2004-10-21 - 8:11 p.m.

(sigh) Hi again (she said, still disheartened)

I've come up with a cunning plan for what to do with the rest of my life. Homer Simpson tried it and failed but I can use his example as a template and then iron out the problems he encountered in order for it to work for me.

Here we go (deep breath), I'm going to stop all forms of exercise and eat whatever I like all day so that I eventually become disabled through obesity and won't therefore have to worry about finding a job and getting my self respect back. This plan will enable me to increase my income (as disability benefit is better than job seekers allowance) and I will be able to get out of my tedious household chores (such as wiping my own arse) as carers will be sent in as I won't be able to cope. I'm single (no one wants me anyway) so I won't have to worry about repulsing any partner/potential partner (first problem Homer faced) and I could dig wearing an enormous Muu Muu all day. Heck, my life is one big humiliation so I might as well give in to it and become Jabba the Hut-ified and never leave the house.

Of course, I'll have to get over my horror of day time television. Where the feck do they get so many losers to go on the Tricia show? The bloody bottom would fall out of the lie detector test market if that programme was taken off air. Actually, I shouldn't 'diss' the Tricia show losers (note how I am experimenting with loser language)as these are now MY people. I am a loser and I should stop fighting it and start wearing chunky gold chains and scraping my hair back into a tight, fringeless ponytail.

Until all of this happens I guess that I'll apply for the stinkin' job with Customs and Excise at Southampton Docks and the shitty job with Portsmouth Council evicting scrotes who have breached their anti social behaviour orders. That'll be great, getting my head kicked in by some dick wearing Kappa and cheap bling from Argos (and probably thinking that they are black and from the ghettos of New York). Oh yeah, and then there is the other job where I'd have to go out and visit illegal erections for Eastleigh Council (fnar fnar). Unfortunatly the job is most likely going to entail me visiting people and telling them to knock their bloody conservatories down as Mrs Brady (nosy old lady) has made a complaint that they built it without planning permission.

See the whole world of wonder opening up for me? Shiiit, the jumping off the cliff plan of last week is getting more and more appealing. I still haven't had the feedback telling me what I did wrong in THE interview and that's pissing me off. The woman emailed me back saying that she'd contact me later on this week but I guess that as a LOOOOOOSER she's not going to bother just yet. Too busy with all the decent, WINNER types to bother with me and my short legs and crap hair.

Heck, am I feeling sorry for myself still or what?

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