Friday, 8 January 2010

One life for sale

So today was my day off, a day that I had prepared to an anal extent with endless tasks that would leave this space in my week under the title of productive. Oh how wrong I was, today was hella boring. Like even my lie in got screwed over by the assholes that decided it would be totally ok to have a snowball fight on their way to school, my taunts of shut the fuck up did little to destroy their fun. So I lay in the little piece of heaven that was my electric blanket dozing in and out of dreams about random but surprisingly satisfying sex with people I wasn’t even that attracted too. Eventually I woke up to our house cat shot putting any kind of painful ammunition at my face as he attempted to climb the walls of my room, time to get up me thinks. The massively shitty thing about not living with your parents is the lack of any kind of decent food, like I can’t even remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t out of a can and I've unwillingly become a connoisseur of our corner shop delicacies. This is completely self inflicted mind you, I choose to spend whatever little money I do receive on intoxicating substances and fur coats, so meals have slowly deteriorated to freddos (the caramel one’s I have you know) and twenty pence noodles. Anyway I started my day in good health determined to leave my house and do all I had planned, fuck that, I mean I couldn’t even open our front door due to the layer of ice that had culminated outside, my pathetic reasons for staying put were only cemented by the arrival of the postman and more to the point, the arrival of his ass on my front doorstep. Like he even had those special bad ass postman shoes that are ‘supposed’ to grip to the floor, my sketchy boots didn’t stand a chance. So blah blah blah cutting all my bullshit short my day basically ended up in me playing crash bandicoot for way too long, reading lads mags and deciding that I could totally get a boob job if I got out a new credit card, then being persuaded by mother that in fact there’s nothing wrong with my tits and I couldn’t afford one anyway, add this to a marathon of newly discovered seventies porno’s all whilst eating copious amounts of that froggy little bastard. Deep. Ugh to my life.





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