I Just Want To Eat In Peace…

So I go out for a small dinner tonight at Eight and a half on 8th and Main, where the old Soma used to be. I’m offered a seat of my choice by a skinny blonde girl whose face was caked up with perhaps half a tonne of makeup. Get a menu, this and that and all that jazz. Okay. Fine. The place was pretty quiet with a few couples sitting behind me and in front of me and then all of a sudden, a group of Kitsilano yahooligans walk in with their skater/surfer, identify crisis bleach blond hair, hippy I’m a rich wannabe cool hipster spoiled son of a bitch jackasses accompanied by their blonde, I do Yoga 7 days a week and I sound like a complete ditzy blonde like, OMG! girl friends, who just spoil my dining experience.

I ordered myself a margarita pizza while listening to these bozos yap about how difficult being 30 is, drinks here and there, food this, food that, soft ball yadda yadda. But seriously, the whole process of it all was just cumbersome, having to put up with them dragging tables and chairs to sit together effortlessly in an arrangement as if they were life-long friends, introducing one another, “Yeah you remember Janelle? From Zoey’s birthday party?”

Shut the fuck up for crying out loud! I just want to eat in peace you assholes. And to top if off, 3 of these bitches and faggots walk out to have a cigarette, right by the door and the draft of course, carries their poison smoke into the restaurant. Son of a bitch. I paid, upped, and left, and on my way to dessert at True Confections, but more like, False Promises. This place turned into a shit hole. There you have a group of inexperienced servers, who just so happen to be CHANK, with Mexican kitchen staff? The hell? The cheesecake tasted like some outsourced crap made in bullshit Taiwan prepared by a 7 year old and you have to sit amongst some of Vancouver’s ugliest and most infamous stereotypical retarded Asian women who think they’re hot shit. Suggesting not to tip the server after tax while the server is standing there in front of you? What the hell is wrong with you? Did your mother drop you on the head and lace your milk with fucking Acid when you were a child? Holy shit, some people amaze me, not to mention, this bitch suggesting her friend to be a cheap ass Jewbag was as fat as a blimp who was remnant of a fat black woman from New York city going “MmmhHmMmmM…” with a name like Lakeesha or something.

Eat a dick, bitch. Dining in Vancouver sucks balls.

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Creep

So last night I met up with Hugh and his friend Daryl to talk some business at a coffee shop, in walks this skinny old man, maybe about 50+ years old, dressed like your typical East Van tree hugger. The shop is being run by two (rather beautiful) Japanese girls. One of them is cleaning up the tables up front, so this fucking sick creep walks in, stands there, and stares at her for a good 20 to 30 seconds, eyeing her up and down while giving us a look. Hugh and I were like WTF?!?!??! Okay, at first, we were thinking maybe he knew the girl and wanted to say hi after she was done, but turns out, nope. He’s just some fucking sick creep. I have never witnessed such creepiness in my life. If you’re the sick freak reading this, go fuck yourself. Poor girl.

Anyways, here you go. Some awesome music. Thanks to Hugh. Chubby Luvin Vol. 2 – Phatflo (Right click – Save As)

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