Anger

Before I begin, to fully experience the mood, I necessitate that I DO NOT WRITE WITHOUT DRINK. Tia Maria, or whatever that shit is called. I've already had a bottle of wine and two beers, but for this, special measures are called for. This will not be remotely amusing. For a start, commas will be used, inappropriately, unnecessarily, for kicks and without, reason. Accurate spelling will also be dismissed. I’m plain fucking sick of pumping every other word into Google to make sure I’ve spelled it correctly for you fuckers, or, for example, making sure that my grammar isn’t fuckered to the max. No more. I was going to put another paragraph in there, explaining my shit, but then I realised: I don't have to explian any of my shit to you, or put in paragraphs. Fuck you. I was sat here a second ago worrying that I wasn't mad enough. Not mad enough to write something intresting and funny enough for you to read. NOT MAD ENOUGH? Fuck you. (Tia Maria - hell I'm mad at you, but that doesn't mean I don't respect you). FUCK YOU! Have you ever opened a packet of cigarettes only to find a spunky tissue inside? That makes me mad. I get mad all the time. Stupid shit most of the time, as I'm sure most things are. A woman jumped me in the que (really going with this now) the other day at 'THE TESCO' (peace be upon him) this ...WOMAN... barged the Q (fuck it) despitite there being a clear line in operation. I didn't say a fucking word, why? Self service machine at the Tesco was clearly marked as being out of order. 'Nae bother' I thinks to my wise-as-fuck self. Not to be. Brazenly strolls over to nearest available machine! Fuck this, I think. Assertively, confidently I approach her "There is a que (sic)". Sorted, yeah? Fuck no. Immediately the check out girl ot there, telling me that "They were actually using a broken machine". Am I fucking invisable? I accidentially called the elderly lady behind me a man during all of this. Also the evil woman had the foresight to bring a seven year old with her, which amde me look like a total dick.

Jesus.

I suppose a funny story about a supermarket is when I went to buy Marigold rubber gloves amd butter, reached the checkout, looked at my purchases amd returned the gloves. Whatever. Fuck you.

fuck it, I'm spell checking this in MSWord.