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Drunk in Knob Creek... YEAH KNOB CREEK... Get over it!

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#1
Drunk Uncle Reflux: Drowning alone in Knob Creek (That’s right… I said Knob Creek)

you can try to understand but I’m giving up. the synapse fires, it’s in time. I’m giving up
–Thursday-

So you sit, alone wondering what you’re doing with your life. Sometimes you get to that point and you just have to explode. Shit, this is sounding tripe already.
A while ago I made a decision. I packed up my shit and moved. Doesn’t sound too bad does it? Well after three months in Hell, I mean Moorside, I decided it was enough. So I played with the idea of leaving and cruised the internet to find another alternative.
While looking long and hard for work anywhere, and I do mean anywhere, I discovered an add for a job at a high school in Northern Ontario. I stroked the idea for many nights before I making my decision. It was time to quit my job and move back to Canada. That’s right boys and girls, I left Manchester and am now living up north. Who would have thunk it?
So within the time span of about eight days I prepared to leave England for good. I said good bye to my new friends. Believe me it was incredibly difficult to say good bye to my co-workers at the pub, especially after my girlfriend back here broke up with me six days before I was supposed to come home. Shit, what I wouldn’t have done for some of that British loving. I paid of my bills, only to receive more once I got back here. Turns out Wassa skipped out on Butch in the middle of the night and left no money. What a fucking WANKER! Shit, he spent enough time alone in his room. I took one last spin by my shopping paradise. Aphlec’s Palace is the bomb! Got food poisoning. Which I attributed to England’s last big fuck you. Eventually, I boarded my plane and came home.
When I got home everyone was so happy to see me. They all told me how great it was to get away from Moorside. The school really was shit. I spent some time with my friends, saw the rents, told some stories, drank some beers, and went about the process of packing. All the time not fully realizing that hey, I had no place to live yet. Oops!
So I came up to up North looking for a place. I’m telling you this right now, if you think the place you live is a dump try living up here for a bit. Shit, I lived in the getto in England and it was better then where I am now. My local, if you will, is a country bar. Yeah, I’m hanging out at a country bar! It’s good times. You wanna fight about it?
What makes this worse? I don’t really have any friends here yet. So I’m stuck hanging out by myself a lot of the time, sitting in my room, watching movies and drinking Knob Creek. Ah bourbon, you’re my only friend. It’s not like there is a booming night life here. The biggest bar in town is a split level live music/meat market. I hate those fucking places. There is a glimmer of hope though. At least here I’m in a better situation professionally. My worst class is only annoying because they bitch about shit constantly. It’s a nice change from having to worry about getting stabbed. I guess the kids here just haven’t grown to hate me enough yet.
 

PatticusRex

Powdered Toast Man
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I wouldn't expect much fun from Northern Ontario...it's about as much fun as watching the paint peel off the wall...but hey, if your profession is better than it was before. There's one good thing I guess.
 

Oedipus_Rex

owner of the odd complex
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#5
The reason you hate your situation seemingly appears to be because you have class. Your class is good. Keep reaching for that rainbow.