Last one to post wins the internets (archived)

[Proper Bo]

internets

bought the wench a chrome bin yesterday, innit.

[ckrit]

when's the wedding?

[Proper Bo]

It came with a smaller chrome bin for free too, I spoil the fuck out of her.

[chalice]

It came with a smaller chrome bin for free too, I spoil the fuck out of her.

Sup bo.

Didn't wanna quote you, but it's the only way to post from this daft kindle nonsense.

Sitting in Wetherspoon's in Belfast with a crufifying sun outside. Traded a few light-hearted acknowledgements with some natives, but I'm trying not to engage for the most part, being as I am, just here in an observing capacity. I'd almost forgotten just how much I despise humans in the general sense.

Imbibing the vino rouge, nipping outdoors into the Hiroshima heat for nifty joints, back in time before my hoodie gets nicked. Bar staff in this city are notoriously light-fingered fuckers. Not to mention unwilling to speak to down on their luck, mad Irish geniuses with aimless erections. All shapes traverse these thresholds. The food is compartmentalised, microwaved and cheap. The constant buzz and clunk from the fruit machine is making me want to be violent. Trouble is, the fella on the fruit machine clearly has more problems than I do, so I'll let him continue to annoy us both.

Expecting the imminent arrival of Our Kid to hit me up for dough. An encounter which my very own mother facilitated, catching me unawares at my drinking. He's on the skag like nobody's business and his epileptic, tea-bag of a girlfriend is never far behind, like an all too visible habit with shrinking tits.

[Something Else]

He'll probably crack before he makes it to you.

[chalice]

[Something Else]

Hawt.

[chalice]

You're all about the album covers.

[Something Else]

I was thinking beneath the cover, where I can only assume there is bewb.

[chalice]

Antidepressants. What's that all about.

Medical science and myself have agreed that I'm less than correct in the cranium. We've embarked upon a clinical trial which I'm not holding out much hope for.

Nine days into my chemical rebalance I can honestly say that I feel pretty much worse than I did before I began save for the knock-out effect they induce per noctum. This helps, of course, seeing as how I'm a pure chronic anti-sleep adherer. Well, I'm not, my brain is. All I do, though is spend my days looking forward to going to sleep.

I wouldn't really mind stepping into a coma if someone can provide the bed and life-support.