EMMMMM I-S-S-I-S-S-A-U-G-EEEEEHHHHH

It was Sean's birthday last weekend, so a pile of us went to Mississauga for the evening to celebrate. Things went pretty much the same as last year: I spent the 5 hours it takes to get there from Waterloo (by stupid, stupid bus of course), got horribly lost, then we went to a bar without enough younge people and Sean and I sang karaoke gayly to each other. The song was "Don't want to miss a thing" by Aerosmith. Sean sang it pretty well I guess, because some creepy old lady came up and hit on him afterwards, while I bolted for my seat in shame. I sang well enough to peel paint, but that's Stephen Tyler for ya.

The Birfday boy had his fill in record time. He was at a drama thing, so we didn't actually get to the bar until after midnight with very little predrink. But Sean's buddies were all there ready to buy him shots. In a little over an hour the man was throwing in the bathroom. We left his house at 12:15, put him back in his bed at 2:30, and he only recalls part of that time. He lost a whole half hour there. I just thought that was funny.

Get to my house

here's mapquest

my address is 256 Phillip street, which is a townhouse complex, I live in unit #60.

Mr. Shabby's last ride

Well, for the time being at least...

I arrived home in Aurora this weekend just past to discover a friendly letter from the MTO letting me know that my licence to drive is suspended as of February. I say "friendly" because I thought it was suspended as of Boxing Day. I know enough epileptic people to know that they try not to let people who have seizures drive.

Yeah, that includes me. No drivey for Darren for at least a year, oh well, I never liked it anyway.

But back to my story: after having spent lamenting the loss of all that convenience and freedom and whatnot, I find this new lease on driving. Naturally I took a drive.

Where did I go? Dave's house. We watched some Office I think, then I felt sick and got him to drive me home.

That was all the driving I did all weekend. See, doctors a) gave me the wrong medication, then b) gave me too much of the right meds leaving me in pretty rough shape.

The side-effects listed on medication shouldn't be a checklist. I can remember scanning the piece of paper that accompanies the pill bottle. Nausea? Yup, definitely threw up in the lobby of the neurology place in TO... Drowsieness? Went to bed at 9 and slept till 1 PM the next day... Looking like hell? Fuck, every single person I talk to seems to think so. I should start smoking lots of pot or something, I could probably pull it off... Hatred of this painful existance? Just kidding, actually the shit's finally starting to wear off and I'm finally regaining my exuberance. I actually feel like eating something for the first time in a week! Yipee!

With any shit is normalizing and I won't have to talk about it any more. I would much prefer to bitch about other stuff like conservation or controversy, or something.