This is an emergency! See, my previous roommate up and left me no warning — I know, some people are jerks like that. I’d ask his parents to help cover his side of the rent, but their still grieving his death.

Enough about the lameness that is my life right now. I mean this happened at the worst possible time, EI is telling me they are going to cut off my checks — but how am I suppose to have time to look for a job and a roommate — and play Fallout 3. I’m desperate — Seriously, I’d probably take anyone that e-mails me.

That is as long as they meet the following qualifications. Firstly, you need to have a job, do not be a bum on EI — Cause a lot of the time I will need to borrow some coinage off you, or even get you to pitch my half of the months rent. If you’re a smoking hot chick, that can cook really well, that is just a bonus. Though I would be willing to let the hot chick part go, as long as you bring with you a wall mountable, HD TV — with xBox 360, Playstation 3, and Wii. We’ll add it to my collection of NES, SNES, and Saga! I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring any books with you — they just seem to take up room, and really only nerds read anyways right — and all the shelf space is being used by my Porn Collection. But seriously, hot chicks will get priority.

A little about the place. It’s a two bedroom, Garden, suite — Well, one bedroom and a closet, and there is a view of the community garden from our 4″ window at roof level. The washroom only has a bathtub in it — and a lot of the time the hot water kicks out. The toilet is a pump toilet, so it’s like you get a work out after you take a dump — pretty awesome. I’ve been putting some money into the kitchen lately — I got a pretty kick ass little fridge put in there. Also got a little table top stove, that fits nicely on top of the beer fridge. The kitchen and the living room are right next to each other — there’s a nice division line where the linoleum hits the rug — speaking of which, if you own a vacuum bonus points, this place could really use a vacuum. No laundry in the place, but you can do it at my parents place with me — so it’s not a problem.

The landlords really really great — pretty anal about being paid rent on time, don’t really like it when we play our music loud, have friends over, stay up past 11 o’clock, or walk around. But they have the loveliest kids, that have just started to learn piano and sax — it’s lovely to wake up to on Sunday’s, it truly is. The rent is $1200, If you’re cool taking the closet you can pay a little less, utilities are not included — though I’m usually able to steal WiFi from somewhere around, sometimes I have to walk outside of the house.

This is a hell of a deal, you won’t find anything else like this — plus you would have the pleasure of living with such a rad dude! PLEASE e-mail me….

As posted on craigslist

From where I sit I can always see straight up her skirt — she’s one of those girls who never wears pants, always skirts and dresses.  And I sit and wait patiently for my chance to take a peek at her panties, the perverted highlight of my day.

A girls underwear says a lot about the type of girl they are — that’s the difference between men and women, a woman’s panties define her, a mans underwear says very little.

She has these days of the week panties. They say Monday for Monday, Tuesday for Tuesday — but I’m sure you get the point.  Today is Thursday and when I finally get my chance, that chance I spend all day waiting for, it says Wednesday.

My mind automatically jumps to conclusions — This has to be the most intimate of the walk of shames.

I can’t help but start to picture what she had done the night before.  Out at a bar to relax after a long day at work, some douche bag that doesn’t even respect her saunters up.  She’s had just enough to drink and he says just the right words — next thing you know he’s taking her from behind in his shitty studio apartment.

She get’s up from her desk and walks towards the door, passing right by me.  I stop her.  “Monica, what day is it?  Cause I’m convinced it’s Wednesday.”

She’s goes red for a second, but quickly catches her composure.  “It’s Thursday,” as she continues to walk to the door, stopping for a moment to glance back at me — I dodge her eyes.

It might have been a little forward of me — I spend the next hour wondering if she caught on.

Then I catch another glimpse, and the Wednesday panties are gone.

Maybe I’ll ask her for drinks tonight.

I didn’t so much fall asleep last night, as I did just pass out.

I woke up the next morning to her mascara stains on my pillowcase. I hope that shit’ll come out, cause those are memories that I don’t need to have.

I told her she didn’t have a right to cry, that she was the one who’d fuck up — That she’d just lost the best thing she’d ever had.

She asked me if I loved her enough to forgive her — I told her to get out, that I would never speak to her again.

So why am I sitting in front of my phone — Wishing I could hear that ring.

I’ve never had much of anything interesting to say
but I will give it my best effort
to entertain the masses
who now-a-days lack an attention span
don’t even have the dedication to finish an entire

A while back I posted about shooting that video down in Seattle — Well it is finally online.

Artist - Common Market

Director - Zia Mohajerjasbi