Fifty Shades of Drinking: Chapter 3

My liver is crying.

This got posted a few days ago but I haven’t had a chance to update the blog. (Also, longtime readers may notice a change here. It was time.)

It’s almost half an hour long this time. I don’t honestly know how I’m going to keep these videos much shorter. There is so much drinking ground to cover.

Anyway, enjoy.

Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick (but only marginally)

Early morning Coquitlam, B.C. skyline
This is Coquitlam. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My passport was found! My Uncle Neil found it in a collage box in the East Den (ie, the apartment in Coquitlam — my house is the West Den, and mom’s house is the North/Main Den — we name the houses in a way that makes sense to the wolf-dog okay). How it ended up there I can only surmise was my narcotics-and-concussion-addled brain going “OH THIS IS A SAFE PLACE FOR PASSPORTS THAT I’LL NEVER EVER FORGET” and urging me to put it there, where I promptly forgot it.

As it was found later in the afternoon on Wednesday, there came the dilemma of how to get it to me: the caravan is leaving at 6am on Thursday (about an hour from the time I’m writing this post), and the only way for me to get over to Coquitlam and back would make me late, meaning I would need to be driven by someone else. Gods know who.

Enter Boyfriend (Here he comes to SAVE the DAY traladatraladatralada)! He goes to East Den and picks up passport and then drives to ferry, catches passenger ferry, spends three hours showing me funny youtube videos Checkpoint/Zero Punctuation! episodes I’ve missed/doing his KoL turns, and then I take him to the ferry and he goes home.

I choose to share a conversation that occurred between us on the way to the ferry.

Me: Thank you so much for doing this. I really seriously appreciate it.

Him: It was a ridiculous clusterfuck.

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