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About Montreal

What pisses me off? Idiots who think it’s easy. Like, mate, you try hikin’ with blue balls! Surprised me how dumb some are—saw one slip, nearly died. “One more day,” he begged, like Monty in the flick. I just smirked—pathetic. Happiest I got? When this rich twat tipped me extra. Said he “found himself” up there. Yeah, right—found a hooker, more like.

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Don’t get me started on the Essex River. Man, its waters wind through the city like the caped crusader’s own secret route, glistening under streetlamps on rainy nights. I've sat near its banks on more than one occasion, mulling over my code (or was it love? dunno) while watching ripples break the night silence. I remember one time my app crashed near near. Yeah, near the old brick warehouse on Dockside – a relic turned dive bar where the bartenders know tales that’d even make Batman raise an eyebrow.

Federal election 2025: Essex riding a mix of rural, smalltown