There's a girl on the sofa in my pub, giving her boyfriend a handjob.
Pretty sure I should stop them.

But no one wants to interupt that.

No one in this day and age, in a mostly middle class city, should smell as bad as the woman does who's in my pub.
She fucking stinks.
She smells like she died 6 weeks ago.
Its tragic, she's been in here for 2 hours, with 4 drinks, for her and her "friends".
I'm contemplating calling the hospital asking if they've had a break out.

So, for some freaky reason I'm over my ex.
Its taken me like, 3 weeks.
3 weeks of crying, eating my weight in whatever I find and pretty much being a general bastard.

Now I'm freaking horny and ready to start fucking my way through the West Midlands.

I joke, I joke.
I might be into sex, but I'm no common slut.

But I do want me some loving.

I wonder who you've got to be friends with to buy a nuke.
I know where to get a gun.
Though my shot is terrible, give me a bow and arrow anyday.
You'd think I'd miss, when I hit you in the back of the knee.
I didn't miss.
I meant too.
Breaking knees is fucking painful, so I hear.

You know what word is good?
Delectable.
Its so fucking perverted.
How it rolls off the tongue and you have to sound each letter.
Filth.

Christ I'm bored.
Where is my wonderfully destructive Doctor to keep me company when I need him.

It's the strangest thing, leaving the person you love.
You love them, oh god, how you love them.
I'd have given anything to see it work, but, had to leave.
I couldn't see us going much farther than we already did.
We'd hit a wall I guess, and I left him.

But I'm alive.
I've got my friends.
And I've got you bunch of lolcows to keep my ass company.

So, life goes on, I've jumped another shit covered hurdle and come over it.
Covered in shit. But over none the less.

Sometimes I wonder why I check out the diaries daily.
Then a vagina tree pops up, and I'm reminded.
Apart from the emos and the people who should probably be on the sex offenders register.
There are some really funny, sometimes sweet, even on the odd occassion insightful diary entries, that make my morning ritual of reading the shit you lot think is interesting whilst on the crapper, totally worthwhile.

It's always funny how something so small, well, huge, actually and really fucking gross, like, what?
Oh my gosh.
Pure vile.
What the fuck is wrong with you.
Oh my gosh.
Pure vile.
I literally want to puke.

Also.
Well in the mood for some chocolate.

Its nearly the end of my shift.
No, I should not be on the internet.

But I've got the same 2 customers I had in my last entry, and the fridge plans are taking hours!

I am so fucking bored you wouldn't believe it.
Seriously.

2 customers in and I'm making fridge plans.
Fridge plans!!

I hate maths, hand writing and monotonous tasks.
This thing involves all three!

God. Fucking. Damnit.

That shift sucked balls.
The pub was, and still is, dead.
Not even full capacity until 1am.
Not good, not good at all.

Ah well.
I still get paid if there's 1 fucker in :]

My two new gourami's keep spiralling each other, kinda like the usual symbol for Pisces.
This makes me smile.
I kind of wish I knew what gender they were, so I knew if it was courting, or fighting.

I really should go to bed.
But my bed is terribly lonely lately "/
How sad is that?

To nap before the night shift.
Or not to nap before the night shift.
Oh how very mundaine.
But still damn important to my odd world.
If I nap, I may not sleep right after and I'm opening up tomorrow and would like a little sleep.
But what if I'm groggy?
I don't have a till or calculator for the money, I may make a mistake.
Hmmm.

Redbull isn't an option. I'm still trying to kick my 10 can a day habit that made my heart twitch.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Life is so hard.
I have this job, where I work every day, I mean, how do I have time to masturbate over how hard my life is when I'm earning a living?
Gosh its too much to bare.
I have to talk to strangers like, every day because of work and I just can't handle it anymore.
Juggling a social life and a work life and let's not even get started on my relationship.
I mean, having someone else to think of in my life.
Its all too much for me.

Lolz.

So, another Friday, another night out.
Me staggering around with one boss telling me to go to bed, the other forcing jager bombs down my neck.
Good times.

Let's hope I don't end up attached to some random guy this week, well not in the mood for drunken molestation.

On a side note.
I'm freakishly horny.

Russ is buying me a tattoo for my birthday :]
Well, paying for one of mine :p
What to get, what to get......hmmm.

There isn't enough nudity on this site.
It makes my penis sad.

I've gotten drunk at work, again.
I should cut this crap out.
Surely I'll get fired or some shit.
Well, I work a bar, so its not like it isn't expected that the staff are a little tipsy.

I'm tired, I miss Russ, and that dude is fucking me off so bad.

Ugh, stop leeching onto Dimbles, she's said no, and no chance.
We've all told you.
Stop crying too, you're the only straight dude that works here, and you spend more time crying than a bitch winning an Oscar.
Fuck.

So I took the darling other half to see the parentals this weekend.
It went well!
We spent Valentines day drunk and making out :]

Ah good times.

Anywhore, I've decided my life is shit.
My own doing, but its shit.
So it's time for a change.
I've applied to a million new jobs, and have set in motion the course for a more money filled life.
Hopefully.

Also, where has the girl gone who wrote all the diaries for her master?
I loved her, she was my anti-drug.