Finally fucking finished fucking fucked exams. Thank fuck. I swear, when I walked out of my last exam, I think a little ejaculate seeped through my Dolce and Gabbana underwear.

Of course, I think I failed that exam and therefore failed that subject, but who cares about the details? I'm done, and don't have to worry about it anymore. And, like, I can catch up next year right? Sigh. And anyway, it's not like it's my fault if I failed. Stupid Mother decided that half an hour before the exam would be the perfect time to get fully up me about being unemployed, and how I'm such a failure and I never try to get work. Fucking bitch. I have tried, it's just that no one wants me. Yeah, I know. Go figure. I reckon I'd be a killer employee. But anyway, she was like "blahblah should be employed at 14 blahblah". I think she also told me I should be "door knocking" for jobs as well. Like, how embarrassing, as if I'm going to do that. Clearly my mother has been sampling the drug supply, as she also said I should get a job as a labourer, and that way I'd get tan and buff without having to join a "pouncy gym". The sentence "you could work for Jim's Mowing" is a direct quote, people.

Like, what? The. Fuck. She's completely lost touch with reality. I am not a blue-collar type person. I don't do sweat. I don't do Ruggers shorts. I don't do "smokos" and Oakley sunglasses. I have no idea why she would think that associating with those people is a good thing. Have you experienced the work ethic of those commoners? Lazy and incompetent much? "12 to 5" is not an appointment time, fools. Like, ever heard of efficiency? If you can't manage the work-load, hire more staff and invest in a day planner. It's really not that hard.

So yeah. My final exams sucked. My family is all angry at me. And even stupid Cap Guy was all pissed at me because I went down to the Gold Coast after my exam and dumb Cheekbones rang me. You wouldn't think that that was reason to get all shitty with me, but apparently not. So anyway, lame Cap Guy was all "blahblahblah you are going to end up with him, faggots are all the same, blahblahblah" and I was all "dude. Chill. If I wanted to be with stupid Cheekbones it would have happened a long time ago." He despises Cheekbones, as he was rude to him when he met him once. Personally I think he is over-reacting, and is just a paranoid fucker. He can't seem to believe me or trust me or whatever. Fucking hell. Homos are all so lame. But then he sucked on my arse for twenty minutes in the shower, so I guess fighting has it's benefits.

Seeing as it wasn't the best way to start my three month break (about cunting time, too), I popped into the salon for a bit of a hair-tweak, and I feel much better already. The mullet is looking very Eurotrash-y, but in like, a cool way. Trust me, I look hot. All I need now is to reclaim my tan. I mean, I'd go out and tan now as it's the perfect day, but then I'd have to have a swim, and then that would ruin my hair and I need to go down to Coles later as we have no food. My life is already complicated enough without a fucking job, I reckon. So I think my parents should just keep coughing up for my cards until I get a suitable job. I mean, it's not going to be forever. Surely it won't be long now? Right?

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posted by Dawei at 1:53 pm