Tag Archives: smoking

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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Dogs, Crabs and Callbacks or; Fuck My Morals.

There’s a dog in my room. That’s not so weird, but she belongs to one of the guys I live with but he’s away so someone else is looking after her but everyone is in bed and she’s in my room and she wont stop crying. I don’t know what to do. I’ve given her water, a bit of bree and a shit-ton of chocolate* but she wont stop crying. Maybe she wants a fag. Do dogs smoke? I know crabs do (see Something About Crabs or Hamsters. I forget) so why shouldn’t dogs?

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The God-Damn Job Centers Robot Army & Why I should Tidy my Room.

God-damn I HATE the fucking Job Center. I hate it so much! I only ever deal with them on the phone and it does my fucking nut in. Where did all this automated phone shit come from? Why the fuck do I have to talk to a robot that never understands anyone? Earlier on “she” asked me to tell her my postcode, then started giving me examples of postcodes. This is great because being patronised by machines is what I love. My favourite bit is how, after seven attempts to say “S A fifteen”, it finally gave up trying to understand me and said “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Thank you for your call. Good-bye!” No! No! This is mental. You spend fucking ages dealing with a machine and the only thing that machine does is put you through to a human who is blatantly in a room full of other humans in one of many call centers, so why not just put me straight through to a human? If I wanted to get enraged with machines I’d have taken loads of acid and put a Pixar film on.

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Tight Leather Trousers & Sex with Walls or; Science is a Mans Game.

Today, as I was skateboarding around town, I realised something. Twenty-six years of age isn’t too old to be skateboarding as some people might think but it is, however, too old to be shit at skateboarding and that kinda sucks balls. Because I’m shit at it.

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Attempted Rape, Get In The Van & Shitty House

I heard the greatest thing ever on Friday night. I was at a party in a rugby club and I had gone outside to smoke a fag. There was a group of three girls just out by the door, also smoking, and just chatting away amongst themselves and what-not when who should appear from the door of the bar but a pair of gypsies. Proper gypsies. the rough Irish kind, not the lovable roman kind. The kind of gypsies that are in the paper now and again because they steal homeless men and force them to work as slaves. The type of gypsies you avoid at all costs. I think you get the picture.

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Tongues, Vowels & Neutral Milk Hotel.

First things first, why aren’t you still drunk and listening to Neutral Milk Hotel? You don’t know who they are? Then stop reading this, delete my Facebook and let me know so I can block you on Twitter. If you do know who they are then we should make out. Hard. Tongues and everything. Unless you’re a dude. Or weird looking. I think what I’m saying is if you’re a hot girl and listen to Neutral Milk Hotel I wanna make out with you. Actually, I don’t even care if you’ve heard of Neutral Milk Hotel. I just want to know what it feels like to make out with someone I find hot for a change.

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