After a rather traumatic, recent experience involving my poor old sword, a loaf of slightly mouldy bread, a small shrubbery - don't ask me to identify plants it'll only end up in tears like it did that time I spent about three hours describing to a guy the illustrious propities of the completely made up thritleywingdopple tree...he never recovered apparantly - and a rather over the top storm...you know the sort? One of those where you put your hand outside and you come back with bruises from the rain and whiplash on your hand from the wind...Anway, after this incident which I wont go into details about because I don't want to bring back the painful memory...I love sarcasm, my life would be so much duller without it...why do I do this? I spend half my life rambling and the other half drunk. Anway, after the incident I decided that I need to review my situation in life and this is my attempt...
I recently turned twenty six. This means that according to the laws of causality I have to become mature. This however seems to just not have happened, I wonder why? I thought that as soon as you got past twenty five you automatically turned into a sober git...more sarcasm there for you, I'm not that much of an idiot no matter what people say, besides sobriety sucks. Its probably worrying the amount of ale that I consume, a light session for me would generally floor most others in minutes. Probably the fact that everyone else sucks and that I'm the best thing in the universe ever. You know, some people actually believe I'm not being sarcastic when I say that? The only time I'm not being sarcastic is when I'm speaking about me hat but that's just common sense - after all what sane person would disagree with the awesomeness of the hat?
