Monday, December 03, 2007


Yup. Something like that.

Some days you wake up. And then you realize you're still a technobo.
The massive bowel pains from god knows what that you ate the previous night are there as a simple confirmation of the fact.

But wait, there's a silver lining in this cloud. Or a warm underbelly in the mold. However you want to think of it... it's still there.

You are prepared for the shitslide.
When the shithawk flies down to pluck you off of the shitrope, you're ready.
Ready to cross whatever lines need to be crossed. Except the supermarket lines.
Scary things when people fight for fresh food. Where we come from, people fight for week old leftovers. To the death, even.

And, in case you were wondering, shopping carts aren't nearly as waterproof as you may think.
Neither is cardboard.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Brownie adventure delight (last night)

Story submitted by a fellow Technobo. The way he thinks and writes makes me laugh my ass off. ( names changed to protect the innocent )
*Warning - Explicit Language*

Yeah… So I ate 2 special brownies and went on about cleaning the house, doing laundry & vacuuming while listening to some music. I began to feel very aware of a strange feeling in my guttywots. I couldn't place it and want sure if it was a bad feeling or not. After a while longer, I realized what it was. Extreme hunger. I was so incredibly hungry it was almost making me sick. I went though the food I have around the house and discovered I have nothing, which even remotely resembled snack type food. I really didn't feel like making anything. Right then and there it was decided I would drive into town in search of some heavily salted chips. I was wearing an old pair of shorts and no shirt because I was just bumming around the house so the first order of business was to get some cloths on.

I grabbed a pair of track pants out of the dryer and a t-shirt and threw them on, put on my jacket and got in the car. Within the first 30 seconds of setting out on my quest for chips I began to notice a repetitive type sound as my little truck drove down the road. I sped up and slowed down and the sound changed. It had something to do with my wheels. I though to myself: "You've never noticed that sound before, your just stoned and over analyzing something that's not all that serious". I tried to forget about this faint, repetitive sound and popped in a CD. Listening to radio head I could still faintly hear this repetitive noise. I turned up the music and I could still hear the noise. I was about ¾ the way to town… This is when the paranoia set in…

I started to notice a shimmy in the steering wheel. I have never noticed this before so I kept telling myself: "There are no serious problems here, you have never noticed these things before. If they are happening now, they have been happening for a long, long time and obviously aren't serious. You're just really fucking stoned and thinking too much".

I tried to ignore the shimmy in the steering wheel and the noise but they weren't going away and appeared to be getting worse. I pulled over by the road to York and got out, looked at all 4 of my wheels gave my front tires a bit of a kick and checked all my wheel nuts. Everything is fine (Big surprise). I got back into the car and started off again, the sound and shimmy resumed. I pulled off the road again and into the parking lot at Mel's. I then somehow got the idea that one or all of my tires where perhaps out of round somehow. I slowly pulled out of the parking lot and drove along the shoulder for a min or 2 trying to see if I could feel the out of roundness of the wheels if I went slow and somehow pinpoint what wheel was causing the issues, no luck. I got out again and looked at my wheels and checked the tire treads with a flashlight to see if they where separating or something. I then realized that I am really fucking stoned and by the side of the road checking to see if my wheels are still round… That's going to sound perfectly reasonable being explained to a cop asking what I am doing.

I got back into my car and drove to the superstore. I got 3 bags of regular chips and went to the checkout. There was this mutant working the cash. I suddenly realized after she began ringing in my chips that I had forgot my debit card at home on the computer keyboard… I said "ahh cunt" out loud then realized I said it then said "shit" for saying cunt out loud when I meant to just think it. The mutant looked at me with the stink eye.

I began digging though my wallet and started counting out the massive amount of change I had in the change compartment. I was way too fucking stoned to count properly and it too me several tries and 2 instance of forgetting what I was doing while doing it to get this mutant enough quarters and loonies to pay for my shit. At the end I was .10 cents short. I even dropped a fucking dime and it rolled under the food belt thing. She wouldn't fucking help me out. 10 fucking cents. She took one of the bags of chips off my total and I had to recalculate what it too me so much time to calculate in the beginning. I handed her the fist full of change I had counted out and she fucking counts it again. I went to grab a bag for my shit and there aren't any fucking bags. I ask the mutant "any bags?" and she looks at me and says something like "mur murph nrah fo nortdah!" then pointed at the bag holder. I looked down where I aware to fucking god there where no bags 3 seconds earlier and there are so many bags there…I bagged my chips and started on the way out.

I passed the post office and this guy I work with, Brodie. His girlfriend is working there. I think she said "Hi Norgab!" but it sounded more like "Stor mo mah foran!" I smiled this ultra fake, fucked up looking grin and said something that didn't make any fucking sense at all about her boyfriend while continuing out.

I started the ride home and hit every single fucking red light. Meanwhile there was this random van behind me that wouldn't stop fucking following me. I got about half way home and it was still behind me. I turned down some random road to loose them (because they where making me paranoid), turn around then get back on the road. I am on the main road no more then 10 seconds and a fucking cop comes up behind me. I put the cruise control on so I won't fluctuate speed too much like a typical stoned driver. The fucking cop follows me about 95% of the way home then turns around and drives off in the other directions with his lights on.

Once I got back to my house I realize the track pants I had tossed on were on inside out with the pockets flapping like wings which I never fucking noticed the whole time (carried my wallet on my hand) and my jacket was inside out. I looked like a fucking member of Criss Cross. Fuck sakes. This was about 4 hours ago. I have gone though my 2 bags of chips and enjoyed them immensely. Now I am looking forward to the inevitable explosive diarrhea which always occurs after eating too many lays potato chips.

Thursday, July 26, 2007


I have now provided the world with proof that SPAM simply doesn't go bad... if it was ever good at all...

Over 10 years ago, I picked up a can of SPAM as a gag gift ( what can I say... it was at the advent of the internet, and you actually couldn't buy it on PEI... it made sense at the time... )
So, over the following years, the can of SPAM became a momento... and was eventually tucked away into a box ( which followed me through multiple moves, through multiple provinces )

When cleaning out my storage unit, I recently re-discovered said can of SPAM, which I decided to use in a cruel experiment. ( Myself and Fiend being the test victims... ) The experiment being, was SPAM still good after 10 years ( and yes, I have eaten a "fresh" can before... and I don't believe SPAM would ever qualify as being "good" in the first place, as my friends Patrick and Ashley can definitely attest...the Sodium Content is almost high enough to give you a heart attack )

Here's a little pictography to help you out on your journey...

Look at the beautiful picture... but what kind of GD loaf of meat looks like that?

Fully Cooked? But what the hell is it? Mostly salt / sodium and some form or deboned ( or deformed? ) meat products.

Kind of reminds me of dog food. Or maybe just dog yak?

Notice the light gelatinous coating. Yeah, this shit slides down. In so many ways, it's impossible to describe.

And now the preparation for the SPAMBURGER HAMBURGER!!!!!!!!

Deboned meat husks roasting slowly on an open fire. What is wrong with this picture.

So now you know. The salt content of SPAM is high enough that it will outlast even the cockroaches... how much fun is that? And also, no obvious ill effects except some stomach rumbles from attempting to digest that amount of salt in one sitting... *barfs*

Thursday, June 14, 2007

And the word of the day is...


*So yeah, this isn't anywhere near right. But I don't really care.

Monday, June 04, 2007

Food Bank Excursions

Ahhh, another month, another trip to the glorious food bank.
Lining up with other technobos and even a few plain old hobos.
Other people as down on their luck as you are... but look at the
tasty treats you can get there.

Yummy. Golden corn? In case you can't make out the details, most of the writing on the can is in Chinese. And it has a shelf life of 2 years. What kind of canned good has an expiry date anyways? This is when I should have known better.

Opening the can was an even worse mistake. Proabably a good thing that this picture is a little blurry. As Fiend can attest, it both looked and smelled something like dog food. I would think that dog food would be preferred over this, but there was none at hand.

Such a nice little happy face... you might assume that this was actually something that would make you happy. Yeah right... still looking like dog food here. It was a fight to get it out of the can. I should have let the can win. It wasn't worth the fight.

And here, voila... the end result... dog yak in a pot. How appetizing. Kind of makes me wish I owned a dog to see if an animal would be smart enough to avoid it. I wouldn't blame them if they did. Smart doggie.

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Extending Our Helping Hands to Digg!

So yeah, thought I'd post this to help out all the boys at Digg.

09 F9 11 02 9D 74 E3 5B D8 41 56 C5 63 56 88 C0

Just doing my little part in the war against DRM. The processing key for HD-DVD disks. :-D

Have a good one folks.

For your amusement... I wouldn't want to leave anyone hanging... check out these fun comics.

I Should Have Stayed in Bed Because

Friday, April 27, 2007

Dumpster Diving Fury!!!

So yeah.
There are some common rules of etiquette when you go dumpster diving with a fellow Technobo.
These should always be followed, or you may find yourself cast out of that elite league of Technobos ( a very bad idea in any situation, Technobos can be a very creepy bunch if irritated. Be forewarned. )

1 ) No pushing. I know that everyone wants to get to the goodies at the bottom as quick as possible... but if you work together, it's so much easier if you work together. 2 heads are better than one and all that.

2 ) Share the profits. No matter what you find, you always have to split the winnings. If not, you may find yourself blacklisted. Or locked in said dumpster waiting for a sanitation truck that may arrive before you expire. Hopefully.

3 ) Watch out! You never know when fellow Technobos ( or even regular business grade hobos.... shudder ) might appear to steal your winnings. Or the police. Cover your asses.

Sketchy at the best of times, dumpster diving is a forgotten art. Follow these 3 rules, and you just might survive. Forget one, and we'll show up to steal your hard earned winnings.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Hobo Glyphs?

Hey folks... ran across this today, and I laughed my ass off.

Hobo Glyphs

Here's my favorite one...

Have a great day folks... have a great day.

Thursday, February 22, 2007


...and now?.... an anonymous email from a fellow Technobo, about the quality of health care we all share.

"I got up this morning and decided I better go to the fucking DR because otherwise I am either going to die or never go back to work. Last night I drove home via the waterfront because I needed to make a stop and noticed that that "friendly pharmacy" there is a "walk in clinic 9 - 6".

At about 3AM shivering in bed again and not getting any sleep while wearing my winter coat and hat under the blankets, I decided I better go into there before work. I showed up at the "friendly pharmacy" at 7am thinking I would be smart, take a number then leave and come back later when it opened or something. When I got there at 7, I noticed the parking lot was full and I had to push in front of some people to get in before them and managed to get the LAST number. The people I pushed infront of where 2 parents with a sick new born, no fuckin way where they getting that number. The looked at me as if they expected me to give them my number because I am nice. I'm not fucking nice and hate people. Fuck them. Too fuckin bad hahahaha they should have thought of that before they reproduced and slept in. They just glared at me and left. "yeah I didn't fucking think so, fucking reproducing cancerous maggots" I thought to myself.

So there I waited, last in line at 7 fucking AM and the clinic doesn't even open until 9. There was a sign saying not to leave once you have your number because you could be called at any time and the numbers don't necessarily get called in order. I was fucking stuck in a pond of bloody infection and biological human waste. The "walk in clinic" idea is rather false advertising. Its more of a walk in, stand around for a few hours and get coughed on by people who themselves should be considered biological waste. There where about 60 people in this little clinic area next to the pharmacy. I can't figure out why BOTH parents have to accompany their one chid who is sick and takeup all the chairs with their useless sweaty carcasses. Why is it necessary for the extra body to come? Isn't that stuff usually the mother's problem?

I was #30 (last number, they are full). I counted 20 chairs... Sick infectious people where sprawled out all over the chairs which where there. There isn't really a waiting room, more of an alcove. The 20 chairs where where there lined up outside in the hallway with a few in front of the windows where some 116 year old bag was going to start booking people in. Needless to say, There was not a chair for me. I stood for a while. After about an hour and a half my legs got tired and part of what's wrong with me is all my joints are sore. I ended up sitting on the cold tile floor in the alcove for the duration. There where no clocks anywhere. There was a thermostat on the wall and it was 15C in that place where we where all waiting.

Around 8:45 the DR and the old bag showed up for work, unlocked and started booking people. The bag booked me, gave me a hard time about my expired health card, then told me "it will take as long as it takes" when I asked her how long she thought the wait would be. I
called her "Cunt Skelatore" but I think I said it out loud.

The whole time I sat on the floor, there where parents with kids all around me all coughing on each other and wiping snot and feces on things. There was this one "family" in particular who felt it necessary to being everyone who is related to the clinic because their defective, mediocre children are sick. I counted a mum, dad and another guy. Prob the dad's boyfriend or the pool boy. Both their girls (looked like twins) where sick as fuck. They where both perhaps
1.5 years old. They where snotty red faced and the entire fucking time the 2 of them screamed at the top of their lungs for no apparent reason, not crying, screaming. If I where the parents, rather then going to the walk in clinic I would have put those smelly, screaming kids in a garbage bag and run the family minivan's exhaust into it until they stopped making noise then put some rocks in the bag and tossed it off the harbor bridge. A late term abortion with no shop vac or untwisted coat hanger needed. They had the number before me so the entire fucking time I was there I had to listen to these fucking mutant kids scream. What I found funny was everyone in the place, including the parents found a way to ignore their fucking noise. I started thinking about what I wanted to do to those fucking kids. I wanted to stand up and yell "CAN YOU NOT FUCKING HEAR THIS!? FUUUUCK!" then violently shake both the babies. I also though about covering their mouth and noses with my hand and yelling SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!! AHHH! Then I started thinking about what
everyone would do if I just got up and walked though the plate glass window.

I froze on the floor in that alcove for about 4.5 hours staring and scowling at all the fucking scum that was sharing the room with me. When they called me I went into the office and waited some more on my own now in the dr's room. I laid on the Dr's exam table staring up at
the florissant lights. I didn't even have the energy to root though the drawers looking for stuff I can steal like usual in hospital situations. Its like a hotel, they expect you to take stuff.

When the doctor came in he asked "what bring you in here today". I said "I got up this morning, and found couldn't fit an automatic pistol in my mouth so I decided I better come in and get some meds rather then risk non orally blowing my brains out". He was amused, seems he has the same sort of sicko humor I do. He saw me for about 30 seconds and have me a prescription for lots and lots of pills then sent me seaworthy. It was 12:30 by the time I got out of there. 5.5 hours of sheer misery and depravation.

I now I remember why I haven't gone to any sort of clinic in about 5 years besides the occasional emergency room visits when had some drunken home improvement and industrial accidents at home with power tools a few years ago. I would rather eat a lead salad from a shot gun then go back to that fucking mucus soaked shit hole. It is hardly a "friendly pharmacy" or "walk in clinic" at all. 280.00 of billed expenses to my medical plan at work later I have several bottles of green, yellow and white pills and some green flavored perception mouth wash that looks like something a drunken fucking indian would sit on the curb of dorchester street drinking so he can go on a spirit quest and see all his dead relatives before ending up floating face down in the river because he fell off the shore, No big loss, he is better off.

Now I am at work and have a crap load of stuff to get accomplished today. Hopefully my afternoon will be better then my morning."

Sunday, February 18, 2007


500 Internal Server Error
Sorry, something went wrong.
A team of highly trained monkeys has been dispatched to deal with this situation. Please report this incident to customer service.
Also, please include the following information in your error report:

*Now that's a good one*

Sunday, February 11, 2007


It was a HoboFreakinTastic day for Fiend and myself this past Friday.
Payday has come and gone, too damn quick if you ask me... but we both found ourselves with working sets of wheels.
As a tribute, here's some interesting things to ponder...

Following that bit of humor... here's another fun little pic.

Havce yourselves a great old day. I know I will... at least once I find that garden hose I stashed away for just this eventuality.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Wednesday, January 24, 2007