About fucking time

This might sound like a token 'bad dad' from a token bad Disney film, but:

Kids I promise, I'll try harder this time.

If this was a bad Disney film, my current blog would've run off with the blatently smarmy blog from next door. I don't know what my blog sees in that son of a bitch: he's more work obsessed and money driven than I am. Plus, he can't even take our genetically engineered baby blogs to the blog pool because of something that happened in the town that he used to live in. How does he spend so little time at work, earn a great living and know all the ice-cream salesmen in the area on first name basis?

Fortunately this is not a Disney film. Nor is it a Disney blog. I wonder what a Disney blog would be comprised of. I'm too scared to look at the one I saw before. Pinnochio was doing something to Bambi that I don't really understand.

Where was I? Oh yeah, let me pick the fragments of brain I have left from the tepid pool of family values and perfectly formed smiles that I seem to have fallen into.

The bad dad character's empty promises have just had their arseholes ripped wide open. 'Oooh, I'll write more in the New Year...'... 'I do believe in Santa Claus' and all that shit. No more my over paid, straight to DVD friend. As of about twenty minutes ago, I just got my laptop hooked up to the internet. I'm at home, I'm online and I'm feeling fine!

Except that last bit isn't quite true. I feel like shit. I've spent the past four days at the mercy of a Slavic strength manflu. It serves me right for spending the week wishing I was high. I've spent the weekend off my fucking rocker. And it hasn't cost me a penny neither. Granted, I can't quite feel my fingertips, palms of hands (or any body parts with nerve endings), I'm either on fire or feel like I'm trapped under an ice rink, and I'm sweating so much I might as well just relieve myself of what dignity I have left and relieve myself. But I'm feeling kind of spaced. Awesome.

So yes, after months of going to coffee shops to use free internet (which obviously costs a coffee), I have internet in a place that I need it. Now roll the credits and I'll stick up all the stuff I've written in the last few weeks as the sequel.

(Which means I'll be played by a different actor, but we'll recycle the gags, you'll never notice.)