What is up with Hamilton? Legions of drunk white people staggering around the streets, an obscenely high bro per square foot ratio…it was all I could do to keep the wheel straight and not swerve off in some zombie killing fantasy trip. I suspect this is happening in Kingston as well, and maybe Guelph – if that was in fact a real location, which I still don’t believe it is. It just all sounds so made up. I would think Waterloo too, but everyone knows for a fact that all they do there is play fan modded versions of Diablo II and no one ever goes outside. It was ridiculousness – every other Hamilton street corner was home to half a dozen white girls in club attire waiting for random strangers either to drop them off at a club or strangle them in some empty parking lot in the industrial core of the city.

Never would I have expected to see that many white university students. The University of Toronto had taught me otherwise.

I drove my brother into Hamilton last night and I stayed for a bit to check out the campus. It’s weird…McMaster University actually kinda…like feels like a school. A weird contrast to UofT, which I would say matches up the closer with an Anal Rape Factory than a school.

And for at least like half an hour, by being in the possession of an automotive vehicle, I automatically jumped to within the top 95th percentile of cool people there. If you have a car in Toronto, that’s just one more way for the school to gauge you for money – in the form of ridiculous student council backed parking fees and Nazi-like parking ticket patrols. But if you had a car while you attended school in Whiteville, Ontario, you would be like a minor demigod. Of course, Hamilton’s public transit kicks the absolute shit out of Toronto’s (much like every other public transit system in every other city in the entire goddamn world) so it doesn’t even matter that much in the end.

After I dropped him off, I was tempted to cruise around for a while by myself and try to pick up some of those hood rats. I’m almost positive that my sensually fuel efficient car would have compensated for my genital shortcomings.

But then I realized that my hooker killing days are over, and I had a testing variance meeting in eight hours, 130 kilometres away that I should probably check out.

And also because I apparently already have a girlfriend, and killing random Hamilton hookers after sex GTA3-style while in a committed relationship is generally frowned upon by society. But I’m almost positive that she would have understood, if not already gone that road herself. So I drove home.

And then halfway there, I pulled over, did five lines of cocaine off my dashboard, drove back, and did it anyway. And now twenty six McMaster art majors and half of the men’s lacrosse team has AIDS. And possibly everyone that attended that status meeting the next morning – I’m not sure.

One more tip!

Never listen to anything from the Garden State soundtrack or anything by Dido or Rilo Kiley during long drives home at night. It’s just one of those bad ideas that gets progressively worse and worse the more you do it. Just like going on Hamilton hooker killing sprees.

…aaand full circle.

YouTube!

“What’s the dog’s name?”
“Max.”
“Hey what’s wrong with Wolfie? I can hear him barking. Is he all right?”
“Wolfie’s fine, honey. Wolfie’s just fine. Where are you?”
…
“Your foster parents are dead.”