Blogging. Any fucking chance?
This blogging malarkey is off it's fucking nut, is it not? I aver this as a rookie, a grommet, as someone who is 'short'. Although I know some people who read this (but who don't post, the fucking useless pricks), I haven't told many, so in all likelihood you are a total stranger to me, which I suppose is as plain as the spliff hanging out of my mouth, Brewski you terrible stating the obvious cunt you. Jesus. My point is that, to me, writing a blog is like conversing with myself while enabling others to 'listen in', and maybe, God fucking forbid, comment. Unless you're one of my friends, in which case you can fuck right off you voyeuristic fucking retard, I know where you live. Be warned.
And that is a very interesting thing, as in recent years I've chosen to spend most of my time alone and apart in far flung climes, which means I know fuck all about fuck all. I've fucking loved it, you should give it a go. I feel refreshed, and will dive back in a better cunt. A fascinating perspective, from here anyway. It must be fucking torture for you though.
So here I am, writing about blogging while blogging. How wanky is that? I am perturbed. Maybe it's just not done. Perhaps I'm commiting a huge blog faux pas. Like that time I inadvertently called a student of mine 'fuckwit' in class. She is now somewhere saying 'fuckwit' every time she errs. She spills her cup of tea, "Oh, fuckwit!" It took some creative explaining and no mistake. (Made possible by electronic dictionaries here not having British filth listed. Sirrah! She is now getting scowled at constantly in Australia). Is there any point to this little scribble? No, there is not!
One thing I must mention is that people (girlfriends especially) have grown to hate me because I'm the sort of cunt who goes through life apologizing for everything. Fuck! Sorry about that.
Sirrah!
"Fuck off." Me, earlier, after a young man apologized for bumping into me on the street. He was a foreigner, of course. (I'm on Demented Isle). Scared the shit out of him. Cunt.
posted by Brewski @ 10:21 pm
4 comments
4 Comments:
So here I am, writing about blogging while blogging. How wanky is that?
Postmodernistically wanky, that's how.
To continue on a cultural note: why would anyone be scowled at for saying "fuckwit" in John Howard Land? I mean, hasn't anyone told them?
Not with her fucking accent, and my molding. They have a problem with vowel sounds, thanks be to God. Phil (I can call you Phil, can't I? It would please me), you have speared me like a very capable spearer. Am I now the cunt that once I pissed on? Malacka! As my Greek friend would have it.
You're a compulsive apologiser too?! I thought I was the only one -- that's strangely comforting... and kind of sick, all at the same time... kind of like blogging. Shite, now you got me writing postmodernistically on blogging... dammit.
Thank God! Evil is in our midst! Dr. I spent twenty minutes trying to stare out your blog last night while attempting to come up with a poem. As you've gathered, I failed, being as I am as poetic as a mote. Here's the nub of it: orange lozenge chinese renmimbi my chimney, purple.
Obviously, I have been drinking, and am about to skin-up, so fucking watch it.
Also, I love the Word Verification when, after you get it wrong, it gives you a really easy one. So considerate. And yes, most of the time I have trouble reading the cunts. What of it?
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