Itchy Eyes Are Back & I'm Talkin' Smack

Yes, several resolutions have been broken already.
My friends one was this:

GIVE UP SHEESHA - THE FILTHY A-RABS ARE TAKING A CHUNKY FULL OF MY MONEH!

I can confirm I made her break this on the 3rd January. I just high-fived myself cause I got her broke ass even more broke on that steamy stuff.

Another one was this: 

I'M GONNA QUIT DRINKING COFFEE LIKE I'M GONNA QUIT TAKING DRUGS, AHAW HAW!

It didn't take long till I broke that dumb resolution. It was stupid really, and I only thought of enforcing it when  I just wasn't getting any sleep and I was erratic and ready to whack the preppy shit out of the 'morning people' who bother you for no apparent reason and claim they were striking up friendly conversation.

Go beg a friend request on Facebook, not me.

Which brings me to another thing:

GIVE UP FACEBOOK - IT RUINS YOUR LIFE WITH REAL PEOPLE

It makes you lose connection with the real human side, it slurps up all your energetic brain juice, scoops out any remaining intelligence of the real world. And all you do is write a status about your sordid exaggerated fake-ass or your ridiculously boring life as a beat-up seperated housewife or houseman (they  do exist), like someone actually cares and you stupidly wait for someone to 'like' it or to comment on it so you can strike up a conversation you've never had the whipped balls to have in real life.

Oh man, that's weak. Totally non-homophobic-related gay. Hang on. Problem is, if 'gay' without the homosexual meaning means golden ye olde times 'happy', does that mean the stuff said above is a little stupid? Ahhh, crap.

This is why I need to lay off the smack - I mean coffee. Smack, haw haw - say what now?

I ain't tried smack...I've been smacked, if that clears anything said here, up? By whom, that shan't matter - but some cases of domestic abuse are necessary to teach some a lesson (not to ME, I apply that rule on others, the POWAH! that arises in me when doing so is GREAT! Take THAT little bro! WHOOPAH!)

Confused? I know - forget the domestic abuse confession, that's a strongly truthful lie - all the more reason to stress why I don't need the three above in my life.

Right, all I needed to type or say was typed or said. Finito.

Erm. Awkward now. You're not gone yet. Or should I stop typing? Okay, I'll stop. Now. No, now I'll stop. Stopping now?

Talk about talking of digging your own grave *dying laugh* *DROP DEAD*

New Year, Already New Tensions

What am I like, 45? This is so much like a mid-life crisis, I'm wondering if I need to start buying anti-wrinkle products for my invisible but-nearly-here crows feet and those worry lines I'm deepening with every high brow glance I make.

I've lost a fish to fishtank cancer, I lost the house I wanted for the semester, I left my job cause I couldn't do the hours, I've gained weight on my chin which my friends think is lovely but I do NOT, I haven't got a cool watch no more, and I've forgotten to do any revision for the test I have next week - oh the woe of me!

This week has been such a fagget, that I want to murder it for being so gay.

I will begin fixing it on Monday, when I return as the prodigal child to university. I will kick some law and public admin ass, some roody pooch doc practice butt and flykick the damn special feature writing with literal poetry in a can of whoosh! and thunk! phoowah! (cool Kung Fu noises in dialogue, ohh yeah)

But this rant has been what I've needed for a while so I will go on as long as I need to.

Ok, I'm done. Don't have much else to say, other that I'm in my pyjamas at 2:23pm eating biscuits in my room, alone. The upside of this is that I really dig my pyjamas, they look like those pink wafers I used to eat when I was a kid. Its unbelievable how strikingly awesome I am considering how lonely I am in here...

New Year, Same Old Ways - YAH Or NAH?

Today is the 01/01/11, people!

That could only mean... HAPPY NEW YEARS!

Ahhh, NYs is like my second birthday cause I get to spend time with friends get to stay out late - it's the closest I'll ever get to clubbing; the plasma TV blaring tinny bhangra and us, all cramped into the small living room with Wotsits and stale popcorn swinging our arms side to side and us switching our salwar-kameez-&-trainers swagger up to the max til the Abu-Jee comes storming in through the front door from a taxi break. 

From then on, it kinda just goes flat and we all complain about having a headache (oh, it's a splitting headache!) from drinking (sigh, tis sad) coke and swinging our arms a little too much and how we'll never make it to work on time tomorrow.

When your friends do that, you got yourself a pooper of a party. Damn.

But enough about some sad little Pakis who really DON'T socialise with me, I'm just working off from some other people's experiences...ahem.

...

...

Lets talk about the White folks NYs!

On every NYs, some of you white folks are funny as freaky feck. You guys start your night by drinking shots of what looks like cute fruity cups from a friends house, just to fill up the little post-Xmas cheer and you then drink the little heavier stuff, the good ole' Vodka.

That's not the funny part. Yet.

Then it's a little more drinky-drinky before getting into a hired van that'll take you to a muggy student-esque club, and you're taking irrelevant pictures of yourself and your few 'good' mates, taking more than necessary to prove to your Facebook fake mates what a grey-hey-hate time you're having riding an ugly bus that has pee poo puke stains scattered across the vehicle matted carpet and upholstery.

And then you're in the middle of the dance floor skanking in the midst of some very ugly-by-nature-made-beautiful-by-beer horny people. Mainly of them fuglers are your 'few' friends making the crowd uneasy and appearing horrified at the stench of BO coming from y'all who refuse to use Sure deoderant let alone shave your armpits properly.

You're hoping to go away with friends who'll Ping! you and you're gonna brag to your besties you've pulled and boisterously say you won't call them, when in fact the only thing you managed to pull is a muscle and break a heel and have a whiny cry in the toilets. This applies to men/boy/groys too.

And then comes my favourite part. Drunk dancing in the roads at 2am. It is like The Night of the Living Dead, but the title would be appropriately changed to 'Night of the Pissheads' where sleeping secrets are awoken and shattered by the sound of a bottle breaking, and that's when you know it's cause it's a  piss poor aim at somebody's partner soon-to-be ex cause they've slept with the 47-year old neighbour. How exciting to hear at such a time, hmm?

And it's guys like YOU that make me consider making those stupid breakable New Year resolutions. I want to do more when I see dumb ass shit like that happen outside my house, it annoys me on most occasions but weirdly enough never on New Years eve through to New Years day.

It's a time to rethink our values and what we want to achieve this year from relationships, work, health and the way we live life. It's a horrid tradition, making resolutions, but the feeling you get when you set a goal and want to make a fresh start with it, well we all a little excited don't we?

Keeping a promise to ourselves? For the better, for the greater good, hmm?

IT NEVER WORKS. Anyone who tells me they've stuck to it this year will be branded a liar, and they will find themselves punished by a size 5 Converse trainer travelling halfway up their butt. And don't think I won't retrieve it and go for another try, cause you won't believe what my NYs reso is...

My New Years Resolution: KICK SOME ROODY POODY ASS. Nice and easy, very flexible to do whenever. Have a good year, you freaky Troggs!