So. I read someone's story the other day, and it was rather shit. The whole thing was basically one big paragraph. So I did what any respecting person who happens to like the English language would do, I left a review. It was one line. Basically telling the person to never write anything again, not even their name.
I got a reply.
It was some what unexpected, and rather ironic if you ask me. It turns out the person who wrote that pile of trash is an editor for a magazine at Griffith University. WTF? Does that not seem strange to you?
Anyway, they visited my site and liked what they saw, and asked me to write 1,700 words on any topic for them to publish in their magazine. However, all they could give me in return was promotional gear. Whoop-de-doo. At least that's what I thought at first. Then it occurred to me. Promo gear. Free promo gear. Free promo gear not acquired at my expense. Free promo gear that I can sell at the markets. Free promo gear that turns into cash!
I like that. So I agreed to do their article. I just don't know what to bitch about.
People suck! They shit me off. You go out in public and they're everywhere! Getting in your way, blocking isles, asking stupid questions, ramming you with their trolleys, and I wasn't even working! It ticks me off no end.
My stalker was down town today. I had the opportunity to point him out to my mum and dad. Actually, it's weird. Everytime I have gone down town he has been there. Maybe he's following me... being a stalker and all. Or maybe he is a bogan with no life and just lives down town. I'm going with the latter.
In other news. My stupid bitch of a sister is in Atherton, and apparently that was the worst hit area. I love you, Larry! I'm not worried, because no one has been reported dead at all, just injured. But does she bother to call us? No! She knows we don't have a contact number for her. She knows that we don't have a contact number for her husband's relatives. She knows they aren't listed in the phone book. Yet she does not call, or ask them to call us. Asshole.
I've been working on a random MSN space. Check it out, or I'll hit you.
I'm feeling pissy. Why? Because it's raining, and shit is going wrong. I like to be organised, but do other people fall in toe with my plans? No! They friggin' mess it up. I say just 3 people are going. Next then you know there are another 2 people invited, then another 2 after that. Then being the only one with the license I'm expected to drive all over the place to get people. WTF? I think not! This is such bull shit! I'm not a friggin' taxi. Piss off you wankers. How did Pube Head get on my play list? Someone's gonna die! Leave me the fuck alone!!!
