belgian waffles

mmm... miso horny

the big belge left today. on this occassion, i am reminded of my favourite poem by leonard cohen:

for anne

with annie gone
who's eyes to compare with the morning sun?
not that i did compare,
but i do compare,
now that she's gone.

conversations 3: the dilettante

der duft der macht??? should we be concerned?

this is the text of an actual conversation I had this evening with the dilettante:

the dilettante says: the shower? gross.
evil says: shower sex is hot dude. you should give it a whirl if you haven't already.
the dil says: in someone else's shower? egads.
evil says: anytime, Anyplace, dude... indeed, I wore the very bathrobe that you did after boning pussy.
the dil says: charming.
evil says: how did you ever survive eight months of unemployment in ottawa? i'm about to kill myself.
dilodis says: i'm not sure, to be honest. please, don't make a mess. blood stains affect property values.
evil says: i'm still wating for moonbeam to confirm the vancouver job. i'll keep my suicide clean. a hanging, i suspect. or death by stultification.
dildo says: or pills. pills are clean. murder debbie downer while you're at it.
evil says: debbie downer AKA the cancer. i've done nothing all day. i haven't even left the flat yet.
dilly says: pester moonbeam then.
evil says: and i have (quelle surprise) no plans tonight either! i'm watching music videos on the internet as we speak.
dill-pill says: me neither, although that's because I went out last night with my family's dreadful austrian nanny, who pronounced me "no fun" after i decided to go home at 230am from a boring, 1/5 full club that was playing sir mixalot.
evil says: sounds wretched.
dil says: she's deplorable. absolutely, utterly, deplorable. i want to kill her. or have her deported. maybe i'll do that instead.
evilution says: austrians are wretched. they should all be gased.
dil says: yes, she was trying the other evening to assert that austrians aren't to blame for nazi war crimes (in an argument where I was refuting the assertion that all muslims are responsible for the crimes of a few).
evil says: delightful. you'll be interested to know that i tried to float the idea of throwing babyboomers into mass graves the other night at le big belge's going away party, but almost everyone left the room feeling *quite shocked*... dullards.
the dil says: cowards. i told someone that my tattoo said [deleted so as not to be racially offensive] and they didn't think it was funny. one more for the mass grave.
evil says: people are so fucking wretched. no one has a sense of humour in this province. i'm back to BC. fuck the job front. life is too short. i'd rather die than spend my life in ontario.
dillinderpuss says: life is too LONG! but hey, don't bad mouth Ontario. toronto's not all bad.
evilinderjeet says: people in vancouver just *get* me. i feel like a circus freak here.
dilly says: toronto, man. toronto. vancouver = 36 year old pot smoking burnout. toronto = successful career type with friends and exciting, zany social life. and smog. lots of smog.
evil says: no. i hate smog. i need to be by the ocean to be happy I've decided. any ocean.
dillian the villian says: lake ontario's almost an ocean. it has a tide.
evil says: tis a fucking slough! full of shite and waste-water.
dil in the ville says: so is the pacific ocean, jocean.
evil says: so are you looking for work in TO, or just reworking the book? we're overqualified. we need to make our own work.
dil says: reworking book. waiting... to sell my fucking condominium.
dope dil says: drugs.
dope dil says: drugs.
dope dil says: drugs.
dope dil says: drugs.
evil says: eh? we should do more of them??? yes.
dil says: well, maybe. but also merchandize them. to rich, spoiled richmond hill types.
evil says: this bitch i know does it.
dil says: yes, and she's quite successful, no?
evil says: hard to say... i'm almost out of weed from our last purchase form her in February. and i have no money for more.
dil weed says: right, isn't some of that mine?
evil says: i just want to smoke my face off right now. half of it was yours, but you abandonned it and i'm only human.
dil says: damn you. probably for the best.
evil says: it's been a life saver. i'm a hit at every party.
dil says: because of my pot!
evil says: i just need someone else to smoke me up in exchange once and a while. phone. hold up.
(...)
evil says: place is getting shown again tomorrow.
real estate diler says: good.
evil says: about a half dozen showings so far.
dil says: good. make sure you inform the troll so she doesn't leave her tattered undergarments all over the place.
evil says: jajajajajajajajaja yes. she seems to be out socializing herself tonight. two nights in a row! she has a two night a week of socializing quota. (i kidd you not: she actually had to install a quota. loser.)
dil says: a quota?? why?
evil says: cos she was just sitting home every night for like a month and realized boys will not come knocking at her door. so she said she must do something social two nights per week, and go on at least five dates every two months.
dil says: oh, a quota to go out. that's better than a quota to stay in. but still, no boy is going to come knocking on her door. she's going to need alcohol....lots.
to which evil replies: she actually had to rationalize it. normal people just have "a life" while debbie downer has a series of quotas.
dil says: classic bureaucrat. put her out of her misery.
evo says: i should.
dil commands: KILL HER.
evil says: jajajajajajajaja anyway, i should dance... make some dinner maybe.
dil estate agent says: ok. keep the place clean so's I can get it sold. fill it with positive pharamones.
evil says: i'll try. that seems like a tall order though... i'm not even sure what positive pharamones are. should I wriggle naked on the living room floor or something?
dil says: oh, maybe not. debbie downer might - no, would - be offended.
evil says: and very shocked.
dil says: DO IT.
evil says: jajajajajajajajaja... later cunt.
dil says: bye

back in ottawa... for now.

evil takes vansterdam...

the big belge and i took vansterdam by storm over the victoria day long weekend. special thanks to all who made the trip totally tight cunt. but now that the big belge (who i have recently renamed the littlest homo) will be on the big bird back to europe on tuesday, i have decided to clear my head and make tracks back to the west coast this summer for another decadent couch-surfing tour, similar to the three months i surfed in the winter of 2004. hmmm... maybe a sublet is in order.

conversations 2: the dilettante

hey man... how high is that teardrop, muthafucka?

i've decided to continue the conversations component of this blog... this little gem is taken from an actual conversation between the dilettante and myself on an online messenging program. it has been edited for clarity.

the dilettante says:
do you want to deal drugs with me in toronto this summer?
evil says:
eh? what type of drugs?
the dilettante says:
all kinds. but mainly smack and crank.
evil says:
smack and crank, eh?
the dilettante says:
unless they're the same thing, in which case we'll only deal smack because it sounds better.
evil says:
dude, dodgy people do smack and crank... i'm not into dodgy people.
the dilettante says:
fine, we'll deal designer drugs. ketamine. ecstacy. whatever. we'll open a pizza parlour and include them in "special" orders.
evil says:
that's better.
the dilettante says:
and hot suzy can be our drug mule. we'll pack the stuff inside her snatch if necessary. snatch jatch.
evil says:
we'll put ecstacy tablets up hot suzy's snatch? are you sure she'll agree?
the dilettante says:
you can convince her. tell her it's part of the revolution, and she has no choice.
evil says:
this will finance the revolution?
the dilettante says:
damn. maybe we should kill some (baby)boomers then and take their jobs?
evil says:
just went to a job fair... there were like 500+ kids in the queue. i left in despair. but killing babyboomers is always a good thing.
the dilettante says:
job fairs suck. and your election may not happen now, i'm afraid.
evil says:
no shit. my ass is already back to the p-dot e-dot.
the dil says:
call brown bottom, see if he can't get you a hook up with (random minister). if nothing else, you get to hang out in montreal for the summer.
evil says:
i should call brown bottom? and organize against belinda???
the dil says:
yes
the dil says:
DO IT
evil says:
i'd never betray her like that.
the dil says:
come on. she's a tart.
evil says:
check latest blog entry.
the dil says:
not organize, just sit around with your finger up your bum and pretend to organize. and be in montreal.
evil says:
does he have an email? do I have to TALK to him???
the dil says:
yeah, maybe not. that would be unpleasant.
evil says:
so now I shouldn't do it?
the dil says:
i dunno. if you wanna, do it, dial 666.666.6666 (not the real number)
evil says:
email. not into talking to him. written correspondence only.
the dil says:
it might be work, after all. me@brownbottom.com (surprised?)
evil says:
shut up! that's a joke, right?
the dil says:
nope
evil says:
ughn. fags. and what is brown bottom doing for random cabinet minister these days?
the dil says:
blowing him, i suppose.
evil says:
that's hot.
the dil says:
gross
evil says:
are you serious? should i actually email brown bottom grovelling for a job? it didn't work for you.

evil says:

wouldn't it be better to wait tables in p-dot e-dot for three months?
the dil says:
well, true. TRUE. but answer that last question for yourself, my friend.
evil says:
so i should email him and see what's up then?
the dil says:
yeah, why not? just blow smoke up his ass, tell him how great he is, etc. etc. and then talk up the cabinet minister thing.
evil says:
how great brown bottom is? but that'd be called lying.
the dil says:
no shit, but he doesn't know that.
evil says:
ah! okay, i'll do it. Why not?
the dil says:
exactly.
evil says:
cool. i'll do it right now, and send you brown bottom’s reply...
the dil says:
ok
evil says:

speak soon.

the email to brown bottom was written but never sent. better judgement prevailed...

belinda for prime minister???

belinda belinda belinda...

did i call it or did i call it??? this woman is cunning. days before a confidence vote that could collapse the government msss stronach crosses the floor and joins paul martin's liberals. the dilettante assumes there must have been a deal made regarding her leadership aspirations within the liberal party. but of corpse there was. why else would she have timed it so. the stunt gives the liberals a new lease on life. cunning...

prediction: this woman will be canada's first elected female prime minister...

ot-twat

ott-twat... city of fives.

what does it all mean pussies and pricks? i'm so confused, i'm so confused... (that's a jonathan richman song, ain't it?) my concubine has split for darkest america and will reconnect with me in vansterdam on saturday -- i'm off to vancouver on wednesday, woo hooo -- but i am still unemployed and now broke too... may have to return to the fucking p-dot e-dot in a few weeks for chrkssakes... making last sitch effort to secure work in this one horse town. if nothing, i'm outta here...

went to a tight little party in the market saturday night with hot suzy, my concubine, charcoal and cam-rose... i think i had two straight guys both admit to me that they've thought about being bisexual... in one night! fuck, that's hot.

smear campaign 9: justin trudeau

readers! smear him!

love him or hate him, this motherfucker needs to be smeared. as much as we may or may not love the work of his father, this guy is just a flake. little too much of the sinclair in him, me thinks... check out the latest pile of bullocks written on him on canada.com for reasons why... now that I think of him, there's a growing army of other young political dilettantes are coming to mind for me to smear... hmmm...

smear this motherfucker!

line of the day 11

"watched some porn yesterday afternoon, had a drink, and ate some fruit."
- hot suzy (the hottest girl in all the land)

a grocery list

to celebrate my birthday i spent the weekend in montreal, which unlike ottawa is actually a real city. weekend was spent in various stages of intoxication with my concubine and six of ottawas hottest women. dope. however, on the way home i was considering some storm clouds in the horizon:

- the dilettante is divesting his ottawa holdings which shall invariably leave me homeless at some point this summer.

- unemployed at present during my summer hiatus from b-list ottawa university. funds dwindling. job options looking bleak.

- my concubine seems intent on skipping town for good and forever on may 31.

- my beloved paper mache pig snickers, is being detained in horrific conditions at chez genesis...

it is rare that i devote this site to the personal goings on in my life (as generally, i find that they're *not interesting*) yet this current trifecta of issues has me somewhat perplexed. depending on the time of day all can be regarded either as positives or negatives. what do you people suggest I do?

(of course, i know that by posting this on the haiku factory, you'll all just tell me to move to vancouver. however, at present this is not practical. please, i beg you: be practical.)

the pussy punt

pillows!

you begged for it, so here it is... poon will tell this tale:

From: "poon"
Date: 4 May 23:32 (EDT)
To: "evil"
Subject: puss punt punt junt

ahh evil,

well after an interesting night at the bosman's I think it is time dear friend that I relay the story of the puss punt. but first.... i actually saw the whole thing go down. it was almost a magical night, what with us walking in to a completely empty pub save for that's right, the insurance adjuster (who I've decided I want to bang) gashish accompanied by his girlfriend, and of course the dilletante, in the flesh. we had a few drinks, reminisced about the good old days when you graced the very seats we were sitting upon and i somehow got to liking the new and improved, paxil inspired dilettante. we continued on until b-cunt puked in the now locked bathroom and the only souls left were the dilletante mine and the puss. we left with the plan for the dilettante to catch a cab and puss and I to continue on, but somehow between the bar to cab, i overheard the dilettante proposition the puss. puss squealed with excitement, i beleive her next words were: "i haven't christened the new place yet" and they were off. pretty fucking jajajajaja if I have ever seen it. Well, with that little jem spoken, on to the next!

-- the pussy punt --

so one night down at our favourite vancouver watering hole, the puss and i had finished drinking and her loudness was overpowering me. i think this was one of those not so rare occurances when i was really getting a rise out of her which is a signature poon move. so she's getting a little excited, and amongst a group of people, i said, "you better watch out or I'll kick you in the box." she repilies "so kick me then". an open invitation as i saw it, so i proceeded to do just that. i punted her in the puss. and how! it was a square toe soccer kick right in the sweet poonanie! she groaned and went knock kneed from the force and the small crowd of people around us were in tears -- unable to contain themselves. so there you have it. witnessed by many. the story of the pussy punt.

love poonie xoxox

puppet master, moi?

and the puppet master is born...

after awakening from my three hour evening siesta, i discovered the following in my inbox...

good day evil,

so after much pondering, i am beginning to wonder if my encounter with the dilettante was really not by chance at all. i believe you are behind this "random rendez-vous"! your suggestion that we did it to further our own agendas is but a diversion from the real truth. you told me this morning that you regaled your former roommate with many a tale about me. were you subtly planting the seeds of our future affair? was this a ploy to bring your two worlds together? you are trying to be a puppet master, but i will not be your puppet.

i will not be your toy.

regards,

the puss

what a truly compelling analysis, no? evil as twisted mastermind uniting people in cities on the other side of the country in sexual union. but how can it be? how can someone so cheeky, so irreverent, yield such immense power? even the so-called "haiku master" almost peed his sissy yankee doodle pants at the thought of going into war with evil and his legion of followers... (mad props, yo.) he erased all our haikus and made some comment about ten year olds attacking his precious site... and i just thought it was some good clean fun. a war of words so to speak! ah, but maybe americans are more sensitive about the issue of war since they have this nasty and unattractive tendency to cause so many of them... but can i be this wicked and diabolical? can i cause people just to tear off their clothes due to my stories and hyperbolic rants? surely i was not in control when the dilettante was ramrodding the puss' dark nook? her screams of pleasure were not created by me... can i cause bloggers in other countries to panic? the middle-aged haiku master running for cover over a couple poems??? take off your skirt, you fucking ninny!

the answer? I AM THE PUPPET MASTER. MESS WITH EVIL AND I WILL EVISCERATE EVERY MOTHERFUCKING ONE OF YOU.

word.