I feel very alone at the moment.
Drip, drip, drip.
Saturday 18 September 2010
Tuesday 14 September 2010
I can't remember my memorable data.
Fuck internet banking. I'm probably exposing myself to all sorts of Nigerian scams anyway.
I want to move away from this fucking shithole, I went to Brighton the other day and realised how nice places can actually like, be. Ten minutes from the sea at all times. Imagine that.
I hate my job.
I want to move away from this fucking shithole, I went to Brighton the other day and realised how nice places can actually like, be. Ten minutes from the sea at all times. Imagine that.
I hate my job.
Friday 30 July 2010
It's 5:38am.
And I should be very asleep right now. Instead I'm sitting in front of my budget laptop trying not to punch the internet in it's mum. Yeah... You heard.
I am 76% sure that I am getting a sore throat. This is obviously very bad news as I like to be able to smoke at least twenty fags on a daily basis. My tongue piercing is also sort of sore a bit. WHY DOES SMOKING HAVE TO BE SO DAMAGING? I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO DO NICE THINGS SUCH AS FEED MY ADDICTION WITHOUT BEING SLIGHTLY IRKED BY HEALTH PROBLEMS. AND NOW I'VE GOT THE FUCKING HICCOUGHS AND PINS AND NEEDLES IN MY LEFT FOOT. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT?
Allcaps aside, although my life is retarded and makes me want to shout at things, I now own a copy of Motley Crue's 'Primal Scream' vinyl EP + original back patch, so I suppose it's not all bad.
Glam metal suicide, anyone? Sure, we'll be dead, but our hair will look just great.
I am 76% sure that I am getting a sore throat. This is obviously very bad news as I like to be able to smoke at least twenty fags on a daily basis. My tongue piercing is also sort of sore a bit. WHY DOES SMOKING HAVE TO BE SO DAMAGING? I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO DO NICE THINGS SUCH AS FEED MY ADDICTION WITHOUT BEING SLIGHTLY IRKED BY HEALTH PROBLEMS. AND NOW I'VE GOT THE FUCKING HICCOUGHS AND PINS AND NEEDLES IN MY LEFT FOOT. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT?
Allcaps aside, although my life is retarded and makes me want to shout at things, I now own a copy of Motley Crue's 'Primal Scream' vinyl EP + original back patch, so I suppose it's not all bad.
Glam metal suicide, anyone? Sure, we'll be dead, but our hair will look just great.
Friday 9 July 2010
Monday 5 July 2010
Distance
Too long have I let myself be this way. I must stop treating myself like I deserve this shit.
feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel feel feel feel feel feel feel feel
feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel bad feel good feel feel feel feel feel feel feel feel
Friday 2 July 2010
Tattoos
Sorry, I'm being well shit with actually writing funny ha-ha blogs right now. Allow me, I'm super busy and shit.... *scoffs*
Soooo I keep meaning to collect all my tattoo ideas into one place because I have so many floating around that I can't keep track of them all.. And I'd like to conglomerate them toegether sometime soon to get something hugely obvious and regrettable. I'm essentially think-writing out loud (yes... You heard me...) so I would suggest you ignore this unless you're stalking me, in which case read further. Freak.
1. A rotting, half eaten apple - sounds gross, but I have a very beautiful picture in my mind of some sort of shaded thing. [I don't like colour tattoos just by the by, so if you are actually reading this then from hereon please note that unless otherwise stated, they will be black and white]. This is a homage to my massive Alice in Chains fangirlness, and one of my favourite songs of theirs. I dunno why, I just think it's a beautiful image.
2. Moar fangirlness. Due to my love of gothic culture, alt culture and Type O Negative, I want some sort of tattoo referencing their song Black No.1. I remember hearing ti when I was well young and just thinking it was the spookiest, heaviest and coolest thing ever, and that's a feeling I want to remember forever. I'll always love Type O and a handful of other bands for getting into all this metal/alt business, that song especially cos it's about goff girls and stuff. I am fully aware that most ofyou will construe this is as gay, but I don't care. Gothic culture means a lot to me and has had a huge influence on my life, so NEEEEERRRRRRR ¬_¬
3. Keeping on the subject of dead musicians and music related tattoos, I pretty much want something to commemorate all my favourite bands/songs/artists. There are about 1057235 different bits of Bjork lyrics that I've considered getting put on me somewhere, but haven't stuck to a particular song yet so I guess that will come with time; though I don't want to fall into the trap of looking for something to get a tattoo of. Also Pantera, nearly have had the CFH symbol done several times but haven't for various reasons. Mainly that I don't know where to get it, considered elbow but cba with that pain again, once was enough thankyou. -_-
4. Due to my deep-seated daddy issues, I'd like another related to my father. This time I was thinking perhaps one of his car; he had a 66 S-Type Jag and it was probably the most beautiful four-wheeled machine I'll ever have the luck of having contact with. However a car tattoo is a little boring, especially as I plan to not get any colour in any ink I have. Other ideas possibly something to do with his DJ past? Plumbing? Another idea was a sort of rip off of when people get tattoos to look liek their flesh has been ripped off to expose some sort of biomech.. stuff - I would have some sort of plumbing.. stuff instead (he liked pipes and stuff). STUFF STUFF STUFF.
moar to follow
Soooo I keep meaning to collect all my tattoo ideas into one place because I have so many floating around that I can't keep track of them all.. And I'd like to conglomerate them toegether sometime soon to get something hugely obvious and regrettable. I'm essentially think-writing out loud (yes... You heard me...) so I would suggest you ignore this unless you're stalking me, in which case read further. Freak.
1. A rotting, half eaten apple - sounds gross, but I have a very beautiful picture in my mind of some sort of shaded thing. [I don't like colour tattoos just by the by, so if you are actually reading this then from hereon please note that unless otherwise stated, they will be black and white]. This is a homage to my massive Alice in Chains fangirlness, and one of my favourite songs of theirs. I dunno why, I just think it's a beautiful image.
2. Moar fangirlness. Due to my love of gothic culture, alt culture and Type O Negative, I want some sort of tattoo referencing their song Black No.1. I remember hearing ti when I was well young and just thinking it was the spookiest, heaviest and coolest thing ever, and that's a feeling I want to remember forever. I'll always love Type O and a handful of other bands for getting into all this metal/alt business, that song especially cos it's about goff girls and stuff. I am fully aware that most ofyou will construe this is as gay, but I don't care. Gothic culture means a lot to me and has had a huge influence on my life, so NEEEEERRRRRRR ¬_¬
3. Keeping on the subject of dead musicians and music related tattoos, I pretty much want something to commemorate all my favourite bands/songs/artists. There are about 1057235 different bits of Bjork lyrics that I've considered getting put on me somewhere, but haven't stuck to a particular song yet so I guess that will come with time; though I don't want to fall into the trap of looking for something to get a tattoo of. Also Pantera, nearly have had the CFH symbol done several times but haven't for various reasons. Mainly that I don't know where to get it, considered elbow but cba with that pain again, once was enough thankyou. -_-
4. Due to my deep-seated daddy issues, I'd like another related to my father. This time I was thinking perhaps one of his car; he had a 66 S-Type Jag and it was probably the most beautiful four-wheeled machine I'll ever have the luck of having contact with. However a car tattoo is a little boring, especially as I plan to not get any colour in any ink I have. Other ideas possibly something to do with his DJ past? Plumbing? Another idea was a sort of rip off of when people get tattoos to look liek their flesh has been ripped off to expose some sort of biomech.. stuff - I would have some sort of plumbing.. stuff instead (he liked pipes and stuff). STUFF STUFF STUFF.
moar to follow
Monday 28 June 2010
Blah blah
Do I get myself into stupid situations or is this punishment for laughing in the face of God and not respecting my mother? Oops.
I severely dislike other people, and I dislike myself for thinking that other people are not going to be disagreeable. HAHAHAHA STOP.
I want to go and fucking get a horse and be a cowboy or some shit, fuuuuuuck
I severely dislike other people, and I dislike myself for thinking that other people are not going to be disagreeable. HAHAHAHA STOP.
I want to go and fucking get a horse and be a cowboy or some shit, fuuuuuuck
Saturday 19 June 2010
Rotten apple
'My pain, is self-chosen.'
None can be truer than the suffering you inflict upon yourself.
None can be truer than the suffering you inflict upon yourself.
Thursday 3 June 2010
Tongue Piercing
I'm going to entertain you all with a diary of my healing period. Yay
Day 1. 03/06
Spent about 4 hours waiting for a bus. Went to place, made the piercer uncomfortable with inappropriate jokes. Got tongue pierced. Hurt more than I thought. People on the internet lie. Bar is about twice the size of my mouth so having trouble speaking, much to the amusement of everyone else. Can't eat any solids, so bought many soups and yoghurts. Also ice cream. Wonder how long it will be til I get bored of eating liquid food? Experienced some pain and swelling, nothing that didn't go away with Ibuprofen though.
Day 2. 04/06
Apparently the morning after is meant to be when you experience the worse pain. Woke up, wasn't in pain. Tongue is still a little sore and uncomfortable with the bar, but nothing horrendous. Took more painkillers. Still feels weird to have a big foreign metal thing in my mouth (HAHAHA LOLOLOL MAKE A VAGUE PENIS JOKE). The bottom of the barbell is digging into my palatte, which is actually worse than the sore tongue. Stupid small mouth. Never want to see another can of chicken soup in my life. Made fishcakes for dinner, managed to chew the lil crunchy layer on top which made me very happy. Solids ftw. This is nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. What in the hell is wrong with you people?!
Day something. 19/06
Alright, so I sort of slacked at keeping a tongue diary. To sum up, it lasted the same for about 7 days; after 3 days of eating ice cream and rinsing my mouth with saltwater after every cigarette, I felt like crying every time I saw a piece of bread (I eat a LOT of toast...) This has easily been the quickest-healing of all my piercings, which I sort of expected. By about day 5 I could eat anything and had no pain or discomfort apart from the foot-long bar digging into my palate. The most pain I experienced with it was in the mornings, which was quite horrendous for about half an hour but easily subdued with painkillers and ice lollies. The not eating was definitely the worst part of the healing stage as I like food and stuff. Oh, and I had a fucking ridiculous lisp until I got the short bar put in, and seeing as I spend 90% of my day at work saying "cash or exchange?" was quite annoying. No bother, it's worth it - piercing in question is already my favourite out of about 17 in total.
Conclusion: If you can deal with eating only liquids and non-chewable matter for the first week and don't mind people imitating your lisp every time you speak, DO IT DO IT!
Day 1. 03/06
Spent about 4 hours waiting for a bus. Went to place, made the piercer uncomfortable with inappropriate jokes. Got tongue pierced. Hurt more than I thought. People on the internet lie. Bar is about twice the size of my mouth so having trouble speaking, much to the amusement of everyone else. Can't eat any solids, so bought many soups and yoghurts. Also ice cream. Wonder how long it will be til I get bored of eating liquid food? Experienced some pain and swelling, nothing that didn't go away with Ibuprofen though.
Day 2. 04/06
Apparently the morning after is meant to be when you experience the worse pain. Woke up, wasn't in pain. Tongue is still a little sore and uncomfortable with the bar, but nothing horrendous. Took more painkillers. Still feels weird to have a big foreign metal thing in my mouth (HAHAHA LOLOLOL MAKE A VAGUE PENIS JOKE). The bottom of the barbell is digging into my palatte, which is actually worse than the sore tongue. Stupid small mouth. Never want to see another can of chicken soup in my life. Made fishcakes for dinner, managed to chew the lil crunchy layer on top which made me very happy. Solids ftw. This is nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. What in the hell is wrong with you people?!
Day something. 19/06
Alright, so I sort of slacked at keeping a tongue diary. To sum up, it lasted the same for about 7 days; after 3 days of eating ice cream and rinsing my mouth with saltwater after every cigarette, I felt like crying every time I saw a piece of bread (I eat a LOT of toast...) This has easily been the quickest-healing of all my piercings, which I sort of expected. By about day 5 I could eat anything and had no pain or discomfort apart from the foot-long bar digging into my palate. The most pain I experienced with it was in the mornings, which was quite horrendous for about half an hour but easily subdued with painkillers and ice lollies. The not eating was definitely the worst part of the healing stage as I like food and stuff. Oh, and I had a fucking ridiculous lisp until I got the short bar put in, and seeing as I spend 90% of my day at work saying "cash or exchange?" was quite annoying. No bother, it's worth it - piercing in question is already my favourite out of about 17 in total.
Conclusion: If you can deal with eating only liquids and non-chewable matter for the first week and don't mind people imitating your lisp every time you speak, DO IT DO IT!
Friday 7 May 2010
Bolt Thrower/Birmingham/Fail
WHOA HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN AGES. Manz has been busy with a new job here. I'm quite enjoying it so far, not much to rant about yet. Oh, apart from the fact that we're a solely second-hand retailer; not that in itself so much, but did you know that we sell porn? Yep. Second-hand porn. Srs, I try very hard to be completely nonchalant towards all the customers, no matter how shit the game/film/phone they're buying is, but when some nasty old Asian bloke with a ponytail and a lazy eye sidles up to the counter with "NASTY BRAZILIAN SLUTS 4" in his hand I can't help but be a lil bit sick in my mouth. For this reason, I keep a bottle of hand-sanitising gel next to my tillbank at all times. Ergh, semen.
Anyway, semen aside, I thought I would tell all of my fans what I've done in the past few days; they've been rather unfortunate, and I'm sure that the thousands of warped minds who so clearly read my blog in secret every day want to hear about it.
Aite, so our story starts with the Coventry-ese/ite band Bolt Thrower; if you don't know them and are partial to a little steam-rollering death metal now and again, download nao. Word got round of a tour; soon turned out they were playing London ULU. Now, far be it from me to be a snob, but ULU is fucking SHIT. Everything about it is SHIT. It's a student bar, so it's full of check-shirted arseholes with 2ft plugs wandering aroound trying to show off their neck tattoos; which obviously contributes to it being shit. It's just a shit venue. It has no ambience whatsoever; it's like being in a library with a bar. Oh, and did I mention that the bar staff are students, hence meaning you have to wait about 20 minutes to actually get served, and when do get served, your pint is 89% frothy. Which is obviously not the correct head/beer ratio. All this angst aside, however, BT were playing there, so obvioulsy I couldn't bitch.
Oh, but I can. You see, Bolt Thrower have been a band for about 24 years; hence, they have quite a large following. ULU has a capacity of about four, plus the 30million students who hang out there to look cool. So obviously, the gig sold out. Perhaps I should've booked a ticket sooner; but no. I can assure you that there was NOTHING I COULD'VE DONE to stem the pure gutrotting evil that stems from that venue.
SO yeah. Decided to go down to fair Birmingham (LOL) to go and see the band in their home town, in an undoubtedly better venue, and with fewer trendy twats. All was well; booked train/gig tickets etc, got down there in time, got a t-shirt (HAHAAAA SCREW YOU PEOPLE THAT AREN'T COOL ENOUGH TO HAVE BT MERCH), watched one of the support bands (Benediction, if you care. They were alright, bit lacklustre) and then, suddenly... I realised it was 10.15pm. 10.15pm?!?! What support band leaves the headliner 45 minutes to play a set, I thought in an angry protaganist voice? OH... Right. I'm not in London. There is no ridiculous noise curfew here. Ah. Right. My train comes in half an hour. Bolt Thrower won't be on for another 20 minutes at least. Ah.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
Thankfully, the friend I was with had a friend at the gig who said we could stay at his house. I deliberated for a bit, seeing as I had work the next day and I didn't want to turn up smelling of Birmingham and a gig, but in the end decided there was no was I was watching 15 minutes of the band I had travelled 2052935 miles and paid £30 in train tickets to see.
Obviously Bolt Thrower shat all over my ears and filled me with glee, no surprises there (nb: at this point I'd like to interject and just say that nobody from Birmingham understands sarcasm or irony. Is that a northern thing in general? Please send replies. I'm concerned). Went to get my coat etc, had a smoke outside whilst waiting for this dude to get out and take us back to his abode in deep Leamington Spa territory.
Fifteen minutes later and my pal and are I a bit confused. So he calls his friend... And he's already in the car home. The drunk bastard didn't realise we were coming back with him. At this point it's about half midnight. Trains from Birmingham - London cease running at 23:23 (and that train stops at an airport for like, four hours. SO FUCK THAT SHIT). Proper screwed, init.
Lots of hilarity ensued (sort of). We ended up roaming around Birmingham New Street from then until 5:30 in the morning for the first train. It was cold, slightly raining, and worst of all, up north. We spent about an hour and a half trying to find a 24-hour McDonalds that my friend had DEFINITELY been to last time he was in Brum at 2 in the morning; we eventually found it, and it was closed. We proceeded to sit on some sort of joke cast-iron bull statue in the middle of a shopping complex (which, I am also going to point out, was definitely not engineered for climbing on. Wtf is that shit? It was also not very comfortable, and it's anus was far too realistic) until it got too cold/wet, bought some shit magazines (you know, "MY MUM ATE MY SISTER'S FACE" "I GAVE BIRTH TO A TRANSGENDER SWAN" etc) and considered ways to kill ourself in the station waiting room for another three hours.
I arrived back in the loving bosom of Watford Junction at 7:30am; went home, slept for an hour, then went to work. Until 7pm. I started writing this on that said day, but unfortunately I died and failed to compelte my works. I was miraculously resurrected from the dead this morning in order to go to work, but unfortunately I believe this is only a temporary resurrection and I will most probably die in the next few hours.
You slags.
In conclusion: Fuck ULU. Don't go to Birmingham. If you do, ensure you take someone who has the endurance to give you a piggy back all the way back to London.
BEARZ HAS NO REREVANCE!
Anyway, semen aside, I thought I would tell all of my fans what I've done in the past few days; they've been rather unfortunate, and I'm sure that the thousands of warped minds who so clearly read my blog in secret every day want to hear about it.
Aite, so our story starts with the Coventry-ese/ite band Bolt Thrower; if you don't know them and are partial to a little steam-rollering death metal now and again, download nao. Word got round of a tour; soon turned out they were playing London ULU. Now, far be it from me to be a snob, but ULU is fucking SHIT. Everything about it is SHIT. It's a student bar, so it's full of check-shirted arseholes with 2ft plugs wandering aroound trying to show off their neck tattoos; which obviously contributes to it being shit. It's just a shit venue. It has no ambience whatsoever; it's like being in a library with a bar. Oh, and did I mention that the bar staff are students, hence meaning you have to wait about 20 minutes to actually get served, and when do get served, your pint is 89% frothy. Which is obviously not the correct head/beer ratio. All this angst aside, however, BT were playing there, so obvioulsy I couldn't bitch.
Oh, but I can. You see, Bolt Thrower have been a band for about 24 years; hence, they have quite a large following. ULU has a capacity of about four, plus the 30million students who hang out there to look cool. So obviously, the gig sold out. Perhaps I should've booked a ticket sooner; but no. I can assure you that there was NOTHING I COULD'VE DONE to stem the pure gutrotting evil that stems from that venue.
SO yeah. Decided to go down to fair Birmingham (LOL) to go and see the band in their home town, in an undoubtedly better venue, and with fewer trendy twats. All was well; booked train/gig tickets etc, got down there in time, got a t-shirt (HAHAAAA SCREW YOU PEOPLE THAT AREN'T COOL ENOUGH TO HAVE BT MERCH), watched one of the support bands (Benediction, if you care. They were alright, bit lacklustre) and then, suddenly... I realised it was 10.15pm. 10.15pm?!?! What support band leaves the headliner 45 minutes to play a set, I thought in an angry protaganist voice? OH... Right. I'm not in London. There is no ridiculous noise curfew here. Ah. Right. My train comes in half an hour. Bolt Thrower won't be on for another 20 minutes at least. Ah.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
Thankfully, the friend I was with had a friend at the gig who said we could stay at his house. I deliberated for a bit, seeing as I had work the next day and I didn't want to turn up smelling of Birmingham and a gig, but in the end decided there was no was I was watching 15 minutes of the band I had travelled 2052935 miles and paid £30 in train tickets to see.
Obviously Bolt Thrower shat all over my ears and filled me with glee, no surprises there (nb: at this point I'd like to interject and just say that nobody from Birmingham understands sarcasm or irony. Is that a northern thing in general? Please send replies. I'm concerned). Went to get my coat etc, had a smoke outside whilst waiting for this dude to get out and take us back to his abode in deep Leamington Spa territory.
Fifteen minutes later and my pal and are I a bit confused. So he calls his friend... And he's already in the car home. The drunk bastard didn't realise we were coming back with him. At this point it's about half midnight. Trains from Birmingham - London cease running at 23:23 (and that train stops at an airport for like, four hours. SO FUCK THAT SHIT). Proper screwed, init.
Lots of hilarity ensued (sort of). We ended up roaming around Birmingham New Street from then until 5:30 in the morning for the first train. It was cold, slightly raining, and worst of all, up north. We spent about an hour and a half trying to find a 24-hour McDonalds that my friend had DEFINITELY been to last time he was in Brum at 2 in the morning; we eventually found it, and it was closed. We proceeded to sit on some sort of joke cast-iron bull statue in the middle of a shopping complex (which, I am also going to point out, was definitely not engineered for climbing on. Wtf is that shit? It was also not very comfortable, and it's anus was far too realistic) until it got too cold/wet, bought some shit magazines (you know, "MY MUM ATE MY SISTER'S FACE" "I GAVE BIRTH TO A TRANSGENDER SWAN" etc) and considered ways to kill ourself in the station waiting room for another three hours.
I arrived back in the loving bosom of Watford Junction at 7:30am; went home, slept for an hour, then went to work. Until 7pm. I started writing this on that said day, but unfortunately I died and failed to compelte my works. I was miraculously resurrected from the dead this morning in order to go to work, but unfortunately I believe this is only a temporary resurrection and I will most probably die in the next few hours.
You slags.
In conclusion: Fuck ULU. Don't go to Birmingham. If you do, ensure you take someone who has the endurance to give you a piggy back all the way back to London.
BEARZ HAS NO REREVANCE!
Thursday 8 April 2010
Don't read this, it's self-pitying turd.
NO! That was not a joke, that was a warning. I haven't written in a while and I feel a
song gay ramble coming on, you know. Same shit as always. If you don't enjoy reading that sort of worthless wank-tripe then go and watch this amusing video instead [insert your favourite viral YouTube hit here].
Right, so I'm quite aware that most teenagers apparently go through this self-discovery phase; the "WHO AM I?!? WHERE AM I?" shit. I think I'm in that right now, and I'm getting quite bored of it to be frank. My moods go up and down like the village bike's knickers (which I'm sure can be attributed to hormones or something...) and I seem to be in a constant state of :/. And tbh, I cba irl. I'm so fucking tired of waiting for someone to come along and tell me what to do; I pride myself on being "independent" or some bollocks like that, but I'm being really fucking shit at that at the moment. In life we're sort of taught (I dunno, just looking for someone to blame and going for the obvious scapegoats - teachers/parents) that no matter how bad everything is, everything will "fall into place" eventually. WHAT FUCKING PLACE? I've been waiting for about 7 years to work shit out, and I do realise I'm only (insert age here) but ffs. Is there an average age for when that happens? Does it differ with heritage/intelligence? HELP ME. FUCKING PLEASE. AWHFGLSKDHNVKS
(I did warn you)
I'm also getting bored of sitting on the internet writing rhetorical questions to myself. H-AAAAALLOW.
Right, so I'm quite aware that most teenagers apparently go through this self-discovery phase; the "WHO AM I?!? WHERE AM I?" shit. I think I'm in that right now, and I'm getting quite bored of it to be frank. My moods go up and down like the village bike's knickers (which I'm sure can be attributed to hormones or something...) and I seem to be in a constant state of :/. And tbh, I cba irl. I'm so fucking tired of waiting for someone to come along and tell me what to do; I pride myself on being "independent" or some bollocks like that, but I'm being really fucking shit at that at the moment. In life we're sort of taught (I dunno, just looking for someone to blame and going for the obvious scapegoats - teachers/parents) that no matter how bad everything is, everything will "fall into place" eventually. WHAT FUCKING PLACE? I've been waiting for about 7 years to work shit out, and I do realise I'm only (insert age here) but ffs. Is there an average age for when that happens? Does it differ with heritage/intelligence? HELP ME. FUCKING PLEASE. AWHFGLSKDHNVKS
(I did warn you)
I'm also getting bored of sitting on the internet writing rhetorical questions to myself. H-AAAAALLOW.
Tuesday 30 March 2010
Teenagers (written 0444am)
Teenagers (4:44am, 31/03/10)
We're gonna clean up ya looks with all the lies in the books... Only kidding. Don't make me sick.
Teenagers are a fucked up little group of humans really. Grown-ups always say that these are the best years of our life (insert apology for using hackneyed cliche here) but I appear to have spent the entire six years I've had a 'teen' suffix on my age worrying about stuff and eating junk food. I wonder if it really was different growing up in the 40s, 50s, etc etc. Kids today seem to be under a lot of pressure to perform and make decisions that will affect the rest of their lives; but surely it's always sort of been like that? The point I raise is that that's fucking stupid. Being told to make decisions that basically predict what sort of future you're going to have seems a trifle unresponsible. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I was 15 I would've quite happily said all I wanted to do for the rest of my life was smoke pot and watch family guy and listen to Korn. Three years down the line and my perspective is quite different. I think I can safely say I've changed my mind regarding what I want to "do" in life about 3 times a week since then (sorry to butt in here, but for any of you that enjoy rock/metal music and don't know the band already, download the "Come, Reap" EP by The Devil's Blood RIGHT NAO. Turn off the lights, put on a red dress and light a stick of incense. Aaaand marvel. That is all. Please continue) and still continue to change my mind as frequently; I'm 18 in two months. Surely now I'm of an age where most people can say they have some sort of idea what they want to do/are interested in/good at. Well, I have no idea. At all. Not the foggiest. Information overload has also affected education - on the few occasions I've sought advice from those lovable retards at Connexions (why spell it like that? :/) I've come away even more confused than I was already. Which is saying something.
If you are an avid reader of my ramblings, you will know that most of them are full of AARGH WHAT SHALL I DO? AND WHY SHOULD I DO IT? AND HOW WOULD I GO ABOUT DOING IT? AND WHY IS EVERYTHING SO SHIT? type stuff. Alas, the countless lists don't seem to have helped. A lot of people say I should 'write'. Write what though? I'm too picky to be a critic, too scatterbrained to write novels, not clever enough to write non-fiction, and don't care enough about local issues to work at a newspaper.
SO WTF? *bangs head against keyboard*
Sorry, this entry is a bit shit. But tbh it's 4:44am and I'm in a terrible mood. Not terrible enough to write an emo blog, because I'm not pissed off enough about a particular subject to dedicate an entire entry to it. Essentially, if you have any suggestions, now is the time to er, suggest them, o great one. WHADDOIDO?
I NEED TO INSURE MY FUCKING MOTORBIKE.
The fact that there are people out there who'd wipe their arse with 500 quid makes me want to stick forks in my fucking eyes. Right now I'd probably cut off one of my toes for that amount of money. Srsly. Considering robbing a fatcat right now, not gonna lie. Although I'd make a shit burglar, I'd probably get distracted by the family cat and get caught trying to smuggle a bag of crisps into my pocket or something. Stupid rustling.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEED SLEEP.
P.S. 9 years has gone remarkably quickly. How has that happened? How was I eight that short a period of time ago? Fucking hell. Be grateful that you can't miss me as much as I miss you, dead man.
P.P.S. Fuck daylight saving. Stealing an hour of my life. Who the fuck thought of that? Seriously? WTF.
P.P.P.S. I know daylight saving was like, two days ago, but whatever. It doesn't suck any less. You lost an hour too. Imagine what you could've done with that extra hour. Yeah. Exactly.
P.P.P.P.S. I meant what I said about download The Devil's Blood. You're missing out. While you're at it download The Graveyard Shuffle and The Time Of No Time Evermore. GUYS SRSLY
P.P.P.P.P.S. Last one, go watch Kick-Ass. Saw it at the weekend, it is totally AWESOME. I think I might pull an all nighter (all dayer?). I might even tidy my room. Shit.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. ...Nah only kidding, you can go now. Although... I'd like to ask why you fuckers never comment? I include plenty of rhetorical questions for you to attempt to answer. You can even be anonymous, ffs. HELP ME OUT HERE.
We're gonna clean up ya looks with all the lies in the books... Only kidding. Don't make me sick.
Teenagers are a fucked up little group of humans really. Grown-ups always say that these are the best years of our life (insert apology for using hackneyed cliche here) but I appear to have spent the entire six years I've had a 'teen' suffix on my age worrying about stuff and eating junk food. I wonder if it really was different growing up in the 40s, 50s, etc etc. Kids today seem to be under a lot of pressure to perform and make decisions that will affect the rest of their lives; but surely it's always sort of been like that? The point I raise is that that's fucking stupid. Being told to make decisions that basically predict what sort of future you're going to have seems a trifle unresponsible. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I was 15 I would've quite happily said all I wanted to do for the rest of my life was smoke pot and watch family guy and listen to Korn. Three years down the line and my perspective is quite different. I think I can safely say I've changed my mind regarding what I want to "do" in life about 3 times a week since then (sorry to butt in here, but for any of you that enjoy rock/metal music and don't know the band already, download the "Come, Reap" EP by The Devil's Blood RIGHT NAO. Turn off the lights, put on a red dress and light a stick of incense. Aaaand marvel. That is all. Please continue) and still continue to change my mind as frequently; I'm 18 in two months. Surely now I'm of an age where most people can say they have some sort of idea what they want to do/are interested in/good at. Well, I have no idea. At all. Not the foggiest. Information overload has also affected education - on the few occasions I've sought advice from those lovable retards at Connexions (why spell it like that? :/) I've come away even more confused than I was already. Which is saying something.
If you are an avid reader of my ramblings, you will know that most of them are full of AARGH WHAT SHALL I DO? AND WHY SHOULD I DO IT? AND HOW WOULD I GO ABOUT DOING IT? AND WHY IS EVERYTHING SO SHIT? type stuff. Alas, the countless lists don't seem to have helped. A lot of people say I should 'write'. Write what though? I'm too picky to be a critic, too scatterbrained to write novels, not clever enough to write non-fiction, and don't care enough about local issues to work at a newspaper.
SO WTF? *bangs head against keyboard*
Sorry, this entry is a bit shit. But tbh it's 4:44am and I'm in a terrible mood. Not terrible enough to write an emo blog, because I'm not pissed off enough about a particular subject to dedicate an entire entry to it. Essentially, if you have any suggestions, now is the time to er, suggest them, o great one. WHADDOIDO?
I NEED TO INSURE MY FUCKING MOTORBIKE.
The fact that there are people out there who'd wipe their arse with 500 quid makes me want to stick forks in my fucking eyes. Right now I'd probably cut off one of my toes for that amount of money. Srsly. Considering robbing a fatcat right now, not gonna lie. Although I'd make a shit burglar, I'd probably get distracted by the family cat and get caught trying to smuggle a bag of crisps into my pocket or something. Stupid rustling.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEED SLEEP.
P.S. 9 years has gone remarkably quickly. How has that happened? How was I eight that short a period of time ago? Fucking hell. Be grateful that you can't miss me as much as I miss you, dead man.
P.P.S. Fuck daylight saving. Stealing an hour of my life. Who the fuck thought of that? Seriously? WTF.
P.P.P.S. I know daylight saving was like, two days ago, but whatever. It doesn't suck any less. You lost an hour too. Imagine what you could've done with that extra hour. Yeah. Exactly.
P.P.P.P.S. I meant what I said about download The Devil's Blood. You're missing out. While you're at it download The Graveyard Shuffle and The Time Of No Time Evermore. GUYS SRSLY
P.P.P.P.P.S. Last one, go watch Kick-Ass. Saw it at the weekend, it is totally AWESOME. I think I might pull an all nighter (all dayer?). I might even tidy my room. Shit.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. ...Nah only kidding, you can go now. Although... I'd like to ask why you fuckers never comment? I include plenty of rhetorical questions for you to attempt to answer. You can even be anonymous, ffs. HELP ME OUT HERE.
Wednesday 24 March 2010
Remember
Always remember that the world doesn't owe you anything, or run the risk of becoming lost in your own foolishness.
Monday 22 March 2010
Motherfuckers
No money, can't get a job, can't get into college, can't be bothered to spend another 7 years in education for something I probably don't want to do, can't be bothered to wait, can't be bothered to humiliate myself further. Isn't it shit when you've got no-one to blame but yourself? Ah, life.
Sunday 21 March 2010
Tangent Pt.1
SORRY SORRY, I will finish the oh-so-liberating rant about man and woman, but first I need to devise my LIFE ACTION PLAN! (cough... cough...)
1. Right, so I fucked up all my GCSEs at school. This was probably not a good idea, but I can pass this off on being emotionally disturbed and my whole "I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING UNTIL I'VE EXPERIENCED IT FOR MYSELF" ideology. Also the fact that I didn't fail due to being an academic retard, just a life retard... (This may seem off point, but keep in mind).
2. I decided about a week ago that I most definitely wanted to be a mechanic and do an apprenticeship. Odd choice for a 5ft girl with small hands, you may say. Well, yes. I went for an interview at a garage and the fucking cunt manager just stared at my tits the whole time. Plus, I don't actually give a shit about cars, only bikes. So sorry, "Skillnet" - I was wrong. I actually don't want to fix cars.
3. However, I still want to learn how to fix bikes; Only maybe not as a permanent job type thing. SO, I have deduced (thank you, internet) that I could possibly do a part time course in Motor Vehicle Repair & Maintenence (motorcycle award) at Kensington & Chelsea college. Sounds good no?
4. However (II), I most probably don't want to be a mechanic for the rest of my life, because as you all know, I am intellectually gifted etc... And I do quite like writing stuff. Hence, I should probably get some solid qualifications, no? Refer to point number one. I have 3 GCSEs; and one would assume upon the results that I was fairly good at maths, alright at science, and really fucking shit at English. Which is obviously wrong. (Fun fact for you here; I got something like 80 marks out of 82 in my English Literature exam, but because Edexcel are cunts and I didn't bother doing any coursework, the fucking bastards gave me a U. FUCK YOU EDEXCEL. I FUCKING HATE YOU). SO, we can deduce from this information that I cannot do a levels (or preferrably the International Baccalaureate) at a standard college, unless I redo my GCSEs. Now, far be it from me to think that GCSEs are pointless/shit/stupidly easy, but I refuse to spend another year of my life studying stuff that I already know, to take exams I could pass now with minimal revision/effort. BUT! IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY IS IT?!?!?!?! Of course not. Fuck you, government. Fuck you, money. I could take my GCSEs online with ICS; do you know how much that costs? £249.00. Ah. Aye, there's the nub... So, I'm in a bit of a situation...
5. I didn't really need this to be an extra point, but I felt like point 4 was getting a bit long, and I know you fuckers get bored easily because you are simple minded and weak (I never said that!) so I thought I'd separate a bit. Erm, where was I? Oh yeah. So I want to do this IB thing, because quite frankly it sounds fucking awesome - http://www.stanmore.ac.uk/News/IB_Courses.asp - BUT for that you need "a strong profile of GCSE results, typically seven subjects at grade B or above". FFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
6. My options at the moment therefore look something like this: A) Fuck education, get job at supermarket and stay there for rest of life. Educate self through reading Plato and Germaine Greer books. Quote Kafka to people as they walk past my aisle. B) Pay £1,000 to do four GCSEs, get A* in all of them. Do part time bike mechanics course at Ken & Chelsea. Do IB, get amazing grades, go to Oxford, be the brightest/most forward-thinking English student in the history of time. Write books, get money, travel word, have fast/loud bikes, be attractive untill some time in 2050, then die from choking on gold-plated smoked salmon nibbles.
Who wants to lend me a grand?
1. Right, so I fucked up all my GCSEs at school. This was probably not a good idea, but I can pass this off on being emotionally disturbed and my whole "I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING UNTIL I'VE EXPERIENCED IT FOR MYSELF" ideology. Also the fact that I didn't fail due to being an academic retard, just a life retard... (This may seem off point, but keep in mind).
2. I decided about a week ago that I most definitely wanted to be a mechanic and do an apprenticeship. Odd choice for a 5ft girl with small hands, you may say. Well, yes. I went for an interview at a garage and the fucking cunt manager just stared at my tits the whole time. Plus, I don't actually give a shit about cars, only bikes. So sorry, "Skillnet" - I was wrong. I actually don't want to fix cars.
3. However, I still want to learn how to fix bikes; Only maybe not as a permanent job type thing. SO, I have deduced (thank you, internet) that I could possibly do a part time course in Motor Vehicle Repair & Maintenence (motorcycle award) at Kensington & Chelsea college. Sounds good no?
4. However (II), I most probably don't want to be a mechanic for the rest of my life, because as you all know, I am intellectually gifted etc... And I do quite like writing stuff. Hence, I should probably get some solid qualifications, no? Refer to point number one. I have 3 GCSEs; and one would assume upon the results that I was fairly good at maths, alright at science, and really fucking shit at English. Which is obviously wrong. (Fun fact for you here; I got something like 80 marks out of 82 in my English Literature exam, but because Edexcel are cunts and I didn't bother doing any coursework, the fucking bastards gave me a U. FUCK YOU EDEXCEL. I FUCKING HATE YOU). SO, we can deduce from this information that I cannot do a levels (or preferrably the International Baccalaureate) at a standard college, unless I redo my GCSEs. Now, far be it from me to think that GCSEs are pointless/shit/stupidly easy, but I refuse to spend another year of my life studying stuff that I already know, to take exams I could pass now with minimal revision/effort. BUT! IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY IS IT?!?!?!?! Of course not. Fuck you, government. Fuck you, money. I could take my GCSEs online with ICS; do you know how much that costs? £249.00. Ah. Aye, there's the nub... So, I'm in a bit of a situation...
5. I didn't really need this to be an extra point, but I felt like point 4 was getting a bit long, and I know you fuckers get bored easily because you are simple minded and weak (I never said that!) so I thought I'd separate a bit. Erm, where was I? Oh yeah. So I want to do this IB thing, because quite frankly it sounds fucking awesome - http://www.stanmore.ac.uk/News/IB_Courses.asp - BUT for that you need "a strong profile of GCSE results, typically seven subjects at grade B or above". FFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
6. My options at the moment therefore look something like this: A) Fuck education, get job at supermarket and stay there for rest of life. Educate self through reading Plato and Germaine Greer books. Quote Kafka to people as they walk past my aisle. B) Pay £1,000 to do four GCSEs, get A* in all of them. Do part time bike mechanics course at Ken & Chelsea. Do IB, get amazing grades, go to Oxford, be the brightest/most forward-thinking English student in the history of time. Write books, get money, travel word, have fast/loud bikes, be attractive untill some time in 2050, then die from choking on gold-plated smoked salmon nibbles.
Who wants to lend me a grand?
Friday 19 March 2010
Feminism
Feminism
Yes, it's gay. Yes, it's a subject mostly frequented by lumberjack-looking dykes who hate men. But this is a subject that is very important to me, and should be (but unfortunately, is not) important to all the other women inhabiting planet earth.
Being a woman in the 21st century is quite a strange concept. We've gone through the whole votes for women, women's lib, burn your bras, I WILL NOT BE A HOUSEWIFE bollocks, and now womankind is in this strange forward/backward place. As a young woman, I can safely say about 99% of my kind make me either want to become a Eunuch or just bury my face in the nearest face-buriable object thing. For an example, take Watford on a Friday night. Lads are all dressed somewhat respectably; shirts and jeans, clean shoes, clean face, blah blah blah. But, to see a girl without her legs, and/or breasts out, and not covered in orange slap/bits of horse extension, is a rare sight. I felt like some sort of aids-ridden leper walking into Area (which shall henceforth be referred to as "a shithole") wearing black (SHOCK) jeans and a tshirt. Slags and lads were actually full on staring at me. I would also here like to reference the trash tv show Snog Marry Avoid (a guilty pleasure, I have to admit), on which a young lady of orange-extension'd persuasion said that going out of the house in trousers was like a 'sin or somefink'. (I facepalm'd). Why do other girls of my age take such pride in demoralising themselves and pitying those who don't demoralise themselves? Why do they take pride in looking like complete tarts? Why are tarts even a thing? The age old question of "Why, if a guy should choose to shag several women, is he a legend, and if a woman chose to shag several guys, a slag?" rings rather true here. If a bloke wears a pair of shorts in summer, nobody gives a shit. In summer, women get leered at from every angle if they choose to wear shorts and a vest top. Why? I can't blame men (it would be easy to, and believe me, I have a huge argument against them..) because women so readily accept the stigma placed upon them as pretty objects. If I had access to the internet at the time of writing this preach-rant-ting then I would do some research nito the origins of man and woman, and when the separation of what is 'man' and 'woman' came about. Obviously we're different; but why have the differences evolved in the way that they have?
I find it disgusting that women have to be scared to walk home alone in the dark, in fear of some mental rapist or coming across a group of pissed lads. It's vile that (SOME) men take advantage of woman's physical weakness; You don't ever hear the story of a full grown woman stalking a man home and raping him, do you?
To be continued
Yes, it's gay. Yes, it's a subject mostly frequented by lumberjack-looking dykes who hate men. But this is a subject that is very important to me, and should be (but unfortunately, is not) important to all the other women inhabiting planet earth.
Being a woman in the 21st century is quite a strange concept. We've gone through the whole votes for women, women's lib, burn your bras, I WILL NOT BE A HOUSEWIFE bollocks, and now womankind is in this strange forward/backward place. As a young woman, I can safely say about 99% of my kind make me either want to become a Eunuch or just bury my face in the nearest face-buriable object thing. For an example, take Watford on a Friday night. Lads are all dressed somewhat respectably; shirts and jeans, clean shoes, clean face, blah blah blah. But, to see a girl without her legs, and/or breasts out, and not covered in orange slap/bits of horse extension, is a rare sight. I felt like some sort of aids-ridden leper walking into Area (which shall henceforth be referred to as "a shithole") wearing black (SHOCK) jeans and a tshirt. Slags and lads were actually full on staring at me. I would also here like to reference the trash tv show Snog Marry Avoid (a guilty pleasure, I have to admit), on which a young lady of orange-extension'd persuasion said that going out of the house in trousers was like a 'sin or somefink'. (I facepalm'd). Why do other girls of my age take such pride in demoralising themselves and pitying those who don't demoralise themselves? Why do they take pride in looking like complete tarts? Why are tarts even a thing? The age old question of "Why, if a guy should choose to shag several women, is he a legend, and if a woman chose to shag several guys, a slag?" rings rather true here. If a bloke wears a pair of shorts in summer, nobody gives a shit. In summer, women get leered at from every angle if they choose to wear shorts and a vest top. Why? I can't blame men (it would be easy to, and believe me, I have a huge argument against them..) because women so readily accept the stigma placed upon them as pretty objects. If I had access to the internet at the time of writing this preach-rant-ting then I would do some research nito the origins of man and woman, and when the separation of what is 'man' and 'woman' came about. Obviously we're different; but why have the differences evolved in the way that they have?
I find it disgusting that women have to be scared to walk home alone in the dark, in fear of some mental rapist or coming across a group of pissed lads. It's vile that (SOME) men take advantage of woman's physical weakness; You don't ever hear the story of a full grown woman stalking a man home and raping him, do you?
To be continued
Friday 5 March 2010
You may say I've given up the ghost...
I am but a beggar before beauty.
"That feeling when you are in another city, another town, strange and new streets and you realise you are wholly alone. Not one person around you knows you and no one knows where you stand in this world. It is these moments travelling that make me think of the past more than ever..."
It really is true... You don't know what you've got until it's gone.
I don't know what to do anymore. I am really at a loss, which does not happen very often in the world of Emily. I think I'm waiting for some amazing person to fall from the sky and tell me what to do next. If you're up there... Hurry the fuck up?
"That feeling when you are in another city, another town, strange and new streets and you realise you are wholly alone. Not one person around you knows you and no one knows where you stand in this world. It is these moments travelling that make me think of the past more than ever..."
It really is true... You don't know what you've got until it's gone.
I don't know what to do anymore. I am really at a loss, which does not happen very often in the world of Emily. I think I'm waiting for some amazing person to fall from the sky and tell me what to do next. If you're up there... Hurry the fuck up?
Tuesday 2 March 2010
Friday 26 February 2010
Hard
Why so?
Do you know how it feels to have a constantly conflicting personality? To ask yourself questions that contradict each other 24/7? I feel like I've turned my mind into a battleground, I've unearthed these despicable traits that I didn't even know I had. Sorry for the inherent use of cliches but I'm my own worst enemy and best friend at the same time.
I've worked so hard to extract my demons, to push away the things that make me unhappy, but in the end it all comes down to the same thing. No matter what your environment, who your friends are, or what drugs you're doing, if you hate yourself (or even, just a tiny part of yourself - or if you only hate yourself sometimes) then you'll never succeed. I've learned this the hard way, through years of trying to figure out problems, or what I want to do, I've failed, fallen at every hurdle, because I am constantly at war with myself. [Sorry for the cliche. Again].
So, this is my problem; I've got it there, typed by my own hand, staring back at me. What do I do to fix it? Nothing? I've been chipping away at it for years and nothing seems to have happened, so maybe if I leave my brain to it's own devices it'll settle and find some sort of equilibrium...
And then there's that issue. Oh, I was so sure that I didn't need it. I am Emily Everitt; I am strong enough to stand alone and fight my own battles. I don't need anyone to lean on, I said. And I was convinced of that, so I went on and did what I needed to do. Funny how things change, isn't it? Things seem to have done some crazy ninja switching shit, and now I'm weaker than ever.
What am I doing awake at 4:18am, posting my innermost thoughts on a public blog? Who knows. Maybe I'm one of those grubby attention-seeking whores that I've read so much about.
I'm so cold. I'm actually wearing a coat in bed. Fuck this shit.
Do you know how it feels to have a constantly conflicting personality? To ask yourself questions that contradict each other 24/7? I feel like I've turned my mind into a battleground, I've unearthed these despicable traits that I didn't even know I had. Sorry for the inherent use of cliches but I'm my own worst enemy and best friend at the same time.
I've worked so hard to extract my demons, to push away the things that make me unhappy, but in the end it all comes down to the same thing. No matter what your environment, who your friends are, or what drugs you're doing, if you hate yourself (or even, just a tiny part of yourself - or if you only hate yourself sometimes) then you'll never succeed. I've learned this the hard way, through years of trying to figure out problems, or what I want to do, I've failed, fallen at every hurdle, because I am constantly at war with myself. [Sorry for the cliche. Again].
So, this is my problem; I've got it there, typed by my own hand, staring back at me. What do I do to fix it? Nothing? I've been chipping away at it for years and nothing seems to have happened, so maybe if I leave my brain to it's own devices it'll settle and find some sort of equilibrium...
And then there's that issue. Oh, I was so sure that I didn't need it. I am Emily Everitt; I am strong enough to stand alone and fight my own battles. I don't need anyone to lean on, I said. And I was convinced of that, so I went on and did what I needed to do. Funny how things change, isn't it? Things seem to have done some crazy ninja switching shit, and now I'm weaker than ever.
What am I doing awake at 4:18am, posting my innermost thoughts on a public blog? Who knows. Maybe I'm one of those grubby attention-seeking whores that I've read so much about.
I'm so cold. I'm actually wearing a coat in bed. Fuck this shit.
Wednesday 24 February 2010
Haven't written in a while...
Not that anyone is reading this anyway, but I got a diary. I decided that seeing as I'm unemployed at the moment and spend far too much time getting carried away with my thoughts, it would probably be a good plan to have some sort of non-internet related thing to write in. It's alright, I hate diaries though, because when you read them back you just sound like a twat... Not that that's the point...
The entries read something like "5:04am, made a sandwich." "3:41am, I hate myself soooo much" etc, etc. So you can understand why I chose not to oblige these thoughts with the rest of the internet. (In essence, posting that sort of shite on here would just make people think I was a retard and not actually aid me at all...)
Hmm. Need motivation. How do you get that?
Being a talentless hack is shite.
The entries read something like "5:04am, made a sandwich." "3:41am, I hate myself soooo much" etc, etc. So you can understand why I chose not to oblige these thoughts with the rest of the internet. (In essence, posting that sort of shite on here would just make people think I was a retard and not actually aid me at all...)
Hmm. Need motivation. How do you get that?
Being a talentless hack is shite.
Friday 29 January 2010
I hate men.
As a majority. Can you not see how heinously far I am out of your league? And that's not even me being funny... Whatever I fucking do, there is always some creep waiting to try and chat me up. I don't dress/act like a slut, I don't flirt with people, I don't even have suggestive eyebrows. So lulwut? Sort it out, male popularity. (In fact, sort it out, ugly male popularity. Attractive men seem to have tact...)
I think most of them have the mindset of "Yeah, so what, I have to ask, what's the worse that could happen?" Well sonny... One day, you may come across a small angry girl with PMS who is just not in the fucking mood for your disgusting lechery, and she will break you in half. So, if you're ugly and lonely and reading this because you are one of the aforementioned pervs that thinks you have a chance, back the fuck away and watch the fuck out because if I see you, ya dead starr.
Also, Morrison's steak pie is shamefully inferior to Pukka Pies' steak pie. They would have been better off naming it 'gristle pie'... How disappointing. If I could be bothered, I would write some sort of complaint letter. For now I'll be content with posting it on the internet...
Last thing: Next person I see cattin ma flex will be the recepient of a filthy, filthy look. You have been warned you slags.
I think most of them have the mindset of "Yeah, so what, I have to ask, what's the worse that could happen?" Well sonny... One day, you may come across a small angry girl with PMS who is just not in the fucking mood for your disgusting lechery, and she will break you in half. So, if you're ugly and lonely and reading this because you are one of the aforementioned pervs that thinks you have a chance, back the fuck away and watch the fuck out because if I see you, ya dead starr.
Also, Morrison's steak pie is shamefully inferior to Pukka Pies' steak pie. They would have been better off naming it 'gristle pie'... How disappointing. If I could be bothered, I would write some sort of complaint letter. For now I'll be content with posting it on the internet...
Last thing: Next person I see cattin ma flex will be the recepient of a filthy, filthy look. You have been warned you slags.
Wednesday 27 January 2010
Dear Life Cereal...
I wrote this on the 26th of January, before I had a blog. Ha-ha.
3:09am
Interests - Music, writing, reading, motorbikes, sleeping, sex, other people, organized religion's continued existance, food, ranting, the mind
Music journalism? Journalism in general. Get to see interesting places, travel the world, still academic. Would probably have to talk to shit bands though.
Be in a band? Unfortunately, not enough drive to learn an instrument properly, get frustrated too easily.
Sleeping is not a career choice. Best to let this one go.
Erotic novel writing? ... Gay. Could cause death by lulz
Sexual psychology could be interesting. Although would probably involve boring stuff and would annoy me. And bit of a bullshit subject rly
Psychology related subjects in general? Need to look into this more.
Theological studies? Possibly. Although would probably be full of bible bashers. Consider, theological psychology or something. Effects of organized religion, controlling aspects etc. Theological history? Could essentially be sunday school without the propaganda... Come back to this
Food critic. Could be a very enjoyable career choice, although would probably have to eat something tomato-based at some point. This could end in nervous
breakdown. Reconsider, look into. Do I have a choice in what I eat? What is the probability than in the future I would have to review a restaurant that serves only tomato-based products?
Professional ranter(ist? ite?) Is this a job? If not, contact Department for education. Suggest new option for universities. This could tie in well to journalism. Consider contacting Jeremy Clarkson. Or, become famous in order to secure weekly column in newspaper. SERIOUSLY THINK ABOUT THIS ONE.
In conclusion, it appears my talents lie in writing nonsensical and pointless lists at 3:17am in the morning, therefore leading me to believe I should probably pursue a career in something writing-related. Find a niche. Don't want to study something shit like English Literature at A-Level though, would probably eat own head. Consider proof-reading as a part time endeavour. I WISH I WAS A SUPER GENIUS OF SOME SORT.
Things I am definitely not interested in:
Biology. Study of the human body can fuck off. I don't want to know how my ovaries work, they annoy me enough already. Knowing that plants give out oxygen is more than enough on this subject thank you.
Geography. Nuff said. Earth's crust? Paah. I'm more interested in pizza crust.
PE. LOLOLOLOLOL WTF? Was this subject created for people who can't think? I mean, really. I'm sure about 98% of child molestation in schools is linked to PE teachers. [Footnote: Incantation are fucking awesome. I wish I had been part of the early 90s New York death metal scene. They must be super self-actualized].
Mathematical Statistics. Aite, I love maths and only wish that others could see it's horrifying relevance in the modern world, but come on. Nobody likes stats. Even statisticians.
Anything to do with nursing, or old people. Props to nurses and shit, but I personally would not like to get sicked on by other people. Thanks. Also, I have no heart and do not care whether other people are ill or not. I would be instantly fired if I purused a career in nursing or care (jajaja lol). "We think
this man has been having pulmonary embolisms," "...Fuck off, I'm trying to eat my sandwich. I mean, Christ. Look at this thing. It's like a... A god in sandwich form. Not that I believe in god, mind. Leave me alone." And I concur.
Anything remotely linked to teenagers. I am one myself and I can't stand them. I'm quite sure I am a 67-year-old allotment keeper stuck in a sexy, sexy body. Damn.
Anything to do with the council. Fuck. That. Shit.
Consider a teaching job, possibly headmaster position. I love talking about how wonderful I am, isn't that what they do? I could get someone to do filing for me. Not that I can't file documents, I could do that shit onetime. But when one must devote one's time into thinking up elaborate ways of working oneself into casual everyday conversation, one cannot concern oneself with the menial task of filing one's documents. Booyah.
I have really not helped myself at all. Once again, what started as a serious foray into my own mind has become a one-woman comedy show that I am writing solely for my own amusement. Education? PAAAH! Give me a textbook and a packet of crisps, I'll have learnt this shit in a day (unless a new Assassin's Creed game comes out, in which case it will take me a week and a day).
Secondary conclusion: I am destined to roam the Earth trying to find my niche. Will probably find niche in a burger joint in Tenessee or somewhere equally tragic. Hopefully will get talent scouted by dude in tight trousers looking for charismatic and feisty frontwoman/lyricist for his super-original doom-glam
metal band. We will storm the underground and become a national sensation, all eventually dying from overdosing on our own awesomeness, or consuming too much chocolate brioche. One day, tight-trousered dude. One day.
3:36am.
Yes, I am still here. I am not sure why, one has discovered the best thing to do is not question it. In fact, don't question anything. It's really annoying. I only wish I could blindly accept what the world churns out. I think I would be a lot happier if I wasn't the stark intellctual force that I am. It's
becoming a problem. Soon I fear it will interfere with my personal relationships, forcing me to chill only with other stark intellectuals. Who we all know, are a bunch of boring wankers who would be even more anal about apostrophe placement than I am. Plus, I dislike chillin wit people cleverer than me, So I suppose I will have to continue habiting among the commoners. What a shame.
I would join MENSA, but I don't like organized groups like that. And organization in general. It's ridiculous that such a boring factor is so important in the real world. I mean, looking at my albeit slightly untidy room, you would never assume it to be the breeding ground for breakthrough intelligence such as mine. Which I think is a damn shame. [Footnote: FUCK OFF FILTER KEYS. WTF IS FILTER KEYS ANYWAY? JUST BECAUSE I HELD DOWN SHIFT FOR 8 SECONDS DOESN'T MEAN I WANT TO TURN THE BASTARDING THING ON. MAYBE I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT WHAT TO WRITE NEXT...?! Fucking Microsoft. It's because of you that people stopped capitalizing the words at the beginning of sentences, in fear that they would accidentally turn on fucking filter keys. IF I WANTED TO TURN ON FILTER KEYS,
I WOULD FUCKING ASK IT. SO PISS OFF]. [Footnote: Wtf am I listening to, btw? I wasn't aware I had any shit experimental dubstep on here. Get off my iTunes, and more importantly, out of my ears].
I've lost my thread now, but I feel it is time to move onto something new anyway as whatever subject I was bullshitting on about before has started to bore me.I'm not sure if any offending culprits are reading this, seeing as only the most dedicated of stalkers will have come this far, but I have a bone to pick with you. What is 'definately?' Do you mean 'defiantly?' Why is the 'a' there? Who taught you to spell definite like that? It's definite, definitely. Not definate, definately. They are not words in the English language. Please man up and use the correct spelling, or expect a visit from the Grammar Nazis very, very soon. We will find you, and we will kill your firstborn sons. ALL OF THEM. NO MISUSE OF LANGUAGE, NO MERCY!
If I was King of England, I would see to it that everybody in the country was to attend a short course on correct apostrophe placement and use of "they're," "there," "their," etc. I understand that the Jews have invented some sort of fantasy disease known as 'Dyslexia', but we will tolerate their excuses no
longer. Dyslexia caused the fall of the British Empire. Dyslexia lets illegal immigrants in. Dyslexia is the reason you no longer leave the house after 9pm.Dyslexia is writing articles for the Daily Mail as we speak. Extra exam time?!?!?! I DON'T FUCKING THINK SO! If you are a not a proven mental retard, you
have NO EXCUSE not to be able to spell and arrange words correctly. If you ARE a mental retard, get yourself to a sanitarium quicksmart. Learn English. Or leave England.
I often wonder if anyone else is as amused by these late night ramblings as I am. I don't really know where it all comes from. It's a rare talent to possess, rambling. I'm still fine-tuning my techniques, but feel I am possibly surpassing the standards of professional ramblerists already, at my tender age of 81
(I wish). [Footnote: I would like to point out I am writing this without a backspace key. Just throwing that out there]. I've been a rambler for a few years now. Hmm, I sense a flashback. Yes... Yes...
On second thoughts, I am not going to write all that down. It isn't actually that interesting, and I also can't be arsed. Plus, to document historical events would be to lean away from the true ramblist spirit. One must not tar oneself by writing about real stuff. There are English graduates who do that,
and shit. [Footnote: Realised that very early Primordial sounds a BIT LIKE Cradle of Filth. A BIT. Not quite sure how to feel about this information].
4:02am.
I think I'm going to smoke a fag now. Brb.
4:05am.
Rolled fag, am smoking now. Also replaced the lightbulbs in my chandelier (yes, that's right. I got me a chandelier. What do you have? Nothing. Because you are a mere piss stain upon mortal peasantry). It's quite strange having light in my room. Found a packet of pez also. Why, and where the fuck did I buy pez sweets? No doubt from fucking Topshop or somewhere else equally as shit and overpriced. This angers me. I am now one of millions representing the blank face of consumerism. DAMNIT!
4:09am.
The intellectual standard of my rant has diminished. I'm going to stop now. If you're lucky, I'll write another one soon. [Footnote: I didn't actually post this with the intention of posting it on Gaybook. It begun as a serious note-to-self concerning my future in education, and somehow turned into pure procrastination. Damn you unemployment. Damn you to hell].
So long, stalkers. Don't get caught, and listen to old-school metal. Somebody told me it's good for the soul.
3:09am
Interests - Music, writing, reading, motorbikes, sleeping, sex, other people, organized religion's continued existance, food, ranting, the mind
Music journalism? Journalism in general. Get to see interesting places, travel the world, still academic. Would probably have to talk to shit bands though.
Be in a band? Unfortunately, not enough drive to learn an instrument properly, get frustrated too easily.
Sleeping is not a career choice. Best to let this one go.
Erotic novel writing? ... Gay. Could cause death by lulz
Sexual psychology could be interesting. Although would probably involve boring stuff and would annoy me. And bit of a bullshit subject rly
Psychology related subjects in general? Need to look into this more.
Theological studies? Possibly. Although would probably be full of bible bashers. Consider, theological psychology or something. Effects of organized religion, controlling aspects etc. Theological history? Could essentially be sunday school without the propaganda... Come back to this
Food critic. Could be a very enjoyable career choice, although would probably have to eat something tomato-based at some point. This could end in nervous
breakdown. Reconsider, look into. Do I have a choice in what I eat? What is the probability than in the future I would have to review a restaurant that serves only tomato-based products?
Professional ranter(ist? ite?) Is this a job? If not, contact Department for education. Suggest new option for universities. This could tie in well to journalism. Consider contacting Jeremy Clarkson. Or, become famous in order to secure weekly column in newspaper. SERIOUSLY THINK ABOUT THIS ONE.
In conclusion, it appears my talents lie in writing nonsensical and pointless lists at 3:17am in the morning, therefore leading me to believe I should probably pursue a career in something writing-related. Find a niche. Don't want to study something shit like English Literature at A-Level though, would probably eat own head. Consider proof-reading as a part time endeavour. I WISH I WAS A SUPER GENIUS OF SOME SORT.
Things I am definitely not interested in:
Biology. Study of the human body can fuck off. I don't want to know how my ovaries work, they annoy me enough already. Knowing that plants give out oxygen is more than enough on this subject thank you.
Geography. Nuff said. Earth's crust? Paah. I'm more interested in pizza crust.
PE. LOLOLOLOLOL WTF? Was this subject created for people who can't think? I mean, really. I'm sure about 98% of child molestation in schools is linked to PE teachers. [Footnote: Incantation are fucking awesome. I wish I had been part of the early 90s New York death metal scene. They must be super self-actualized].
Mathematical Statistics. Aite, I love maths and only wish that others could see it's horrifying relevance in the modern world, but come on. Nobody likes stats. Even statisticians.
Anything to do with nursing, or old people. Props to nurses and shit, but I personally would not like to get sicked on by other people. Thanks. Also, I have no heart and do not care whether other people are ill or not. I would be instantly fired if I purused a career in nursing or care (jajaja lol). "We think
this man has been having pulmonary embolisms," "...Fuck off, I'm trying to eat my sandwich. I mean, Christ. Look at this thing. It's like a... A god in sandwich form. Not that I believe in god, mind. Leave me alone." And I concur.
Anything remotely linked to teenagers. I am one myself and I can't stand them. I'm quite sure I am a 67-year-old allotment keeper stuck in a sexy, sexy body. Damn.
Anything to do with the council. Fuck. That. Shit.
Consider a teaching job, possibly headmaster position. I love talking about how wonderful I am, isn't that what they do? I could get someone to do filing for me. Not that I can't file documents, I could do that shit onetime. But when one must devote one's time into thinking up elaborate ways of working oneself into casual everyday conversation, one cannot concern oneself with the menial task of filing one's documents. Booyah.
I have really not helped myself at all. Once again, what started as a serious foray into my own mind has become a one-woman comedy show that I am writing solely for my own amusement. Education? PAAAH! Give me a textbook and a packet of crisps, I'll have learnt this shit in a day (unless a new Assassin's Creed game comes out, in which case it will take me a week and a day).
Secondary conclusion: I am destined to roam the Earth trying to find my niche. Will probably find niche in a burger joint in Tenessee or somewhere equally tragic. Hopefully will get talent scouted by dude in tight trousers looking for charismatic and feisty frontwoman/lyricist for his super-original doom-glam
metal band. We will storm the underground and become a national sensation, all eventually dying from overdosing on our own awesomeness, or consuming too much chocolate brioche. One day, tight-trousered dude. One day.
3:36am.
Yes, I am still here. I am not sure why, one has discovered the best thing to do is not question it. In fact, don't question anything. It's really annoying. I only wish I could blindly accept what the world churns out. I think I would be a lot happier if I wasn't the stark intellctual force that I am. It's
becoming a problem. Soon I fear it will interfere with my personal relationships, forcing me to chill only with other stark intellectuals. Who we all know, are a bunch of boring wankers who would be even more anal about apostrophe placement than I am. Plus, I dislike chillin wit people cleverer than me, So I suppose I will have to continue habiting among the commoners. What a shame.
I would join MENSA, but I don't like organized groups like that. And organization in general. It's ridiculous that such a boring factor is so important in the real world. I mean, looking at my albeit slightly untidy room, you would never assume it to be the breeding ground for breakthrough intelligence such as mine. Which I think is a damn shame. [Footnote: FUCK OFF FILTER KEYS. WTF IS FILTER KEYS ANYWAY? JUST BECAUSE I HELD DOWN SHIFT FOR 8 SECONDS DOESN'T MEAN I WANT TO TURN THE BASTARDING THING ON. MAYBE I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT WHAT TO WRITE NEXT...?! Fucking Microsoft. It's because of you that people stopped capitalizing the words at the beginning of sentences, in fear that they would accidentally turn on fucking filter keys. IF I WANTED TO TURN ON FILTER KEYS,
I WOULD FUCKING ASK IT. SO PISS OFF]. [Footnote: Wtf am I listening to, btw? I wasn't aware I had any shit experimental dubstep on here. Get off my iTunes, and more importantly, out of my ears].
I've lost my thread now, but I feel it is time to move onto something new anyway as whatever subject I was bullshitting on about before has started to bore me.I'm not sure if any offending culprits are reading this, seeing as only the most dedicated of stalkers will have come this far, but I have a bone to pick with you. What is 'definately?' Do you mean 'defiantly?' Why is the 'a' there? Who taught you to spell definite like that? It's definite, definitely. Not definate, definately. They are not words in the English language. Please man up and use the correct spelling, or expect a visit from the Grammar Nazis very, very soon. We will find you, and we will kill your firstborn sons. ALL OF THEM. NO MISUSE OF LANGUAGE, NO MERCY!
If I was King of England, I would see to it that everybody in the country was to attend a short course on correct apostrophe placement and use of "they're," "there," "their," etc. I understand that the Jews have invented some sort of fantasy disease known as 'Dyslexia', but we will tolerate their excuses no
longer. Dyslexia caused the fall of the British Empire. Dyslexia lets illegal immigrants in. Dyslexia is the reason you no longer leave the house after 9pm.Dyslexia is writing articles for the Daily Mail as we speak. Extra exam time?!?!?! I DON'T FUCKING THINK SO! If you are a not a proven mental retard, you
have NO EXCUSE not to be able to spell and arrange words correctly. If you ARE a mental retard, get yourself to a sanitarium quicksmart. Learn English. Or leave England.
I often wonder if anyone else is as amused by these late night ramblings as I am. I don't really know where it all comes from. It's a rare talent to possess, rambling. I'm still fine-tuning my techniques, but feel I am possibly surpassing the standards of professional ramblerists already, at my tender age of 81
(I wish). [Footnote: I would like to point out I am writing this without a backspace key. Just throwing that out there]. I've been a rambler for a few years now. Hmm, I sense a flashback. Yes... Yes...
On second thoughts, I am not going to write all that down. It isn't actually that interesting, and I also can't be arsed. Plus, to document historical events would be to lean away from the true ramblist spirit. One must not tar oneself by writing about real stuff. There are English graduates who do that,
and shit. [Footnote: Realised that very early Primordial sounds a BIT LIKE Cradle of Filth. A BIT. Not quite sure how to feel about this information].
4:02am.
I think I'm going to smoke a fag now. Brb.
4:05am.
Rolled fag, am smoking now. Also replaced the lightbulbs in my chandelier (yes, that's right. I got me a chandelier. What do you have? Nothing. Because you are a mere piss stain upon mortal peasantry). It's quite strange having light in my room. Found a packet of pez also. Why, and where the fuck did I buy pez sweets? No doubt from fucking Topshop or somewhere else equally as shit and overpriced. This angers me. I am now one of millions representing the blank face of consumerism. DAMNIT!
4:09am.
The intellectual standard of my rant has diminished. I'm going to stop now. If you're lucky, I'll write another one soon. [Footnote: I didn't actually post this with the intention of posting it on Gaybook. It begun as a serious note-to-self concerning my future in education, and somehow turned into pure procrastination. Damn you unemployment. Damn you to hell].
So long, stalkers. Don't get caught, and listen to old-school metal. Somebody told me it's good for the soul.
An Old One
So I thought I would start to note some things that irritate me. Just so you all know and can refrain from ever doing it.
1. Unnecessary Capitalisation Is Grammatically Incorrect And Incredibly Annoying To Read. Stop It.
2. People who add unnecessary extra letters onto their words need to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Heyyyyyyy babbyyyy howssss yooouuuu? FUCKOFFUCKOFFHSHUTUPSHUTUP
2a. Oh, and WTF is that "ii" thing about? Hii Babii ii Lovee iit Whenn Yuu Leeave Commenntzz On Mii Piiczz! Please, please, please go away... Please... Please :(
3. People who do smiley faces the wrong way round, like (: WHY?!?! That just confuses my poor astigmatic eyes, who have enough trouble with reading computer screens anyway. Sooo irrelevant. There's a reason it's ":)" BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE A SMILEY FACE, NOT A FUCKING BRACKET AND A COLON.
4. People who think they're thuper metul because they listen to fucking.. Shit. And know nothing about metal.
5. Metalcore. 'Nuff said.
6. Right. Since when did everyone in England stop drinking tea? This angers me. I blame the suits. Them and their stupid latte addictions. It is now IMPOSSIBLE to buy REAL (loose leaf, brewed in teapot, milk in first, mmm yummy) tea anywhere. For takeaway I mean. Hence, I have to pay £1.60 for a cup of fucking Twinings bullshit from Costa which tastes like hot ass water. Fuck off. Also, just teabags in general. They shouldn't exist. Except PG Tips. They're alright. NB: If you don't understand what I'm talking about then you are one of the people on my hate list. Search "LOOSE LEAF TEA" on google or buy some at Tesco's.
7. TfL. I can't even begin to try and word my pure malevolent HATRED for the fucking CUNTS at TfL.. Apparently the weekend closures are organised and overseen by a blind, deaf, dumb, autistic, brainless 8 year old, because for some reason, they think it's fine to just completely close ALL TRANSPORT from ANYWHERE NEAR harrow, thus adding about 2 hours onto my journey EVERY FUCKING WEEKEND, because OBVIOUSLY NOBODY NEEDS TO FUCKING DO ANYTHING ON THE WEEKEND DO THEY?!!? RIGHT WELL. YOU'RE CLEARLY BASTARDS. THANKS FOR MAKING ME LOSE SLEEP.
8. The Tube/London Overground in general. It angers me when I see fat, suited blokes taking up 8 seats on the Northern line. Aw, hard day? Sitting in your fucking spinny office chair with specially aligned back padding to make sure you don't get a sore back? FUCK OFF. I'VE BEEN STANDING UP FOR 8 HOURS SOLID, IN THE FREEZING COLD, WITH NO RUNNING WATER. I GET PAID £4 AN HOUR. GET THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SIT DOWN. Also, suits who push you out of the way to get on the train before you/push infront of you at the ticket barrier line. SORRY WUT?! Are you more important than me because you're a faceless corporate hound? Are you pushing me out of the way to make yourself feel better about the emptiness slowly filling your life? Boss not remembering your name? Loveless marriage? The 2.4 children who aren't doing so well at school because their daddy is never home? Did you have a pushy mother as a child? WELL. Boo fucking hoo. YOU WAIT YOUR FUCKING TURN. Man, I really have an unhealthy amount of Tube rage...
9. I outranted myself. Give me a minute to build up some anger.
10. Right. Spanish tourists. Sorry, are you aware this is fucking England? I DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND SPANISH TU JODER. Also English tourists abroad. LEARN THE FUCKING LANGUAGE. Don't just talk louder and point. Tourists really grind my gears. You think because you're on holiday that everyone should be waiting on you hand and foot? Fuck off. I'm at work. Nice that you can afford a holiday, and are insecure enough to dick on a shop assistant. Nice one yeah.
11. I have worked in Camden since April. I walk past the noodle places EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY. And yet.. Still... "NOOOODAAAALL 4 POUN DAALING"... Sorry... Not a huge fan of canal rat fried in piss...
12. Annotations of an Autopsy and Suicide Silence = Not grindcore. Trigger the Bloodshed = Not brutal. Checker-shirted walking fringe-core bands = GAY. Behemoth = NOT DEATH OR BLACK METAL.
13. "You must be over 18 to..." Piss off. Actually just piss off. Thanks bureaucracy, I think instead of going to a gig I'll hang out on the street and take heroin. Fuck off complaining about ASBO-kids when they have absolutely NOTHING to do.
More later.
1. Unnecessary Capitalisation Is Grammatically Incorrect And Incredibly Annoying To Read. Stop It.
2. People who add unnecessary extra letters onto their words need to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Heyyyyyyy babbyyyy howssss yooouuuu? FUCKOFFUCKOFFHSHUTUPSHUTUP
2a. Oh, and WTF is that "ii" thing about? Hii Babii ii Lovee iit Whenn Yuu Leeave Commenntzz On Mii Piiczz! Please, please, please go away... Please... Please :(
3. People who do smiley faces the wrong way round, like (: WHY?!?! That just confuses my poor astigmatic eyes, who have enough trouble with reading computer screens anyway. Sooo irrelevant. There's a reason it's ":)" BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE A SMILEY FACE, NOT A FUCKING BRACKET AND A COLON.
4. People who think they're thuper metul because they listen to fucking.. Shit. And know nothing about metal.
5. Metalcore. 'Nuff said.
6. Right. Since when did everyone in England stop drinking tea? This angers me. I blame the suits. Them and their stupid latte addictions. It is now IMPOSSIBLE to buy REAL (loose leaf, brewed in teapot, milk in first, mmm yummy) tea anywhere. For takeaway I mean. Hence, I have to pay £1.60 for a cup of fucking Twinings bullshit from Costa which tastes like hot ass water. Fuck off. Also, just teabags in general. They shouldn't exist. Except PG Tips. They're alright. NB: If you don't understand what I'm talking about then you are one of the people on my hate list. Search "LOOSE LEAF TEA" on google or buy some at Tesco's.
7. TfL. I can't even begin to try and word my pure malevolent HATRED for the fucking CUNTS at TfL.. Apparently the weekend closures are organised and overseen by a blind, deaf, dumb, autistic, brainless 8 year old, because for some reason, they think it's fine to just completely close ALL TRANSPORT from ANYWHERE NEAR harrow, thus adding about 2 hours onto my journey EVERY FUCKING WEEKEND, because OBVIOUSLY NOBODY NEEDS TO FUCKING DO ANYTHING ON THE WEEKEND DO THEY?!!? RIGHT WELL. YOU'RE CLEARLY BASTARDS. THANKS FOR MAKING ME LOSE SLEEP.
8. The Tube/London Overground in general. It angers me when I see fat, suited blokes taking up 8 seats on the Northern line. Aw, hard day? Sitting in your fucking spinny office chair with specially aligned back padding to make sure you don't get a sore back? FUCK OFF. I'VE BEEN STANDING UP FOR 8 HOURS SOLID, IN THE FREEZING COLD, WITH NO RUNNING WATER. I GET PAID £4 AN HOUR. GET THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SIT DOWN. Also, suits who push you out of the way to get on the train before you/push infront of you at the ticket barrier line. SORRY WUT?! Are you more important than me because you're a faceless corporate hound? Are you pushing me out of the way to make yourself feel better about the emptiness slowly filling your life? Boss not remembering your name? Loveless marriage? The 2.4 children who aren't doing so well at school because their daddy is never home? Did you have a pushy mother as a child? WELL. Boo fucking hoo. YOU WAIT YOUR FUCKING TURN. Man, I really have an unhealthy amount of Tube rage...
9. I outranted myself. Give me a minute to build up some anger.
10. Right. Spanish tourists. Sorry, are you aware this is fucking England? I DON'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND SPANISH TU JODER. Also English tourists abroad. LEARN THE FUCKING LANGUAGE. Don't just talk louder and point. Tourists really grind my gears. You think because you're on holiday that everyone should be waiting on you hand and foot? Fuck off. I'm at work. Nice that you can afford a holiday, and are insecure enough to dick on a shop assistant. Nice one yeah.
11. I have worked in Camden since April. I walk past the noodle places EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY. And yet.. Still... "NOOOODAAAALL 4 POUN DAALING"... Sorry... Not a huge fan of canal rat fried in piss...
12. Annotations of an Autopsy and Suicide Silence = Not grindcore. Trigger the Bloodshed = Not brutal. Checker-shirted walking fringe-core bands = GAY. Behemoth = NOT DEATH OR BLACK METAL.
13. "You must be over 18 to..." Piss off. Actually just piss off. Thanks bureaucracy, I think instead of going to a gig I'll hang out on the street and take heroin. Fuck off complaining about ASBO-kids when they have absolutely NOTHING to do.
More later.
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