Good Morning Bloggers and Bloggesses,
I mean 'good' in the loosest of terms.
Am tempted to alter that greeting to 'drizzly, grey, go back to bed if you can morning.' Yes, it seems I have been attacked by a bad case of the bad-mood-demons which I'm hoping to evict through my fingers and stuff violently into this blog to be trapped for eternity, with the only entertainment being full stop football..
Why can I be so grumpy when life and the world we inhabit is so beautiful, brimming with wonderful creatures that nature has assembled so perfectly? (The platypus not included). We are all miracles, every single one of us, we have been given the gift of life! Free will! Consciousness! McDonalds on every street corner dagnabit! Now pick up that tambourine and jingle it with all your strength you ungrateful little punk...
My tambourine is staying firmly in the box today, along with the pan pipes, multi-coloured flares and Donovan's Greatest Hits. This is why: Sometimes you look out at the world and all you see is concrete, dog shite and vandalized lamp posts. I couldn't even bring myself to laugh when seeing an old lady fall over and break her hip this morning. What's wrong with me???
I put it down to these factors that have decided to spring up and diminish my serotonin levels recently...
1. I am broker than a broken egg yolk.
2. It's nearly Christmas (see above)
3. Can't afford cigarettes/alcohol/valium/the kiddie cage 2000/stress balls/oh and food
4. Somebody won about 100,000,000 pounds on the lottery this week and I imagine they are a complete arsehole who likes to punch pensioners and put children in casseroles. (Recommended recipe to follow shortly)
5. No child labour factories will take my son in because he is a demon and all I could think of to write on his C.V was; Is very good at painting. On walls. With petit filous.
6. Did I mention the broke factor?
So I guess my woe is me mentality all boils down to one thing, money.
This year I will be rummaging through the dustbins in search of materials that could be creatively transformed into seasonal gifts for my loved ones, perhaps a transformer made from egg boxes? Or nice pair of gloves fashioned from rat fur? A pretty necklace made from maggots and old roast chicken string? Last year I attempted to make mulled wine as a means to save money... apart from having to buy about three boxes of good quality red wine it never quite reached into my overdraft. The only downside was that it tasted rather good, and after whittling about twenty bottles down to four I don't really remember who, if anyone, actually received even a dribble in the end, which didn't bother me at the time as I was too occupied with dancing topless on my dinner table.
Anyway, if you are in a generous mood and willing to lend me a couple of thousand, I will be ever so grateful and send you a Christmas card.
Now if you don't mind, my duvet of depression beckons.... Hopefully next time I'll return to blogdom a little more chipper. Until then leave me to wallow in the deep waters of despair and wrap myself up in pity blankets whilst sobbing uncontrollably and throwing darts at Bono's face.
I mean 'good' in the loosest of terms.
Am tempted to alter that greeting to 'drizzly, grey, go back to bed if you can morning.' Yes, it seems I have been attacked by a bad case of the bad-mood-demons which I'm hoping to evict through my fingers and stuff violently into this blog to be trapped for eternity, with the only entertainment being full stop football..
Why can I be so grumpy when life and the world we inhabit is so beautiful, brimming with wonderful creatures that nature has assembled so perfectly? (The platypus not included). We are all miracles, every single one of us, we have been given the gift of life! Free will! Consciousness! McDonalds on every street corner dagnabit! Now pick up that tambourine and jingle it with all your strength you ungrateful little punk...
My tambourine is staying firmly in the box today, along with the pan pipes, multi-coloured flares and Donovan's Greatest Hits. This is why: Sometimes you look out at the world and all you see is concrete, dog shite and vandalized lamp posts. I couldn't even bring myself to laugh when seeing an old lady fall over and break her hip this morning. What's wrong with me???
I put it down to these factors that have decided to spring up and diminish my serotonin levels recently...
1. I am broker than a broken egg yolk.
2. It's nearly Christmas (see above)
3. Can't afford cigarettes/alcohol/valium/the kiddie cage 2000/stress balls/oh and food
4. Somebody won about 100,000,000 pounds on the lottery this week and I imagine they are a complete arsehole who likes to punch pensioners and put children in casseroles. (Recommended recipe to follow shortly)
5. No child labour factories will take my son in because he is a demon and all I could think of to write on his C.V was; Is very good at painting. On walls. With petit filous.
6. Did I mention the broke factor?
So I guess my woe is me mentality all boils down to one thing, money.
This year I will be rummaging through the dustbins in search of materials that could be creatively transformed into seasonal gifts for my loved ones, perhaps a transformer made from egg boxes? Or nice pair of gloves fashioned from rat fur? A pretty necklace made from maggots and old roast chicken string? Last year I attempted to make mulled wine as a means to save money... apart from having to buy about three boxes of good quality red wine it never quite reached into my overdraft. The only downside was that it tasted rather good, and after whittling about twenty bottles down to four I don't really remember who, if anyone, actually received even a dribble in the end, which didn't bother me at the time as I was too occupied with dancing topless on my dinner table.
Anyway, if you are in a generous mood and willing to lend me a couple of thousand, I will be ever so grateful and send you a Christmas card.
Now if you don't mind, my duvet of depression beckons.... Hopefully next time I'll return to blogdom a little more chipper. Until then leave me to wallow in the deep waters of despair and wrap myself up in pity blankets whilst sobbing uncontrollably and throwing darts at Bono's face.
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