Bad weather, bad mood, fucking bad ass weekend

The weather outside is not, in fact, delightful. I sometimes wish I was back at that steaming hot island in Greece. No what was it called again…ahh Skiathos. The island with craploads of beaches and an uneven lousy road that only went on about 3 kilometres (before it abruptly ended). Though I’d wish me back there at the moment, I would mind the heat. You see I got this thing against heat, especially when it’s hot outside. It fucking burns me brain-juices up to a boiling point and if someone even starts buggering me, I might snap. Sometimes I wish I’d did so I could get the “insane but friendly”-status among people. I feel like kicking a puppy. Actually, the weather outside is great, since it destroys peoples will to go out, have fun, live and bother me. Fuck ‘em.

I’m in a bad mood, you might say. I act friendly against my co-workers and I’m not angry on them, but it’s the lack of attention I get, that spins me out of my chair, makes me pull out a 9mm and blow some brains out. No, seriously. I am an attention whore, or you might say that I just feel lonely at the moment. As Karl Pilkington got Ricky Gervais to say (this is by memory):

If no one listens to you, your thoughts, your ideas and your feelings; you are lonely. That’s why the guy in the rocket was the loneliest man alive.

When I went to school I was the talkative-type. I loved to interrupt teachers and friends alike. Interrupt ‘em with a funny commentary or just a fucked-up thought that would give me the “Listen to that pervert!”-look. That’s also why I’m using my weblog as a way of channelig my aggression at something. Something cute and small, like a wee little bunny. Though I feel like I’m a bit lonely, I am not, let me make this perfectly clear, I AM NOT a fucking emo boy. Sorted, thank you.

What fills my day with colours except gray, shit ‘n black, is the thought of the weekend ahead of me. I’ve just completed my collection of Preacher - the best comic book ever - and I’m already into hardcore reading every day since I got my hands on #2 (Untill the End of the World). And, do let me to put it out frankly: When Kevin Smith - the guy who would suck two cocks (even if he’d only be required to suck one) for a flying car - is allowed to write the introduction to #2, what the fuck could go wrong? The answer is ‘nowt. Not a fucking thing could go wrong. The bad ass weekend I’m going to have is filled with anime, Preacher, food, sleeping and going to the movies with my friend. We’re going to see Frank Miller’s “300″ on a big ass screen. I’m off for now, and the PS3 is released in Europe today - happy fucking ho! - the console that’ll rock the world once it’s lowered in price.

(Edit) Additional: This Dilbert-strip also tells it: