Saturday, 10 December 2011

I Can't Think of a God Damn Title

I haven't done one of these in a while. I'm not sure why, really, I mean I've got time to do it and everything, despite all my coursework (which is almost done, plus I've got the entire Christmas holidays). It's been immersion week at college this week. This means that starting Tuesday, college days will consist of two two-and-a-half hour long lessons with lunch break in the middle. Joy of fucking joys. Oh well, I don't give a fuck anymore because it's Saturday morning (12:39am) and that was all last week AND I only had two lessons the whole week. So fuck you society. For some reason.

Meanwhile, I've written a song about Jagermeister, been rather ill, broken my ESP (fixable but the strings are rusted to buggery), and taken some blurred pictures of cars going past my bedroom window at night using a technique I learned on my photography course called 'panning'. How interesting. I'm fairly sure I've done other things since then but I either can't remember them or can't be arsed to remember them. I've also damn near fapped my dick off. I should seriously cut down on that, it's ruining my laptop's keyboard. Not the screen though, the screen can go and fuck itself.

So yeah, to summarise, my life's not especially interesting at the moment. Mabye if I stopped fapping so much... and stopped being such a miserable dickpenis... mabye if I ate more fruit and vegetables... no fuck that, beer's a vegetable, right? You know what they say: "Several beers a day keeps the liver inflamed." or something along those lines. It bugs me when I hear thirteen year old children telling everyone that they 'need a beer', because very few kids that age actually like beer. I'll admit, when I was thirteen I didn't particularly like beer, I didn't like the flavour or the texture. However, I much preferred it to Frosty Jack's, vodka, or WKD. Three years later, and I fucking love beer and I've recently acquired a taste for Jagermeister - hence the song I've written. Also, thirteen year olds get very drunk, very quickly and like most teenagers, they're godawful drunks. They vomit everywhere except where it's socially acceptable to vomit (i.e. into the canal, into the toilet, not on the fucking living room floor all over someone's bag and someone else's bass you know who you are), they fall over all the time making impossible to get them either home or to a bus stop in order to get home, they will fondle fucking EVERYTHING on EVERYONE. By the hammer of Thor, this is a big paragraph.

Needless to say, I don't trust my internal organs any more. Crafty fuckers. A few weeks ago my digestive system tried to escape through the long closed-up scar from my operation. My operation that happened back in 1995 (when I was no more than a fortnight old), then my colon went on the offensive, and now my respiratory system keeps interrupting my every third sentence with an assault of hoarse, loud, disease-y coughing. Ah well, I'll live. Probably.


Anyhoo, farwell and praise Odin. Or the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Or whatever.
Oh, and merry Christmas. (Because I'm not going to update this blog before the 25th. Fuck.)