Cruel Circumstance
I have drank a bottle of wine tonight, mainly just to see if I could answer the question; can I drink a bottle of wine in one night? And the answer is yes, yes I can drink a bottle of wine, in just over an hour as it happens. I was given the wine by my boss because, due to cruel circumstance and sloppy management, I worked the entire weekend, more hours than I care to count, straight through
To say I hate drunk people would be hypocrisy right now, but over the weekend I have seen behaviour that’s made me reach for my Hammer of Fury on more than one occasion. Don’t get me wrong the Hammer of Fury is not a metaphor; it’s a hammer, a real, heavy cold claw hammer I keep with me.
I have seen; a smarmy lout kick the window in of a kebab shop just because his friends outnumber the staff, various women in various states of clothing give in to various predatory males and even I know they will regret it in the morning, shit most of them are regretting it as they are led out the pub, and generally just the worst of people, rude obnoxious egotards with a pocketful of money and a head full of beer.
Yes; I am aware of the irony of ranting about drunk people while half cut yourself but, to quote Shakespeare “Doth, go fuck yourself”. The packs of mentally crippled fcukshirts I have to navigate on my way home are entirely different breed. The truly baffling thing I find is that that behaviour is not only considered acceptable, but required to fulfil ones role as a “lad”. So excuse me if I don’t buy that bullshit, if that’s what it takes to be considered a “bloke” you can take it, roll it up in an issue of “Nuts”, turn it diagonal, and shove it up your homophobic date-rapist football loving arse.
I’m off to sharpen the Hammer of Fury.
*************************
In other news: I lost my diary today, it’s a crushing turn of events, not just because of the sheer hassle of replacing it, but because of what it actually meant to me. To me it was representation of my coping with dyslexia, a focus of my efforts to handle being told I was medically a stupid. And I, like the moron I was diagnosed to be, lost it.
postscript- I found it again when I had sobered up
To say I hate drunk people would be hypocrisy right now, but over the weekend I have seen behaviour that’s made me reach for my Hammer of Fury on more than one occasion. Don’t get me wrong the Hammer of Fury is not a metaphor; it’s a hammer, a real, heavy cold claw hammer I keep with me.
I have seen; a smarmy lout kick the window in of a kebab shop just because his friends outnumber the staff, various women in various states of clothing give in to various predatory males and even I know they will regret it in the morning, shit most of them are regretting it as they are led out the pub, and generally just the worst of people, rude obnoxious egotards with a pocketful of money and a head full of beer.
Yes; I am aware of the irony of ranting about drunk people while half cut yourself but, to quote Shakespeare “Doth, go fuck yourself”. The packs of mentally crippled fcukshirts I have to navigate on my way home are entirely different breed. The truly baffling thing I find is that that behaviour is not only considered acceptable, but required to fulfil ones role as a “lad”. So excuse me if I don’t buy that bullshit, if that’s what it takes to be considered a “bloke” you can take it, roll it up in an issue of “Nuts”, turn it diagonal, and shove it up your homophobic date-rapist football loving arse.
I’m off to sharpen the Hammer of Fury.
*************************
In other news: I lost my diary today, it’s a crushing turn of events, not just because of the sheer hassle of replacing it, but because of what it actually meant to me. To me it was representation of my coping with dyslexia, a focus of my efforts to handle being told I was medically a stupid. And I, like the moron I was diagnosed to be, lost it.
postscript- I found it again when I had sobered up
posted by Puck at 2:34 PM
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