Locked in the trunk of my car, again.

A blog about life, love and the smell that used to come from the trunk of my car, before it was stolen.

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Location: Montreal, Qc., Canada

28, single, comic book geek, that's me in a nut shell.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

My father thinks i'm 8.

I woke up this morning pretty early (9ish) and realized that everyone upstairs were already out and about. I gave my dad a call to see where he was at and when they'd be coming home. He tells me they're out shopping and that they'd just dropped off some gifts and had to go into town to get more. He then proceeded to warn me that i'm not allowed in their bedroom, and that i shouldn't go snooping upstairs. I am 26 years old people. If he wants to keep me out, he's gonna have to get goddamn pad lock. Besides, i checked all those bags and i saw nothing, nothing that was on my list.

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Free Hit Counter 'You will travel far, my little Kal-El. But we will never leave you... even in the face of our deaths... the richness of our lives shall be yours. All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel... all this, and more, I bequeath you, my son. You will carry me inside you all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own, and see my life through your own eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father, and the father the son.' -- Jor-el