The fates and I must have a sit-down. We need to come to a mutually beneficial agreement and crush whatever enmity has developed between us.
Gentlefolk, today I have succeeded in achieving what has eluded me for so long, I have taken a day off from work. But as usual, fate is being a bitch about it. For I find that no matter what wish she grants, fate always finds a way to twist it for her own sick amusement. Ask for more sunny days, fate drops you in the middle of the Sahara. Ask for a prettier girfriend, you are suddenly surrounded by women who make your current spouse look like a beauty queen. Ask for a bigger dick, fate shrinks your balls (this did not happen to me, I'm merely giving an example). And ask for a day off work, fate grants you malaria.
People I am currently in my house, in my bedroom, under a duvet and my body is killing me. Thank you fate. This is not how I planned to spend my day off work, if I ever managed to take one. And its a friday too. I'm ill on a friday. Really fate, you should be a comedian. You should have your own show. You could call it Fuck You, Its Fate. Now, my entire weekend is ruined. No misbehaving with the boys, no drinking and no sex...not that sex was an option in the first place, we all know too well my coital deficiency of late.
They say pain is pleasure, but I'm not sure that quite describes having sex while ill. Yes, I have tried it before. I know it sounds stupid and dangerous, but I have a very good excuse for doing it... My ex-girlfriend was very, very hot. And I was horny. In the end though, I'm not sure I enjoyed it or not. I think I blacked-out after a while. I've heard fucking off extascy and cocaine is incredible, but I bet it has nothing on fucking off malaria. At a point in time, you actually start hallucinating. Trippy.
I am in no way suggesting that any of you go dancing in a stagnant pool of water, just to get bitten by a mosquito and engage in a game of hide-n-go-prick, I'm just telling you what I know.
TGIF gentlefolk. A few more hours and we can all wake up from the recurring nightmare that is the weekday. Well, you can all wake up, I unfortunately have slipped into another nightmare. But at least I'm not at work. I'm not getting hassled by customers or my boss. I've been thinking... Do I complain too much? With the amount of un-employed people out there, I guess I should be grateful that I have a job, no matter how demeaning and unsatisfying it is. So people, I shall stop complaining about my job. I will however continue hurling insults at my boss and our customers, for they truly deserve it.
If you've ever been to a carnival, circus, theme park etc, you may have come across a dunking booth before. Its a contraption where a person sits on a platform, suspended above a body of water. There is a switch nearby, when once hit accurately and with enough force, retracts the platform upon with the person is sitting, thus unceremoniously dumping the person into the water. Usually, people pay the owner for balls to throw at the switch, trying to dunk the person on the platform into the water. People, I am the unlucky sonofabich on the platform. Everyday, customers come into the circus that is my workplace, they pay my employers for the right to dunk me into the body of water, which is my discontent, and my boss is the bastard who is managing the dunking booth.
I hope this description has been enough to convince even the most sceptic of you that I am the victim here. And as with all victims who have no chance at revenge or retribution, all I can do is bitch. And believe me, bitch I shall.
Let's say 'til the evening, shall we?
I am Womilee.