Look at this stupid thing I wrote that will be understood, if not liked very much, by Warcraft players:
http://fidgetstherapy.blogspot.com/
Oof, back in a sec.
Been drinking lots of water recently. Good for the skin I'm told. Not much to say at the moment really, been working some, writing some, eating some and drinking lots, and in my mind if I just keep thrashing pathetically at the keyboard something will come out of it and someone will then hand me a cheque for ten million pounds. By next year I will be riding a jetski over a sea of money, with my private island in the distance, its volcano crator firing cantaloupe sized nuggets of gold and diamonds hundreds of feet into the air. Yes.
In a desperate bid to be remotely amusing, I shall flip through my mental cue cards of lame primetime comedy topics. And go:
I have a slight complaint with regards to people who drive near me in their cars, I have found. I have never been a happy driver at the best of times, though loving my little car dearly and talking to it like it's 'people', anyone not playing by the invisible set of road rules in my head will be the subject of my futile, spittle-flecked wrath. Going too fast past me on the motorway? So what that it's a seventy limit and I'm doing fifty-eight to save fuel, and by extension, the planet* (Yes I am one of those). Didn't signal quickly enough or, God forbid, at all? Oh no, no you di'ent. You'll be punished by me making a snarky comment to myself in the safety of my car, and nearly crashing as a result of me being too busy trying to hate you to death.
I have come to the conclusion that I would like to do kung fu at you, in the right circumstances. Sure you're a little bigger than I am and you've probably at least done some exercise, but if you direct a very slow and deliberate punch at my midsection I shall deliver a series of squeals as your calloused fist bruises my ribs. I mean I will retaliate.
By calling the police on you.
*my money
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