Or bad god. Jesus, i wish i could stop srinking./

Good god im pissed.

Today, i think ill sigh, more than anything. I forsee choppy waters ahead, perhaps good things happening, perhaps bad, but i dont know which. Well, what will happen will happen.

*Sigh*

See? I told i'd sigh a lot.

Child birth.

The squeezing of a large bowling ball like object out of a small receptacle known as my wifes vagina. And this is happening anytime soon. There will be much grunting, screaming, cursing, (At me) and at the end, i will have another son. My wife will sit, basking in the glory of her hard work, and i will love even more than ever.

Thing is, it cannot happen until tommorow, it has been decreed. She wants a home birth. She wants to scare our neighbours. Im half convinced that someone will hear the screaming and call the police, and theyll come and arrest me for putting her through such torture, and generally be a nasty man.

But more importantly, im on a sex ban.

Why, i hear you ask?

Because the introduction of sperm to my other halfs cervix could set off labour, and if she starts squeezing before tommorow, she will have to go to hospital. Also, i have been having no blow jobs, (This has a higher chance of sending her into labour) no hand jobs, because this will wind her up, and shes feeling rather... How can i say this.... Frustrated.

Lets say it like this: I have balls the size of melons, im constantly around a woman i find more attractive than ever before and want to leap on and rip the clothes off of on an hourly basis, and her tits seem to get bigger every time i see them. A difficult situation. So whats gonna happen?

Hopefully what i want tonight and tommorow morning! And yes, this is REALLY selfish, but i hope she doesnt go into labour for at least a week, so we can try through sexual manners to get her to go into labour!

Ok, so toasted cheese sandwiches at 3am may not be the brain wave it at first appeared to be.

oh well. Bring on my midnight steed, and we will ride!

On nights like tonights, everything seems to go wrong. You forgot to put the heating on, and now your feet are cold. The baby is awake, your jelous because your partner is asleep, and your wondering, just when will it be that you get to go to bed, knowing that there is at least six hours sleep waiting for you to slip into its embrace, only to harrow you through the night with dreams you cannot grasp the meaning of. Tommorow will probably be a day of snappish arguments, of anger and flared tempers, all because a certain small person was woken by uncaring neighbours who argue, slam doors, and hoover at ridiculous times of the evening. Half eleven, you get to bed, and an argument starts. You dont care what it is, but you just wish it hadnt happened. Because now, its 3am, and the baby is still awake.

Tommorow will be better.

You hope.

"The Kitten was meant to chase all of the rats away".

I saw this lline in a random blog i saw today. (Being two in the stupid fucking morning, courtesy of Joe-mail. Little bugger.) For some reason, (I dont know the context. Im too tired to do context) i thought it was sad, and it makes me want to write a sad sad story about a little kitten.

But i think not.

*Belch*

Stupid as it sounds, im kind of in that kind of mood tonight. A lot of things are irritating me, mainly the things going on at bikini atoll, and the annoyance this morning witht he eldest, but i suppose its nothing that a good nights sleep (that i probably will not get) won't sort.

The youngest is currently sleeping in syupid position number seventy eight, (He has hundreds of these) and the eldest? No idea. i didnt go up and check on him. Hes probably hovering off the bed or some shit. Hes like that sometimes.

Anyway, im off.

I wish i watched more star trek.

Heres something i wrote elsewhere, because im too damn lazy to put anything else up here. So nyaaa...

Rant about a retard.

What a shit fucking night. I went to Tai Chi tonight, and couldnt get into it. I was tired all the way through and the half way through i get the closet NINJA master of the group teaching me. Suddenly, with a flash of light and a smoke bomb, i get taught all of the applications (as he sees them, of course. He misses at least fifty percent of the applications for all of the movement, due to the fact that he looks and moves like Mr Burns with arthiritis and a butt plug the size of Oregon up his ass. Plus, he's about as talented at Tai Chi as i am making my piss float into amazing patterns in mid air while i urinate) of the movements i am doing, he demonstrates the movements incorrectly, and in direct contradiction to the chief instructor. Then tells the entire class of beginners a lot of stories that happened to 'friends of friends'.

What a load of bullshit. To top it all off, he says how a pushing movement can push anyone over, so you can go over to the biggest bloke in the pub and push him over.

Riiight.

And while he's busy having fun getting his arms, legs and single eyebrow ripped from his puny little sissy man body, i'll be stood next to the door, hoping that:

A: The big angry fucker happily destroying his puny human body doesnt realise that i came in with the thick shit.

B: That there is enough of him left for me to identify the body without resulting in having his local dentist come in to identify the graffiti on his fillings.

Jesus H Christ. I had a great deal of trouble restraining myself from walking over to him and kicking his head off his fucking shoulders, just so i could watch the expression on his face as he realised that his 'listening Jing' seemed to have it's hearing aid turned off. And please don't have a go about this, but after nine years of various martial arts, i know how to identify Bunkai, and not just the 'this is a block and this is a punch' sort. I know about feints, throws, tangles and restraints. And i would be more than a little happy to demonstrate EVERYTHING i know on him. For several days. And seeing as some of what i know involves REALLY fucking sharp objects, i don't think he would like it. I really hate half cocked, annoying pissant dojo darlings who have never been in a fight in their lives. I'll be honest, i've never had to use what i know in a fight, so i dont go around telling people what i know works, same as i wouldn't say a television worked until i had turned it on. But i would like to try it aaaaaalll on him. Penis. Don't get me wrong. I really enjoy the class, but i don't want one person ruining it for me. And he seems to be going the right way about it.

Run! It's the filth!

Larry was stalking to and fro across the room, fondling his sheathed weapon, drawing the hammer back slightly before letting it click back into place.

"If you do that wrong, you're going to blow your fucking arm off, man." Said Moe, reading a copy of the new york times.

"What's it to you if i do? As long as im not facing away from you, you'll be fine."

"You'll get blood on my shoes. These shoes cost me nearly three hundred dollars. You get blood on my shoes and i'll fucking ventilate you myself."

Curly stood up, towering over the other two by at least four inches.

"Calm down guys. Either of you shoots the other, the Don will probably hold me responsible. Also, i'll have to tell your mothers. Do you see me going up to Mrs Capiani and Mrs Santiago with my hat in my hands and telling them their little boys killed each other? No? Neither do i. So i suggest you cool your heels until you can get back to your molls and let of some steam."

"Except Larry don't have no Moll, Curly. She left him for a book trader down on fifty seventh and madison."

"Hey, fuck-!"

There was a crash as the front door was smashed open, and police officers flooded in with drawn weapons, screaming for everyone to get down on the floor. Moe spun, ripping his gun from its holster in the small of his back, blazing away at the men running toward him. Two took hits in the body and another in the face, before several of them opened fire at once, stitching a line of blood across his chest, and covering his shoes in blood.

Larry and Curly ran for the boarded up windows, both men hitting them at the same time, crashing onto the lawn outside, only to see a line of policemen standing with weapons drawn and levelled at their heads.

"Drop the weapons." The lead man said.

Curly went to drop his gun, but Larry opened up, taking the lead man in the face with a bullet, before his gun jammed. Both men went down in a hail of bullets, Curly looking at a deep blue sky as his vision was eaten away at the sides by the encroaching darkness.

"I think their dead, Chief." Said a man above curly.

"Good riddance."

This story was actually inspired by me moving three fish into a new tank this evening. Dont ask me why. Maybe im just wierd.