Lifelong Disappointment

In the hellish crazy-go-round of life, few things act as stabilising constants. Your mother can go wrong, and develop her final years into a career of aimless dirty protests. The building in which you live will decay, and this planet is destined to smash itself into the sun like some kind of idiot.
So it’s a relief to finally have something good, pure and eternal to cling to; and that is my fresh-faced and hand-humping hatred of Brenda.
Today, I don’t really have anything to say about her – the Passion has had a slightly skew-iff effect on me. Instead of thinking – “I know, today I shall write about the shade of her cheeks, because I’m sure I just actually watched a facial capillary burst” – I thought I’d pull my head out and give everyone else the chance to bitch about their Brendas.
So, I dusted off my old PHP thimbles and tippety-tapped night and day, and look; I’ve made a little website which is solely dedicated to bitching about the fuckers that you work with, as and when you please. It’s not entirely bug-free at the moment, but I’m not a proper programmer, so SHUT UP.
This is the new site, at http://lifelong.disappointment.com.
IDEAS TO CALL THE NEW SITE
– OH GOD NOT MONDAY LOL
– I THINK WE NEED A ROTA FOR THIS
– DIAGNOSIS – MONDAY!
– I KNOW YOU’RE TALKING TO ME, I’M IGNORING YOU
– MY STAPLER IS JAMMED RIGHT THAT’S THE LAST STRAW
– IS IT FRIDAY YET? I GENUINELY DON’T KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS
– FUCK WORK, WORK IS FULL OF CUNTS
– WHOO HOO IT IS PAYDAY ALTHOUGH I DON’T GET PAID ENOUGH REALLY
– I AM ONLY TWELVE I SHOULDN’T BE HERE
– my colleagues constantly give me pause to wonder at the entire direction of my life

3 thoughts on “Lifelong Disappointment”

  1. FUCK WORK, WORK IS FULL OF CUNTS. Simple and to the point. Good use of the two bad swear words. or CHRIST ON A BIKE, YOU FUCKING MONG?

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  2. i didn’t know what kevin spacey meant during one of his soliloquays in the film ‘seven’ when he said about vomitting on people due to the banality of their conversations, until i entered the world of the corporate berk. “how do i feel? well, it’s friday, isn’t it???!!!!!!!!!!” These are the same bollockwanks who, on a monday morning, will tell you they spent the entire weekend crying and shitting whilst wearing nowt save for a cling-film pant, having acted on some poor advice from a well-intentioned but ultimately confused aunt.

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