I’ve been betrayed, and I don’t much care for it.

One of my (many, outlandish, weird) dreams is to live in a float home. I can see no downside to living on the water – you’re on the WATER, it’s different, you don’t pay for land, you live on a square boat, you can float away from irritating neighbours, it’s so much cheaper than stupid boring land-locked property – I really, really want to live on a float home. I’ve wanted this for years, and I fully plan on retiring in Victoria, living at Fisherman’s Wharf in my float home with my scooter and my pug and my cats and my computers, feeding the seals and scaring away the seagulls and shaking my broom at nosy tourists who get too close to my awesome float home.

i would wear slightly less purple

Ed is not only standing in my way, he is using DECEPTION and LIES and my FEAR OF POOP against me in an attempt to keep me from being completely awesome.

I’M ON TO YOU, BUDDY.

We did take a cursory look at the float homes in North Vancouver, and asked some questions to the friendly guy sitting on his dock drinking beer. He told us about living on a dock and Ed asked stupid practical questions while I was busy rearranging furniture in my head. We wandered the dock for a bit, then headed back to our scooters where Ed began his Campaign of Lies to make me think that living in a float home is out of the question.

He went on about the moorage fees (in the thousands!) and the kind of people who might live in float homes (unsavory types!) and our inability to block out our neighbours (we’d be trapped!) [this makes no sense] and the hazards of living on a floating platform (rough seas would make things unstable! You would fall out the window!) and worst of all: life with a septic tank.

There’s no indoor plumbing in a float home, so you would have to deal with tanks to hold your nasty business and you would have to manually transport those tanks and empty them yourself and clean them out with a toothbrush and you’d be covered in yuck and it would smell and –

This basically stopped me cold. I don’t WANT to deal with nasty things. I could never live on a float home! I refuse to be wrist-deep in human waste every week!

Josh found an ad for this house, which I’ve already looked at and have been coveting for some time. We talked about float homes (awesome) and the people who are stopping us from living in float homes (Ed and Shan) and I mentioned that it would totally suck to have to deal with the septic tanks on a weekly basis.

Then Josh told me that there are companies that you hire to do that sort of thing for you, and it’s a quarterly thing, and there are no toothbrushes or rubber gloves involved.

WELL.

Ed is a filthy liar! He tried to use my paralyzing fear of poop against me to change my mind about living in a float home! That’s HORRIBLE!

I am going to go out and BUY THIS FLOAT HOME TODAY OUT OF SPITE!

Ed is mean.

not shown: me, living here

how awesome would this be

beware this man: he is mean

I’m a force to be reckoned with – when I’m so frustrated I want to punch babies, I DRAW ANGRY FACES ON THE WHITEBOARD.

Oh yeah.

Bitches better step off ‘fore I bust out the whole damn pack of markers. I be drawin’ angry faces in multiple colours all up in their bidness, punk.

It’s Offensive Tuesday, in which I am offensive many times before 9am. A sample:

Jim says:
got a call for a job interview. Ready to jump this ship I think.
so yknow, pray and whatnot.
Kimli says:
you know me and jesus
we’re like this: 8=====D~~~~~ ( . Y . )

Yeah. Ascii dicks and blasphemy go really well with my slab of breakfast sausage.

OH I think I’ve just found a new title for my autobiography! Ascii Dicks and Blasphemy: The Story of Kimli

You’d read that, wouldn’t you?

I’m rambling to myself (and therefore the entire internet) because I do not want to get started on my enormous pile of work. Yesterday was a craptastic shit storm of a day, and today is forecasted to be about the same. There were heated emotions and the aforementioned whiteboard graffiti. DOOM!

Well, time to send out an email that will undoubtedly be ill-received.