What’s in my mouth?


You are really thirsty. What do you do about it?

If you think like me, there are usually two options available.

  1. You find a free tap to stick your mouth on to. (No cup means no dishes)
  2. You crack open some Sun-Ripe.

Like most children, my brother and I spent our youth competitively chugging water. Because of this, both scenarios typically involve drinking until it’s physically unsafe to drink anymore.   Doing so on a regular basis encourages stomach flexibility. This, in turn, indirectly promotes belligerence. It also offers unparalleled thirst quenching and, in the case of the juice, a sugar high akin to drinking a few shots of maple syrup. Most of the time, both drink choices end up working out alright.

I didn’t think sucking water out of the tap could be dangerous until I did so at a construction site yesterday. I ended up tasting metal for two hours while nursing dry mouth and a headache the rest of the day. I felt pretty stupid because I know that even though water comes out it doesn’t mean you should drink it. For a split second, I felt like one of those world vision kiddies.

But just like life, things don’t always work out the way you’d like. Some times what you are hoping for doesn’t end up in your mouth. Kind of like telling your girlfriend you just bought a bunch of candy, then playing the “close your eyes and open your mouth” game.

Playing my version of “what’s in my mouth” tends to only happen when I go for the juice.

If you are like me, you probably have multiple kinds of juice in your fridge. You also enjoy recycling your juice containers into makeshift liquor satchels. What you end up with is a game of chance.

You go for the juice, but now you have four possible items in your mouth.

  1.  Juice
  2.  A stiff drink that tasted too bad to finish, but tasty enough to save
  3.  Expired juice
  4.  Straight liquor

I often wake up thirsty. Rolling the dice first thing in the morning is the worst. Try being late for class, thirsty as fuck, and accidently slamming 200-300 mL of Gin at 9am. Luckily, Jimmy’s come equipped with autopilot and liquor doesn’t enter your bloodstream for 30 min.

The stiff drink is slightly worse, because usually you don’t realize before it’s too late. Occasionally you end up with other peoples stuff in your mouth; also not good. Thinking about having someone elses juice in my mouth makes me want to vom.

If you’re lucky you end up tasting that sweet taste of god’s dirty nectar in your mouth you have definitely won the game. Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure being able to enjoy the [forbidden] fruit makes you human. Thanks Eve.

The worst case scenario is when you chug an exorbitant amount of old juice.

I don’t mean juice that is a couple days past its prime. I am talking about that rogue bottle, too bad ass to wear a lid. Or that stinky little Tetrapack with the gaping hole under its plastic mouth spout.

Both situations allow the juice to ferment if left unattended for a few weeks. Depending on the type of juice and the health of your fridge’s eco-system, you are left with some bonus texture in the form or bacteria cultures or mold spores, and a subtle tinge of booze to cut the taste of death.

If it’s not obvious already, this has happened to me more than once. The best way to deal with the after effects of drinking a half liter of foaled juice in less than a second is to vomit immediately or to chase it with straight liquor to kill anything that might be alive.

Needless to say, having this happen to you first hand is a less than desirable situation. It is one of the only ways to lose the game “what’s in my mouth”. To me it would seem obvious that, if given the choice, nobody is knowingly going to pick the micro-ecosystem of spoiled juice to put in their mouth.

Imagine if this is actually what people wanted.

Thankfully we don’t live in a world where sensible minds are in control of product development in the food and beverage industry. We live in a wonderful world where people enjoy eating and drinking all sorts of fucked up health potions.

Never forget there will always be someone there to put something disgusting in your mouth if you want.

The perfect example has gained popularity recently, and is called Kombucha.


For the longest time, I just assumed it was some sort of weird beverage. Naïve to the fact it is literally the same thing as pungent Sun-Ripe, I decided I should give it a chance and try some out for myself.

As I peered into the murky green bottle, the first clue I shouldn’t drink it was pretty obvious. Whatever grows in there is so physiologically advanced that it has grown a complex system of roots to feed itself. I personally have something against drinking advanced life forms.

I shake the fuck out hoping that it’s just natural separation or something normal. At this point I didn’t know that shaking it only makes the mushroom angry.

I take a big drink.

What do you know… it’s actually dirty old juice swimming with bacteria and fungus.

Fuck you Whole Foods.





Fuck Tom Cruise


I just want to start off by saying I think Tom Cruise is a terrible actor.

He’s a short little arrogant fuck. His stupid face in all his movies is the same. I would rather chew off all my fingernails than watch another one of his movies. I will happily donate a kidney to science when he gives up on life.

It is no surprise to me that this guy is a scientologist.

I don’t really know much about scientology other than what I have learned from south park, (s09e12 – 100% must see) which is a perfectly suitable source for such a bogus religion.

I assume The Church of Scientology is a cult that basis their religion off a series of science fiction novels written by L. Ron Hubbard. Strangely enough this turns out to be true. To be fair, the first humans getting possessed with eternal alien souls, “thetans”, really isn’t that much more ridiculous than aliens raping the monkeys of planet earth (assuming it wasn’t consensual).

“Scientology is one of the most controversial new religious movements to have arisen in the 20th century. The church is often characterized as a cult and it has faced harsh scrutiny for many of its practices which, critics contend, include brainwashing and routinely defrauding its members, and harassing its critics and perceived enemies with psychological abuse, character assassination and costly litigation”  -WIKI

This actually sounds like a lot of fun if you are the one in charge. It also explains why the people in power continue to be scientologists. What about the rest of them?

Why would anyone want to be a part of such an organization?

What would it be like to join the church?

These questions burned inside of me for a couple of hours before I made a decision. I just didn’t really want to spend any money on it.

I looked in to it and most of the offered courses were all day extravaganzas costing upwards of $150. I discovered that these courses were designed to improve various aspects of your personality.

I’m sure I have little chink somewhere in my gold crusted personality, and I know that I don’t have the skills to identify where it is and what course would fix it.

I checked their website and luckily, the church offers complimentary personality tests followed by a free consultation of the results.


Right below this was a little button to schedule a test. As it was 4:30pm on Sunday, I figured I could make it there by 5pm.

I walk in to the front doors of a seriously beautiful new building. Sexy buildings get me all fired up.

“How can I help you today?”

“I don’t think I’m living up to my potential and I want to take your complimentary personality test.”

“Certainly sir… right this way.”

He led me to a cubicle with the test booklet laid out in front of me. To keep up with the tradition of being completely insane, I was left with a pen fashioned out of a large feather.


I’m assuming it was a direct order from L. Ron Hubbard himself to force people to use this type of pen.


The Oxford Capacity Analysis (OCA) test classifies personality traits into 10 categories.

  • Stability
  • Happiness
  • Composure
  • Certainty
  • Activeness
  • Aggressiveness
  • Responsible Behaviour
  • Aptitude for Correct Estimation
  • Appreciation
  • Communication Level

So to the average prospective scientologist, this would all seem completely reasonable. The funny part is this test has absolutely nothing to do with anything Oxford related. This includes the university, the dictionary, the city or anyone named Oxford. It was created by a scientologist friend of Ron’s in order to trick people into thinking they are flawed.

L-Ron, you greasy bastard.

There is nothing wrong with being tested on completely normal human characteristics. The problem with this test is how it goes about testing these traits.

“The Oxford Capacity Analysis consists to a high degree of unclearly formulated, ambiguous or misleading questions. It is used as a foundation, in a non-specific way, for an individual evaluation in 11 dimensions, partly incoherent or openly judgmental, as a whole diffuse. In view of the weaknesses also characterizing serious instruments of this type, this instrument must be regarded as completely unreliable.” -WIKI

Instead of giving you clear and well thought out questions you are faced with questions such as:

47. Have you any particular hate or fear?


59. Do you consider the modern “prisons without bars” system doomed to failure?


68. Do you enjoy activities of your own choosing?


75. Are you openly appreciative of beautiful things?


88. If we were invading a country, would you feel sympathetic towards conscientious objectors in this country.


89. Are there some things about yourself on which you are touchy?


98. Would you use corporal punishment on a child aged ten if it refused to obey you?


I actually had quite a good time doing the test and I honestly tried to be about as truthful as I could. I couldn’t wait to find out how terrible of a person I actually am.

I finished the 200 question test in a blistering 35 min. As I sat and waited, I made a few interesting observations about my surroundings. I noticed that all of the staff dressed in some sort of kinky crossbreed between a flight attendant and a sailor. Everyone except for a few old men in suits dressed like this. Creating an uncomfortably sexual ambiance of role playing and pedophilia must be a requirement to become recognized as a religious organization.

I also noticed an amazing looking electronic device at the desk beside me. On the desk was a small sign that said:

“Testing Station”


I spent the next few minutes day-dreaming of scenarios ranging from a good ol’ snatch and run, to an elaborate fire alarm decoy scheme. I just wanted to know what was inside of that sexy little box.

Naturally, I tried to stare at everyone who walked by to let them know I was done their test. A short lady, dressed as a witch, kept pacing back and forth near my booth talking quietly with someone on the phone. At one point I heard her say,

“Just walk up to the instructor and tell him exactly how you feel.”

When would you need to hear this piece of advice from either a witch or a scientologist?

Finally one of the old men in suits caught my eye.

“Who has been helping you out today?”

“I am waiting for anyone to come help me. I finished the test and would love to go over the results.”

His scientology erection pointed in my direction as he came over and shook my hand.

“So how much do you know about scientology?”

“Not very much, but I am eager to learn more.”

I could smell him starting to sweat as he licked his lips.

“This is going to take me a little bit to go through your test results, would you like to watch a few short films on scientology as you wait?”

I will never pass up the opportunity to watch any type of propaganda. I had a feeling this was going to be great. The film was a short biography on the founder, L. Ron Hubbard. It did not disappoint.

The part that impresses me the most is that little Ron could ride a barely broken range bronco at age 3.5.  For obvious reasons, I picture a baby riding around on a full grown horse and burst out laughing.

The video goes on and on about seemingly every possible awesome thing a human could accomplish and attributes them to L-Ron.

Biographical accounts published by the Church of Scientology describe Hubbard as “a child prodigy of sorts” who rode a horse before he could walk and was able to read and write by the age of four. A Scientology profile says that he was brought up on his grandfather’s “large cattle ranch in Montana” where he spent his days “riding, breaking broncos, hunting coyote and taking his first steps as an explorer”. His grandfather is described as a “wealthy Western cattleman” from whom Hubbard “inherited his fortune and family interests in America, Southern Africa, etc.”. Scientology claims that Hubbard became a “blood brother” of the Native American Blackfeet tribe at the age of six through his friendship with a Blackfeet medicine man. – WIKI

The movie tries its best to continue on in sensationalist fashion to try and put him on the same level as Jesus. I don’t think Ron had the gumption to sacrifice himself for all of humanity. For all I know, he could have killed Jesus himself.

By this time my test had been marked. My creepy new friend led me to a different room in the back.

He hands me a chart which graphs my results.


The only score that really bothers me is my ‘H’ score. I’m pretty fucking good at eyeballing. Right there I knew it was all wrong.

“Well looking at the results here, and as you can see it doesn’t look too good. You have a couple areas that are OKAY, but most of your chart is below the ‘acceptable level’ threshold.”

My heart sank as I swallowed the bitter pill of personal imperfection.

“You are right, this chart makes me look like I’m pretty terrible.”

He continues digging asking me more and more uncomfortable personal questions. Finally I get sick of hearing about why I am not an effective person at my place of work. And what type of things make me anxious. You could tell he was just poking around waiting for me to spill the beans about something personal.

“Okay, I get it. It’s clear I need help. What are my options.”

“Well as you can see you test results point to a bleak future if you don’t do something about it. Oh look perfect here is Bob, he’s my boss and he can tell you about a course we offer that would be a great fit for someone like you.”

At this point, I started to get a little bit pissed off. I have been incorrectly stereotyped based on my personality. This is basically racism.

Bob looks a lot like an older, obese Stephen Harper with a bunch of skin tags hanging off his face. I would say he more closely resembles a reptilian than a trustworthy person.

Bob immediately joins in on the verbal abuse after introducing himself.

After he finishes berating me for being Canadian, depressed and anxious, he tells me I should pay him $50 to take a course. Apparently the recruitment strategy is to beat people down with hateful words.

The course is called “Personal Efficiency Course”.

Here is the means to new ability and lasting security in the workplace – all from application of Scientology to the workaday world with “The Problems of Work” by L. Ron Hubbard.

The Personal Efficiency Course contains the senior principles and laws which apply to every endeavour, every problem of work. For they are the discoveries which lay bare the core of these problems and explain the very fabric of life itself.

He explained it was a bargain at $50 because you also get to keep the $20 L-Ron book. Also he mentioned the entire course consists of watching a movie that works through the book.

As much as I was tempted purely for your pleasure, I refused.

On the way out I asked him about the E-Meter and asked if he would show me a demonstration. He said they work kind of like a lie detector but way better. He tried to turn on three different ones, yet none of them would work. My thetans are clearly so powerful, E-meters do not work in my presence.

I left the church more than a little disappointed. Hoping for delusional alien worshipers and all I get is creepy old men who prey on vulnerability.

It rained hard that drive home, both outside and in my heart.