I originally played Horde in WoW, but my friend's were Alliance. Before faction change was allowed (this was all in early WotLK days), I got one of my friend's alt Alliance druid and made that my character so that I could play with them. I had recently finished watching an anime called Kannagi, where the main character (Nagi) came from a tree.
I wanted to be a healer when I played the druid, which had to be in tree form to be an effective healer, and therefore that druid was named Nagisama. (The 'sama' is a Japanese honorific that was commonly used for that character, and because 'Nagi' was taken). I liked the name, so I used it for my SC2/TL ID as well.
NeoFalcoN I needed a new ID for Sc2, and I heard that some players like NesTea, took names from random items in their room or at their desk, so I looked around, and on the shelf stood my remote controlled buggie-car, with the name Neo Falcon on the side, and I thought it was really cool(:
So my japanese friend who transferred to my school on 7 or 8th grade brought some Light Novel with him, and one of them is Shakugan no Shana. I love the novel and took the name for my id. Has been using this id ever since.
Mine came about around 6 years ago while playing counter strike
Me and my mate were on this server and there was a new-ish admin on, he started accusing me of hacking (in an extremely whiney way). So we started making fun of him because he didnt have the power to ban me, and a anyone who watched the demo would be able to tell I wasnt hacking
After a while this admin was putting on his internet nerd hat and trying to be overly articulate and try to sound mroe intelligent, you know, the typical 14 y/o internet user. So he said 'look, hes obviously preaiming as he comes round that corner', my mate said 'no no thats just because hes psychic, he just lets his hand flow freely and aims at your head'
BTW, after that I had never laughed so hard in my life
And after that the whole idea of me being psychic led to me being blind, since I only need to use my thoughts to play
I'm a big Simpsons fan and was looking for a good nickname about 10 years ago since my nick at the time really sucked. Then, I remembered this line from the Monorail episode of the Simpsons:
"Do you want to change your name to Homer Junior? The kids can call you Hoju." - Homer Simpson
It's really stuck, too. All of my college friends call me Hoju or "Hoj" for short. Unfortunately, since it's from such a popular show, many other people use it too, so I will often use ElHoju (translation: "The Hoju").
and for some reason people often say or spell my name wrong, usually Hojo (which is a character in FF7 I think) or Hujo, and it's really annoying.
Changed my SC2 ID to TurkeyKnight from LongZERO....
I've worked in a deli for 6 years. One night me and the other two deli workers got bored as fuck, and started making up stupid jokes. We had been getting scheduled together for like 3 weeks straight, and we worked in a deli... we became the Turkey Knights of the Deli Kingdom
Like every single ID I have ever used in the history of my psuedonym using life, is from a fantasy fiction (like lord of the rings not manga) book. This one specifically Magician by Raymond Feist. The Valheru are a race of gods (closest approximation) that can only be killed by one another and true gods, rule planets, ride dragons to plunder the cosmos for phat lewt, have entire species that are their slaves, wear sick armour, were the first born (In a Xel'naga sense not a protoss sense), survive by themselves as babies by killing deer wit h psychic powers and eating the raw flesh and are just generally fucking awesome.
(if you've read the entire series then yes I know not all of it is accurate.. and DON'T mention how baby valheru come about)
This is going to be hard to explain....i'll begin at the beginning, i created my first world of warcraft character oh... really, that's depressing, 5 years ago.
It was a warlock, named Kanarre, supposed to be pronounced ka-nare, as spelled, pronounced ka-nah-ree.
I stuck with it as a name just because i liked the sound of it, no matter how it was pronounced.
Eventually, since people kept pronouncing it wrong, i changed it so that it would be pronounced accurately, but spelled differently.
We are at the stage where we have "Kanairre".
I decided that the entire process was weird, so i made a weird decision, i changed it so that it would be almost the original pronunciation, (incorrect, see Ka-na-ree) but spelled different so "KanAry" it became.
And by the time SC2 came out, i figured that it had become it's own 'thing' and was so profoundly ridiculous that it deserved a prefix.
And here we are. I am the one, the only, TheKanAry. A being so fucking weird, that it gave itself a prefix.
PG version: mine isnt EcstatiC cuz im a happy guy.
as per the mods request, i guess i gotta tell the whole story.
This past summer (2010 for future reference) I was 18 and i worked manual labour the whole summer, and then took chunk of my savings for school and bought 1000 ecstacy pills. i got on a 5 hour bus from toronto to ottawa (the supreme court of canada outlawed random sniffer dog searches several months earlier, citing a case at a bus terminal in particular). There i met up with my buddy from school, a native of sudbury. In sudbury they have this tradition of going to an event called "Le Rodeo du Camion" or 'truck rodeo' in english. This event takes place about 20 minutes across the quebec border from ontario, in a town of 1000 people called 'Notre-Dame du Nord'. The rodeo annually draws over 60 000 people, and they quite literally take over the entire town. Its sponsored by Coors Light, and the tent city alone takes up two soccer fields, with thousands more having to find other places to sleep (me and my buddy pitched a tent in the playground of the local elementary school). My buddys been coming to this thing for years now, and some of his friends' parents have been attending every year for 40 years.
To get to this place, we take another 5 hour bus north from ottawa and arrive in North Bay. Then we take a 2 hour bus straight north (when youre 2 hours north of 'north bay' you know youre in the middle of nowhere). We took the midnight bus from ottawa, so we arrived at the bus stop in New Liskeard, the closest town in ontario to the rodeo at about 7 am. Im carrying a bag that was weighed in at the ottawa bus terminal as 56 pounds, including our tent, tent poles, my buddys shoes and ofc the pills. From the bus terminal, which is on the west side of town, we hitchike all the way to the east side of town, to the highway that would take us to quebec. This takes us about an hour, cutting through farmers fields and shit, and when we finally get to the highway, we whip out a cardboard sign that we had brought stating 'rodeo', and the very first car that comes along picks us up.
The driver was a native of Notre-Dame du Nord, and he explained to us that this was the first year in a long time that hed be attending the rodeo, normally he gets as far away as he can, cuz of how crazy shit gets. He then tells us about how last year, there were 2 murders by the Hell's Angels at the rodeo, they were taking out rival dealers. Apparently they had just stepped into a guy's tent with a shotgun and blown him away. Needless to say, this had quite the effect on me and my buddy, who had already been warning me about Hell's Angels and bikers the whole bus ride up. It should be noted that the Hell's Angels are probably the most prolific gang in Canada, and theyre stronghold is northern quebec, exactly where we were.
Oh and before we got any further, I should say that i had never once dealt any drugs before this, not even weed. In fact before purchasing the pills the most drugs i had ever possessed at a single time was 2 grams of weed or 4 pills of ecstacy. Also my buddy didnt believe me when i had told him i could get 1000 pills, so when i showed up to his door, he wasnt ready or psyched up at all, and had to borrow money for the bus tickets. Furthermore, i knew absolutely nobody at this place except for my buddy.
Continuing on, we arrived there thursday morning with 50$ in my pocket, and my buddy was straight up broke. The bus ticked home was gonna cost us 100$ each, never mind food for the weekend. We got driven what wouldve been a 4 hour walk across the ontario/quebec border to the rodeo. When we arrive, we pitch our tent, and pass out. We wake up in the afternoon, and almost immediately my buddy finds some friends from his hometown, so we start hanging out with them, and sell our first pills. One of these guys has some very high grade pure MDMA, so i buy some and forsake taking my own stuff for one night. A couple hours later, some of the guys (and some less-than-decent girls that pitched their tent next to these guys) wanted to go to the only bar in town, so me and my buddy tagged along. I had about 80 pills on me at the time, all in the main pocket of my backpack, and the rest i had locked away in our tent. So we got some tequila, and then on our way back to the campground, they were doing security checks to make sure nobody was bringing in glass bottles. This next part might sound made up to you, but i can guarantee you it actually happened.
As i was the only member of the group with a bag, and there wasnt a lineup at all, i had absolutely no warning that i was going to be searched, or any chance to smoothly turn around and walk away. Also i was busy being on MDMA so even though i saw the police guarding the entrance, it never processed that i might be in trouble. I was about a foot from the police officer when he asked me to open my bag, so there was absolutely nothing i could do. When this happened, my buddy, who had about 80 pills in his pockets, just lowered his head and walked through. I opened my bag for the officer, but luckily it was black and tall as far as backpacks go, so what i did was i kind of pinched the bag an inch or so from the bottom, and so if you stared down into it, because it was black and the sun was setting, you couldnt see all the way down to the bottom, and you couldnt tell exactly where the bottom was. The officer checks another pocket, and then nods me onward. I start walking, but after i get about 5 feet from the officer, I hear him calling 'hey you, come back here.' I turn around and sure enough hes looking straight at me. Now i really had no idea what to do. I immediately thought about running. He was short, and wearing all his police gear, so probably couldnt move that fast, but at the same time ive always been on the slow side. I was also wearing a very colourful and recognizable shirt compared to the blacks and greys that most of the people were wearing (they were trucker/country people that very seriously wore wolf and eagle shirts, while im a city guy, so basically every piece of clothing i wore stuck out). My buddy had noticed this happen too, and had started running, and was 50 feet away now. I was all alone, carrying just under the amount of pills necessary to be convicted of manslaughter (100 pills), but if they caught me theyd no doubt find my tent and all its contents. I was staring down a serious prison sentence, essentially the end of my life. I only had a split-second to decide what to do, and so i decided to play it cool, and walk back over to the officer. When i got there, he quite simply asked me open a small, irrelevant side pocket. I was so relieved, and at the same time i was so pissed off at this guy for putting me through all that stress for nothing.
I caught up to my buddy and his friends, and we all had a good laugh about that incident. I came down from the MDMA relatively early, and then went and passed out.
The next day (friday) we woke up, and spent a relaxing morning and early afternoon hanging out with my buddy's friends and checking out the shops, some of which had some badass wolf shirts. Me and my buddy go to take a nap, and as we turn the corner to our tent, we see, not two feet away from our tent, a Harley Davidson motorcycle. And not just any Harley Davidson, but a fucking badass one, with a crazy custom paint job (I later overheard the guy saying the paint job alone was worth 3000$). For the 3rd time in less than a day, me and my buddy suddenly realize our lives are over, and that were either gonna go to jail, or get ourselves killed. Still, we play it cool, we go take our nap, and I wake up a bit earlier than my buddy, and outside our tent, polishing his bike, is a guy thats roughly 60 years old,dressed in leather jacket and jeans and wearing a fiery bandana. This guy is the stereotype for all Hell's Angels. I go out and start a conversation with him, I find out he's from Trois-Rivieres, the epitome of biker culture and the Hell's Angels in all of Canada, and so after a bit of small talk I go buy 2 bottles of red wine from the local convenience store. I come back and the guy's gone, so i sit on the swing set with my copy of Kerouac's 'On The Road' (it seemed fitting) drinking my wine. After the first bottle, my buddy wakes up, and the guy comes back, with a hunting/fishing culture magazine thats in french for me. A little odd, but i accept it and me and my buddy stuff our pockets with pills and head out for the night. I put my remaining wine in a 2L bottle, take 2 ecstacy pills myself, and come within a couple sips of finishing all my wine. I have to say it was probably the most fucked up ive ever been. After the sun goes down, me and my buddy start wandering up and down tent city just yelling out to everyone that we have ecstacy for sale. My buddy, a true businessman, didnt even have a single beer that night, so i started getting on his nerves quite a bit, but at the same time it worked out well. It would take the naive high school kids looking to get fucked up out of their minds, and without much experience with hard drugs and pull them in by being an example of what they could be, while he would take the more seasoned connoisseurs with his calculated hustling skills. A lot of the high school kids were from the area, which was very french, and they couldnt speak english too well. Ive been taking french immersion since kindergarten, and am fully bilingual, but as the night went on, it became increasingly harder to communicate with them. There was one point where i found a group of 5 or so guys, and it would take me about 5 minutes in deep conversation with one of them for us to come to an understanding. Then i moved on to the second guy, which again took 5 minutes, and the same story for all 5 of them, which i talked to individually. When i was done with the last guy, i started back at the first, totally forgetting that i had already talked to him for 5 minutes.
At around 1 am we ran out of our first load of pills, and so went back to our tent to load up, and while bending over, i completely wiped out, and for the life of me couldnt stand back up, after a couple minutes of trying to help me, my buddy gave up and went back out, while i was stuck there. During this time, i texted a girl i was really into (who knew what i was doing, and it was a major turn on for her), and my parents (who thought i was apartment hunting in ottawa). I can't sleep the entire night, and my buddy comes back at around 4 am, covered in a pink blanket, for even though its the first weekend of August, we were so far north that it was below freezing. He sits down, and empties about 1000$ of cash from his pocket. My buddy falls asleep pretty quick, but i still cant sleep, eventually my high/drunk wears away into the worst hangover imaginable. I quite literally can't even lift my head off of my pillow without the pouding and spinning driving me back down. Whats worse was that i had finished off all the water we had in our tent my about 2 am, and so after a night of wine and ecstacy, i was dying of thirst.
At about 9am the next day (saturday), my thirst became so painful that i had to do something about it, no matter how bad my hangover was. There was a convenience store no more than 100 meters from our tent, but it seemed like the greatest feat ive ever faced. I had been psyching myself up for the trek since 6am, and finally i decided that i couldnt wait any longer, so i stood up, with no sense of balance, and immediately had to start holding in my vomit. I stumble out of the tent and am blinded by the glaring august sun. My head is swimming and pounding, i can't tell which way is up or down, and it takes every single ounce of effort and concentration that i can muster just to put one foot in front of the other. As im walking to the store, my path is swinging about 5 feet to each side, because i cant even tell which way is straight. After what i without a doubt describe as the single worst experience of my life, i finally made it to the store, buy 2 litres of water and make the equally agonizing mission back. My buddy wakes up a couple hours later, and goes to hang out, while im still stuck not able to lift my head off the pillow. I stay like that til about 5pm, not moving an muscle all day, or tilting my head at all. The entire afternoon, i hear bike upon bike pass directly in front of my tent, every time minutes it seemed there would be another group, and once again, i was absolutely convinced that i was going to be killed. Eventually the bikes stopped coming, i got up, and go about the town. I see a large group of bikes parked nearby, but upon closer inspection i see that theyre not Harleys, and so cant be owned by Hell's Angels. I then meet up with my buddy and his friends.
This night, i decide not to fuck around crossing alcohol and ecstacy, which i had heard could be bad, but just go with 3 pills of ecstacy. I hadnt eaten at all since friday afternoon, and now being saturday night I decide its pretty important that i do so. Unfortunately i took the ecstacy before i ate, and so i ordered a 6 inch sub from a mobile subway trailer, but couldnt even force down half of it. So after going nearly 30 hours without food, i still couldnt eat. In any case the night goes on, and just when it starts getting dark, a guy comes up to me and says hes been told that im the man to see about getting some pills. I know this wont seem special to many people, but considering i had had shown up knowing absolutely nobody, and i had only been at this place for barely 2 days, and had spent most of that lying in my tent, it was pretty fucking awesome.
After a while, me and my buddy realize that weve covered all our costs for our adventure, and we lose motivation. Not only that but i run into some trouble. It turns out 3 pills was beyond my limit, and i started feeling some negative effects. It started out slow, just some head spinning above what i normally felt, but then all of a sudden, while i was walking down a road, i spontaneously vomitted. No warning or anything, so after i composed my self i ran to a ditch a puked my guts out, all 3 inches of that sub that i had eaten earlier came up. I got up, and really not wanting to let down my buddy again, i soldiered on, now clearly starting to have pronounced negative effects like a serious headache. A half hour later, we were outside the campground, walking back along the highway, when all of a sudden i collapsed into the ditch. I laid there for several minutes with my buddy watching over me, and a few rodeo-goers making jokes at my expense. After about 20 minutes, i could finally stand up, and so i handed all my pills over to my buddy and told him to kept selling, while i was gonna go back to our tent, which was in the opposite direction, down some dark roads, and through a town that i had only a vague idea of the layout even when i was sober. As soon as i turned the first corner, and my buddy went out of sight, I was sure I was going to die without ever making it back, and even if i did make it back that i would just die in my tent. At this point the ditch on the side of the road became very inviting. It looked so comfortable, the perfect curve just to lay down and pass our in, but i knew without my buddy helping me i probably wouldnt get back up, and so i missioned onward. After an exhuasting walk, i finally got to lay down in my sleeping bag, but once again, i couldn't sleep. My buddy came back at 4am again, and he hadn't sold much, but had just had an awesome time with his friends
I dont sleep the entire night, and as its sunday morning the church bells (the church was directly across the street, probably 50 feet from me) go off and never seem to stop. Then i hear a guy from a nearby tent wake up and take a piss against the school. This wouldnt normally be noteworthy, but just like the bells, it never stopped, and it was the only sound you could hear at that time. Im not joking when i say this guy pissed for 5 minutes straight. He woke people up, and then they gathered around him and started cheering him on. And when he was done he got a massive applause from upwards of 100 people.
Im not hung over this morning, so i go about the place and see whos still awake, which turned out to be a lot of people. I run into a cross-eyed guy who comes up to me and asks me if i know who he was, or where he parked his car, which i didnt, but he was going around asking every single person. I find a couple of my buddys friends and hang out for bit, have a few good laughs, then go back to my tent, wake up my buddy, pack up everything and get on our way. We had to pay a 70-year old resident of the town 40$ to drive us to the bus stop, which was 10$ less than a taxi, which we couldnt even find). When we finally get there, buy our tickets and are waiting for the bus to come, my buddy puts a song onto his phone thats boy-bandish, but starts off with 'we made it through together' it was pretty gay, but we had a good laugh, then got on the bus, which i slept basically the whole trip back. In north bay i got a poutine that tasted like soap (oh ya i was pretty disappointed with the poutines at this place, they were hardly any better than the ones i could get in ottawa).
We arrived safe and sound in Ottawa, and we were picked up by probably one of my nerdiest, most clean-cut, anti-drug friends, which i still like to bug him by pointing out he's technically committed accessory to manslaughter by driving us. We smoke some weed, watch some family guy, i pass out at around 10pm. The next day i wake up, get on the bus back to toronto, and buy Starcraft II with the money i had earned that weekend, so I name myself after it.
This past summer (2010 for future reference) I was 18 and i worked manual labour the whole summer, and then took chunk of my savings for school and bought 1000 ecstacy pills. i got on a 5 hour bus from toronto to ottawa (the supreme court of canada outlawed random sniffer dog searches several months earlier, citing a case at a bus terminal in particular). There i met up with my buddy from school, a native of sudbury. In sudbury they have this tradition of going to an event called "Le Rodeo du Camion" or 'truck rodeo' in english. This event takes place about 20 minutes across the quebec border from ontario, in a town of 1000 people called 'Notre-Dame du Nord'. The rodeo annually draws over 60 000 people, and they quite literally take over the entire town. Its sponsored by Coors Light, and the tent city alone takes up two soccer fields, with thousands more having to find other places to sleep (me and my buddy pitched a tent in the playground of the local elementary school). My buddys been coming to this thing for years now, and some of his friends' parents have been attending every year for 40 years.
To get to this place, we take another 5 hour bus north from ottawa and arrive in North Bay. Then we take a 2 hour bus straight north (when youre 2 hours north of 'north bay' you know youre in the middle of nowhere). We took the midnight bus from ottawa, so we arrived at the bus stop in New Liskeard, the closest town in ontario to the rodeo at about 7 am. Im carrying a bag that was weighed in at the ottawa bus terminal as 56 pounds, including our tent, tent poles, my buddys shoes and ofc the pills. From the bus terminal, which is on the west side of town, we hitchike all the way to the east side of town, to the highway that would take us to quebec. This takes us about an hour, cutting through farmers fields and shit, and when we finally get to the highway, we whip out a cardboard sign that we had brought stating 'rodeo', and the very first car that comes along picks us up.
The driver was a native of Notre-Dame du Nord, and he explained to us that this was the first year in a long time that hed be attending the rodeo, normally he gets as far away as he can, cuz of how crazy shit gets. He then tells us about how last year, there were 2 murders by the Hell's Angels at the rodeo, they were taking out rival dealers. Apparently they had just stepped into a guy's tent with a shotgun and blown him away. Needless to say, this had quite the effect on me and my buddy, who had already been warning me about Hell's Angels and bikers the whole bus ride up. It should be noted that the Hell's Angels are probably the most prolific gang in Canada, and theyre stronghold is northern quebec, exactly where we were.
Oh and before we got any further, I should say that i had never once dealt any drugs before this, not even weed. In fact before purchasing the pills the most drugs i had ever possessed at a single time was 2 grams of weed or 4 pills of ecstacy. Also my buddy didnt believe me when i had told him i could get 1000 pills, so when i showed up to his door, he wasnt ready or psyched up at all, and had to borrow money for the bus tickets. Furthermore, i knew absolutely nobody at this place except for my buddy.
Continuing on, we arrived there thursday morning with 50$ in my pocket, and my buddy was straight up broke. The bus ticked home was gonna cost us 100$ each, never mind food for the weekend. We got driven what wouldve been a 4 hour walk across the ontario/quebec border to the rodeo. When we arrive, we pitch our tent, and pass out. We wake up in the afternoon, and almost immediately my buddy finds some friends from his hometown, so we start hanging out with them, and sell our first pills. One of these guys has some very high grade pure MDMA, so i buy some and forsake taking my own stuff for one night. A couple hours later, some of the guys (and some less-than-decent girls that pitched their tent next to these guys) wanted to go to the only bar in town, so me and my buddy tagged along. I had about 80 pills on me at the time, all in the main pocket of my backpack, and the rest i had locked away in our tent. So we got some tequila, and then on our way back to the campground, they were doing security checks to make sure nobody was bringing in glass bottles. This next part might sound made up to you, but i can guarantee you it actually happened.
As i was the only member of the group with a bag, and there wasnt a lineup at all, i had absolutely no warning that i was going to be searched, or any chance to smoothly turn around and walk away. Also i was busy being on MDMA so even though i saw the police guarding the entrance, it never processed that i might be in trouble. I was about a foot from the police officer when he asked me to open my bag, so there was absolutely nothing i could do. When this happened, my buddy, who had about 80 pills in his pockets, just lowered his head and walked through. I opened my bag for the officer, but luckily it was black and tall as far as backpacks go, so what i did was i kind of pinched the bag an inch or so from the bottom, and so if you stared down into it, because it was black and the sun was setting, you couldnt see all the way down to the bottom, and you couldnt tell exactly where the bottom was. The officer checks another pocket, and then nods me onward. I start walking, but after i get about 5 feet from the officer, I hear him calling 'hey you, come back here.' I turn around and sure enough hes looking straight at me. Now i really had no idea what to do. I immediately thought about running. He was short, and wearing all his police gear, so probably couldnt move that fast, but at the same time ive always been on the slow side. I was also wearing a very colourful and recognizable shirt compared to the blacks and greys that most of the people were wearing (they were trucker/country people that very seriously wore wolf and eagle shirts, while im a city guy, so basically every piece of clothing i wore stuck out). My buddy had noticed this happen too, and had started running, and was 50 feet away now. I was all alone, carrying just under the amount of pills necessary to be convicted of manslaughter (100 pills), but if they caught me theyd no doubt find my tent and all its contents. I was staring down a serious prison sentence, essentially the end of my life. I only had a split-second to decide what to do, and so i decided to play it cool, and walk back over to the officer. When i got there, he quite simply asked me open a small, irrelevant side pocket. I was so relieved, and at the same time i was so pissed off at this guy for putting me through all that stress for nothing.
I caught up to my buddy and his friends, and we all had a good laugh about that incident. I came down from the MDMA relatively early, and then went and passed out.
The next day (friday) we woke up, and spent a relaxing morning and early afternoon hanging out with my buddy's friends and checking out the shops, some of which had some badass wolf shirts. Me and my buddy go to take a nap, and as we turn the corner to our tent, we see, not two feet away from our tent, a Harley Davidson motorcycle. And not just any Harley Davidson, but a fucking badass one, with a crazy custom paint job (I later overheard the guy saying the paint job alone was worth 3000$). For the 3rd time in less than a day, me and my buddy suddenly realize our lives are over, and that were either gonna go to jail, or get ourselves killed. Still, we play it cool, we go take our nap, and I wake up a bit earlier than my buddy, and outside our tent, polishing his bike, is a guy thats roughly 60 years old,dressed in leather jacket and jeans and wearing a fiery bandana. This guy is the stereotype for all Hell's Angels. I go out and start a conversation with him, I find out he's from Trois-Rivieres, the epitome of biker culture and the Hell's Angels in all of Canada, and so after a bit of small talk I go buy 2 bottles of red wine from the local convenience store. I come back and the guy's gone, so i sit on the swing set with my copy of Kerouac's 'On The Road' (it seemed fitting) drinking my wine. After the first bottle, my buddy wakes up, and the guy comes back, with a hunting/fishing culture magazine thats in french for me. A little odd, but i accept it and me and my buddy stuff our pockets with pills and head out for the night. I put my remaining wine in a 2L bottle, take 2 ecstacy pills myself, and come within a couple sips of finishing all my wine. I have to say it was probably the most fucked up ive ever been. After the sun goes down, me and my buddy start wandering up and down tent city just yelling out to everyone that we have ecstacy for sale. My buddy, a true businessman, didnt even have a single beer that night, so i started getting on his nerves quite a bit, but at the same time it worked out well. It would take the naive high school kids looking to get fucked up out of their minds, and without much experience with hard drugs and pull them in by being an example of what they could be, while he would take the more seasoned connoisseurs with his calculated hustling skills. A lot of the high school kids were from the area, which was very french, and they couldnt speak english too well. Ive been taking french immersion since kindergarten, and am fully bilingual, but as the night went on, it became increasingly harder to communicate with them. There was one point where i found a group of 5 or so guys, and it would take me about 5 minutes in deep conversation with one of them for us to come to an understanding. Then i moved on to the second guy, which again took 5 minutes, and the same story for all 5 of them, which i talked to individually. When i was done with the last guy, i started back at the first, totally forgetting that i had already talked to him for 5 minutes.
At around 1 am we ran out of our first load of pills, and so went back to our tent to load up, and while bending over, i completely wiped out, and for the life of me couldnt stand back up, after a couple minutes of trying to help me, my buddy gave up and went back out, while i was stuck there. During this time, i texted a girl i was really into (who knew what i was doing, and it was a major turn on for her), and my parents (who thought i was apartment hunting in ottawa). I can't sleep the entire night, and my buddy comes back at around 4 am, covered in a pink blanket, for even though its the first weekend of August, we were so far north that it was below freezing. He sits down, and empties about 1000$ of cash from his pocket. My buddy falls asleep pretty quick, but i still cant sleep, eventually my high/drunk wears away into the worst hangover imaginable. I quite literally can't even lift my head off of my pillow without the pouding and spinning driving me back down. Whats worse was that i had finished off all the water we had in our tent my about 2 am, and so after a night of wine and ecstacy, i was dying of thirst.
At about 9am the next day (saturday), my thirst became so painful that i had to do something about it, no matter how bad my hangover was. There was a convenience store no more than 100 meters from our tent, but it seemed like the greatest feat ive ever faced. I had been psyching myself up for the trek since 6am, and finally i decided that i couldnt wait any longer, so i stood up, with no sense of balance, and immediately had to start holding in my vomit. I stumble out of the tent and am blinded by the glaring august sun. My head is swimming and pounding, i can't tell which way is up or down, and it takes every single ounce of effort and concentration that i can muster just to put one foot in front of the other. As im walking to the store, my path is swinging about 5 feet to each side, because i cant even tell which way is straight. After what i without a doubt describe as the single worst experience of my life, i finally made it to the store, buy 2 litres of water and make the equally agonizing mission back. My buddy wakes up a couple hours later, and goes to hang out, while im still stuck not able to lift my head off the pillow. I stay like that til about 5pm, not moving an muscle all day, or tilting my head at all. The entire afternoon, i hear bike upon bike pass directly in front of my tent, every time minutes it seemed there would be another group, and once again, i was absolutely convinced that i was going to be killed. Eventually the bikes stopped coming, i got up, and go about the town. I see a large group of bikes parked nearby, but upon closer inspection i see that theyre not Harleys, and so cant be owned by Hell's Angels. I then meet up with my buddy and his friends.
This night, i decide not to fuck around crossing alcohol and ecstacy, which i had heard could be bad, but just go with 3 pills of ecstacy. I hadnt eaten at all since friday afternoon, and now being saturday night I decide its pretty important that i do so. Unfortunately i took the ecstacy before i ate, and so i ordered a 6 inch sub from a mobile subway trailer, but couldnt even force down half of it. So after going nearly 30 hours without food, i still couldnt eat. In any case the night goes on, and just when it starts getting dark, a guy comes up to me and says hes been told that im the man to see about getting some pills. I know this wont seem special to many people, but considering i had had shown up knowing absolutely nobody, and i had only been at this place for barely 2 days, and had spent most of that lying in my tent, it was pretty fucking awesome.
After a while, me and my buddy realize that weve covered all our costs for our adventure, and we lose motivation. Not only that but i run into some trouble. It turns out 3 pills was beyond my limit, and i started feeling some negative effects. It started out slow, just some head spinning above what i normally felt, but then all of a sudden, while i was walking down a road, i spontaneously vomitted. No warning or anything, so after i composed my self i ran to a ditch a puked my guts out, all 3 inches of that sub that i had eaten earlier came up. I got up, and really not wanting to let down my buddy again, i soldiered on, now clearly starting to have pronounced negative effects like a serious headache. A half hour later, we were outside the campground, walking back along the highway, when all of a sudden i collapsed into the ditch. I laid there for several minutes with my buddy watching over me, and a few rodeo-goers making jokes at my expense. After about 20 minutes, i could finally stand up, and so i handed all my pills over to my buddy and told him to kept selling, while i was gonna go back to our tent, which was in the opposite direction, down some dark roads, and through a town that i had only a vague idea of the layout even when i was sober. As soon as i turned the first corner, and my buddy went out of sight, I was sure I was going to die without ever making it back, and even if i did make it back that i would just die in my tent. At this point the ditch on the side of the road became very inviting. It looked so comfortable, the perfect curve just to lay down and pass our in, but i knew without my buddy helping me i probably wouldnt get back up, and so i missioned onward. After an exhuasting walk, i finally got to lay down in my sleeping bag, but once again, i couldn't sleep. My buddy came back at 4am again, and he hadn't sold much, but had just had an awesome time with his friends
I dont sleep the entire night, and as its sunday morning the church bells (the church was directly across the street, probably 50 feet from me) go off and never seem to stop. Then i hear a guy from a nearby tent wake up and take a piss against the school. This wouldnt normally be noteworthy, but just like the bells, it never stopped, and it was the only sound you could hear at that time. Im not joking when i say this guy pissed for 5 minutes straight. He woke people up, and then they gathered around him and started cheering him on. And when he was done he got a massive applause from upwards of 100 people.
Im not hung over this morning, so i go about the place and see whos still awake, which turned out to be a lot of people. I run into a cross-eyed guy who comes up to me and asks me if i know who he was, or where he parked his car, which i didnt, but he was going around asking every single person. I find a couple of my buddys friends and hang out for bit, have a few good laughs, then go back to my tent, wake up my buddy, pack up everything and get on our way. We had to pay a 70-year old resident of the town 40$ to drive us to the bus stop, which was 10$ less than a taxi, which we couldnt even find). When we finally get there, buy our tickets and are waiting for the bus to come, my buddy puts a song onto his phone thats boy-bandish, but starts off with 'we made it through together' it was pretty gay, but we had a good laugh, then got on the bus, which i slept basically the whole trip back. In north bay i got a poutine that tasted like soap (oh ya i was pretty disappointed with the poutines at this place, they were hardly any better than the ones i could get in ottawa).
We arrived safe and sound in Ottawa, and we were picked up by probably one of my nerdiest, most clean-cut, anti-drug friends, which i still like to bug him by pointing out he's technically committed accessory to manslaughter by driving us. We smoke some weed, watch some family guy, i pass out at around 10pm. The next day i wake up, get on the bus back to toronto, and buy Starcraft II with the money i had earned that weekend, so I name myself after it.
as in what i wanted to be when i grew up. However it`s 2011 and i wanted to go to the caribbean sea , not the coast of somalia. So i`m an online PiRate even if that doen`t make sense.
+ you can pronounce it `π Rate` but i dont know why you would want to do that it`s just that it seemed like all the cool kids had random capital letters
I used be a Techno/Trance DJ when i was younger and 2 of my friends started like a DJ clan thing so the scene that we were apart of recognised who we were and it was kind of unique etc. They were called Project 88 at first because both of there DJ names began with a H (High and Hesky) and then a few of us join in and we started putting Project in front of our names, I was originally DJ Syko(not much behind that name i just thought it looked and sounded cool) but then changed my name to Project Psycho, not official though as most of the scene still know me as DJ Syko. I dont DJ now btw as i came to realise that the music was awful lol even though i spent all of my teenage life and more listening to it lol.
EPT
.. 
