Lali ho <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/sad.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
" border="0" alt="sad.gif" />
.......
.......................
........I just don't know what to do......
................................................................................
Where do I go from here?
...............I mean.....This really will change my life..............................................................
HA! Had you fooled. You thought this was gonna be a break-up blog, didn't you? You thought I'd done something stupid and lost my beloved Heather. Shame on you for your lack of faith <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tongue.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="" border="0" alt="tongue.gif" /> And now for the real blog.
Lali Ho!!!
You know what's REALLY over? My troubles, by the look of things. It's gonna be another long winded blog so those of you too lazy to read just GTFO now instead of whining that you didn't read it all like last time, 'k? Best way to deal with this is to look at my many problems and then reveal how I've totally obliterated pretty much all of them in the space of one evening in a firestorm of holy justice. Read on.
PROBLEM ONE: MY DAD, AND BEING STUCK HERE
My dad has always been....well, he's a cunt. Sorry if my foul language offends you but he really is, he's a cunt. No better way to say it. He takes my money every month and still treats me like shit. I give him fully half my wages to buy food with and he only buys food for himself, stuff only he is allowed to eat. So there's no bread or cheese or Marmite, but we do have a shitload of ice cream and a new Blu-Ray nobody will ever watch. Nice going, ass hat. It's a damn shame when Heather's a guest in my house and she has to pay for dinner all the time because dad's wasted the money buying The Last Airbender on Blu-Ray despite nobody in the house ever expressing a desire to watch it.
Well, the way I saw it there were only two ways to solve this problem. Either find some way to move out and gain the freedom to eat the things in the cupboard which I pay for, or split his head open with a meat cleaver. Now that I've had time to wash my meat cleaver...nah, just kidding, Heather and me have found a place we can afford together. Makes sense, she's always here anyway, she's not slept at her house for over a fortnight. And it'd be nice to have a bigger bed. Being stuck with a single in a tiny room like this is cramping my style. <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tpi.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="" border="0" alt="tpi.gif" />
So...yeah. Nothing's concrete yet of course, but we've decided that's what makes the most sense for us both. She's looking to get her own place for much the same reasons as me, and while alone we can't go anywhere, by combining our efforts we can easily make things work. Breaks me free of the tyranical grip of my cunt of a dad, breaks her free from her eerily similar step-mother (you thought Cinderella had problems, you ain't seen shit yet), brings us closer together, and even if things fall through, it's theoretically possible for me to afford this place alone, if I get the proper government assistance.
PROBLEM 2: MY JOB BEING ASS-HATS.
Yeah, I blogged about this before, and ever since they recieved my sick note I've not heard a damn thing. And even if they DO decide that I'm to be sacked when I return (they'll no doubt find a reason out of pettiness) then I may have another job soon anyway. Again, thanks to a helping hand from my sweetheart, I've located a few prime opportunities that match my current experience level and skill set perfectly, pay better than JJB, and don't have wankers in charge. And what's more, I've tracked down even more leads on my career path. My portfolio is pretty much finished at this point, or at least up to a point where any prospective employer would have enough to see my potential. So enough fannying around, said I. Time ti send this fucker out into the world and see where it gets me. Well, having sent a selection of my best reviews, news articles, top tens (incidentally are we not doing Featured Blogs any more, 'cause I kinda liked having mine at the top and my new Top Ten list isn't even front page this month), serious studies into the gaming world and other such things, I've already had a bunch of return emails, with responses ranging from 'we see you have potential but unfortunately we're not hiring right now, but we'll get back to you' to a full on 'damn, this kid's awesome. we need this guy. want an interview?'. Looks like it's almost time to tell my boss at JJB where he can shove it. <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/toot.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="" border="0" alt="toot.gif" />
PROBLEM 3: LACK OF FUNDING
Sold some worthless junk I found in the loft. Problem solved. You'd be shocked how much some of this junk goes for. It's a long and not especially interesting story so for the sake of cutting the junk out of this blog I'll leave it at that.
PROBLEM 4: MY DAMAGED LEG
OK, I admit, my leg is still bad. It does show signs of improvement, as in I can walk a little further now before the pain flares up and cripples me again. But I have another 9 days off work to go, I'm sure I'll be fighting fit sooner or later.
PROBLEM 5: HACKING MY PS2
I was having trouble acquiring some DVD-R's to burn my altered copy of Agent Under Fire. Never fucking occured to me that Heather might have some at her house, did it? Why? Because she's never there, she's always here unless she's gone out for a girly night with her girly chums or she's at work. She practically lives here. So now I have as many as I could possibly need 'cause she has a huge crate of the damn things and she's never even opened them. Just gotta secure use of the old man's laptop (my netbook has no DVD drive, kind of defeats that plan before it even gets going) and I can finally get round to hacking the damn thing. About time too. Heather's a big fan of the Dancing Stage (Dance Dance Revolution to those from elsewhere) series, with DDR Fusion on PS2 being a personal fave. And I can't find it anywhere. Problem solved. Burn a copy, let her play it and be very grateful for all my efforts in acquiring her favourite toy. And repay me by being my favourite toy <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tongue.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="" border="0" alt="tongue.gif" />
PROBLEM 6: THE UNDYING EX GIRLFRIEND.
Yeah, I know. Every guy on Earth has this issue. We've all got that one creepy stalker ex. That one that simply won't take the hint. The psycho hose beast. I would like to say I fixed that problem, but truth be told I had nothing to with this one. You can tell. It's not my M.O. There was no sniper rifle involved, that was clue number one that it wasn't me. This one was all Heather. We went to Tesco earlier to grab a few bits and Shock! Horror! Psycho Hose Beast, ten o'clock. With her bratty little sister no less. And as expected she decided to cause trouble. Right up until Heather came back from getting sweets out of the machine, put her arms around me, kissed me, and asked who I was talking to who was giving me a load of verbal abuse, same as always. And what happened next was just classic....here's the gist.
Yeah, that should be a pretty solid resolution to the conflict.
For the first time in my life, I'm winning. I'm almost free. I've almost got the means to break free of the doldrums of my life and let my real journey start. I'll let you know how things develop. But for now, Heather's FINALLY out of the shower (said she wanted to get the stench of the ex's face off her knuckles) so I've got more entertaining things to do than continue this blog. Toodles <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/smile.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="" border="0" alt="smile.gif" />
Blaze.
'I thought we were just vaguely celebrating the fact that 'Oxford' sounds a little bit like 'Do you want to cum in my mouth'.' - Eddie, Bottom Live 2.
" border="0" alt="sad.gif" /> .......
.......................
........I just don't know what to do......
................................................................................
Where do I go from here?
...............I mean.....This really will change my life..............................................................
HA! Had you fooled. You thought this was gonna be a break-up blog, didn't you? You thought I'd done something stupid and lost my beloved Heather. Shame on you for your lack of faith <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tongue.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
" border="0" alt="tongue.gif" /> And now for the real blog.Lali Ho!!!
You know what's REALLY over? My troubles, by the look of things. It's gonna be another long winded blog so those of you too lazy to read just GTFO now instead of whining that you didn't read it all like last time, 'k? Best way to deal with this is to look at my many problems and then reveal how I've totally obliterated pretty much all of them in the space of one evening in a firestorm of holy justice. Read on.
PROBLEM ONE: MY DAD, AND BEING STUCK HERE
My dad has always been....well, he's a cunt. Sorry if my foul language offends you but he really is, he's a cunt. No better way to say it. He takes my money every month and still treats me like shit. I give him fully half my wages to buy food with and he only buys food for himself, stuff only he is allowed to eat. So there's no bread or cheese or Marmite, but we do have a shitload of ice cream and a new Blu-Ray nobody will ever watch. Nice going, ass hat. It's a damn shame when Heather's a guest in my house and she has to pay for dinner all the time because dad's wasted the money buying The Last Airbender on Blu-Ray despite nobody in the house ever expressing a desire to watch it.
Well, the way I saw it there were only two ways to solve this problem. Either find some way to move out and gain the freedom to eat the things in the cupboard which I pay for, or split his head open with a meat cleaver. Now that I've had time to wash my meat cleaver...nah, just kidding, Heather and me have found a place we can afford together. Makes sense, she's always here anyway, she's not slept at her house for over a fortnight. And it'd be nice to have a bigger bed. Being stuck with a single in a tiny room like this is cramping my style. <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tpi.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
" border="0" alt="tpi.gif" /> So...yeah. Nothing's concrete yet of course, but we've decided that's what makes the most sense for us both. She's looking to get her own place for much the same reasons as me, and while alone we can't go anywhere, by combining our efforts we can easily make things work. Breaks me free of the tyranical grip of my cunt of a dad, breaks her free from her eerily similar step-mother (you thought Cinderella had problems, you ain't seen shit yet), brings us closer together, and even if things fall through, it's theoretically possible for me to afford this place alone, if I get the proper government assistance.
PROBLEM 2: MY JOB BEING ASS-HATS.
Yeah, I blogged about this before, and ever since they recieved my sick note I've not heard a damn thing. And even if they DO decide that I'm to be sacked when I return (they'll no doubt find a reason out of pettiness) then I may have another job soon anyway. Again, thanks to a helping hand from my sweetheart, I've located a few prime opportunities that match my current experience level and skill set perfectly, pay better than JJB, and don't have wankers in charge. And what's more, I've tracked down even more leads on my career path. My portfolio is pretty much finished at this point, or at least up to a point where any prospective employer would have enough to see my potential. So enough fannying around, said I. Time ti send this fucker out into the world and see where it gets me. Well, having sent a selection of my best reviews, news articles, top tens (incidentally are we not doing Featured Blogs any more, 'cause I kinda liked having mine at the top and my new Top Ten list isn't even front page this month), serious studies into the gaming world and other such things, I've already had a bunch of return emails, with responses ranging from 'we see you have potential but unfortunately we're not hiring right now, but we'll get back to you' to a full on 'damn, this kid's awesome. we need this guy. want an interview?'. Looks like it's almost time to tell my boss at JJB where he can shove it. <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/toot.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
" border="0" alt="toot.gif" /> PROBLEM 3: LACK OF FUNDING
Sold some worthless junk I found in the loft. Problem solved. You'd be shocked how much some of this junk goes for. It's a long and not especially interesting story so for the sake of cutting the junk out of this blog I'll leave it at that.
PROBLEM 4: MY DAMAGED LEG
OK, I admit, my leg is still bad. It does show signs of improvement, as in I can walk a little further now before the pain flares up and cripples me again. But I have another 9 days off work to go, I'm sure I'll be fighting fit sooner or later.
PROBLEM 5: HACKING MY PS2
I was having trouble acquiring some DVD-R's to burn my altered copy of Agent Under Fire. Never fucking occured to me that Heather might have some at her house, did it? Why? Because she's never there, she's always here unless she's gone out for a girly night with her girly chums or she's at work. She practically lives here. So now I have as many as I could possibly need 'cause she has a huge crate of the damn things and she's never even opened them. Just gotta secure use of the old man's laptop (my netbook has no DVD drive, kind of defeats that plan before it even gets going) and I can finally get round to hacking the damn thing. About time too. Heather's a big fan of the Dancing Stage (Dance Dance Revolution to those from elsewhere) series, with DDR Fusion on PS2 being a personal fave. And I can't find it anywhere. Problem solved. Burn a copy, let her play it and be very grateful for all my efforts in acquiring her favourite toy. And repay me by being my favourite toy <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tongue.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
" border="0" alt="tongue.gif" />PROBLEM 6: THE UNDYING EX GIRLFRIEND.
Yeah, I know. Every guy on Earth has this issue. We've all got that one creepy stalker ex. That one that simply won't take the hint. The psycho hose beast. I would like to say I fixed that problem, but truth be told I had nothing to with this one. You can tell. It's not my M.O. There was no sniper rifle involved, that was clue number one that it wasn't me. This one was all Heather. We went to Tesco earlier to grab a few bits and Shock! Horror! Psycho Hose Beast, ten o'clock. With her bratty little sister no less. And as expected she decided to cause trouble. Right up until Heather came back from getting sweets out of the machine, put her arms around me, kissed me, and asked who I was talking to who was giving me a load of verbal abuse, same as always. And what happened next was just classic....here's the gist.
Heather: Oh, you must be his ex. He mentioned you.
Ex: Oh he did? *smiling, totally not reading between the lines
Heather: Yeah. Says you wanna be a guy now or something. Gotta say, you're pretty fuck ugly for a guy.
Ex: Wait, what?
Heather: Come to think of it, you're pretty fuck ugly for a girl, too. You actually dated her, Blaze?
Me: She was an old school friend.
Heather: Be that as it may, for some things there are just no excuse. I mean look at her.
Ex: STANDING RIGHT HERE!
Heather: One sec there, Quasimodo. Well, at least you've moved up in the world now, huh?
Me: No doubt about it. *gave Heather a quick kiss
Ex: STILL STANDING RIGHT HERE!!
Heather: Christ, your species can really run its mouth, huh? You wanna get out of our way now? I got things to do with my man here.
Ex: No, I want some answers.
Heather: Actually, so do I. Did you go to Claims Direct when that train hit you? National Accident Helpline, maybe? Or did you try Churchhill 'cause you look like the dog? Why are you so sad and lonely that you're bothering a guy you broke up with five years ago with wild claims of gender reassignment? Why did you cheat on him in the first place if your life without him is so pathetically empty? If you're a guy now, does that mean when you were sucking off that Rob kid you were having your first gay experience? Why can't you move on like he clearly has? And most importantly, haven't you ever heard of make-up, 'cause damn, you need a lot. There are so many spots I'm tempted to go buy a pen and see if they make a picture.
At this point my ex totally loses her mind, as is her custom when she's losing, and tries to strike Heather. Now, two things you should know. One, I'm not too bad a fighter myself and I'll be damned if I'm letting my psycho ex strike my girlfriend. Two, Heather's nickname of 'Hitomi' is there for a reason, she can kick your ass any time she likes. So before I've even had time to react, Heather's flipped the ex onto the floor and has her cowgirl boot (she likes wearing cowgirl boots this time of year...it's awesome, she looks so hot in them) on my ex's neck.
Heather: Now so long as you're just led there taking a break, pay attention. You've had your chance with him, and you quite literally blew it. Now it's my chance, and I'll be damned if I'm letting filthy cheating pond slime like you stand in the way of our happily ever after. Grow up and move on, you sad pathetic brat, wanting what you can't have. Now, I'm gonna move my foot. When I do, you've got ten seconds to get up and get out of my sight. Otherwise that boot will be going up your fat ass. And if we ever see you again, you better stay out of our way unless you want your head shoved so far up your ass you can lick your lungs. Now get out of my sight.
Ex proceeds to run for the hills, little sister in tow, in tears. Heather shrugs her shoulders, brushes her hair out of her eyes, smiles sweetly and goes back to being her usual sweet and innocent self.
Ex: Oh he did? *smiling, totally not reading between the lines
Heather: Yeah. Says you wanna be a guy now or something. Gotta say, you're pretty fuck ugly for a guy.
Ex: Wait, what?
Heather: Come to think of it, you're pretty fuck ugly for a girl, too. You actually dated her, Blaze?
Me: She was an old school friend.
Heather: Be that as it may, for some things there are just no excuse. I mean look at her.
Ex: STANDING RIGHT HERE!
Heather: One sec there, Quasimodo. Well, at least you've moved up in the world now, huh?
Me: No doubt about it. *gave Heather a quick kiss
Ex: STILL STANDING RIGHT HERE!!
Heather: Christ, your species can really run its mouth, huh? You wanna get out of our way now? I got things to do with my man here.
Ex: No, I want some answers.
Heather: Actually, so do I. Did you go to Claims Direct when that train hit you? National Accident Helpline, maybe? Or did you try Churchhill 'cause you look like the dog? Why are you so sad and lonely that you're bothering a guy you broke up with five years ago with wild claims of gender reassignment? Why did you cheat on him in the first place if your life without him is so pathetically empty? If you're a guy now, does that mean when you were sucking off that Rob kid you were having your first gay experience? Why can't you move on like he clearly has? And most importantly, haven't you ever heard of make-up, 'cause damn, you need a lot. There are so many spots I'm tempted to go buy a pen and see if they make a picture.
At this point my ex totally loses her mind, as is her custom when she's losing, and tries to strike Heather. Now, two things you should know. One, I'm not too bad a fighter myself and I'll be damned if I'm letting my psycho ex strike my girlfriend. Two, Heather's nickname of 'Hitomi' is there for a reason, she can kick your ass any time she likes. So before I've even had time to react, Heather's flipped the ex onto the floor and has her cowgirl boot (she likes wearing cowgirl boots this time of year...it's awesome, she looks so hot in them) on my ex's neck.
Heather: Now so long as you're just led there taking a break, pay attention. You've had your chance with him, and you quite literally blew it. Now it's my chance, and I'll be damned if I'm letting filthy cheating pond slime like you stand in the way of our happily ever after. Grow up and move on, you sad pathetic brat, wanting what you can't have. Now, I'm gonna move my foot. When I do, you've got ten seconds to get up and get out of my sight. Otherwise that boot will be going up your fat ass. And if we ever see you again, you better stay out of our way unless you want your head shoved so far up your ass you can lick your lungs. Now get out of my sight.
Ex proceeds to run for the hills, little sister in tow, in tears. Heather shrugs her shoulders, brushes her hair out of her eyes, smiles sweetly and goes back to being her usual sweet and innocent self.
Yeah, that should be a pretty solid resolution to the conflict.
For the first time in my life, I'm winning. I'm almost free. I've almost got the means to break free of the doldrums of my life and let my real journey start. I'll let you know how things develop. But for now, Heather's FINALLY out of the shower (said she wanted to get the stench of the ex's face off her knuckles) so I've got more entertaining things to do than continue this blog. Toodles <img src="style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/smile.gif" style="vertical-align:middle" emoid="
" border="0" alt="smile.gif" />Blaze.
'I thought we were just vaguely celebrating the fact that 'Oxford' sounds a little bit like 'Do you want to cum in my mouth'.' - Eddie, Bottom Live 2.
