Let's begin.
First order of business - JO! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE, MAKE YOURSELF KNOWN.
A brief Summary - Yes, I've turned 25. Halfway to fifty, a whole quarter century. I ain't dealing with it at all well. I'm still living at home, and I have no real career. I am unable to maintain long term relationships* and I have more interest in compulsive exercise than in getting on the property ladder.
But I've got tattoos and a hearty stockpile of top class fireworks, so I don't really give a shit.
In conclusion - Looking back over twenty five years, I think the main lesson I can take from my dissolute life is that there is no fucking excuse for being miserable. Change your fucking situation.
I have come a long fucking way. I found some pictures of me at 12/13 when I was a strange, pallid scrawny fucker, with no friends and less social skills. If you're lucky, I'll stick some up here.
I used to be a hideous, hideous nerd - Boring, Withdrawn, Mumbling, and Geeky (not the funny kind, the "sweet fuck, get the fuck away from me" kind) with a milky white complexion and soft, weak flesh on bone thin arms.
And now I'm totally fucking awesome.
If you're unhappy with your weight, do some exercise - no one starts out the supreme athlete. I began doing press ups on the bathroom floor until I couldn't move my arms any more. Now I climb mountains. FUCK YES.
I used to be so immature and lacking in social skills that my younger brother was getting girls whilst I sat at home reading Warhammer 40K rule books on a friday and saturday night. Now I am a massive slag. FUCK YES. True, I had to deal with a massive amount of rejection and crushing failure, BUT SUCH IS THE PRICE PAID TO WALK THE PATH TO GREATNESS.
So yeah, stop your whining. and stuff. Better living through press ups and girls of obvious low character and virture.
To Conclude - Pretty! Girls!
I want to make her my Bond Villaness - She would fly a black helicopter and be called Lady Europa. She would be an expert knife thrower and make me cheese on toast.
*There's a book out at the moment by Paul McKennna (who looks like he has AIDS now, by the way.) called "I can make you thin". If there are any girls out there that fancy shifting a few pounds but don't like the idea of giving this creepy fucker any money, drop me a line, and I'll help you loose a tonne of weight.
It's a fool proof technique called "Being my Girlfriend". The majority of the weight loss is caused by enduring highly stressful situations that will cause your heart rate to shoot through the roof, increasing the amount of calories you burn.
You'll also pick up a plethora of key phrases, that will help reinforce and heighten the stress reactions.
These include, but are not limited to;
"Where the hell have you been?"
"Why are your pockets full of broken glass?"
"Where did you get that dog?"
"Who is Chloe and why does she keep phoning here?"
"How did you get that black eye?"
"Why is your brother here, and where are his clothes?"
"What are you doing with those matches?"
First order of business - JO! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE, MAKE YOURSELF KNOWN.
A brief Summary - Yes, I've turned 25. Halfway to fifty, a whole quarter century. I ain't dealing with it at all well. I'm still living at home, and I have no real career. I am unable to maintain long term relationships* and I have more interest in compulsive exercise than in getting on the property ladder.
But I've got tattoos and a hearty stockpile of top class fireworks, so I don't really give a shit.
In conclusion - Looking back over twenty five years, I think the main lesson I can take from my dissolute life is that there is no fucking excuse for being miserable. Change your fucking situation.
I have come a long fucking way. I found some pictures of me at 12/13 when I was a strange, pallid scrawny fucker, with no friends and less social skills. If you're lucky, I'll stick some up here.
I used to be a hideous, hideous nerd - Boring, Withdrawn, Mumbling, and Geeky (not the funny kind, the "sweet fuck, get the fuck away from me" kind) with a milky white complexion and soft, weak flesh on bone thin arms.
And now I'm totally fucking awesome.
If you're unhappy with your weight, do some exercise - no one starts out the supreme athlete. I began doing press ups on the bathroom floor until I couldn't move my arms any more. Now I climb mountains. FUCK YES.
I used to be so immature and lacking in social skills that my younger brother was getting girls whilst I sat at home reading Warhammer 40K rule books on a friday and saturday night. Now I am a massive slag. FUCK YES. True, I had to deal with a massive amount of rejection and crushing failure, BUT SUCH IS THE PRICE PAID TO WALK THE PATH TO GREATNESS.
So yeah, stop your whining. and stuff. Better living through press ups and girls of obvious low character and virture.
To Conclude - Pretty! Girls!
I want to make her my Bond Villaness - She would fly a black helicopter and be called Lady Europa. She would be an expert knife thrower and make me cheese on toast.
*There's a book out at the moment by Paul McKennna (who looks like he has AIDS now, by the way.) called "I can make you thin". If there are any girls out there that fancy shifting a few pounds but don't like the idea of giving this creepy fucker any money, drop me a line, and I'll help you loose a tonne of weight.
It's a fool proof technique called "Being my Girlfriend". The majority of the weight loss is caused by enduring highly stressful situations that will cause your heart rate to shoot through the roof, increasing the amount of calories you burn.
You'll also pick up a plethora of key phrases, that will help reinforce and heighten the stress reactions.
These include, but are not limited to;
"Where the hell have you been?"
"Why are your pockets full of broken glass?"
"Where did you get that dog?"
"Who is Chloe and why does she keep phoning here?"
"How did you get that black eye?"
"Why is your brother here, and where are his clothes?"
"What are you doing with those matches?"
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
If you're unhappy with your weight, do some exercise
Yep, I finally figured that out this year.
Also, why don't helicopters come in more colours? Why is there never a gold one?