Random Thoughts Bitches: Eskimos, DiCaprio, Lamar Odom, Rob Ford and Diarrhea

Random thoughts as I wonder why haven’t we really discussed in too great a detail, the fact a recent NBA Champion and star of the world’s most recognized reality T.V. show, was found choked-out at a whore-house in Vegas?

I mean, this story is more than just some ‘Shia LaBeouf going the extra mile on a margarita happy hour in Mexico, with a hooker from Quebec, named Stella’. Nar, this news is pretty freaking fucked up.

However I am pretty excited to see how Caitlyn Jenner’s gonna try and top Lamar’s story . Should be a fun ride.

Anyway on to my thoughts for tonight.

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Since moving to Canada in 2013, I’ve frequently noticed how dressing warm during the winter months with layered clothing is a two edged sword.

One shirt, two sweaters, a warm jacket and some cheap H&M scarf ( Brought to you by Chinese child labour laws), can either be your saving grace — like Tom Brady— or it can fuck you in the ass during the (few)actually important moments of your day — like Tony Romo in January.

Seriously though. My first job in Canada was a door-to-door sales job on the outskirts of Toronto. It was my second week here in Canada, during the coldest month, of the coldest winter in the last 20 years.

Naturally being Australian, I wore everything in my suitcase. This helped me survive the mindbogglingly unsuccessful eight-hour door-to-door pitching process in the freezing slum of the arctic, which was actually nearby a small community where all the Polar Bears from Antarctica now live.

Since Antarctica is now warmer than Kelly Clarkson’s vagina, they’ve all moved to the outskirts of Toronto. So it isn’t just Syrian immigrants overwhelming the world, it’s also Polar Bears — Fucking DiCaprio was right.

Anyway these layers are a God Send right up until the point where you need to indulge in the temptation of the mornings bowl movements and drop last nights dinner.

It’s ridiculous. Your rushing to the nearest public restroom ( That doesn't smell of fish — in regards to the polar bears that is, not public lesbian finger banging orgies)making a desperate bid to beat the buzzer.

Once you find your stomping ground, it’s another 5-minute process to remove your jackets, sweaters and jeans. Christ by the time your locked in and ready to go, you’re sweating like Rob Ford on the Kimmel Show.

And then once you’re feeling good about your surroundings and what’s about to take place below your belt, some hot-shot corporate asshole politely knocks on the door to see when you’ll be done.

It’s fucking debilitating.

Now I understand why Africans refuse to wear clothes in the hot sun and why Eskimo’s wear diapers up North.

It all makes sense.

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