicken bucket. If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see (or can't see certain parts of your own body) it only makes sense to change your lifestyle, right? Not to mention how unhealthy the whole situation is.
I can only hope that those girls realize sooner, rather than later, that they are the ones who have to change. Noone else is gonna do it for them.
Anyway, as promised, I'll detail the past weekend down in St. Catherines.
Friday night I picked up Sutton and Arden and we headed down to TO to see my dad, then onto
St. C's. When we got there we left a note for Thompson, Cerswell, and Devreede at their place, then stacked a ton of shit in front of their door. Cerswell later said that he thought they'd been broken into. Mint that.
We then went to my bro's place, got our shit settled, and went out to a late dinner. After that we hit the casino in Niagara with a bunch of people. We all pretty well broke even, but I lost $3.50. I told my bro that I lost "three fifty" in a very non-chalant way, and this little Asian dude looked kinda shocked.
There were some shady fuckin characters at that place, let me tell you. One dude looked like he had chopped his own hair with scissors, as some chunks were 6 inches long, and some were about an inch. He was also really shaky and stuff. There was also Colonel Sanders, looking like he had gone past his expiry date. And the Asian guy with the crazy eyebrows was funny too. Lots of people in there looked miserable and addicted. Another sad situation.
We all just went home and crashed pretty much. The next day Ryan, Arden and I went to Buffalo to see this guy about resizing my golf clubs. It took forever to get into the States, and we did our best to avoid getting in a line behind any cars with brown-skinned drivers. It sounds like an asshole thing to say, but I'm serious. We had a schedule to keep, and we al know how dangerous all Middle Eastern people are, right? Fucking paranoia...
So we finally got up to the customs dude, and Ryan got all fucking stuttery and nervous. He explained that we were driving our "step-father's" car, and visiting our "step-mother's" friend. No wonder the guy got confused, and felt the need to check out our trunk and my clubs. Ryan actually acted like we were up to something. Had I been driving I would've probably scratched my ass when the guy was asking me questions. All cool and shit.
Anyway, we got the club thing done, then grabbed a few things at the Old Navy outlet. When we got home we tapped the keg and started to booze. It was a night of legendary drunkenness, the most hammered alot of us had been in quite some time. Unfortunately I couldn't get ahold of Party Boy to join us.
The keg ran out at about 8, so we had to get a mini-keg to fill the void in our guts. We polished that off too, and a few of us hit the Arms for karaoke, while most went down to Port. We won a rabbit after singing about 10 songs, and then they booted us outta the bar. We went home and drank more though. I passed out with a beer-in-hand a few times, only to awaken and drink more. Somehow I made it to bed on my own, and I have no clue what anyone else did.
Angela had a rough night and and even rougher hangover on Sunday, which was too bad. On the plus side, I did get to hit on her for a bit while Ryan was running around drunk, and Ang was still feeling okay.
All of us boys woke up and talked about controversial shit as we sat around in our own stink in the dank basement. We were all hungover as shit, and felt ten times better once we got out of the dungeon and got some food in us.
The rest of Sunday consisted of the whole 1 York Hall Of Fame (minus that finto Attard) chillin at Deuce Dale's pool. We played some sweet wall-ball and ate many freezies. A few of us got sunburns (namely Arden) and a few flashed off some disgustingly white bodies (namely Vintage). It was the perfect way to recover from the night before.
Then Ryan, Arden, Sutton and I went to TO for an awesome dinner that my dad and step-mom made for us. We 3 Barrie-folk then headed home for good.
I can tell from the last month that this will likely be the mintest summer ever. Comparable to Bryan Adams' Summer of 69. These are the mintest days of our lives. Arden wants to go down every weekend now. It's a shame that's not a practical idea, otherwise we'd probably do it.
So that was a great time, and I can't wait for Gabelwood this weekend. I hope it tops the St. C's trip.
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