Sunday, December 04, 2005

When looking like Kurt Browning doesn't help you in life...

*Disclaimer*This is a work of non-fiction, (unless you are planning to sue, in which case it is a work of pure fiction.) I have changed the names to protect myself from the guilty and their subsequent wrath. Should you feel I am writing about you, “Owen”, due to the remarkable similarities between the character’s immense stupidity and your own, please understand it is NOT about you. Rather, it is about me, and my general loathing of you. Absolutely no Kurt Browning’s were harmed in the creation of this article.***

December 4, 2005

I didn’t sleep again last night…but not because of insomnia. Rather, at about 12pm I made the fatal mistake of logging into FSU, and reading some of their threads. I stumbled across this fabulous ice dance scandal, and began to read with that special kind of desperation only afforded those of us with incredibly dull and lack-luster existences. (I get orgasmic when the cat farts and/ or my daughter finger paints tuna on the walls, both giving me good reason to a) flee, and b) feel as though I’ve had an event in my day.) I read and read, not knowing who the hell they were talking about, and really not caring. This was, after all, a scandal~~~and not just any scandal, but a figure skating scandal!! I was thrilled, and feeling exceptionally proud of myself for “being in the know” on this one. (Despite, of course, my lack of knowledge regarding who in the hell these people involved were...)

At roughly 3am, I noticed the time and felt the urge to bang my head against the monitor while cursing figure skating and all it’s participants for causing me to once again lose sleep. (The first time being when I went to Stars On Ice, and spent the better part of three weeks prior to the event plotting out how best to embrace Kurt Browning’s bum without causing him any undue alarm.) Now, let me re-iterate…I do not KNOW OF, nor had I heard of ANY of the skaters involved in this all important scandal 24 hours ago; and thus, as the morning sun streams through my window reminding me that God is trying to burn out my retinas, I can not fathom WHY this was of such paramount importance last night that I was willing to risk turning into the swamp monster around my daughter this morning. (Which I did~~~poor thing, I have her programmed. She can now look into my eyes, and knowingly shake her head “You are going to have your period soon, aren’t you Mama?” Yes, baby, I am…and as much as I love you, you might want to run away from home for the next two or three days…I’ll pack you a couple of lunches…)

However, for lack of a better person to pin this all upon, (and I'm certainly not going to blame ME!!) I’m going to say that Owen must have been the cause of my restless night. Owen is a complete and utter asshat that I had the misfortune of meeting about four years ago. At the time, I was convinced that the Lord had sent me a great gift; as Owen looks remarkably like Kurt Browning, and yet, not being the skating legend, afforded me a much greater chance of warmly embracing his bum without the need for security involvement.

Sadly, as the years have dragged on, his resemblance to the skating star has diminished in light of his inanity, and now, every time I look at him, all I can see is a giant dildo with eyeballs. Let me enlighten you. In the course of our friendship, Owen has confided many a thing to me. For your amusment, entertainment, and general understanding of why I loathe this man so much I'm now seriously thinking of erecting a billboard to warn the masses, I have included some of these confidences below.

Confidence One: (made shortly after we met four years ago, yet jarring enough I still remember it clearly to this day...)
“I am going to open up a business where I take people fishing and get paid for it. I’m going to fly them out to the lake, (*Author's Note#1 (hereafter referred to as A.N): *Owen can NOT fly, either on his own power or with the aid of an aircraft...unless you take into account the copious amount of mind-altering drugs circulating his system at any given moment...*) and take them on their fishing trip. They will be so grateful to have a guide in this *oh so* dangerous sport of fishing on Canadian lakes (*A.N#2:*Which no one could possibly do without a learned guide given the vast perils involved with sitting in a boat with a rod in your hand...*) that they will happily finance the twenty-five other stupid ideas that currently excuse me from finding plausible and lucrative employment."

Confidence #2: (Made after about 2 years of friendship when I ought to have known better, but was still hanging on to the whole "hug a celebrity bum without getting arrested" novelty..)
“I am going to take pilot lessons. (*A.N#3: *I could literally hear the sound of the pilots of the world uniting to put a stop to this.*) I have just now paid $300.00 for a picture of a cockpit and accompanying explanations. Granted, to actually get into a plane and fly it, I have to give them $10,000, but I’m sure by some holy miracle, I’ll shit that money out, and then I’ll put that $300.00 picture I bought to good use.”

Confidence #3: (The novelty of him looking like Kurt has worn off. He does not look like Browning anymore anyways...the dildo in him is beginning to shine through...)
“I’m not taking pilot lessons anymore. For some strange reason, when the time came to pay $10,000 for my pilot training, my rectum refused to relinquish the funds. This, of course, is the fault of God, who ought to have known that He was supposed to line my intestines with $100 bills for just such an occasion.” (*A.N#4: *Pilots across the nation have to start going to church because of the countless promises they made to God whilst Owen studied his cock. (pit picture).*)

Confidence #5: (Kurt Browning's resemblance has left the building, having been now fully replaced by a giant dildo with eyeballs. I am starting to think seriously of causing him bodily harm every time he enters a room...)
“I’m going to go to Africa and be a missionary. Yes, I know that I’m not religious, and nor am I thinking on becoming religious. However, I have it on good authority that missions given out by the LDS Church are not in any way, shape or form connected to religion.” (*A.N#5: Mormons of the world curse the pilots for giving them this burden and then quickly ask God to forgive their unpure thoughts.*)

Confidence #6: (I am only letting him in to the house anymore because a)I am moving soon anyways, and b) having not had sex in a million years, dildo's are starting to look pretty damn good...)
“I’m not going to Africa. The bastards insisted I join the church before they would even consider it!! I don’t understand this…because I smoke enough drugs to be incredibly holy…even if it is only my lungs and my head that have the holes. Besides, I’d like to see one of those sanctimonious LDS pricks hold in a hoot for a minute straight!! (A.N#6: *Can't you just see the Mormons turning green with envy over THAT talent??!*) God, I’m sick of people overlooking my talents!!” (*A.N#7: *We are not ingoring your talents, Owen. We are simply trying to keep from beating you.*)

Confidence #7: (I am seriously considering suing TELUS for putting my new number on that automated thing that tells people what your old number was changed to...)
“I’m going to go and work on a farm in Saskatchewan and make a ton of money. I know this because a girl I work with, that has the brains of a small pea and the looks of a dump truck, told me so. I, in no way think this is connected to the fact that bribery is likely the only way in which this particular girl would ever see a man naked.” (*A.N#8: *I wonder if she knows that she will have to share him with the eighty other personalities in his head?*)

Confidence#8: (I am upset that the call block feature is not stopping him. I wonder vaguely if he has friends at TELUS...and then I remember that no one has friends at TELUS... My law suit is taking longer than I hoped...)
“I’m not going to Saskatchewan. I talked to this girl's parents and they have no idea what in the fuck their daughter is talking about. (*A.N#9: *I surpress the urge to send these people a card. I am in total sympathy with how Owen's phone calls can leave an individual in the "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!" state. Owen is, after all, president of the WTF State Of Idiocy...*) In fact, they really don’t think they have a damned thing for me to do down there, and only agree to go along with the whole thing if I marry their ugly daughter. I can’t do that!! You and I both know I’m not really the man they think I am at home…oh no no no, I’m a rocket man.” (*A.N#10: *I am phoning Sir Elton John to let him know this song is being used for evil.*)

Confidence #9: (Why hasn't Sir Elton John put him in jail for copyright infringement yet??)
“I’m moving back in with my parents, and going to work at the mill. This will allow me time to get my head out of my asshole, while saving money for my next brilliant scheme. My mother, of course, is only doing this because she feels strongly that if I stay here, I’m going to marry some butt ugly chick so I can work on a farm in Saskatchewan.” (*A.N#11: *Good, cool...fantastic!! He goes home, and he's not here. Life is looking up. I break into a jig to celebrate...*)

Confidence #10: (Why in the hell isn't he gone yet?? I was promised a departure here, God damn it!)
“I’m going to go to South America for a year to backpack around and sleep in tents... I think it will inevitably make me feel much better about myself to be in constant fear of being knifed to death whilst sleeping. Something about that adrenaline man…really does it for me.” (*A.N#12: *I packed his bags last night preflight, zero hours, nine am. My jig is more pronounced and I am pouring champagne out to total strangers on the streets.*)

Confidence #11: (He's still here. I am at the point of screaming and running from the house when the phone rings. My neighbours grow frightened of me...)
“I’m not leaving the city at all. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and have come to the conclusion that going home will only result in my parents realizing my brains are now more crystal than grey matter. (*A.N#13: *Keith Richards is turning green with envy...*) I have convinced my landlord to let me stay, but that’s only because he’s my brother, and Mom said she’d spank him if he didn’t. I am, however, now unemployed. (*A.N#14: *I can't hide my shock...someone hired him!!??*) I’m thinking this isn’t too big a deal though, right?? I mean, this time God’s sure to help me shit out $100.00 bills, right?? He does owe me one after letting me down on the pilot school, after all.” (*A.N#14: *No...God owes ME one. Fuck! Fish Guts!! I wasted all that money on champagne and he isn't fucking leaving??! Great! What was I celebrating then?? Clearly the loss of the last shred of my sanity...*)

Confidence #12: (Just when you think things can't get any worse, the Universe takes a shit down your throat...)
“Good news, I am dating my good friend’s young sister. She is very mature and intelligent…in fact, she’s nearly done her grade nine now, and her friends totally think she is the best player at intramurals. I got a job to help her buy school supplies, and am now training to transport highly flammable gasses." (*A.N#15: *Our Father, thou are in Heaven. Harold be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, As this idiot blows us all from earth up into Heaven...*)

Confidence #13: (My neighbours think I'm beating my daughter because they keep hearing my head banging against the fucking wall...)
“Because I have now been dating this girl for 3 whole days, I know that I am in love. I also know that Cassie feels the same way about me because she gave me a friendship bracelet that she made in art class. I’m still going to South America, of course, but because I am so in love, I think I’m going to take Cassie with me. I’m sure her principal will give her leave…besides, there is nothing that says love quite like putting your girl-friend in fear for her life. Cassie thinks this is a great idea, because all she had planned for this year was, you know, finishing junior high and stuff. Seriously man, she’s so clever and mature. I can’t get over it! Why, just the other day, she told me that she’s pretty sure the world is round!! It's going to be great...and I know it will all work out because, know...I'm the rocket man!! (*A.N#16: *Yea, but Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids, Owen! Fuck, where is Sir Elton John when you need him??! That lawsuit should have gone through by now!!*)

Owen is currently trying to puzzle out why it is I no longer want him around my daughter, or for that matter, myself or my cat. (Especially the he has always wanted to go to South America, and absolutely adores Rocket men.) For my part, I’m drafting a letter to Mr. Browning’s lawyers, advising them to take action and remove Kurt’s face from Owens body before the good people of South America begin questioning why it is the four-time world champion is tenting in their backyards with his child-bride. I’m willing to gather all the evidence they need for conviction…all I ask in return is to be allotted five minutes of quality time in which to hug Mr. Browning's bum. Personally, I think it’s a more than fair trade.

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