I AM A FAG XVII

well, as has seem to be the tradition in the last weeks, my blonde-filled belly inspires my air-filled head to push words unfiltered through my fingertips onto the keyboard. so no editing. fuck it. pure filth. the way to go.
and as perhaps i have already stated, i am so out of date with ma bloggin that i have contemplated handcuffing myself (fluffy red, for future reference) to my laptop until i am well and truly up to date. and although i doubt that i will catchup this evening, i will do my best to ramble till the sun comes up. or until my poisoned blood boils down to a level allowing sleep to ensue or at least until enough beer fills my system to put me fastly to sleep. yes, a nip of brandy in baby bottle helps the bub sleep. you said it, not me.

and because i am in a ranting mood, believe it or not, i shall commence my shunning of Pall Mall Blues. Now let me straight up announce that these babies are not worthy of excess simile. No exaggerating the point in this one baby. Only pure beads of truth shall be perspired from my pores tonight. ah.

I cant actually remember where or even when i purchased them.. perhaps (and most fucking likely) in a state of cigarettenessless, when the desperation of the intense need for nicotine overrides any judgement or realism of the quality of my selection. yeah you're right that didnt make sense. well, punish me then. yeah scratch me. yeah break my arm.... oh.

The point can succintly be made in this case, these cigarettes were chosen on a wim. random pointless and without consideration. (however i lie, as usual. i decided to complete my pall mall collection. wrap this shit up like st nick. and thus wiping an entire brand from my future consideration. leaves me thinking i am one step closer to my final aim of beating the fucking entire cigarette population down to a pulp. yes i have been there, done that.)

I really must begin with the visual and or tactile description of these faggies. I will state first up that the butt of these is the biggest let down since the sinking of the titanic..sand-paper textured, obviously designed to improve grip but simply irritating me to no end... like fucking nails dragged on a black board. the voice of fran dreshcer over a loud speaker. ..

so boring and irritating were these cigarettes that, just to 'mix it up', i decided to finally fulfill a rather life long dream.....extending my fag with a maccas straw. oh the classiness doesnt end there. In fact this rather creative approach to the act-of-smoking actually extended the somewhat minimilistic flavour of the cigarette and, of course, hightenend the fun and novelty factor.

SO grossly embossed and ribbed as these cigarettes are, i cant overlook or ignore or sideline or shun or disregard the satisfying kick the produce. lame or not, the shmoke sells. sex or salvation, through and entire Doors song and a David letterman ad break they continue to improve the burden of living, even if their general appeal is only umm appealing post beers and semi pre sleep and Rex cuddles.

Although i am reaching the wretched end of my tether (make that a rope, a fucking knoosed and bound rope) with mediocre cigarettes, they do less than push me towards the edge of the cliff and more towards the life long aim of accepting flaws in aproduct/person and subsequently teaching me to un-bitch and un-judge.

Whilw Brock likes girlfriendless in his more than ample queen bed while his in fact gf entertains the lovely pile of Meth on the sofa, i contemplate my lonely presence in life and finally admit the forcefully-supressed fact that perhaps i do too much self-entertaining throughout the week. It has come a time where i need someone to irritate and badger. Someone to share my (thoughtful?witty? more like shitty) remarks and thoughts with.. I may be talking of a person gifted with a talented and hopefully throbbing penis, but more realistically i should be talking of a being with a pulse and possibly an open mind. Ans as always, i have headed mercilessly off topic (assuming of course there was a set topic to begin with...)

As my itunes suffle reminiscently through past much-loved songs and freshly acquired hits, i am finally ready to admit thatp erhaps life asks for more than i give it. If my contribution to the globe does not at least neutralize my carbon dioxide emission, thn what is the point of me continually taking advantage of the boundless breath offerred to me? i guess what im trying to say is that i am going to quit smokiing on the 17th dec.

Yes. you heard right. no ear-candelling needed. although 2012 and it's subsequent apocalypse in perhaps immenent, there is not reason to start packing the bunker with canned goods yet. Yes, i am finally admitting that perhaps there is an offering in life greater than cigarettes, and perhaps i should aim to seek it.

FOr fuck sake, pall mall pall mall pall mall blues...

I am not one to bother with arithmatic at times like these. (trying times? testing time? hard time? perhaps just well-beer-lubricated-times) therefore as has occured in the past, i will bypass the numbers, rather opting for a summary score, in an effort to reduce rambling and spare you of precious time. i mean that floor isnt going to sweep itslef baby. get down on your hands and knees... and while you're down there baby.. yeah would you mind?????

Pall malls have an appeal parallel to a cheeseburger. yeah "that'll do" type shit, but without the the frills and fancy it just lacks that extra kick to really end up satisfying.

The pack-flavour-burning time-and lingerin-taste can all be round to a neat little 3.

one two three not only you and me.

and now because britney calls in 18hrs and most unfortunately i have a big day of whinging and chemistry study ahead of me, i shall perhaps retire to my worn out bed, attempt a sleep, strip myself of pointless clothing, scare my poor four walls with the sight of misshapen and "oh my god what is THAT" body, and dream of everything that would make even the pope horny, and virgin-fucking-mary curling her toes and shunning the concept of immaculate conception.

until next time (when hopefully a clear head and sense of moral returns to me, (or actually shows signs of existing in my person) and i am able to again return to my usually structured and purposeful posting, HA! )

night night fellows, and hello pearl boy.

ecs oh

missyyyy.