Disclaimer: I’m in a bad mood
I have been in a permanently rotten mood for two weeks running. It’s a record of sorts. I’ve been biting everyone’s heads off, snapping every second, and generally behaving like a cranky old hag. Now, this blog is about ME.It’s irrelevant to a great many people and pisses a lot of ‘intellectuals’ off which makes it all the more fun for me. So since we’ve established that, here is an outlet for my two-week crankiness. Enjoy.
I don’t get poetry. I think it’s a convoluted way of saying really simple stuff.
I want the world to end in 2012. Maybe sooner. I think humans are God’s/the higher power’s worst creations. We’re so full of ourselves, we’ve made a giant mess of things and we’re screwing up every single day that we exist.
I think rape is the worst crime – worse than cold-blooded murder. Rapists shouldn’t be killed. They should be slowly tortured in ingenious ways every single day of their lives. Starting with castration.
I like feeling depressed sometimes. It’s better than feeling nothing. Which I also feel a lot of.
I think there’s an ugly bully hiding in me. I’ve been too nice for too long.
My greatest fear is losing face. In every sense.
My terrible lack of ambition doesn’t scare me. That scares me.
I’m a closet violent person. I have enough rage to commit a crime. And my first victim would be a taxi driver.
I think I’m a great catch. Not everyone agrees.
I prefer women to men. Not in a sexual way.
I think PMS is a valid excuse.
I don’t care about the world at large. It’s pointless. General knowledge is just a tool to appear more intelligent than the other person in a conversation.
I know I’m not going to be rich and famous. Or poor and infamous.
I see dead people.
I detest people who take themselves too seriously.
Injections are probably the worst medical invention ever. Which sadist would think up a device with a big shiny needle to poke through bare flesh to make someone feel better?
I can’t face the world with a pimple.
You think this post is crap? So do I.
I dream a LOT about dirty toilets and poop. Does that say something about my life?
I’m actually quite happy. I just like whining. As I said PMS is a valid excuse.
If you’re cool with seeing someone five years your junior getting paid ten times your salary, get into print journalism.
Elevators scare me. For those few seconds I’m going up or down, my life flashes before my eyes.
I suck in a crisis situation. Don’t put me as your emergency contact.
I’m no good with babies. I run out of weird sounds and faces in two seconds flat.
I feel better already. Thank you.