advent calendar

Last night, after consuming copious amounts of beer (the foulest beverage consumed on a regular basis, despite it's foulness), we walked home in the rain. She listened patiently as a I ranted on guerilla filmmaking, orgasms, terrorism, and Stephen Harper. There's something about being drunk, and caught up in your own imagined intellect; you just don't notice that it's three in the morning, five degrees, and raining. I'm beginning to understand why people think I'm crazy.

At least they forgive me.



(On a side note, make sure you never tell your co-workers embarrassing stories from your childhood; like that time you performed a Wiccan love ritual for David Duchovny -- you'll never live it down)