November 20th, 2006

Cheerleader Cherie

Joey Jo Jo Junior Shabadu

Oh how I loathe, er, I mean love Mondays. Traffic is slow and crap, children can't walk so have to be driven 100 yards down the road and I spend another week being oppressed by the man to make my money. Sometimes I think being a smelly hippy would be the easiest way to live, but I'm not liking the BO or the whole poor bit.

I've also left a freshly activated card at work over the weekend. It surprises me it hasn't been stolen.

In other news, work this morning had a lesbian theme to it which was just very, very odd.
Cheerleader Cherie

I like pie.

I'm starting to lose patience with this stupid woman (, how many times does she have to be told 'No', more importantly how much do we have to pay out of our taxes before somebody beats it in to her empty head?
I can see why she's having a freak out about it, but seriously, she knew what she signed when they were together, he's now pulled out (why should he have to have children with this psycho bitch when they're seperated), numerous courts have turned her down, even the European court of human rights for fecking sake.
WOMAN stop. You can have babies all you like, instead of spending 9 months up the duff then popping the little bastard out you can ADOPT unwanted children, make an existing life better instead of creating another one because you're a selfish cow.
Now get off my BBC News and get off my fucking planet.
Cheerleader Cherie

[1337 Electric Avenue] 11/20/2006 08:59:49 PM

I witnessed the most comedic road rage this afternoon. Picture a saxo and put it behind a slow moving lorry at the end of a dual carriageway (merging in to a single with no space to overtake). Then picture the saxo charging the lorry and sounding off. He scared me and yet made me cry with hysterics, what a paradox.

Somebody please explain how individals like my little friend still manage to exist?

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Posted by Kevin to 1337 Electric Avenue at 11/20/2006 08:59:49 PM
Cheerleader Cherie

[1337 Electric Avenue] Existance, how so?

This might be slightly emo-tastic, so get out your razor blades and start cutting.

I'm in an odd mood nowdays, where I'm becoming bored of being myself which is indeed a rather odd concept when you think about it but whatever.

I've decided to write this little insight to my shallow soul as it's about time I got over myself and just moved on and open my prospects of being a slightly less me, as it were.

I'm trying to think how I'm going to explain it without sounding like a section 8 case, but I shall do my best (and if any of you bastards get the ambulance with the white coats in I'll fucking shank you).

The only way to start is to make this fact clear, I do not exist.  As much as a crazy thing that sounds is, if you were up in my head it would be rather clear what I mean, but since you're not I shall explain.  I do exist as a physical being, but I don't exist in the sense that inside the mushy grey bits there isn't a person per-se.

Oh bugger, I'm thinking about how this is going down on the screen, I need to stop that or it won't come out properly.

From a young age I've had to grow up pretty fast, due to a number of things which aren't your bloody business, but when most people were at that gormless age I was learning the harsh realities of life and as a result has turned my way of thinking in to a shattered mirror of, well, shards I guess.  So the person you see is not a person but a series of defences put together to protect a 4 year old who seems not to have grown up underneath them all.  Instead they've just continued on and developed in to harsher versions of what they really needed to be.

There are layers which to begin my life I need to pull apart, but at the same time allow them to exist in their own way.  I'm not talking voices in my head telling me to burn shit down either.

A few of the layers I'm willing to tell you about (because you'd probably never talk to me if you knew the whole story) will be below.

On the outside I'm quiet, shy and I keep my head down.  But underneath it is a series of 'other people' as it were, not many of them are nice.

This is starting to become tricky to write.

Bugger it, I'll cut it down, my brain is like an onion, in the middle is the real me, still 4 years old.  Outside are my defenses, which create my personailty, all doing their bit to keep things going without it all going a bit crazy, as lets face it as much of a burden as it is, if the human brain wasn't so fantastic at pulling this stuff off I probably would be under 24 hour care and enough drugs to keep a small nation sedated.

But yeah, I'm trying to sort all this gitting stuff out.

Arg, annoyingly when I try and write or say deeply personal crap it just doesn't work, see what I mean by burdening?

Forget this post even existed (but I'll post ot all the same, I don't know why though I'm not whoring for paypal or anything.)

yeah, carry on. kbi.

Posted by Kevin to 1337 Electric Avenue at 11/20/2006 11:16:52 PM