I'm very accustomed to living the solitary life with fantastic company (me), www.xvideos.com (NSFW) and as much illegally downloaded Offices (Offii?) and Mad Men as I can cope with. In fact, as the nights draw in and autumn takes hold, I'm eating comfort shit with petrifying regularity and going to bed later than ever.
(I lost over a stone. Now I'm going to see how quickly I can put it back)
The net result is that I'm almost psychopathically grumpy at work. I get the feeling my colleagues want me dead - particularly, for some reason, the guy I tried to get sacked. (His disciplinary didn't get him fired but did stop him taking the piss and telling me to go fuck myself anymore, so that was nice.)
And that's it. I have nothing else to say. I've spent a month since my last post juggling day salads with night Doritos, wasting all those daylight hours at my fucking day job, and drinking whiskey at home because Don Draper does it.
In fact so
But not with Monkey Dave.
With a prostitute.
I did make the mistake however of telling my mate Danny, liberal Danny, liberal, left-leaning, 'Everybody's-Equal, Fair-Crack-Of-The-Socialised-Whip' Danny that, bearing in mind my sexual drought of biblical proportions I was thinking about having sex with several Thai prostitutes, he got all holier-than-thou about it, reminding me that they're "exploited human beings" n' shit, and further ruined everything by sending me THIS miserable link.
Oh, and I found all four of my schoolboy diaries in my Mum's garage, so I shredded them. They were a) childish, and b) depressing; "In maths, I got bored. Economics was boring too. Then XXX punched me for no reason. I had chips for lunch".
So that's that. I will be on holiday soon, so I may well have a lot to say over the coming few weeks - for a change. Stay tuned for that. It'll be great.
... And I'm speaking to my American ex-girlfriend again. I'm terribly, terribly lonely. Insults below, please.