This is genuinely the second Windows post I’ve made! Why? Fucking Windows 8.
I’m confused and discombobulated and just….ugh, not with it. Thanks for this PiC! It’s okay, I still love you, mostly. But you invited this shit. I am in my own bum.
You had to wait because I somehow engaged the ‘features’ screen and couldn’t navigate away from it! Even with Escape. Why does the escape button not work? Fuck you, Microsoft and your bullshit buttons or soft keys or wank holes! I will shit in your mouth! Suck arse.
Windows 8 is like the 2012 Red Sox. Perhaps a good idea on paper, but a complete mindfuck in reality.
Start button! Where the holy fuck is my start button??!! *cries*
(it took 33 days to post this update because the start screen activated for no reason, [like a sentient Decepticon robot cock master who would like to ruin my life] and it has taken me this long to get back here. I am a prisoner of my own devices!
I’m gonna hit you with something. Something so unbelievably fucking awesome, you may shit yourself. I don’t want you to actually poo your underoos so I’m going to take a few seconds here and let you get yourself all squared away. You ready?
Got some toilet paper and a bowl by your side?
I’m serious here, don’t be sending me your dry cleaning bills.
Okay, here goes nothing!
The OFFICIAL Rhetorical Platypus!
Yay! You may send your congratulatory comments and emails forthwith!
And I ask you kindly not to steal anything…if you do? I will hunt you down and be that mouthbreather who always stands uncomfortably close, for the REST OF YOUR LIFE. And I will eat garlic, onions and anchovies everyday. EVERY. DAY.
Thank you to Mister SD for Mister RP. Copyright and whatnot. 2011. Funky. Yeah.
You know you have an incredible mum because when you were younger she let you make your own mistakes , but knew when it was time to step in and give you a hand or help you pick up the pieces.
You know you have an amazing mum when you suddenly realise as an adult that there were many times when she went without, but never saddled you with the burden of knowing that.
You know she’s extraordinary in that she’ll always be there to listen to you bitch and moan, and isn’t just sitting on the other end of the phone waiting to speak.
But you know your mum has officially entered the realm of UNBELIEVABLY BATSHITTINGLY AWESOME when you ask her, ‘Can you draw me a bag of dicks?’ And she doesn’t even question you about it, this just shows up in your inbox two days later.
Thanks mum, you’re so fucking money.
Farting becomes less an embarrassment and more an all out hilarity producing olfactory assault. First person to leave the room loses. Extra points to the person who can best impersonate their favourite animal or successfully poot the closing notes of the 1812 Overture.
The bathroom door never closes…
‘What’s the first thing you would do with £100 million?’ asked the man in the elevator.
I rattled off what is very likely the standard answer most people give- take care of my family, donate to charity, maybe buy a new car (well, not a new car, I’d be rich, not stupid). Then after more thought there’s the second part of the answer- buy a house, travel and help out my friends. But I feel bad about these answers, because they’re not true. Well, they are, but they are not the first thing I would do. The real answer is much, much weirder.
I would buy dirt.
Let me clarify. I would buy a dumptruck full of soil, have it dropped in my backyard, mist it ever so slightly with a hose and dive in. Roll around in it naked like the happiest little piggy in the world and smile. I would do this for a week. Then once the week was done, I would have another truck full of dirt delivered and repeat the process.
Anytime I was feeling down? Dumptruck. When I’m having a party? Dumptruck. Somebody needs a gift for their birthday? Dumptruck.
I adore the smell of fresh, clean potting soil. I like the feel of it under my feet and between my fingers. I like it so much I sometimes feel like I want to eat it. Yes, eat it. Dirt pie, mmmmmm.
I’ll stop before this devolves into some kind of creepy dirt porn post or I completely freak you out. But if you bought me a sack of potting soil for Christmas? I wouldn’t be mad.
p.s. I would also but a ceramic shop and a cigar factory with the money. My reasons for this are entirely kosher, I swear.
I said, bad…ass.
- One medium onion
- One green, red or yellow pepper (your preference)
- Small packet of minced steak (250g) (I didn’t use mince, but modified the recipe for it, but don’t use ‘ground beef’ it’s bullshit …for reals)
- Kidney Beans
- Fūl (aka Fava Beans)
- Fresh plum tomatoes, diced
- Tinned plum tomatoes (I know they’re the same thing STFU)
- Cayenne Pepper
- Johnny’s (or equivalent) to taste
- Chopped Jalapenos (if you want this shit to taste like Rick James)
Cook that shit. Mix that shit. Stir that shit for at least 30 minutes (MUCH longer if you used proper meat)
Eat the hell out of that shit. (But it’s best to wait til the next day)
- Remove from fridge
- Spread on tortilla
- Add Cheese
- Add sour cream
- Add some fucking ham if you want
- Eat with some green shit…if you’re a pussy