A Rant.

Winter sucks in Toronto. Of this, we can be sure. But on this June day, I have concluded that summer isn’t all rainbows and spanish whores, either. Call me a negative Nancy, but this heat is unacceptable. Even worse is the fact that garbage is acummulating in the city faster than vanessa hutchens PR people work. Where the hell am I (and my 3 other dirt squirrel roommates) supposed to put our garbage? Are we supposed to just drown in empty pork rind bags and beer cans? How can city workers refuse to clean up after us? I understand that the point of a strike is to make a statement, but really when it comes down to it, I’m going to drown in fruit flies in a sweltering apartment and subsequently be eaten by the rat-king I currently co-habitate with.
While I’m at it, I feel like lately every single streetcar is being diverted for reasons unknown. And don’t even get me started on the liquor store strike. How can Allah not allow us to get trashed when the city is covered in trash?!
I can see it now – in about a week, kids will be eaten alive by snakes in tall grass, racoons will take over our garbage filled domiciles and we will literally have to wade through sweaty decomposing organic material in the scorching streets. What an ideal time for a liquor store strike! Luckily I keep a bathtub full of moonshine at all times. I can't help but think - what’s next? Power outage? In which case, I have gee-haw-wimmie-diddles and moonshine for all.
In the meantime, I’ll be distracting myself with Perez Hilton in my inferno of an apartment as I’m forced to endure the ceaseless flames of my disgraceful young adulthood.
FML.