Meh to Monday.

I hate Mondays. I haven’t always hated Monday, now it is made of suck and fail. With a side of McDonalds-fucked-up-my-order-again-and-I-got-nothing-for-me-in-the-bag-fuckers. And serving up a nice heap of my-new-job-that-I-was-squealy-happy-like-about-has-now-been-made-redundant. (don’t worry, I haven’t lost my job – I am too fucking awesome for that – they will just move me sideways, but fuck it I love that job) Served with a sauce of went-to-fill-the-car-with-fuel-and-ended-up-paying-$1.60 per litre-when-every-other-fucking-place-was-charging-$1.50. Next to a steaming bowl full of fuckers-getting-in-my-way-and-over-sensitive-dicks-reading-shit-into-things-that-aint-there. And a five-a-day of after school madness. So I was a little pissed.  Probably coming down from the sugar rush yesterday… But there was light.  …

All I want for my birthday is the world to explode. Or implode. Or Hulk hands.

So how do you ensure the Best Birthday Ever? Some mad scientists doing some freaking AWESOME experiment that has the tiniest chance of blowing up (or blowing in, yeah whatevz, I never said I was no intellectual) the world or causing a black hole to form or things to go boom. Make your mother take you shopping for something like a billion hours and STILL not know what you want and have said mother go waaaaaaaay over budget to try and find something to make you happy. Accidentally on purpose forget to give your mother your school report – …