Pay Them in Dollars, Fuck Their Daughters
And Turn It Into Wonderland

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This is: Motherfucker...
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Mood:
annoyed as fuck

MOTHERFUCKER!

Here I was, in the middle of writing a goddamned entry and just when I try to tune in GothicRadio on Netscape, the whole fucking thing shuts down.

ARGH!

I am sick of this shit with every fucking machine I have to deal with up here. Nothing ever works right. Shit crashes right and left it seems constantly. I juggle two shit browsers just to stay ahead of the game and I'm "not allowed" to download anything onto this one.

I swear, not only am I going to be personally involved in the acquisition of the next computer, I'm bringing a real geek along, too.

(sigh)

Why couldn't the terrorists who destroyed the WTC have bombed Microsoft instead?

gr.

Y'know, and it's not as if I was writing anything profound (when do I ever?), but I was at least happy with what was coming up, I was digging my stream of consciousness and now it's all fucking gone and the only thing left in my head is the fact that I'm pissed off. Or at least, as pissed off as I get, which isn't really a whole hell of a lot since I don't usually see the use in that sort of thing and I can't really maintain it for very long anyway due to reasons that I've gone over many times in this bloody journal over the past few months.

Ah, fuck it. Fuck it all to hell.


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