BlahBlahBlah

Today, im in a bit of a blah mood. Some would say distinctly blah, others would not. You see, i had a job interview, and i swear the woman fanicied me. Oviously because of my velvety toned voice, my manly intonation, and my enormous bitch tits. I could almost smell her from where she was sitting, with the other guy in the room (who looked like he should have been in some American boy band or something) probably had a hard on, or something. I didn't look.

I kind of see myself like Bob, from Fight club. Large man, Large tits.

They asked me to describe myself, so i said "Absolutely fantastic. And really humble, as well." To be honest, i have never spouted utter bullshit for more than an hour so well. So thoroughly. Everything that escaped my lips did so with a veneer of gloss, to make it shinier, better, and to make me seem desirable, as only a man with massive breasts can be. Trust me, in that interview, i sparkled. (but not in a scotchguarded kind of way. I don't think i was waterproofed and trust me, if you scrubbed me the dirt wouldnt come out, i dont think.) Either way, i should be starting with their company in August, if i am not mistaken. If i am? I'll not cry. Nor will i be upset. Even better, i just won't be bothered. Something will come up.

I'll keep you posted.

Play! Play until you can frolic no more!

See this? This is like me playing with a new toy until it's either broken, or im bored with it. And seeing as i don't think i'm going to be breaking the internet anytime soon...

I'll get bored. I always do.

It's kind of like i've got verbal diarhhea, via my fingers or something. I could talk about anything! Gnomes, (Garden gnomes are evil, by the way. I can see their little beady eyes glancing at me, plotting my downfall) Triffids (My parents have one in their bathroom, or at least, they did last time i was in their house a couple of years ago. It used to scare the shit out of me in the middle of the night. You try taking a piss next to something you think is going to jump up and tear out your throat and feast on your corpse. Seriously. Try it. It's not good for urinary flow, i can tell you.) or even something as out here as a profanibear. Or rather, The Profanibear. Mr Fuzzums, a one of a kind, bear who swears. Perhaps even.. The Bear of Swear. You see, i used to write a great deal of gut wrenchingly funny creative (read creative as twisted and quite often sick and sexually deviant) fiction. One of my creations was a bear named Mr Fuzzums, who swore a lot. He also could tell you how to pull a transvestite on a thursday night in a fairground, but not much else. He wasn't any good at getting out of hancuffs, being tied up, or making weapons out of some corn, some pit and a few grains of rice. In other words, he was no patch on Jim Kirk. (Who could do aaaallll of that.)

Mr Fuzzums rocked. Or as the youngsters say these days, (I'm a youngster! I'm only twenty seven!) Rawked.

I could rock. All day long. Sweet Suzie. If i chose to.

(Bear in mind, the above comment is an obscure Kung Pow reference.)

The word of God

I read a commnt on a website i frequent a few minutes ago (and no i don't mean www.Danni.com either, ya pervert) regarding Religion. The comment was as thus:

"Religions don't tell you to look inside, they tell you to look outside, to the leaders of that religion."

It was something like that, anyway. And it got me thinking. (Yes, i do that sometimes...) Looking toward leaders is all very well if they can guide you in your growth toward something better, perhaps improving your chracter, or something of that nature, then looking outside of yourself is all very well. But what if, down the path that someone else has laid out for you, you disagree with your direction? What do you do?

Well, personally, i would speak to the leader of the religion, and if he so vociferously denies that i am able to follow my own path, then i would split from that religion and take the road my heart and concience guides me on. But if i had a leader who gently allowed me to explore my own way, then i would be happy to stay within the religion, seeing how things go.

The point to this entry? There isnt one, really. I'm just a bored recently unemployed man on a tuesday afternoon whilst everyone else in the house is asleep.

It's oh, so quiet...

About beginnings

Well, When i originally started this blog, (about fifteen minutes ago) i only actually did it so i could make entries in someone elses. Yes, that means that this blog is a POTENTIAL ABORTION. It could go at any time. So put not your faith in drunken bored writers of blogs, i say nay, go and get a life! If you're skint, go to a bargain basement shop, and buy one from there.

About this blog: Apart from being a POTENTIAL ABORTION, this is in fact the seventh blog i have had. Well, my other ones were simply collections of writings and stories done in my younger, more positive days, before i had kids. And trust me, they suck the optimism RIGHT out of you. Kind of like optimism vampires. (I wonder what they would look like if Stan Lee drew them?) I could have called this 'The book of Jun, Part Seven: The highflying aerobatics show" But i decided not to. Obviously. What are you, an idiot?

I once read a book, where some old crotchety sorceror said something along the lines of 'Curtains are useless. They dont even keep the draught out.' All i could think of? Of course they dont you fucktard, theyre curtains. Not glass. Idiot.

Updates? HA!

Undoubtedly, when this thing ever gets updated, i will indeed, be shit. By shit, i mean that it will fly merrily draped in holy lines of shitness, almost like bunting.

In other words, this is like a nineteen forties street party that is covered in cow crap. And not a dung beetle in site to use it all up.