17 April, 2007

The times when you hope your laptop will explode.

Before I get into the depressing stuff and forget this, I would like to pass on the following information.

This morning, in town, I saw a poster for The Vagina Monologues. Starring Jerry Hall.
Hands up anyone who wants to listen to Jerry Hall prattling on about her vagina? Anybody? No? You sure? All right then.


So. I would also like to pass on the following advice:

NEVER utter the words "At least it can't get any worse." Because it can. And the second you think it can't, it will.

Now, I am normally a very positive, happy, upbeat, optimistic person. But there comes a point, where you just think, why do I constantly kid myself that there is a good side? Why do I settle for believing it'll be ok eventually? Eventually is just, frankly, not fucking good enough any more. I would like it to be ok, RIGHT, FUCKING, NOW.

I would have liked it to be ok before I became jobless. I would have liked it to be ok before I subsequently became homeless. I would have liked it to be ok before my best friend died. I would have liked it to be ok before my house got burgled and my laptop, with all my pictures, and writing, and my fucking novel on it, was stolen.

And just in case whoever took it has got enough computer savvy (although I highly doubt it, they haven't shown the greatest amount of intelligence) to have found the link to this, and is in fact reading this entry, right now, this is for you:
I would like two things.

#1: I would like to know why you think you have the right to go into someone else's home, and into their personal space, and just take whatever takes your fancy. To you, that laptop is probably your next fix of whatever drug you are retarded enough to stuff yourself full of. So congratulations. You stole something that contained three years of photos - photos of family holidays, of outings and special occasions with friends, photos of certain people whose faces I will never, EVER see again apart from in those photos - something that contained all the writing I have ever done, everything I've worked on, the novel I have been literally SLAVING over for months, the first thing I've ever created that I thought was worth anything... you took that from me, I will probably never ever see it again, and you probably did it so you could get some crack. I would just like you to know, that I quite seriously hope you overdose, and die horribly, with blood leaking from every single orifice, and pain ripping your nerves to shreds, or possibly you get shot in the stomach and take twenty minutes to die during a drug raid or gang war or whatever the hell you scum-sucking bottom-feeding cretinous assholes get up to. And I quite seriously hope, despite my atheism, that I am wrong, and there is a hell, for people like you to rot in.

#2: I would like to know where you live, so if you don't overdose, or get shot, or rot in hell for all eternity or any of that stuff, I can at least come round there and kick you squarely in the balls. Repeatedly. Causing internal bleeding and irreparable damage. Until you stop twitching.

Thank you for your time.

1 comment:

Lucy said...

What...if it was a woman?

That would make #2 pretty difficult.

I'm up for helping you though. I can't believe it, really.

You still doing the evil data entry, btw? Would be cool to see you before i wander back off to Wales again =]