Argument for Breakfast

Yup. No better way to start the day than an argument as soon as you wake up. All my fault of course - willing to take the rap for this one....while I'm at it, Vietnam - my fault, World War 2 - my fault - fook it, even World War 1 was my fault (if only I hadn't messed with Archie and his ostrich). Actually, I can think of at least 10 better ways to start the day.

So, in suitably Gothic fashion I foresee an incredibly miserable day in front of me. It started bad and thus, contrary to popular belief and all that 'the only way is up' shite, it will continue in a similar fashion. Unfortunately, as I am not employed as an alcoholic, I cannot drink beer, wodka or Jack Daniels until tonight.....like I said - miserable day.

So as I sit on the FreakMobile looking across at the woman who is 'pushing maximum density' with a bag of food that would be classed as a suitcase by airport security I weep inside. Time to change the setting on the Muppet3 from random to evil.

Come on Mazza - give me the Antichrist Superstar doofer!!!!!!!!!!

I suppose I could cheer myself up by throwing fat lass's bag of food out of the window whilst she talks bollocks on the phone. Unfortunately, I'm not strong enough to even lift her bag up let alone throw it - and anyway, she'd probably sit on me and squash me like a bug if I did. And, why do fat peeps have such small feet? Surely, by the laws of physics they should fall over. I wonder, if you have continental sizes - what is the equivalent to the UK size - fat bastard/bitch? Probably something really polite like 'pour me in si vous plait'.

Ha ha - French. That's probably where it all started today. I promised I would speak French by the end of January and now everyone is bugging me - 14 days to go yap, yap, yap. Oy shit-for-brains, I didn't say which year!

Oh chuff it....

Ok, juste pour être clair je vais faire cette remarque. Ca ne deviendra pas une habitude - autrement je vais devoir changer nom et m'appeler SpanishGoth -> FrenchGoth, on n'est pas fin Janvier, encore, et donc à l'attention des soupçonneux tout le monde : je pleure et je ris à la même fois.

Satisfied? Now piss off and leave me alone to be miserable in the corner.

*sits down and pulls knees up under his chin*

a luego,
Miserable S

(What should have been today's post.......)

For a Goth, I'm rather partial to food - well, if it actually looks like food. Mi mariposa, like a lot of women (I don't count strange ones like models who prefer to put stuff up their nose rather than move up a dress size from twiglet to stick insect) likes food a lot. At first, I assumed it was because I was doing all the cooking - easy to like food if you don't have to do anything and it just appears. But, I was wrong - now I don't have time to fry a chip, she is beavering away in the kitchen like, well, a beaver (except that beavers don't have cookers, fridges or Del Haize).

Point being, when I return to my nest after a hard day's stuff, there is a meal on the table and as her confidence increases the more she cooks, so does my waistline. I will be able to Sumo wrestle with the T-Meister in no time. In 'no time' because I will say "you wrestle yourself and I'll get the beers in" - fair deal I think.

Now I just have to carry through on part one of my promise - to speak French by the end of January. Granted, I never actually said which year but I suppose I must make an effort. On the not-so-bright side, I already understand French but I have to prove it in public. I hate doing stuff in public - I am not a natural porn-star and this is exactly why I never open my mouth - and in this case, speak French. When I do open my mouth, people stare and I feel like a hamster in a cage - nowhere to go except that stupid fooking wheel and no chance of getting a drink at the bar as I am short, furry and cannot reach the bar without a trampoline.....jump now!!!!!

<..ping>
"Can I get a "
<..ping>
"drink pl.."
<..ping>
"ease Mister"
<..ping>
*feeling all fuzzy now*
"Jack Dan.."
<..ping>
"iels please Sir"

ZAP - went left when I should have gone right :-( No Jack Daniels for me.

Looking on the bright side, I get to dine out on small peanuts, on the bad side, I can't reach the cigarette machine either.

A bientot,
El Goth Espagnol

ps Whatever I do is never enough. Couldn't win an argument in an empty room. Oh, the joys of being Gothic. I would go back to the Bat Cave but some chuffer would probably shit on my head - lying upside down mother-fookers.

pss Don't read this if you are american - you voted in Big Bush instead of Big Bird - did you learn nothing from Sesame Street?!!