2001-05-13 || 5:14 p.m.

Hello, Sunday, Happy maman's day and all that...

Well, I spent most of the show giggling into my headset backstage. The actor who plays Sir Marmaduke is an insufferable lush, and he was already three sheets to the wind at 3.0pm. When he gets drunk, he can start to sing somewhat flat, so we were a bit worried. D and I found his 'stash' and I snuck it into the bathroom to dilute it with water-- bottled, of course, as I didn't want to poison the poor bugger (Hey, I don't want to be an alarmist, but with every small town in Canada coming up with unsafe water crises...), then hid it. So, his part came up, and he stepped out onto the stage without his hat on. I saw the hat on the floor, and ran over to get it. Lo and behold, there was yet another bottle of booze under there! We diluted that one too. It felt like a scene out of 'All Noises Off' or something.

**********

How dare you? Where did you get the right? What was so bad that you had to do it? From whence do you get your hatred? Did it make you feel powerful to feel the bat crack against her skull over and over again? You utter dog, I know I'll never know your name because of the Youth Protection Act. I know that you'll never serve enough time. I know what the punishment *should* be, and that you'll never suffer enough to erase 10 blows with a baseball bat and a sandpit spattered with blood.

Yes, she was an immigrant. Does that legitimise her dying alone in the bush, terrified and bleeding?

The answer, you hateful degenerate, is no.

She was fifteen fucking years old.



||Gods save the Queen,
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older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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