I Was In Jor Mom & I Left A Baby

Sometimes amazing things happen and sometimes those amazing things are only more so amazing because suddenly, BAM, I'm a part of that amazing thing and this is one of those times.

Two people came together and started making out with their voices and created this podcast called "Jor Mom" and on the first episode they happened to talk about my greatness and for their third episode they broke the fourth wall and invited me to be on it. And then I made out with them with my voice and it was just a giant voice orgy.

And this voice orgy? It was great. It was tasty.

So here it is, in all it's amazingness.

To celebrate I almost made the most insane version of Jorge, Jorah & myself to visually prepare the listeners for what is about to happen to them.

But of course it had to be edited a bit because some type of people took fault with what was seen. Because it was just so mind blowingly awesome. Looking at it will impregnate your mom. With my child.

And that's how you have me from a fake step-dad. WIN!

The blog that we covered was No Haikus Ever.

And of course, Gun Genie. The best thing ever to come out of Canada.

I Do These Things Because I Love You.

Bowie always wanted to have the body of Fabio.

Hipster Baby is unimpressed with your impressiveness.

The Pilot was always prone to ruining those sweet moments.

Even Jesus knows it's only proper to eat your cake with a fork.

It's Like I'm In A Time Warp. And Then I Dance.

The month of April has been going by at a nearly insane pace and each morning I wake up and go "Where the fuck am I, what day is it, and can I go back to sleep please?" because that's all I have been doing since moving here. Sleeping. Staying up late. And watching My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic because friendship is really magic and fuck you, I watch what I want.

I know what is happening to me is a profound sense of aimlessness and a habit of whimsy that guides my life whenever I don't have work or school or anything to keep my time occupied.

Last time this happened to me I got addicted to watching Maury and my DVR was overloaded with episodes that I had to obsessively watch or else the world would fucking end and no one would know who their baby daddy was. And I just couldn't have that burden on me.

It got to the point that The Pilot would call me up from his work and say "You better not be watching Maury. You promised you'd do laundry and clean and not watch it. Are you watching it right now? Is that Maury's voice that I hear? DO NOT HANG UP ON M-----" and I never caught what he would say because I'd hang up on him because I had so much cleaning to do.

And then finally my three week vacation of just sitting at home ended and I was forced to give up Maury and go back to work and that was the end.

Now, my aimless time of just being a vagrant asshole bum is coming to an end because next Monday I will be starting school and, you know, doing school things.

But it's hard to now suddenly give up this waste of space life I have become accustomed too this last month and I'm going to have to force myself to get into a proper sleeping pattern, and cut out naps, and cut out not doing anything, and start being focused on what I need to do.

But...you know, after this next My Little Pony episode because I fucking need to know if those ponies get their cutie marks.

Online Dating: It's A Mess Out There

The following is a service announcement about what happens when you let your siblings discover funny computer programs that can hideously deform them.

It was only natural that they would make a serious of online dating profiles.

And it was only a given that I'd post it all over the Internet.

This Is Why I Don't Get Emails. Ever.

A few days ago I got this email in my inbox:

"I designed a Dental Degree resource guide for students called some random dental website. I know from personal experience that searching for the right Dental Degree program can be a time consuming task and it is certainly very competitive. That is why I designed my dental resource guide to help students who are interested in becoming a dentist find programs across the country just by visiting one site. As you have a related site, would you mind helping me to connect prospective students with my site by adding it to your resources page of http://www.tristachio.com/2012/03/trust-me-im-not-dead-just-fighting.html? Thank you so much for your time and any effort to add my link to your page! If you prefer to not receive another email about my Dental Degree site, please let me know! 

Best Regards,  

Some random lady :) "

So it was only natural for me to respond like so:

" Hi Some random lady,

As you can probably tell from my blog, I am a Film Student and spend more time fighting off the homeless people from shooting up drugs in my carport than searching for a dental degree.

Perhaps when my schedule clears up and the homeless problem gets cured, I can fit in searching for dental degrees.

Until then, keep your teeth white.

Tristachio. "

And I wonder why no one ever responds back to me.

This Is Happening. Try To Pretend To Act Like You Dislike It.

This Is The Post Where I Talk About The Time I Pooped My Pants.

This is the post where I talk about the time I crapped my pants while viciously vomiting in The Pilot's parents basement while the said parents and The Pilot happen to be having a dinner party upstairs.

Yeah, that statement? I never thought I'd have to write that sentence in my life ever. This is my life, this is what my life is about. Crapping my pants in the basement during a dinner party.

It all started when we had the bright idea of going to The Pilot's parents for a few days because it seemed like the best idea ever after I went to school and paid a shit ton of money and suddenly became instantly poor. You know, because I gave them all my money. And they took it without ever making eye contact and treating me like every other John on the street who's dick they suck for money. But, you know, like the metaphorical dick of money. Because I don't have one. Or, at least, I think I don't have one.

So, between running to the bank and paying the school and packing up our stuff we happened to forgot to eat before we left and that's a big no no in this household because if The Pilot doesn't get three square meals a day that's packed full of meat he starts murdering little baby kittens and turns them into baby kitten angels.

OK, I haven't seen this happen yet but I can assure you that's what he probably does.

Half way to his parents we stop at Tim Horton's for some quick food because we figured it would be better than the other options and also, hello, we're fucking Canadian. Duuuhhhhh.

We eat it, continue our journey, get to his parents, have a great time, spend the night, and don't have sex because it's his parents house and that'd be weird. Also, we didn't bring condoms. Duuuhhhhhh.

The next day we get up and help around the house with some painting and moving things around when mid-day The Pilot starts feeling like crap and is all poopy. And I make fun of him because that's sympathetic to his plight.

And then a few hours later, right before a dinner party his parents arranged with family members, I start to get fucking poopy. Like, this poop? It's not even poop. It's orange water coming out of my ass.

But that's OK! Because I can power the fuck through this and while in the basement trying to get dressed I figure, BATHROOM TIME! And I get up and get to the door and BLAAARRRFFGGGGHHHHH! I vomit all over the brand new carpet that was just installed the day before we got there. And it just keeps coming.

When there is a break between the throw up I rush to the bathroom to finish throwing up only for it not to finish. It just kept coming.

And then I fucking crapped my pants because of the force of the vomiting. 

Yes, I crapped my pants. Like, no just a tiny squirt. Full on crapped. Pants destroyed. Underwear ruined. Dignity shattered.

The best part? Everyone upstairs was having a good time and laughing. It sounded as if they were laughing at me crapping myself. It was the perfect soundtrack to the shame I was feeling at that very moment.

I probably kneeled at that toilet for a good ten minutes crying my ass off because I had just crapped myself in The Pilot's parents house. I never thought I'd have to carry around that dirty secret ever. It's not like when I first came into their home I was secretly thinking "I'm so going to fucking ruin your carpet and shit myself all over the place, just you fucking wait."

But it gets better! Once I've cleaned the bathroom, myself, and changed into The Pilot's pajama pants and stashed my shitty pants outside in a bag, I go to the stairs and ever so quietly call "The Pilot!" up the stairs in hopes my baby whisper would come to his attention.

Thankfully his dad noticed and told The Pilot to come downstairs. And then I burst into tears telling him I shit myself and vomited all over the floor and I need his help cleaning it up. 

The Pilot takes one look at the vomit mess I had made and the fucker throws up twice as worse all over the place in response.

Because he's sick too. And always throws up at the sight of vomit. That part I should have remembered when I was asking for help.

At least he didn't crap his pants too.

The people upstairs? Still laughing.

And the pooping? Didn't stop.

I bet these people are so happy to have me as part of their family.

Yes, I Moved Into A Heroin Den. THANKS FOR ASKING!

Moving is an exciting, beautiful thing! You pack up your stuff and you put it in boxes and then you load into transportation and move it to your new place. It sounds so fucking easy it makes you wonder why people don't do this all the fucking time.

The trip down here was something that magic is made off because it consisted of packing our place into a trailer at the last minute because uHaul decided they were going to fuck us over and tickle our genitals while withholding our reservation from us until the last! possible! minute! Because that's how they roll. They roll like assholes.

And The Pilot was extremely tired and he was the one responsible for driving the truck and trailer across one province and into another so when he sadly said to me, "Babe, you've got to drive some of this trip because I am so tired and I need some sleep." and my first reaction was "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? If I drive we will fucking die." but I saw how tired he was so instead I said, "OKAY!" and totally faked any type of confidence I was supposed to have about driving while pulling a big ass overloaded trailer.

In total, I drove an hour out of a 17 hour trip. The whole time while The Pilot was trying to sleep I kept say "OMG, we are so going to fucking die! We're dead! I'm killing us! Any minute now we are going to fucking die in fire!" until the point he told me to pull over so we can switch because it'd be more relaxingly for him to actually be driving so I would shut up about death and fire.

And then we made it to Edmonton late at night and decided to crash as soon as possible because The Pilot was so beyond tired but I figured "He can't really be that tired, he's still functional, let's make him watch a show that neither of us have watched before but I'm going to demand that he fucking watch it straight from start to finish because I am an asshole with no soul.". True story.

Dude probably didn't get to sleep until midnight.

In the morning we were also criticized by the hotel manager for talking too loudly in the shower.

I couldn't have even made that complaint up if I tried.

And then we drive again for some hours and despite me being a gas gauge Nazi and always demanding we are filled up at the whim of my paranoia, The Pilot ignored me with a hand to the face and drove and drove until we were practically out of gas. So it was only natural for me to get hysterical and proudly declare "I was so fucking right, you should have listened to me and now we are going to be stranded and eventually die of fire and hobo raping!". But lucky for The Pilot, who'd be the first natural target of the hobo raping, we managed to limp into a small rink-dink town just in time.

So it was kind of nice that we didn't die. Or get hobo raped.

After that it was smooth sailing, I think. I slept most of the way. It was a good sleep.

Then I woke up when we were an hour away from Kelowna, our new home, only to be told by The Pilot that I was ruining his life because I was ruining his music choices by not letting him listen to the stupidest shit ever. Phil Collins? FUCK THAT NOISE!

And then we pulled in and found a place to crash that didn't have hot water but a working toilet so that was nice. Then the dog vomited on us as a "Fuck you assholes for ruining my life" sort of deal.

Then we woke up and moved into our place the next day and while we were unpacking we totally saw a junkie shooting up heroin in the car port after fighting off a few other junkies from his score. Then he got chased off by a soccer mom that informed us that there is someone in the building here that supplies the homeless people from the fucking homeless shelter next door with heroin and then supplies the rest of the building with pot.

You know, because we're in BC y'all.

Can you guess who got hysterical after that? Both of us. Because fuck that shit.

And then we visited The Pilot's parents only for them to inform us that the McDonalds' that's behind our building got shut down for being the biggest drug haven in Kelowna and that they were never going to visit us as long as we live in that street and would we like chicken or beef for dinner?

But hey, at least we have ducks out back.

Heroin ducks.

What's Exciting In My Life? I Don't Know. Maybe Heroin?

I finally have the Internet in my place so I can finally, you know, join civilization and keep up with current events that may or may not have anything to do with gossip, and cats flushing toilet videos, and comics. Because that's what I do on the Internet --- WASTE TIME! THANKS FOR STATING THE OBVIOUS!

I think one of the things I should point out about this move is the fact that I may or may not have happened to move into a Heroin den that also has a side business in pot dealing. You know, pretty standard "Welcome to the neighborhood and HOLY SHIT IS THAT PEOPLE SELLING AND SHOOTING UP HEROIN IN THE CAR PORT?" only to be told, "Why yes, yes it is. WHAT ABOUT THIS WEATHER EH?".

And that's totally how the conversation went with the landlord. THE WEATHER HAS BEEN GREAT, though, THANKS FOR ASKING!

Oh, why am I yelling at you? BECAUSE OUR BACKYARD IS FULL OF DUCKS! That just QUACK, QUACK, QUACK all fucking day. You can't hear yourself think or let alone take a shit in the privacy of your own thoughts.

Ever taken a poop while a duck is talking? It's awkward.

Trust Me, I'm Not Dead. Just Fighting Homeless People.

I'm not dead, I swear. I'm just fighting homeless people with my fists and teeth.

I wont have any internet hooked up in our place until Wednesday and trust me, once it's up I've got a dozy of a story to tell.

Also, I apparently live next to a homeless shelter. LIFE FOR THE WIN!