i AMM SO aware of stranger danger reight now

Sufficient

I am so unwound right now. It's like... a mess....

Something hurts....

Fucking end of financial year yeah.

Yeah.

Fucking Krug n shit.

Tomorrow

The Beatles should have written (and performed?) and song called "Tomorrow", which would basically be about how tomorrow will be insane busy/bad/crazy during the day but then totally awesome in the night as I eat good food at home and drink Krug and other tasty beverages.

It wouldn't have sold too well.

Hypocritomous

So I joined Facebook.

I feel like shit.

I was DETERMINED not to join it. But overwhelming demand has forced me to.

I am weak, powerless, and on Facebook.

Hey Baby. I've Missed You

Okay, maybe not.

But tomorrow I'm going to be inside of you again, Burwood.

Let's not talk about what happened with the City, let's just look at the future. OUR future.

Tomorrow.

Have breakfast ready for me.

Old Horses Made Me

As a child I used to swear every now and then. I thought it was a bit of alright. Growing tired of my constant potty-mouthing my parents threatened to wash my mouth out with soap.

This threat worked for a while until one day I saw a Thundercat that looked fucking awesome. Well the olds weren’t having any of this so they took me home and washed my mouth out with soap.

While they did it I swore my head off, so they kept going.

After about two hours of this, I began to enjoy the taste of soap. A lot.

Now I’m a total freak about it. I eat it regularly.

It didn’t happen straight away, but over time I began to notice the nuances in different soaps, or even the same soaps from different years.

For example, the 2004 Ponds with Eucalyptus Oil was a bright and full-bodied soap, bursting with spice and fruit. The 2005, on the other hand, introduced a nutty and earthy characteristic that was just fantastic is you like that sort of thing.

Food and soap pairings is also a subject I’ve spent a lot of time researching. The key is to match the moistness of the soap with the moistness of the food. A juicy, ultra-moisturising Dove is a fantastic compliment to a juicy steak, and a dry hotel room soap (perhaps a Holiday Inn 2001) takes on a whole new level if you eat it with some biscuits.

Soap has found its way onto my dinner table too. Instead of having my roll with a knob of butter, I have it with a knob of soap.

My soap habit has become to get pretty costly too. I often go and buy fine soaps, like that infused shit from the Body Shop. Holy crap is it amazing. Like a meal in a bar.

But I’m running out of money. Any money I get is straight away spent on soap. I’m losing weight because I can’t afford to eat. People thing I’m looking great and looking clean, but I’m so far from clean…

EOFY Party!

So I'm practically shitting cum at the prospect of another end of financial year endorsed rape-fest at work.

This may involve less blogging/more drinking.

Stay tuned faggots.

What I Learned on the Farm Today

• A foal is something VERY different to what I used to think it was, which is a fat mole.

Cocktease

I hate it when this happens.

Last night I had the TV on while I was getting ready for bed. On TV was Quizmania. To my delight they announced that it was their final episode ever.

Awesome! That show is a massive pile of shit.

But then today I find out they're replacing it with another phone-in quiz show.

WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT APART FROM PISSING ME OFF?

Although while I was looking at that I saw that Nikki Osbourne is now on The Nation. Maybe I'm all turned around on that show... (The Nation, not Quizmania which is still shit)

Compromising Position

It would be extremely unfortunate to be found sipping 18 year old single malt whiskey while listening to Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” on repeat while you look at goat porn and twirl your hair ever so slightly.

But you don’t care, do you?

It’s just too dark for you to care. The only light is the glow of the computer screen and the light that plays off the bottle of whiskey and other shiny surfaces.

You’re comfortable. You’re reclining. Your hand is in your crotchal region.

But you want to compromise your position in search of a more comfortable position.

So you shift.

Just then your wife walks into the room without knocking. She tells you to turn off that fucking Joy Division.

You hate her because she has terrible taste in things. That’s why you look at goats. Goats will listen to anything you play around them.

Your wife knows what you're doing. After you leave the room she'll go on the computer and see what sites you were looking at. She likes to look at goat porn too because the male goats never sip single malt scotch whiskey while they listen to Joy Division, look at porn and put their hands on their crotches.

A Poem

You got on the train
Today
Your hair still wet
Moist

Next time
Ensure
That it's more
Dry