It's all bad here, with unnameable traumas, imminently dead aunts and a new twist of a birthday list. And three days notice on a 1940s costume. Cunts. We're not all SUV driving Fianna Fail banking scum. Forcing children into a competition where the winners are decided based on their parent's income is perhaps not the best of life lessons, you stupid fucks.
The batter is lumpy and my arm aches from my futile attempts to remedy this. I need to develop a more circular masturbatory technique so that I might transfer this oft practised action to the annual force feeding tradition that is Pancake Tuesday. But what if this makes my batter lumpy?
Posting will be sporadic, while I deal with and/or fail to deal with, crisis after rolling crisis.