Damn.

I should have chosen a different name, because typing "You Just Don't Understand Me" into google, I can't find my blog. Apparently, so I am told, the phrase "You just don't understand me" is extremely popular with stroppy teenagers that have bad skin and shitty taste in music. And TV. And words, actually. The amount of stupid "sentimental" status updates that show up on my facebook news feed blows my extraordinarily narrow mind. The interweb is full of people posting things like "When the sun sets, I think of you, because you are the horizon of my mind, and I will always be in your heart, and you in mine, like two pandas separated by a road in rural China <3". Taste in words is a remarkably important quality. A quality lacking in the aforementioned stroppy teenager demographic, and also in readers of the Sun (even though they do have some pretty funny headlines, like "George Michael Shunts Trucker Up Rear")

I digress.

I was originally intending to rant about bloody teenagers. And now I will. Teenagers always seem to be going to hell in a handcart, admittedly a rather large, sturdy handcart (anything else wouldn't be possible with today's teen obesity rate), but a handcart nonetheless. They can never just calm the fuck down. No, instead they have to bitch about each other. Incessantly. To me. But they never make do on any of their threats. Because the vast majority of teenagers are two faced bastards. The lot of 'em. They should all be shot. Okay, maybe that's going to far, but they should just shut the fuck up. Okay.

That's all I can think of now, but there's got to be more. To be continued....

Woo! I've got a bitchin' blog!

Why should I be blogging you say? 

Well, you know, express my self, and stuff, ehh... and shit. Yeah, that's all I really have so far, you know, just that, and well, stuff. Yeah. It always comes down to stuff. There's too much stuff. I'm not being austere or anything, not at all, there's just too much fucking stuff. People say it comes in handy. 

"Why is that burnt out bulb in the drawer?"

"Oh, it might come in handy, you know, in case we ever need someone to think they have a working lightbulb, but it's actually broken."

"Why would we need to do that?"

"Ehhh... you know stuff. Oh yeah, and terrorists. Yeah. Terrorists."

No, it won't fucking come in handy, you're just to god damn lazy to deal with it. 

Anyway. My point is, stuff never comes in handy, and we have way to much of it. Yeah... and shit....