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So it’s NYE of 2003. I am sitting around in my crummy studio at the corner of Sauriol and Lajeunesse, listening to the ” So Long & Thanks for All the Shoes” album by NOFX. I’m bopping my head to my favorite “Falling in Love” and living the dream of a rockstar just for a moment in my head while I get up and sing along to “Bob”. I am imagining that I am on a stage in front of thousands, millions of fans. So good, I need a cigarette…
Ugh. A cigarette. Ok. A cigarette? Ugh. Here we go… I pick up the cigarette butts I collected earlier that afternoon from the heater where I had set them up to dry. One by one, I crunch and squeeze the tabocco out of them. Once I’ve extracted enought tobacco from these poor nicotine hand-me-downs, I roll it. Ugh. Roll it. Ok. Roll it? Ugh. Here we go… I grab some news paper (they hand the gazette free once in a while) and my glue stick. Cut out a “rolling paper sized” square, fold it, drop my tobacco, roll it and glue it. TA DA!
The phone rings. Wow! that’s a suprise! Everyday, when the phone rings it’s like a little gift from life that it hasn’t been cut yet. (Which will later end up as an unpaid bill to Bell, not so much of a gift, but hey) It’s Celine. Let’s party. What can we afford? Nothing. We could always go to Biftek and hope someone buys us drinks. It’s NYE. Let’s make it special. Let’s go bowling.
“C: How much do we need to go bowling?
S: Hmmm… I think it’s 3$ each for the shoes, and then maybe 2$/game?
C: Ok, I’ve got 5$. That’ll cover my shoes and a game. what you got?
S: 2$. But I should use that for food… I have a 12 pack of empties here. We could bring them back and get 1.20$!
C: Ok. Let’s do that. Go to the corner store. I’m on my way.”
30 minutes later…
Celine walks into my apartment (if we can call it that) and is greeted by my classy self folded in half over the balcony showing off the daily contents of my stomach. She can tell that the horrible stench in my place might have something to do with why I’m hurling, but has no idea where it’s coming from. I explain to her that the corner store guy didn’t want to take my bottles because they had rotten (did I say rotten, I meant “was walking around in my bottles” rotten) lime in them. So in order for him to take them, we need to extract the lime from them. One by one, with a knife. I remember wishing I had a fondue pic. Not 1.20$ so that I wouldn’t have to perform this nasty operation. No. A fondue pic. Because that’s more feasible.
So NYE ended with Celine and I having finished our one game of bowling way to fast and getting kicked out of the bowling alley at around 10:00pm for loitering because we weren’t playing or drinking. And I thought to myself:
“You’re smoking newspaper, you’re throwing your guts out to afford one fucking game of bowling. That’s how you’re starting 2004. You’re in deep shit.”
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