- Nov 10, 2003
- 8,719
Hello BHQ, I am writing a blog. I am blogging. Is this what the kids do these days? Oh lord how the time flies, back in my day we actually had paper diaries. Not that I ever kept one, because I'm not a girl or a screaming faggot. It's fun to speak as if I'm a crusty old man even though I'm the second youngest member here!
I've always kinda wanted to do one of those stream-of-consciousness writing things, where you just write exactly your thoughts, and it turns out a rambling incoherant mess. Of course, there's nothing stopping me from opening Microsoft Word right now and doing it, but I'm doing this instead, and by the time I'm done I'll feel like doing something else. Something else that still involves sitting, though.
I hate school! University is supposed to be the best time of your life, I guess? Nope! Fail. All my classes' grades are constantly determined by only a few projects, and I always end up having to work with a bunch of intolerable fuckwit shit-heels that can't concentrate for five fucking minutes. "Sorry I can't come to the library at 1pm to do some work on this today, I stayed out until 5am last night and have a raging hangover!" Oh, you mean like you do every fucking night? 1pm is not an unreasonable time. I try to be a reasonable man. Of course, I'm not perfect. I'm disablingly lazy, amongst other things which aren't relevant to this paragraph. But, I can actually put my head down and churn out a reasonable quality of work when I have to.
I hate everybody in my course. It seems like if you're not a raging faggot apple fanboy, you're a loud, drunken slob, and if you're neither of those you're a vapid slut whose only goal is to survive the day until the drinking and whoring-up begins. No, bitch, I don't want to touch you. I wouldn't touch you with a 10-foot pole, keep your syphilis-infested ass away from me. Huh? Sleeping with every guy you meet doesn't make you a slut? Uh, actually yeah it does! I'm friends with a few people here, none of whom are in my course. In 6 weeks time I'll be halfway through my college life. Fail/10.
I hate my job. Thank god it's only once a week. There's something about serving a bunch of crusty old assholes for seven hours that makes your mind wander. There's one guy who comes in at the same times every week without fail and does the following: first off, he buys about 5 scratchcards, then leaves. Maybe half an hour later, he comes back in and buys literally about 15 newspapers, most of which are copies of the same one. Then, about an hour after that, he buys up to 150 of lottery tickets and scratchcards, and a large bottle of rum. Then he fucks off and leaves me with my thoughts and a constant stream of dicks. Just cause I'm 19 doesn't mean I don't deserve a modicum of respect, y'know. I am, in fact, a human being! If you're jealous of my full head of hair, my distinct absence of liver spots, and the fact that my chest is firm and well-shaped instead of saggy and gross, I give you an invitation to bite my shiny metal ass! When I'm not serving these people, you can find me wandering up and down the aisles, pretending that I'm busy by sometimes shuffling around some things on the shelves. To be honest that part isn't too bad, it's just mind-numblingly boring, and I get paid jack shit for it. Oh well, I guess I get paid for the amount of work I do.
There's a lot of things I hate. You might be wondering, is there anything I enjoy? Why, yes, actually. I enjoy poetry, and a glass of scotch. I enjoy sitting on the couch and watching my once-fine physique turn to jelly. I enjoy posting on these forums, and I enjoy the all-too brief moments when I'm fully absorbed in something and my mind can't wander, because when it does it invariably wanders to the same place. I'm sure you can guess what that is. I'm not gonna talk about that now, thank god.
There's still some southern comfort left that needs nursing. Maybe I'll pick up some lemonade tomorrow and have a grand old time.
I've always kinda wanted to do one of those stream-of-consciousness writing things, where you just write exactly your thoughts, and it turns out a rambling incoherant mess. Of course, there's nothing stopping me from opening Microsoft Word right now and doing it, but I'm doing this instead, and by the time I'm done I'll feel like doing something else. Something else that still involves sitting, though.
I hate school! University is supposed to be the best time of your life, I guess? Nope! Fail. All my classes' grades are constantly determined by only a few projects, and I always end up having to work with a bunch of intolerable fuckwit shit-heels that can't concentrate for five fucking minutes. "Sorry I can't come to the library at 1pm to do some work on this today, I stayed out until 5am last night and have a raging hangover!" Oh, you mean like you do every fucking night? 1pm is not an unreasonable time. I try to be a reasonable man. Of course, I'm not perfect. I'm disablingly lazy, amongst other things which aren't relevant to this paragraph. But, I can actually put my head down and churn out a reasonable quality of work when I have to.
I hate everybody in my course. It seems like if you're not a raging faggot apple fanboy, you're a loud, drunken slob, and if you're neither of those you're a vapid slut whose only goal is to survive the day until the drinking and whoring-up begins. No, bitch, I don't want to touch you. I wouldn't touch you with a 10-foot pole, keep your syphilis-infested ass away from me. Huh? Sleeping with every guy you meet doesn't make you a slut? Uh, actually yeah it does! I'm friends with a few people here, none of whom are in my course. In 6 weeks time I'll be halfway through my college life. Fail/10.
I hate my job. Thank god it's only once a week. There's something about serving a bunch of crusty old assholes for seven hours that makes your mind wander. There's one guy who comes in at the same times every week without fail and does the following: first off, he buys about 5 scratchcards, then leaves. Maybe half an hour later, he comes back in and buys literally about 15 newspapers, most of which are copies of the same one. Then, about an hour after that, he buys up to 150 of lottery tickets and scratchcards, and a large bottle of rum. Then he fucks off and leaves me with my thoughts and a constant stream of dicks. Just cause I'm 19 doesn't mean I don't deserve a modicum of respect, y'know. I am, in fact, a human being! If you're jealous of my full head of hair, my distinct absence of liver spots, and the fact that my chest is firm and well-shaped instead of saggy and gross, I give you an invitation to bite my shiny metal ass! When I'm not serving these people, you can find me wandering up and down the aisles, pretending that I'm busy by sometimes shuffling around some things on the shelves. To be honest that part isn't too bad, it's just mind-numblingly boring, and I get paid jack shit for it. Oh well, I guess I get paid for the amount of work I do.
There's a lot of things I hate. You might be wondering, is there anything I enjoy? Why, yes, actually. I enjoy poetry, and a glass of scotch. I enjoy sitting on the couch and watching my once-fine physique turn to jelly. I enjoy posting on these forums, and I enjoy the all-too brief moments when I'm fully absorbed in something and my mind can't wander, because when it does it invariably wanders to the same place. I'm sure you can guess what that is. I'm not gonna talk about that now, thank god.
There's still some southern comfort left that needs nursing. Maybe I'll pick up some lemonade tomorrow and have a grand old time.
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