Now, today, I am in one of the foulest of foul moods, calmed only by relaxation with the mardy otters in Starbucks whilst ogling the hottest of my Starbucks harem.
Mainly due to the usual Saturday shite, combined with being pissed at not being considered for another job due to "not having the relevant skills or experience" virtually identical to a sub-set of the job I used to do (indeed was Lead Consultant for Aviva for) not so long ago.
Even the Gay Bacon, Lettuce & Tomato celebratory thing was right royally pissing me orf!
It's was all I could do to scream at them "I don't give a fuck about your sexual/religious/lifestyle preference! I accept you for who you are.There's no need for a pride march. Fat old men shouldn't feel the need to walk past my Window Of Passing Pretties trowelled with buckets of polyfilla and poster paint, in ill-fitting pirate leggings and stripey t-shirt baring their
But I didn't.
But the slightest thing is setting me off at the moment. I'm a seething pot of self contained paranoid anger, and I just can't help it. I don't know what's going to set me off next.
I reckon it's the stress & panic of being out on me ear with no hope of employment, and my usual façade of jollity is getting harder to maintain. Cracks are forming in my happy-go-lucky smiley mask.
And I'm off to the pube and the WhatACunt later. Oh, how wound up am I gonna end up? I may end up doing my now legendary Xym Sneaks Off In A Huff Before He Says Something Stupid act.
"Wotcha mean before you say something stupid...?" ← thus spake the voices of experience from those normally in contact with The Xym and know of his lack of keeping his great fat trap shut
