This is short.
I remember going to the doctors and not being able to get my regular doctor so I ended up with a pointy nosed, bitch of a doctor.
She glared at me and looked at me with the bitchiest stare.
After my listing of symptoms she says 'Sounds like you suffer migraines.'
Bitch, if you knew how to read, you would see my regular doctor already diagnosed that, what I want is some drugs to stop the motherfuckers.
No, her solution is to instruct me to not take any medication with paracetamol in it and to make me tough it out. Shit man, a medication to help them would be nice, you know since I get 1-3 a week. Fucking hell.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Why I hate everything.
Well, I don't hate everything but I would like to kill some people right now.
My mum today told me about her trip to the mall.
Today was very hot. 34 degrees Celsius, I believe.
Here we barely ever get past 25 degrees.
Mum said she had a sad story to tell me, couldn't be that bad I thought.
Mum said she was at the mall and saw her friend from her Oxi classes (Some form of yoga or something) and her friend is one of the mall security at this mall. She said when she saw her, she was upset looking and mum asked her why.
She said she'd just seen and done the saddest thing she'd ever had to do in her job.
She'd had to break into a car today to remove a dog. Not a distressed dog, not a vicious dog, but a dead dog.
This poor dog had been left in the car, windows up and everything, parked in the sun for slightly more than two hours. When they removed the dog, the metal tag on it's collar was so hot when they touched it, it burnt them really badly.
She said the worst thing was that before they broke in, they'd called for the owners a good 5 times and they'd simply ignored it and continued to eat their McDonald's. When they finally came back to their car, they didn't shed a tear, they didn't give a shit that their gorgeous Pomeranian dog had died. Pomeranian's happen to be my favourite breed of dog. They shrugged it off and were quoted saying "Shit like this happens"
I want to go lock them in a car and watch them die. I'd have no regrets. I'd love to just beat the living shit out of them.
The only good bit of the story is that they're being charged with animal cruelty and such and are not allowed to register another animal ever. I hope they have to pay lots and it fucks up their Christmas. They don't deserve to be happy.
My mum today told me about her trip to the mall.
Today was very hot. 34 degrees Celsius, I believe.
Here we barely ever get past 25 degrees.
Mum said she had a sad story to tell me, couldn't be that bad I thought.
Mum said she was at the mall and saw her friend from her Oxi classes (Some form of yoga or something) and her friend is one of the mall security at this mall. She said when she saw her, she was upset looking and mum asked her why.
She said she'd just seen and done the saddest thing she'd ever had to do in her job.
She'd had to break into a car today to remove a dog. Not a distressed dog, not a vicious dog, but a dead dog.
This poor dog had been left in the car, windows up and everything, parked in the sun for slightly more than two hours. When they removed the dog, the metal tag on it's collar was so hot when they touched it, it burnt them really badly.
She said the worst thing was that before they broke in, they'd called for the owners a good 5 times and they'd simply ignored it and continued to eat their McDonald's. When they finally came back to their car, they didn't shed a tear, they didn't give a shit that their gorgeous Pomeranian dog had died. Pomeranian's happen to be my favourite breed of dog. They shrugged it off and were quoted saying "Shit like this happens"
I want to go lock them in a car and watch them die. I'd have no regrets. I'd love to just beat the living shit out of them.
The only good bit of the story is that they're being charged with animal cruelty and such and are not allowed to register another animal ever. I hope they have to pay lots and it fucks up their Christmas. They don't deserve to be happy.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Diddly dee potatoes.
Well, let's start off with, I haven't blogged in a while. I shall try.
We'll get off with a small story of which is factual.
I'm half Irish. My dad's Irish. My mother on the other hand is boring and has heavy mixes of everything from British to Polish and many other diluted origins, even Maori.
Anyway. This means that if I had to be defined as a certain origin, I'd be mostly Irish.
The other night at dinner my mother gave me a bowl of boiled new potatoes sitting in a pool of melted butter which is an absolute favourite of mine.
I devoured them with no mercy and I asked politely for more. I was declined. "What, mother? No more potatoes? WHY?" I was basically told it's because other people need to eat potatoes too (Here's a handy little note, I had dinner before my family because the main portion of mine was done before theirs. I had a Jamaican chicken burger, they had a bolar roast) I raged. I wanted more potatoes. They were sitting there, waiting for the roast to finish.
I tried to steal some and ended up being yelled at.
Never taking anything seriously, I yelled back but with humour.
"STAY AWAY FROM THE FUCKING POTATOES"
"MUM. I'M BLOODY IRISH, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?"
"I EXPECT YOU TO RESPECT THE FACT OTHER PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY TOO"
"MUM, DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THAT FAMINE WAS? NO, YOU'RE NOT IRISH. WE SUFFERED. I JUST WOULD REALLY LIKE IT IF YOU DIDN'T DEPRIVE ME ANY FURTHER"
At that point my mother looked at me as if I were insane.
"Michelle, dear. That was well before your time"
"Yeah, but the pain and suffering is in the blood. I would like it if you'd compensate the pain with a potato or 5"
"Give up. You can have some if there is any left over later"
At this point I got really hungry and wanting a potato. I snarled and walked off.
I saw mum walk past to go to the bathroom so I went and stole some and when she realised she came and told me off.
"Go away, mum, now you know what it feels like to be Irish and starved of precious potatoes"
"God dammit Michelle, why do you even like potatoes so bloody much?"
"I'm Irish"
I'm Irish, your argument is invalid.
We'll get off with a small story of which is factual.
I'm half Irish. My dad's Irish. My mother on the other hand is boring and has heavy mixes of everything from British to Polish and many other diluted origins, even Maori.
Anyway. This means that if I had to be defined as a certain origin, I'd be mostly Irish.
The other night at dinner my mother gave me a bowl of boiled new potatoes sitting in a pool of melted butter which is an absolute favourite of mine.
I devoured them with no mercy and I asked politely for more. I was declined. "What, mother? No more potatoes? WHY?" I was basically told it's because other people need to eat potatoes too (Here's a handy little note, I had dinner before my family because the main portion of mine was done before theirs. I had a Jamaican chicken burger, they had a bolar roast) I raged. I wanted more potatoes. They were sitting there, waiting for the roast to finish.
I tried to steal some and ended up being yelled at.
Never taking anything seriously, I yelled back but with humour.
"STAY AWAY FROM THE FUCKING POTATOES"
"MUM. I'M BLOODY IRISH, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?"
"I EXPECT YOU TO RESPECT THE FACT OTHER PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY TOO"
"MUM, DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THAT FAMINE WAS? NO, YOU'RE NOT IRISH. WE SUFFERED. I JUST WOULD REALLY LIKE IT IF YOU DIDN'T DEPRIVE ME ANY FURTHER"
At that point my mother looked at me as if I were insane.
"Michelle, dear. That was well before your time"
"Yeah, but the pain and suffering is in the blood. I would like it if you'd compensate the pain with a potato or 5"
"Give up. You can have some if there is any left over later"
At this point I got really hungry and wanting a potato. I snarled and walked off.
I saw mum walk past to go to the bathroom so I went and stole some and when she realised she came and told me off.
"Go away, mum, now you know what it feels like to be Irish and starved of precious potatoes"
"God dammit Michelle, why do you even like potatoes so bloody much?"
"I'm Irish"
I'm Irish, your argument is invalid.
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