Ouch

So, having a temper is not a good thing. In fact, it's positively painful.

Trying to put new furniture together, whilst having a temper is even worse....apparently.

I'm usually, quite a patient person but, occassionally, I snap - big time !! When I do go 'off on one' the results are not pretty. In fact, the resulting carnage is seldom pretty at all.

Welcome to the jungle of shelving units, baby. Let's have fun and games.

So, it didn't quite go as planned. Actually, to be more accurate, it was a complete fuck-up.

The theory was simple enough. Put the shelving unit together and place it in a position to house books or stuff. Except, being the little rascal that it is, it didn't want to go together the easy way. Or the hard way. Or any fucking way at all.

Ergo, I reached that point where frustration boiled over, and the need to twat something really hard with a hammer kicked in. Big time.

I will not be beaten by a piece of furniture!!!!

Thus, I twatted it with my hand, HARD.

" Ha, ha - Weren't expecting that were you, you piece of shit ?!"

All well and good, until my brain informed me that I appear to be pissing blood all over the place.

And so, after a quick reality check, it would appear that I had managed to pierce my hand, in a crucifixation type fashion. Blood was leaking, well, rather, spurting all over the place, and the furniture was sitting there laughing, in a wooden fashion.

For most people, that would be the end of the story but, Goth has petrol....and matches.

"Not so fucking clever now are you, my little wooden nemesis!!!!!!"

Bwahahahahhahahahahahahah

So, no. The shelves are not finished - although they do look rather fetching in the ash effect. I still have to clean the blood from the floor and I guess Ikea have another customer later...... "Nearly done dear..."

You Complete Twat

There are times when I love computers - mainly when I look at the stuff I have bought on account of working with them, or drinking beer because of the money they have provided me with.

Then, there are the other times..... like last night for example.

I am now the owner of 2 completely fucked laptops, 3 extremely fried hard drives and a severe headache.

I was about to throw one out of the window of Chez Goth, when Mariposa pointed out that the Cat, might think it was a game and follow it a tout vitesse.

Hence the title of this post - it is a phrase that I have used numerous times during the past 16.5 hours. (No fucking thanks to Microsoft I might add, you blood-sucking scum from the bottom of the pond from hell).

Tomorrow, I may feel slightly more relaxed, and apply my Gothic genius to resurrecting the poorly 'puters.

For now though, I am feeling slightly ambivalent and uncharitable toward the little rascals.......

In fact, my last comment to each was

YOU COMPLETE TWAT

Nice Pussy

You can't beat it really - the feeling of a nice pussy between your legs. There is something strangely comforting and somewhat heart-warming in the sensation. Of course, it could be that I am just a lesbian and love pussy for no other reason than, it's a new pussy to me. But, leaving the cynical part aside - the cat is fucking cool.

Travelling on an aeroplane is not a pleasant experience in cat-world and the poor bugger got so freaked out, the claws came out, broke off and became blood.

Not good.

Granted, it will take a few days to comprehend the 'living on the third floor now, so jumping out of the window is not an option thing' - but, shit, I had to learn that lesson too. In the meantime, there's free lodging, food, drink, and I've even created a place to have a crap without anyone watching. It's like a mini Gothic Hilton, without the advertising, because cats can't read, so that would be pointless.

I'm positive that life in Belgium is not as good as it was in Portugal, well the weather is better in Portugal, but in Belgium, the economy is more stable.

Anyway, I have got the 'harness' and the lead and I will take the cat for a walk. That will be 'funny as fuck' in itself. A Goth with a cat on a lead, going for a walk in the park.

I'm looking forward to my first encounter with a miserable Belgian twat walking their dog.

"Ho ho - my dog will eat your cat" (said in a smug and somewhat superficial way)
"HA - fucking think so, do you ?!" (not smug, just 'matter of fact' way)
*SPLAT*
"You just stamped on my dog !!! I will invent some legislation to counteract your complete lack of respect !"

In the meantime, Madame Belgique has a pizza in the shape of a flat dog, and my cat is right behind me purring.

MEEEEOOWW - which translates from Cat-ese into English as "That was so fucking funny - you're my new best friend"

Now, all I have to do is come up with a name, in English, for the cat.

Suggestions please.....

Belgian Bureacracy

For a country that's shit at most things apart from covering chips with mayonnaise, it does seem does have it's finger on the pulse of creating fucking stupid laws and then applying them in a most rigorous fashion.

Por ejemplo, and this is a true story....

I agreed to help someone move some rubbish from a store room to a communal waste disposal site. Easy enough. Get a van, load the crap up, drive it to the dump site, and dispose of loaded crap in appropriate containers.

BUT, to use the site, you need an identity card showing that you live in the 'commune' (admin region within Belgium). Simple enough. Borrow one from some doddering old git who can hardly walk, and hey junko !

Except, that the site will not except the card. The conversation then proceeded thus:-

"It's not you in the picture" exclaimed the nincompoop in charge of waste disposal.
"Of course it's not me, idiot, he's fucking 82 years old and can hardly walk - that's why I'm driving the truck and lifting things"
"But he has to be here"
"Why? He's busy being old and talking to his flowers, reminiscing, repeating himself and old-type stuff"
"But he has to be here"
"So, you're saying that I have to drag the fossil from his flower-bed just to prove he exists?"
"Yes - he has to be here"

Boll-fucking-ucks !!! *but off I drive, throw Grandpa Flintstone into the truck and return*

"See !!! He fucking exists"
"Ok - you have 3 minutes"
"3 minutes to what? Unload this whole fucking truck?"
"Yes, because then it's our lunch-time"
"But you're not helping me to unload it, so what bloody difference does it make?!"
"It's lunch time"
"I got that the first time you fucking retard, but what difference does it make if you're eating cheese and reading the paper whilst I'm doing the hard work?"
"Article 39a...."
"Oh shut the fuck up and put some mayo on your cheese - I'll be done soon enough"

Meanwhile, a little voice can be heard faintly, in the back (ground)
"I'm sure I planted some petunias here"

Occams Razor

So this is why all those gits in the bible kept harping on about god - because they were afraid of getting their beards shaved off. The god thing/he/she doesn't exist according to Friar Bill (sorry, William) of Ockham, the creator of this theory, who was a monk.

Actually, that's not exactly what he said, but we Goths were a bit too busy trying to invent Jack Daniels at the time to explain it to him. And, Gillette, being a lazy bastard hadn't even been born at that time, so he was about as much use as tits on a bull.

Let me explain a little.

Firstly, Occams Razor, which you may or may not of heard of, is a principle which explains that the 'explanation of anything should involve as few assumptions as possible'. Which, in modern language translates roughly to 'it just fucking is, alright !!'. In theory, it's like trying to explain algebra to someone who knows bugger all about it.

Secondly, lots of famous people utilised and argued with this theory including Copernicus, Da Vinci, Newton, Darwin, Einstein and Charlie from 'Num3ers'. Except that no-one took it down to real basics. "Look, a big bang" said Einstein and people thought he was explaining the birth of the universe rather than his theory of the atom bomb.

And so onto religion (HA - and you can stop groaning at the back) - they use it here too. "I can explain why god exists" - "Bet you can't - my argument has less letters and therefore is proof of Occams Razor".

Lovely quote here - "If the concept of God does not help to explain the universe, it is argued, God is irrelevant".

All of this created by a 14th Century Franciscan friar. Bet he got his arse kicked by the other Monk(ey)s later. Just hope he had learned that walking on rice-paper trick.

BTW - Blog Birthday tomorrow - i.e. Halloween - 1 year already..... go figure. Bizarre.... a whole year of weirdness is Goth World

*wanders off to look for a fresh bottle of JD to celebrate*

The Evil Orchestra

Too many times, I have been watching a film trying to figure out what the fuck was going on when #dah dah, dee doo doo# - "O fuck, he/she'll be dead in a minute then" - and there, lurking in the backgroud, is Phil and his harmonic orchestra.

You completely spoiled the scary bit you twats !!

I mean, imagine the scene - a grey misty morning in a Chicago dockyard. The sleek black Cadillac slows to a crawl, as some fat fucker doing an impression of a hamster on drugs, burbles on about people never leaving the family when.......#DA DA DAAAAAH# - Fucking duck ! - he's got a cello, it's not a violin in that case at all!!!" says the only person to get out alive.

In Westerns, it also happens. It's ok to hear the rhythmic tub-thumping of native americans having a tempestuous day, but if it changes to Lalo Schiffren style timponium rocking - it's not a fucking good day to be anything else other than invisible.

Movies in space? - sorry, when you hear the orchestra starting to play #DA DA DEE DA# - leg it !!! That means Dark Vader and his asthma issue is coming, and he's not going to be very happy - he's still pissed off at getting arse-whipped by a muppet.

It's no use trying to escape the fuckers, in horror films either. #Da, dee da da# (in an eerily spooky type B-flat minor fashion) - IT'S BE-FUCKING-HIND YOU - you scream before some mutant vampire octopus starts conducting the orchestra hiding in the woods.

So, top tip - if you hear music - run away..... really fucking fast, as fast as your legs, wheels, or whatever's left will carry you

This has been a pubic information notice from Goth World

Bunch of Fucking Arse

Once again, for what seems like forever, I have been working through the night fixing computers. Puters that I didn't fuck up to start with.

I don't actually mind that much, it is my vocation, and I don't care about the fact that I didn't fuck it up to start with.

That's ok - people fuck-up. I'm happy drinking the entire output of Columbian coffee and keeping Phillip and his Morris dancers in employment, whilst I untangle the spaghetti-overload of someone else's incompetence.

What really fucking annoys me, is when the peeps say something like :-

"Oh that's nice, it works again"

NICE? I'LL GIVE YOU FUCKING NICE - OF COURSE THE BASTARD THING WORKS - AS I SPENT THE ENTIRE NIGHT FIXING YOUR FUCKUPS - I think

"Yes, it works again" I say but, occassionally, a 'thankyou' would be nice.......

A word to the wise.... be nice to 'techies', and watch how fast your system gets fixed - treat them like a piece of shit and look forward to the key phrase

"Aw shit - it broke....."