FINLAND IS THE ANSWER

I am in Paradise.
Everyone is beautiful, trendy, athletic and they speak in a language I do not understand so it makes it a lot harder to judge those who are stupid based on the content of their conversation.
In Finland, no one locks up their bikes.
In Finland, the only one who is 'poor' is I.
In Finland, there is an H&M to every street corner.
In Finland, the air is clear and the sun shines through the night.
In Finland, all is so charming that even the smell of fish kind of turns me on. That, or I am suffering from a lack of intimacy. Blondes are no exotic breed here, you see. I guess I better haul my ass over to Italy soon if I want to draw any kind of male attention.

Pina Coladas will NEVER go out of style

Sorry for not blogging in a while!
I'm with my Pa (Kaptain Kim) and my sister (Care Bear/Sick One/Douche-a-sis) in the retirement capital of the Atlantic: Fort Lauderdale.
We're on my Dad's new mid-life crisis project that I have affectionately named the 'Delta Shine.' It's a boat. You sleep on it, drink on it, tan on it, burn on it first, and EVEN surf the net on it. I blog from the Intra-Coastal Waterway as we speak.
My ass is a beautiful shade of both red AND white, as I pay homage to my Canadian roots in the land of all-you-can-eat buffets and old women with tattoos on their saggy tits.
I miss you all.

I think I'm a masochist

I've been sitting for 30 hours. Or more. I sit, I write, I stumble, I blog, I write of High Stalinism...

In the library, my choice spot to study is in front of the travel books. I sit, I type, and I stare at the plethora of Lonely Planets, knowing that I will not leave this library, never mind city, for at least another 30 hours.

Why do I torture myself so?

New career path...

I'm considering pursuing my flock of corporate suits so that I may levitate from my hell hole of student debt. The fruits of this particular thought process have me questioning why I shouldn't get a few pairs of Prada pumps and a Stam bag while I'm at it?
I feel like I'm letting this opportunity pass me by while I saunter down the sidewalk in shoes that are too cheap for my cultured soles and pedicured toes.
Sigh, I'm at a crossroad.