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Logo by Julian Spanos

Antitheistic. Long. Perplexing. Offensive. Whatever.

Warning: This blog does not cater to your whims. If you are offended, then I am not obliged to care. It ain't personal until otherwise stated.

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Sunday, February 18, 2007

Crazy Rant: The fuckin' flu, and my fuckin' stupid landlord!

FUCKITY FUCK! I HATE GETTING SICK!

I'm posting this right now, because I am somewhat smashed and not sober, but not smashed enough to the point of being doped and inactive. I am at that bell curve between between being smashed, and an utterly bitter human being. I am officially in ‘THE FUCKED UP AND HYPERACTIVELY PISSY ZONE’.

This was a Saturday, damn it! I wanted to celebrate it for what it‘s worth: Hedonisms! I wanted a decent day of annoying the hell of the uptight neo-cons breeding like rabbits on crack within the dying seams of our society. I wanted a day when I could kick back, relax, and be pleasured like the hedonist bastard that I am. Instead, I go out, crash and burn from this fucking flu, and return home while burning up with fever, and yes, while it’s good to feel warm in the cold, it fuckin’ sucks to burn on the inside, because then I am further sensitised to the cold on the outside. Ah, but it doesn’t end there; I return shivering and somewhat shell-shocked, only to find that spittle-spewing ‘disgustoid’ known as my landlord, getting on my case about utter trivialities.

Now I wanna’ be able to friggn’ breathe; consuming my oxygen is something I value and the actual ritual of ingesting my oxygen is something I consider very sacred. So you know what? FUCK THE BLOCKED NOSE! FUCK IT! FUCK IT! FUCK IT! Not only do I have to cope with this sinus congestion, but I must return home to find this landlord-troll, forcing his problems down my mouth like a case of oral sex gone horribly wrong.

“Get that outta’ my mouth, you sick fuck! I can’t breathe!” -- One of the voices inside my head.

Man! I was pissed off because over this condition, the whole firggin’ day, and looked forward to the evening in hopes that the night might overturn my dismay/fortunes. Oh, how fucking wrong I was! It’s really not a pleasant circumstance, because I become the world’s most irritable fuck-face when confronted with this miserable condition. I’m so friggin’ sick of this shit, that I am half-tempted to take a pistol, etch it against my face and shoot myself up one of my nostrils; at this point anything will do if it can compensate for the nasal swelling.

Yeah, I realise that this is a drastic decline from real world issues, but it was needed. Don’t like it? Fuck you! I put ‘Crazy Rant’ in the heading, so you were warned. Besides, my general mission statement is to attack the annoying, as I see it! And as trivial as flu coupled with a frothing, piggish landlord might sound, such a view doesn’t make either of them any more or less annoying than they already are, which is way up there, right next to republican politics and religious fanaticism.

You see, what really annoyed me was the fact that my Saturday night bombed; it was like a Nascar pile up. So naturally, returning home to this grossly obnoxious landlord pushed me over the edge. I have to put up with this fucking hobbit’s disgusting habits, like blowing his nose at the amplitude of a fucking jetliner’s engine, before swiftly channelling his energies towards getting on my case about the pettiest things. He’s like some obnoxious, bitchy, bossy little goblin, with impotence-induced rage. Stupid fucking troll. Once he was done fucking my already oxygen deprived head over, I got to my room and passed out, only to wake up ten-minutes-later, to his sickening throat gargles, which can resurrect the fucking dead. Such a deep, shrill, coarse noise that even surpasses audio effects used in thriller sci-fi movies. The fucker snarls and hisses as though he’s about to vomit out his entrails! Seriously it sounds like a tiger hissing, but amplified. It’s a friggin’ annoying noise, and is only justified if someone’s fucking dying, or stabbed in the mouth. He sounds like some banshee alien, dying from multiple stab wounds to the rectum; I bet that’s the noise Satan makes when he’s having an orgasm.

“KHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGRHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” -- That’s a very conservative sample of what he sounds like, but it’s far worse. And since my room is right next to the bathroom, I usually get hideously audible sounds that can play havoc with one’s imagination. Picture the demonic interpretation of Satan, having multiple orgasms in the room right next to you.

Fuck, I was just a few nerves short of picking up the bible and adopting Jesus as my lord and saviour. It’s painful to hear him blow his nose, and gargle like some slithering mutant, when he ain’t even got a cold! Stupid lumpy midget. Fuck this shit, I’m out! If I hear that annoying little troll, gargle like some dying whore, or blow his nose like a fog-horn, one more time for what remains of this night/early-morning, someone had better fucking stab him through the mouth, so then I may blow my nose down his throat. Fuckin’ hideous abomination to the human genome. It’s eerie how most dogmatic fucks seem to have these obnoxious quirks! (Yes, aside from being a man-pig, he’s also a dogmatic-pig!)

That’s it, the fucking iron gloves or off! I’m gonna’ serenade this flu, and that fuckin’ troll that I call a landlord, with a very profane piece of poetry.

The Saturday Night Griever!

They call it a Saturday Night Fever!
But without the sex and alcohol, I’m just a sad believer!
It was a night meant to be without limits and full of wine!
But this fucking flu left me cursing and benched on the sideline!

Is this a fucking joke, because I’m not pleased!
As my waning desires give into my disease!
I could fuckin’ swear that I‘m going insane!
On this prowl for lust while sneezing out my brain!

Alas I return home, a deluded, wounded dog,
Only to face my disgusting landlord, that obnoxious hog!
Without hesitation he turns to me and gets on my case!
Feeding me reasons to stab his fucking face!

I wish he’d keep away, that stupid shmuck,
He should know that now is not the time,
He should be smart and not push his luck,
Not if he wants his skull smashed flat into a pretty dime!

Indeed this was a fucked up night,
But not my Saturday Night Fever,
For the unrealised desires remained my plight,
Reducing me to the Saturday Night Griever!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sharpen my blades!

Later,
Kade

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