Don't do this. (A love story)

I was in London for new years again. I really enjoy that place on that day but most of the rest of the time it's fairly boring. Anygay, I got home fairly late in the day and farted around on the computer for awhile watching Dragon Ball Z videos and pondering the fact that 'Manger' is Norwegian for Hotel. Imagine if Jesus had been born at the ritz-carlton. What a fucking brat he would've been.

So I hung around in my lair in the attic doing this and hitting my groin with a hammer until I fell into a fretful sleep where I swam in a hot tub full of magma compelling horrifically disfigured babes to hop in with me, which was secret dream code for "You're cold, bud. And get a girlfriend" I woke up fairly miserable and sick-like. I wolfed down a sausage, some cheerios, a slice of cake and drank some cough syrup. It was drowsy cough syrup. So I sept another 5 hours.

Check the label on your medications. Now I've got the whole day lost and there's nothing left to do but pine and drink malt liquor.

Oh, and to anyone who wants to hear tha radioshow I did on monday...Too bad! Apparently the oblivious dogs they had hosting the-eugh-'Dubstep programme' before us fucked up the stream with their retarded thrashing. Maybe next time.