loltech

A follow up to yesterdays post. So I woke up today and my legs are suffering incarnate. To be fair they only hurt when I live. I cant bend them without the feeling of Satan jabbing them with his thorny penis. Everyone at work was very amused when I walked in shambling around like a retard. I look like someone mated a robot and a zombie then took the resulting horror-child and broke its legs with a pipe made from broken glass and cancer. They were particularly amused when I had to drag some pallets along the floor without bending over. Trust me fuckers, dragging something at floor level while keeping your legs perfectly straight is fucking harder, and apparently way funnier, than it sounds. Also, changing gears in my truck was a fucking bag of joy and sunshine. If by joy and sunshine you mean anal discharge and failure. Which I do. That’s all for today, I have to go and cry myself to sleep.

Later bro’s.

Just back from the gym. I started a new barbel training program today to give myself a jump as I had hit a wall. Fuck did it ever give me a jump. Off a building into oncoming traffic. Then the wall I had hit in my last training regime fell on me. And exploded. I cant feel parts of my legs, which is a good thing, because the parts of my legs I can feel have be removed and replaced with solid blocks of agony. Tomorrow is going to be interesting. I may have to call in sick so I can inject Deep Heat directly into my veins while lying in a bath of ice and codine. Even after my torture today I will still go on record that it’s the best gym ever. Every day there seems to be like 15 new super hot girls, and randomly today who did I see busting out some crunches but Hollywood director and professional Twist Enderer M. Night Shyamalan. If you are reading this M. Night, you better not fuck up the Avatar movie. If I don’t see a boomerang in the first 10 minutes of the movie I’m going to beat you to death with Haley Joel Osment.

I know I talk about the gym a lot in my blog, but fuck you! The only places I leave the house for are work and the gym. I’d rather not relive the pain, horror and shame I feel everyday at my terrible, terrible job, so you get to read my gym stories.

Wait wait! I also go out to different shopping centers with Cos in a quest to find a place in Perth that isn’t filled with complete fucktards, a place where the hot girls congregate, so we can stare at their soft lady parts and imagine things we would like to do to them. Unfortunately its looking less and less likely that this place exists. Everywhere we go is populated by equal parts underage girls and faggotry. Last Thursday Fatson and I went to the Galleria, and not only was there not hot girls, every second person looked as if they had taken valuable time out of their usual hobby of getting raped in the sewer to come above ground and roll in a pile of broken glass and cholera before shambling into the Galleria to spend all their hobo cash on alcohol and pre worn condoms. The ones that didn’t look like they had just escaped from Auschwitz were all 500 thousand pounds and had their own orbiting moons. No, there was no middle ground. Its a fucking sad comment on a place if Cos and I are the most attractive people in there.

Let's face it.

I really need to get a digital camera, but I will do my best to describe some of the amazing sights we saw that day. First was the lanky beanpole security guard who apparently just woke up from a coma he entered in 1992. He had his hair bleached in patches, not like frosted tips, actual patches, polka dot style. Now that I think about it, he might actually be some kind of time traveling superhero, because he seemed to teleport ahead of us and be at every location we visited.

Then there was the guy that had his chin blown off with a shotgun. I tried to point him out to Fatson but he ducked into a shop. Fatson asked who I was talking about, and I yell, “The fucking retarded looking sped guy” at the exact second a midget with no legs rounded the corner in a wheelchair. I don’t think he heard though or boy would my face have been red! I think we could have taken him though. One guy who did hear the insult directed at him and proceed to follow me was a guy I affectionately dubbed “Russian Mafia Hair”. He stopped following after Cos picked up a box of candy and spent 45 minutes asking me what it was. Ivan the Terrible must have felt guilty about capping a retarded guy and his handler and left us alone after that.

A few others included “Girl who shat her pants and then followed us for 15 minutes” and “2 minute noodle, the keeper of the ultimate perm”. The highlight of the night was INSTANTLY the fucking gangsta Arab kids who decided to stand in the centre of an isle looking hardcore and listen to hip hop on their FUCKING PHONES. First we RAGED hard, then we fucking lol’d like motherfuckers. It’s cases like that where murder should be legal. If I killed every single one of those fags the world would be slightly improved. I mean, it’s not like once those guy finished grooving hardcore in the middle of the Galleria walkway that they would change into their costumes and fight crime. No, they probably went home and jerked off to themselves in the mirror while they wait for Australian Idol to come back on.

This Thursday our quest to find the mythical “Island of the Hot Sluts”  continues anew. If we ever find it, dont expect a blog about it, I will be much too busy sewing Wonder Woman costumes for the girls to make out in.

Yeah, so overall, bad weekend. My sister decided that having her wedding in a town with running water was way to passe, so we had to drive 4 hours to Dunsborough. I dont get why they have leavers there. It’s basically 2 bottle shops and a chicken treat near a beach. So it’s Mandurah if some kind of earthquake destroyed everything except 2 bottle shops and chicken treat near a beach. Then moved it 3 hours further away. So it’s not like Mandurah at all and I just typed a giant sentence for no reason. But you read it so SUCK ITTTTTT! 

I really wasn’t looking forward to it, and prayed for a miracle. Lord Zeus answred my prayers and decided to smite some motherfucker with a lightning bolt and start a kickass bushfire 1 hour before the ceremony. We had to move the wedding to somewhere a lot less picturesque, but a lot more not on fire. The wedding part of it was pretty cool, but most everything else took a huge hit from the fucking gay bong. I had to drive a bus, and ferry people back and forth to the wedding and reception and back to their hotels. It wasn’t so bad on the way there, I impressed all the ladies by only grinding the gears 3 or 4 hundred times, but on the way back it was bad. A bus full of drunk fags strumming the guitar and singing Bon Jovi songs while screaming directly in my ear as I tried to dodge kangaroos on some fucked up back road at 1am. Even that was tolerable up until they tried to rap Lose Yourself. It ended with me throwing everyone on the bus off at the first stop whether they wanted to go there or not.

Highlight of the weekend was Cam basically being accused of pedophilia by his own family. This 14 year old girl kept following us around, and a succession of people kept coming in to make sure he wasn’t raping her. He was getting pretty offended, but was handling it well up until the point his own mother pulled him aside and told him in plain english that he was not allowed to fuck the underage girl. He raged.

Dat ass

Cam spent a lot of time getting propositioned from underage girls and 50 year old beasts. Why? I dunno. I guess the buff look is out and the Edward Cullen “I haven’t seen the sun in 50 years and should stop drinking blood and eat a sandwich” look is in. Unfortuantely for the both of us, the few hot girls that were there were married or had boyfriends. There was one hot blond girl that Cam nicknamed “Juicy”, but we are pretty sure she is dead after she drove off after at least 30 million drinks. She nearly crashed 5 times just getting out of the driveway so we don’t have high hopes of tapping dat ass. I don’t know about Cam but necrophilia just doesn’t do it for me like it used to. Oh but if Ashley Castledine is reading this, I’d totally hit dat shit like the fist of an angry God baby. I think its the hair. Cam says shut up though.

The worst part was the 4 hour drive back from Dunsborough at 1 am. By the third hour I was tripping balls. I stopped on the side of some random fucking road in the actual magnetic centre of nowhere and as I was taking a piss I heard some girl screaming in the distance. Here I am at 3am running on no sleep in the fucking wilderness and I’m standing in the pitch black dark with my dick in my hand hearing screams of horror from an unknown source. Fuck it though right? I was in mid stream what was I gonna do? Pretty sure with the pressure I was putting out with the last part of that piss tyring to get out of there I could have carved my name in the road.

Today though it started to get better. I had nandos and 2 boosts. Plus I got to see Cos extol the virtues of incest, and generally make a fool of himself. The title of this blog is a true an unaltered quote from the man himself, which I wasn’t going to include until he sneezed in my face then spat on me. I’m told his sister reads this as well, so congrats Nicole, on your newly acquired nightmares, and thanks for reading my blog!

So I just got back from the gym. I jumped out of a cold shower a second ago, and now I need to go and find an ice pack for my genitals. Here’s the story. I was minding my own business on the smith machine doing some incline benchpresses. I’m working up a good pump and getting really into it. Over walks one of the blond personal trainers to work out on her break. This girl has the body of a Greek Goddess, carved from granite with skin like milk, an ass you could bounce a coin off, and the finest breasts money can buy.  Ok sure, an attractive girl in the gym, why not? It happens all the time right? Here’s the thing though. She was wearing this TINY hot pink sports bra and these unfeasibly small fucking panty things. This bitch would be fucking underdressed at a nudist beach. She looked like a sports themed stripper, but with less class.

Now that would be bad enough, but I swear to fuckery that she was making up exercises designed specifically to give me a brain aneurysm. What the fuck is with doing squats with your arms above your head? And do you REALLY have to lay on the bench and give me a DIRECT line of sight to the corner of Breastage Boulevard and Funbag Junction? Shit woman, my blood is supposed to be in the muscle I’m working, not rushing down to make my penis so hard I could club baby seals to death. Its not fair. There is mirrors on every surface as well so no matter where I look I get an accurate 3D representation of all sides of her magnificent fake chest. That wouldn’t usually be a problem except she can glance in any direction and see me staring in rapt attention directly at her enhanced cleavage.

Next time I’m in there I’m going to ask if she can look into getting the carpet torn up and have pages from maybe the Guinness Book of Records laminated on the floor instead. Because when I have to use the entirety of my willpower to stare intently at the floor and not at her luscious lady parts, it would be nice to maybe have some interesting factoids to read while I’m down there.

I mean, god damn woman, this shit just isn’t funny. Now if you will excuse me I have to go pour a bucket of ice down my pants and think about baseball.