So... not the best of weeks.
Oh, it's hardly been soul-crushingly bad or anything, just the gradual accumulation of various things that make me want to stab someone in the knee (so they can't run away when I kick them in the jaw). Just things like getting told off for telling child molestation jokes in the middle of the children's library, getting a cold on my day off, having to mediate another screaming match between a pair of fuckwits in the library, that sort of thing.
It hit it's peak on friday, when I managed to give myself the mother of all shaving cuts in the shower. I spent about 10 minutes trying to stop the bleeding and went through 3 plasters in the end as the first two got so bloody. So I walk into work late, my colleague looks at me, in the last week she's seen me covered in bruises (yes, the same ones these three buggers gave me weeks ago), taking days off due to an unexplained 'illness' (it was actually a cold, but I couldn't be bothered to go into detail), and now here I am with a plaster on my face with blood oozing out both sides and she just kind of looks at me and says 'Is there anything you're not telling us Ben?' Undecided as to whether or not she thought I was a victim of domestic abuse or some kind of drunken bar brawler, I decided to disabuse her of neither option by shrugging theatrically and walking off.
And so once more I turn to you, dear Internet, to be my salvation in this time of moderate pissed-offness. You, my faithful friend, guide, mother, lover, and once more you deliver.
Sweet baby Jesus someone please kill me
it appears thie guy behind these unusual little toys is something of an animal-lover. A quick quote from this page: "I can almost see a Dragon leaning against a rock, the sun glistening off his scaly body, and winking as he shows you the "gift" he wants to share with you. " I don't want my eyes anymore.
"This site is dedicated to spreading the Gospel in the werewolf and furry communities"
That just says it all. This may be the most perfect, perfet piece of Internet insanity EVER. I urge you to poke around a bit yourself, but I leave you with this choice quote:
"I no longer play roleplaying games. I don't need them. I have the Holy Spirit to give me miraculous powers. I have the Father to supply all my needs. I have Jesus to change me into a dragon and create neat lizard people to assist me in heaven. I don't need the fantasy because I have the reality.
Love you. God Bless.
Molatar Seth Pyrargent.
Dragon, Evangelist, Ranger."
"I know Kung-Fu." "Show me."
Dear Internet,
I love you,
Love Ben
Primordiality
Watch out Time Cube Guy. This guy's on your ass. And he has GIFs.
Cooking with Cum
Argh. Argh. Argh. Argh. Argh.
And to those who replied to my last journal, you're all right, the only really feasible answer is to just stay the hell out of it, the only thing to worry about is how to put them off when they come to me wanting inside info. I think my best bet is to distract them with boobies.
Oh, it's hardly been soul-crushingly bad or anything, just the gradual accumulation of various things that make me want to stab someone in the knee (so they can't run away when I kick them in the jaw). Just things like getting told off for telling child molestation jokes in the middle of the children's library, getting a cold on my day off, having to mediate another screaming match between a pair of fuckwits in the library, that sort of thing.
It hit it's peak on friday, when I managed to give myself the mother of all shaving cuts in the shower. I spent about 10 minutes trying to stop the bleeding and went through 3 plasters in the end as the first two got so bloody. So I walk into work late, my colleague looks at me, in the last week she's seen me covered in bruises (yes, the same ones these three buggers gave me weeks ago), taking days off due to an unexplained 'illness' (it was actually a cold, but I couldn't be bothered to go into detail), and now here I am with a plaster on my face with blood oozing out both sides and she just kind of looks at me and says 'Is there anything you're not telling us Ben?' Undecided as to whether or not she thought I was a victim of domestic abuse or some kind of drunken bar brawler, I decided to disabuse her of neither option by shrugging theatrically and walking off.
And so once more I turn to you, dear Internet, to be my salvation in this time of moderate pissed-offness. You, my faithful friend, guide, mother, lover, and once more you deliver.
Sweet baby Jesus someone please kill me
it appears thie guy behind these unusual little toys is something of an animal-lover. A quick quote from this page: "I can almost see a Dragon leaning against a rock, the sun glistening off his scaly body, and winking as he shows you the "gift" he wants to share with you. " I don't want my eyes anymore.
"This site is dedicated to spreading the Gospel in the werewolf and furry communities"
That just says it all. This may be the most perfect, perfet piece of Internet insanity EVER. I urge you to poke around a bit yourself, but I leave you with this choice quote:
"I no longer play roleplaying games. I don't need them. I have the Holy Spirit to give me miraculous powers. I have the Father to supply all my needs. I have Jesus to change me into a dragon and create neat lizard people to assist me in heaven. I don't need the fantasy because I have the reality.
Love you. God Bless.
Molatar Seth Pyrargent.
Dragon, Evangelist, Ranger."
"I know Kung-Fu." "Show me."
Dear Internet,
I love you,
Love Ben
Primordiality
Watch out Time Cube Guy. This guy's on your ass. And he has GIFs.
Cooking with Cum
Argh. Argh. Argh. Argh. Argh.
And to those who replied to my last journal, you're all right, the only really feasible answer is to just stay the hell out of it, the only thing to worry about is how to put them off when they come to me wanting inside info. I think my best bet is to distract them with boobies.
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And I'm slightly concerned that the Grand Consciousness has elevator music.
I'm tempted to buy a 5-pack of T-shirts that read: "Jesus Helps Me Trick People". Say's it all.