I shaved the beard and grew a nasty handlebar mustache for the Kelowna Cruiser Rides “Full Moon Ride” this week. The theme was so appropriately called “The Mustache Ride”. Hardy, harr, har! It was an amazing time! This however, has nothing to do with this random posting of Jay Yeo bullshit. But continue…

3:30 AM is a tuna sandwich. A toaster looks pretty cool in the dark. I ran back to my room and sourced my camera. The toaster popped before I could catch a snap. I contemplate making another batch of toast in the spirits of amateur photography. No dice, out of bread.

3:35 AM is an empty white flaked tuna tin that smells like a dirty vagina. That’s totally gross, but smells attest to memory. Sorry ladies, but take comfort in the fact that sweaty balls are no picnic either. Hopefully square is square.

3:37 AM is a hot apartment orchestrating insomnia and hunger. Hunger which I can attest is due to sheer boredom and a slight rumbling of the tummy that I often mistake indigestion for hunger. It’s weird, and that might make no sense, but honestly, that slight vibration induces a weird amount of feasting. Of course the end result is a belly full of even more food and a verified hypothesis that yes, it was indigestion fool. However, I think this tuna craving comes from some thoughts I was playing with earlier in the evening. If I eat a shit load of tuna will I go mad from mercury poisoning like the mad hatter? Possible? The eventuality is that my eccentricity is going to get worse with age so why not just fast track that process and perhaps reap some immediate benefits? Then again, that no large quantities of tuna stigma I think only applies to prego ladies. My ovaries evaporated a long time ago.

4:00 AM is an oddity. I think about taking a drive down Lawrence Avenue to see how the hookers are. The downtown Safeway is open until midnight which is when I do most of my grocery shopping. It’s quiet, quick and efficient. No retarded inconsiderate people hogging aisles with carts and gigantic bums. Yeah that deli lady gets a bit ticked at me cause she can’t clean the machine as I order 300 grams of turkey breast and honey ham. I like it and will stay up late t o head on over there for some 11:30 PM shopping. When leaving I take a drive down slut street just to see what’s lurking. I’ll admit I have some kind of sick fascination with the sex trade. Just more or less the stories behind the girls. Why do you sell your body and do god knows what? Is it ever like a “Dear Penthouse” story? Why do you dress so fucking trashy? Are those track pants purely for easy access or do you marvel at the fashion Ricky from Trailer Park Boys sports? You’re certainly not the cliche Hollywood hooker? Suddenly hooker boots are stripper boots, and heck, they aren’t even stripper boots if you’ve ever seen one. So girls, well, I guess you’re just wearing high slutty boots. That’s cool, I still like them. Back to hookers, yes, most of them are likely where they are due to addiction.

Downtown Kelowna is ripe with meth heads and a variety of other abusers. A lot of them suffer from mental illness and due to their financial standing cannot afford adequate medications, so they opt for the cheaper alternative; crack. Don’t laugh at that last statement, its a harsh reality in many communities. If you’re depressed and want some relief but the cost of Prozac is too fare out of your financial realm, a good dosage of meth will get you flying right. The same can be said for alcohol abuse.

I’m honestly just a sucker for a good story. I suppose its the taboo and secretive nature of the sex trade that I find alluring. Would I ever purchase services? I’m not even going to dignify that with a response…

4:09 AM is remembering why he writes on this blog, he’s just trying to find some amount of purity. I don’t imagine my mom is too proud of what I just wrote. It’s okay everybody, long ago I forgot about who reads this and just tried to be as real with my thoughts as possible. I can’t wait until you all get to read my book, I think some people might shit. Where am I with that thing? Pissed off at it is where I am. I really want to be a writer, and I know that’s not saying much considering I don’t update this blog nearly as much as I used to, but honestly, telling a story is something I’ve always had a knack for and there are a billion ideas I’d like to discover.

4:30 AM is a pee break and more realization that the kid wants to do more with his life. What the fuck is with that word career? I hear it projected at me all the time, “Gee, you’re gonna have one heck of a career son!” What if I want to do many things? Why should I settle and focus? I’d love to be a pilot, CEO, art director, writer, photographer, musician, own a record label, start a magazine and start an airline. Yes, those are all things I want to do, and I’ve taken a considerable amount of time to explore each of them and in some cases writing business plans for the ventures I hoped to pursue. There are no definite rules saying that I must work in advertising\marketing forever and operate as a graphic designer. I think if I had to put a definite label on what I wanted to accomplish it would be to just be creative. Be a problem solver, innovate, take new things to market and add a diversity to my lifestyle that would never leave me feeling boring. One dream would fuel another, but as it stands right now I’m even growing weary of being in the ad game. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but some part of me is seeking a new challenge.

Maybe mobile marketing, something dope with cell phones? Innovate new green energy sources? Okay, well, maybe what I should be is a venture capitalist and fund dope projects that come my way? My only stumbling block there is a hefty amount of capital to dole out.

Career? Not a good word right now. I definitely don’t feel stuck, there is just a lot I want to do. Where to start is the big dilemma. “Keep dreaming son, we are all infinite.”

Entrepreneur seeking a fat bag of cash to invest in emerging technologies, publishing empire, social reforms, green energy and expanded telecommunication widgets. 90/10 split in your favor + bonuses. Stock options graciously accepted. Please email jay@hetmerk.com for more information.

5:00 AM is sweat on your brow, shoes on your feet and an iPod playlist. What to run to? My usual run mix has become a bore. I just downloaded some new Timbaland that had a beat or two I fancied. And I’m gone.

6:16 AM is a sweaty ball smell. The tin still smells worse. Sorry…