Tag Archives: crime

Down & Out in Kruezberg, Berlin or; The Three-Day Fuck-it-All Challenge!

It’s me! I’m back again! I know I keep bailing on writing these things this year (my last post was June 26th) but I have a legitimate reason for this one taking so long, but it’s not a short tale to tell. Well, it might be but I know it will take a long, long time to write as I’m on an 8 year old Mac that shuts down every ten-or-so minutes and it’s really frustrating for me. It doesn’t play music, it doesn’t play videos, it sometimes tells me it can’t run one program at a time. One is too much for it and it just goes “fuck it” and crashes. What is a stroke of luck though is that I’m currently really sick with a chest cold which has fucked my sleeping pattern up and I’m currently quiting smoking so this laptop has picked the time I’m at my most “chillax” to be the bain of my existence. I’ve hardly punched anything (walls, desks, my own thighs) all evening.

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Self Harm, My Inner thighs & Other Bad Ideas.

I was just watching a documentary about a ladies prison and it got me thinking. You know how women say that their periods cycles “sync” up with their friends or women they live with or whatever, then does that mean that all the gals in a womans jail “cleanse the damned” at the same time? Imagine that. Imagine the drains! I bet there’s a plumber somewhere showering naked, crying, with a pair of scissors in his hand with a screaming, terrified wife banging at the locked bathroom door, begging him “not to do anything stupid” and to “please come out” but he’s seen to much. He has seen far, far too much. More than any man need see. Some would argue what he’s doing is for the best. Plus, he was thinking of killing himself anyway because he was having a pretty bad time mentally. He’s being blackmailed by some dude who has photos of him sucking of some guys at a festival in Kent. The drains at that prison were just the icing on the cake, really. It’s actually pretty sad when you think about it.

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Sausage Rolls,Wet Shorts and MANBOY!

My shorts. My shorts are wet. Sopping wet. I just went to pull them out of my backpack and they are soaked with an unknown substance but everything else in my bag is bone-dry. I cannot make head-nor-tail of it. I also found a wrapper for a type of sausage roll I have never eaten in there. I don’t mean that I eat sausage rolls in my bag, but the wrapper was in my bag. You know what I mean.

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