Thank the good Lord and all his happy little wing-ed cherubs I’m into the home stretch. I can officially say that today is my last Thursday in this squalid little hovel. On Tuesday next week I’m jumping on the fastest train National Rail has to offer me and I’m roaring into London to go and get sh*t-faced (god, I’m so common it gives me a nose bleed) with ‘The Crowd’ until I can no longer remember my own pin number, let alone the 3 weeks in hell I have endured. That is providing that I don’t saw my own limbs off with a cheese grater and die from a severed artery before then. Be it the light at the end of the tunnel fast approaching (no thanks to Eskom) or the couldn’t-give-a-flying-f*ck attitude I’ve adopted in light of her recent behaviour, I’ve decided to do exactly as I please and couldn’t give a stuff about anything she has to say or do (whilst of course maintaining a degree of professionalism and all the other job mandatories). Up yours and the demented f*cking mule you rode in on lady, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here!
21 September 2006
T Minus 5 And Counting
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3 comments:
Leave yourself a note, in case you do manage to successfully destroy the memory. Those who fail to learn their history and all that.
no prizes for guessing what your fucking favourite word of the moment is then?
kyk: i shall no doubt give it to a friend who'll accompany me to some dodgy tattoo parlour at stupid o'clock at night to have it inked onto my bum. I won't forget it then although i may sustain severe neck injuries trying to read it, and needing to double check when i'm standing at the ATM could land me in jail for a night or two.
WM: fuckity fuck fuck.
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