So I wake up this morning to a text message that says "Were you drunk when you left that voicemail?" Now, by anyone's standards, that's never going to be a good thing. Next I flicked open my facebook, to be greeted by a message which 'I had written' that says "XXX (my name) has no gag reflex." Apparently that also meant that like 6 people wanted to 'like' it, even though I am pretty sure I didn't write it. Thankfully, no one I really care about knowing my lack of reflex uses facebook, or would be particularly interested in learning that I have an amply accommodating throat. Next off, I saw that my bed was covered in what appeared to be black paint, or black marker or something. Then I remembered that I had written "your mum" and "fuck you" on my arms in permanent marker; and then had allowed someone to draw a flower on my back, before topping it off by splashing a face all over my chest. Not only that, but the face was meant to be a ";D" or something, and instead it looks like a post-stroke or cerebral palsy victim. If you've seen that advert about how to notice a stroke, freeze-frame it halfway through or so and you will have a fairly reasonable version of what my chest-face looks like.
This is why they should criminalise alcohol: clearly nothing good can come from drinking your own body weight in yeast. It makes me sad to think that Christmas is coming, and thus catastrophic over-indulgence, especially of the liquid kind. Some people take the holidays as an excuse to eat themselves to death, or to bask in the materialistic pride of their recent presents. Not I; I apparently see it as a Pagan challenge to my drinking-authority, and always take it on myself to out drink the entire world. Based on past years, I will make a sort of 'never-going-to-be-fulfilled promise': this season of cheer, I will not drink at all.
Ha-ha-ha. Can you imagine how boring that would be?
No, but I am going to try to give up smoking. So that's something. I'm not hugely optimistic, because every time I try, I always seem to fail. One of these years I will succeed, and that'll be a good year for my teeth, my wallet, my lungs and general health. I think it's about time they invented a way in which you can smoke and still enjoy the hatred, but not have to face the medical ramifications. I don't think it's fair to punish the hedonistic predilections of humanity with death; that seems like an unjust, unfair, and unreasonable arbitration of punishment. Surely, if we are to start killing off smokers in their droves, we should start killing people who drive as well. That's a flagrant misuse of technology, and a wanton act of hedonistic depravity. Then again, loads of people do die whilst driving, so I suppose my point is kind of null and void. Damn you, Mr. Circumciser.
I've also decided to renounce my anti-theistic ways, and become a devout protestant. You could probably suggest that this was a ludicrous turn of ideology; that I didn't really mean it. But, well, you'd be undermining the brilliance of our divine lord and saviour. Bastard. You'll renounce your ways whence you are faced with eternal damnation; you will confess your sins at the altar of forgiveness when you find yourself on the brink of immeasurable unhappiness and torture. How will you feel when I am looking down on you? I won't be laughing; nay,schadenfreude will not be permissible in heaven. I shall be looking down upon you with centuries' worth of pity, and empathy. Then how will you feel? Probably quite bad, because my empathy will only add to the years of woe you will face. Fire and brimstone compel you; change your ways, Sir, repudiate your life of sin and debauchery; for God is good, and he would have you saved.
Nah. Not really. That'd be weird. The day I abnegate any of my reckless behaviours will be a sad one. This blog, for one, won't be anywhere near as interesting; imagine if I'd become a pious-putrescent: that would be most unstimulating for anyone reading this. Instead of my usual 'cathartic voice of the people', you'd end up with some self-righteous proselytizer banging on and on about how you could be saved, if only you were to give up that which you enjoy most in life: fun.
My teddy has my gloves on.
I should probably, like, go do some work or something. I really don't want to, though, because it's a Saturday, and that, surely, for us atheists, is a day of rest. Well, in fact, given that we don't believe in any kind of theistic providence, and thus in turn do not probably believe in any kind of super-being who oversees and arbitrates on life (except for perhaps nature, damn you mother), we could probably claim any day of the week as a day of rest. And, yes, I think I will do that right now.
Monday: first day of the week. Day of rest.
&c.
I got bored.
Also: "A brave man walks into a dark country where suddenly he is a child."
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