I love Fridays, it's such a Fuzzy day. Fuzzy and cute because another week of having to get up early is over and the weekend will soon be upon me like a big Fuzzy blanket of love. Fuzzy and comfortable as I don't have to wear a shirt and tie any more - I can put my Marilyn Manson shirt on (actually, I don't have to wear a tie during the week - I wear the tie because it's a reminder to me that I am actually going somewhere i.e. to work, and must not stop at the pub on the way).
Fuzzy is how my eyesight will be later as the only limit to how much I can drink tonight will be when the laws of gravity outweigh the laws of brevity and whisky. Don't care - where have I got to be tomorrow? Ha - nowhere. Fuzzy tongue/breath as I can eat as much garlic as I want tonight and not worry that my cow-workers will be blinded by the light (well, smell actually) tomorrow 'as me no work' and as Fuzzy Gothess will be eating the same food I don't have to worry about that either.
In fact, all I will have to worry about is a great big Fat Fuzzy Fuck (or should that be Fuck all ? - naw, probably right the first time).
So what are the plans for Fuzzy Friday Night in Goth World? Nada - don't do plans at the weekend - I leave that to the grown-ups. Not to make plans for me I mean, but if they want to plan their existence.......go ahead. *Warning - do not be tempted to wave one of your non-Fuzzy lists or itineraries at me - I will eat it and after nature has took it's course deliver it back to you via catapult (oh yes, The Sling of Shit) - *
Godzilla used to pull that crap on me. "Let's take the mini-Goths (MG's) to the beach tomorrow, they'll love it". Yes they will, but not when you try and route-march the terrified MG's out of the house at 6am to "miss the traffic" - very un-Fuzzy behaviour. Fuck that for a game of soldiers. I will be up when I'm up, and if that means leaving after lunch, then so be it. And if we decide to set off back after dark at 10pm then we bloody well will. MG's will sleep all the way back and they won't have had the shit scared out of them by a control freak. "oooh, but my poor doggy might get lonely" - so, strap it to the roof of the car using tape (safer than sticking it's head out of the window).
Thinking about it, there is one incarnation of Fuzzy I don't like....Fuzzy women. I don't mean gently Fuzzy women - I'm talking about the Chewbacca in a dress type. Jeez - that's why Goth invented razors - use the bastard things. I'm not big on beards, but on a woman -> sorry, definite no-go area. Even thinking about it gives me the creeps - "yeah I know I asked for a blow job for Christmas but not from Father Fucking Christmas"!!!!
So, at the end of all things, as I have been a good Goth, I'm going to .....ha, ha, wait for it.... (expecting get pissed, there - wrong answer) invent a new creature. So, those of you sufficiently bored on a Fuzzy-day, frustrated or just plain stupid, you can help to create the ideal new creature for Goth World. In order to create, you need a plan - well, you don't actually. Bollocks, if nature can come up with a Duck-Billed Platypus with the plan known as DNA I can do what I want.
So, I guess we need to decide on a number of arms, legs, tits etc - whether new creation has super-powers etc and a funky name. Yikes, just thought - did Batman come before Catwoman...probably. So in order to create we need a 'recipe of blogation' (sort of blog+creation but I dropped a few letters in a Postman Twat fashion). Don't let me down Blog-Cadets as I need your help.
Signing off as I know the beer is ordered, oh and assuming my fave pub has not been incinerated by aliens - wait until after closing time you green/purple blobs from Mars or some other planet named after a chocolate bar.
Bueno fin de semana y Gothic besos a todos,
ps if it all goes freaky iin here next week - not my fucking fault.........blame it on anyone other than me. I didn't create the shit; I just burbled and it came out as poo.