Petulant Pissypants

I am in a foul foul fight picking mood today. You probably shouldn't call me, as you probably don't want to be faced with the considerable wrath of Synge. In fact, don't even read my fuckin blog, okay? Because that's just the kind of mood I'm in. Stop! Now! Fine, well I'm just not going to write anymore. So there, you fucking lurker, you. I hate you anyway. You and everything else in this stupid fucking world. And I know I sound like a six year old with a very precocious grasp on profanity and I happen to be just fuckiong fine with that, thank you very much, and you're a smelly poop head anyway. So there. Oh, and nanny nanny boo boo to fuckin you.

Tttthhhhhpppppptttttttttt!!!!!!!!!

Oddly enough, that really didn't make me feel any better.

Fuck it, I'm running away in search of wine.