Tuesday, 9 February 2016


This blog is about scars. Please note I mean PHYSICAL scars, not emotional ones. There are not enough pages on the internet to discuss emotional scars, so don’t worry. I’m not ready for that can of worms.

There’s a saying that physical scars are a testament to our lives, a road map of our past. Scars are reminders of where we’ve been and things we can reflect on when thinking about the past. Scars make us stronger, they show what we’ve lived through, what we’ve healed from, what our bodies are capable of.

This got me thinking about all of MY scars, about my past, my history, where I’ve been, what I’ve lived through and decided to make a map of my life. Please note these are only the scars I can see right now…

So basically I’ve lived a life of stupid choices and klutzy ways.
It’s pretty fucking impressive I’m not dead yet. So MY scars are testaments to the fact that I am indestructible and that I clearly don’t think most things through.

Friday, 5 February 2016

The Worst Job I Ever Had

So before we go into the actual job, I do need to explain a few things.

1)  Butt crack sweat is real – sorry, Neil. It’s a real thing, and both guys get it and girls get it. In my opinion, girls get it way worse. Why? Well let me explain via pictures:

You see, men get the rolling back sweat collecting in their hairy ass cracks, usually the hair absorbs the sweat and helps reduce the accumulation at the base of their butts. Women generally do not have the ass hair there to absorb the sweat, so the sweat rolls on down between the cheeks, and collects in the bottom of their panties. It’s like a large pool of ass sweat that sludges along into the panties, and if you’re working out, it’s super disgusting.

2) Funky crotch sweat is also real. I will spare you the pictures.

Again, sorry Neil. Your next girlfriend will have both these problems on a regular basis. Especially during the summer. They are the facts of life.

Let’s move on. When I was 18, my first job was at Value Village. Well, that’s partially a lie. I worked at Victoria Epicure for 2 days during my spring break when I was 17, but it didn’t work out. My first full time job that lasted more than 48 hours was at Value Village.

That’s right. I worked at the amazing world where you can purchase used items at (usually) deeply discounted prices. And I got to wear a flashy red vest. This job included the awesome tasks of:

1)  Carefully shaking out clothes in the change rooms before picking them up because there could be used needles in them (because junkies wanted to shoot up while trying on clothes… I don’t know why, seems like more effort than it was worth):

2) Cleaning the bathrooms where random people came to come in and shit everywhere and left:

And finally…

3) Searching the girls clothes for pants that smelled terrible

Seriously. #3 was a thing. I don’t know if their policies have changed, but back in 2001, when clothes were donated to Value Village, they were put on the floor pretty much in the condition they were donated in. They were not washed in any way, shape or form. And some dicksacks would donate their clothes unwashed. And some of those people would wear the clothes without underwear, and THEN donate them.

Yup. They would donate clothes that have full on absorbed both butt crack sweat as well as funky crotch sweat and have remained unwashed for God knows HOW LONG before they made it on the floor. And some of these people had yeast infections when wearing the pants without underwear and not washing them before donating them.

Not everyone has experienced the joy of being around yeast infections. I haven’t had them personally (THANK FUCKING GOD) but I’ve been around some people that have had them, and it is not pleasant when they go commando. I can’t even describe the smell, but holy balls. Mixed with the regular butt sweat and the occasional funky crotch sweat, that was the combo for disaster. Please note I’m assuming that this was the cause of what was going on in those pants, because otherwise, there are some reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally funky crotches out there.

So whenever anyone complained that an article of clothing smelled terrible, the VV staff would have to go through the racks of clothes (almost always pants), trying to locate the offending item. You could usually tell you were getting close because they generally had a pretty strong odour.

The worst part was that all the fucking time sometimes there was more than ONE pair of funky jeans, I generally found 3-7 pairs. And they almost always had white, green, grey or yellow dried chunks of goo on the inside of the crotch.

Yes. The worst job I ever had was:

Searching for pants with dried out yeasty crotch jelly.

For minimum wage.