Bushie

Born in England, we moved over when i was 5 because my Dad got a butcher job in....(drum roll) Provost Alberta, CANADA. My parents divorced about 5 minutes later.He owned a butcher shop of his own a couple of years later and this shop is where i spent most of my childhood years. We would have to go there directly after school. He did teach me a strong work ethic though which would help me greatly later in life. When I would grow tired of working in the sweat shop environment, cutting meat, working in the freezer, hangin' out till midnight sleeping on boxes waiting to go home to sleep, i would go live with my Mom. This is where i experienced FUCK HEAD GUYS that like to drink and hit women. Poor lady did so much for us and went through hell trying to do it by herself in a strange country with no money, friends or family to turn to. This would explain my anger on guys that lack respect and the basic asshole that i want to judo chop to the throat everytime i come across one.I basically moved every year of my life since Grade 8, and was in 3 different schools in Grade 12. Being the new kid every year is also fucking awesome!! British Columbia was probably the best place I lived. I was a long distance runner. I had a track and field scholarship. My best 10 km time was 29 min and something when I was 17. My dad would have me run before school some mornings. Not a good idea having your strict English father as a fitness coach, f.y mutha fuckin i. Mind you, it did make me the best I could be (from a cereal commercial) I turned 18 and my Dad said i could continue and be rich or go see what's on the other side. I checked out the other side (the other side being women, drugs, drinks, friends, travelling, stunts, fast anything, near deaths, rock n' roll shows) and never returned. SHOOTERS!!!!!I was in Red Deer for a while (10 yrs). RD was like a combination of Survivor, Big Brother, Ultimate Fighting, Requiem For A Dream, and Days of Our Lives. That equals = worst fuckin' place ever.Big break came when I was living with a great friend in Calgary, he answered an ad in the paper that stated "E-Commerce experience wanted." He called it and mentioned to them that he had once dated a bank teller. The boss man laughed. Laughter is important so he hired my friend immediately. He then came home, told me it was online, shady and had to do with gambling. He didnt think i would like it. I remember grabbing his collar, had him up against the wall demanding that he gets me in. Next thing you know, I get in ground floor, I designed what turned out to be one of the best security /fraud prevention platforms on the Internet, taking money laundering courses in Washington, and chatting with Secret Service and celeb's. PS to my shady friends. That was only for work. I am still solid. ;) Now, 5 years later, I resign as VP of Operations and about 1300 staff members with offices in Costa Rica, Macau, London and Isle of Man.My Moms' mom's (my granny) maiden name is Carter. My great great uncle was Howard Carter who is the dude that discovered King Tuts tomb. This explains my shitty fuckin' luck most of my life but doesn't explain my awesome fucking luck i am experiencing now. I am an artist and have been known to design tattoos. It may take me months and many many reminders, but if you keep reminding, there will always be hope. Maybe. Friends and family is what i live for and will do anything for them.That is pretty much everything about...o wait, yes, one more thing. I dont like to be poisoned.ps. If you ever see me in a turtleneck, tackle me and try to find the Timberlake Chip that is planted somewhere on my body and has obviously taken over my mind. If you cannot find it, get me to a secluded place where no one is around. Put me under a hot light and try to slap me out of it. If this does not work, go buy a 5 pound bag of sand. Slowly put the sand in my teeth, down my pants, in my socks and of course, in my ears. This should be so fucking annoying that i will come back to reality. If the Sand-Out doesnt work, hit me over the head repeatedly with a frozen pickle. This usually snaps me out of whatever trance i am in. Do not let me go....o hey, sorry, didnt realize you were still reading.