I have a paid account now. I don't know what it DO though.

Also, niko is a giant poo. I just told him i was going to give him a present and he told me to fuck off because he was playing some stupid computer game with some stupid slavs. It is a good present too.

Things are good otherwise. I'm happy, you're happy. we're all happy.

OH. But i did see the most disgusting thing i've ever seen in my ENTIRE life today. I was driving along Customs St. on my way home, and i saw an XL courier getting into his van wearing an M uniform. I almost died of shame.

I'm knitting john a hat. My fingers hurt SO much. I think my knitting calluses have gone away.

Since anything i say about this will offend or be misconstrued by someone or other and since i'm quite over this whole boring mess, i'm going to post sarcastically.

The post in question, which was made eight days ago (that's an entire relationship's length, in gay years),  also contained bitching about the nature of this year's St Patrick's day, and the nature of my father's backwardness.

Since there was apparently no kerfuffle about these two subjects, i'm going to assume you are all silently approving of my harassment of Catholics and the Senile.

This INCENSES me. HOW could you supposedly MATURE people POSSIBLY stand by while i DEGRADE the SANCTITY of our most holy day of Patrick, and the gentle elderly, who deserve our respect and support and tube feeding.

For shame, alcove; for shame.

There shall be a spanking, and after the spanking, Oral Sex.


That being said, i would also like to take the opportunity to apologise to Erin. It was never my intention to make her feel bad.

There needs to be an alcove council meeting to run freak girl out of town. Once she goes, the other irritating scabs will follow her. The only problem is n00bs like Reuben allowing her to hug them, because she has boobs. I mean, please. Grow up. She's a massive pain in the rear. Sure, role play with her if you will, i'm all for live and let live, but don't let her near the normals. There's a limit to my beneficience.

So, the concept of inflation has totally bypassed my dad. He often says how he got his first job working in the Lister buildings in a pharmacy, earning two and six a week. This is some sort of fake imperial currency where there are twelve pence to the ounce and sixteen ounces to the pound. And a guinea is just INSANE. Anyhow, this isn't very much money at all. The only thing is, it cost him about that much to live. Plus he's a complete jew and bought cheap shit anyway.
Then they switched to decimal currency on the tenth of july 1967. And everything went to hell.
He now TECHNICALLY earns sixty grand annually (that's just what the accountant says, and what he pays personal income tax on) but still pretends like he's a poor ass apprentice.
He has long involved conversations with his cousin when the price of raro goes up two cents. He also buys seconds at the fruit shop. You can't buy a box of rotting fruit and expect your family to jism in gratitude.
I've also sat through a two hour long rant on how shoe insoles used to be a dollar (for a PAIR omg!), with mum pointing out frequently that that was back in the seventies. Which was a long time ago. Long long.

This is why God invented death. So we could rid ourselves of annoying freak role players and aging members of society whose notions of the value of money are outdated and irritating.