Smurf the smurfing smurf!

I am in an exceedingly foul mood this morning.

Bloody Hell

Today just keeps getting better and better. I can't actually do jack squat right now because of a problem with the network.

Yesterday sucked copiously. I woke up absurdly tired, to the point where after having my usual quadruple latté and morning shower, the two of which generally get me going on even a few hours sleep, I fell back to sleep without meaning to. I didn't even bother taking my glasses off. I just passed out. I forced myself back to consciousness and set about to finishing an outstanding project for one of my old clients. Everyone else in the house was in a foul mood for various reasons so part of me was as pleased as not to be sequestered in the basement. But I ended up feeling guilty that Ivana, who is ill had to deal with the kids on her own (they are invariably in foul moods after a day with their deadbeat sperm-doner - which is another issue: it occurred to me today that he sees about as much of them as I do because I'm too busy knocking myself out to support them while he does nothing but screw with their heads, mess up their diets, and foul up their schedules). I wanted to go to the club and say "hi" to people I haven't seen in weeks but I didn't. In the end I barely had the energy to hammer out an e-mail to my client to tell him the work was done and watch a bit of "Batman" before passing out for the night.

This morning I woke up feeling just as crappy as yesterday. Getting out of bed was a challenge to say the least. I forgot to put the damn garbage out.

My only consolation is that it has been my experience in the past that weeks that start out crappy tend to end well.

Son of Reptard

So this was posted on Van-Goth by Reptard's faithful sidekick (whom opium let back in for some reason) in response to a whinge about someone tearing down a few flyers promoting a pub night thing that Reptard frequents:

Possible dark cult action.

K Frater MM.88

To which I feel compelled to respond:

We Do (The Stonecutter's Song) (additional lyrics added by me in bold)

"Who controls the British crown? Who keeps the metric system down?
We do! We do!
Who leaves Atlantis off the maps? Who keeps the martians under wraps?
We do! We do!
Who holds back the electric car? Who makes Steve Guttenberg a star?
We do! We do!
Who robs the cave fish of their sight? Who rigs every Oscar night?
We do! We do!"

Who tears up Shannon's poster? Who calls Reptard a delusional hoser?
We do! We do!

Good grief. I shall have to speak to Brother Campbell about redirecting some of the tin-foil-penetrating brain-control ray development funds back into re-opening the oubliette in Riverview.