Unappreciated in my own time

It's been a while since my last real entry, and my time away from the computer has made me think. Actually, it wasn't really time away from the computer. I download porn on a pretty consistent basis. Anyway, I was saying that I was thinking, and what I was thinking was that I don't think anybody reads my goddamn blog! And the blogs that everybody see, the so-called blogs of note, are all fucking bullshit. The only one that was even mildly entertaining was from the guy with ADD. Apparently that's what it takes to impress people these days. Mental retardation. Well, as any of my friends can tell you, I can get pretty fucking retarded too. I write pure gold day in and day out and what do I get? Nothing, that's what.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't want to come across as bitter and jaded. We all know who that guy is. (Didn't I tell you to pull the trigger?) All I want is some respect and some pussy, and not neccessarily in that order. From now on, I'm not doing any more blog entries until I have some attractive, scantily clad, blonde co-eds coming to my door wanting to use the phone cause their car broke down. Is that really that much to ask for? Tv says it isn't, but I guess we'll see what we'll see.


"If you're talkin', you ain't suckin". - An old saying

Grab your ankles and bite this stick, we'll be with you in a moment.

Is it just me, or does anyone else think that banks can go fuck themselves? I'm not one for ranting and raving, I usually leave that to those who are far more bitter and jaded (PULL THE TRIGGER), however I find it necessary to share my latest experience. Last friday I found that my bank card wasn't working. I went into my friendly neighborhood BMO branch later that day to try and get to the bottom of the situation. Being the last banking day before the new year, there was a considerable lineup. Luckily for me, patience is one of my many virtues. When I finally got to the front of the line, the teller proceeded to tell me that they had no idea what the problem was and that I would have to talk to my home branch in Edmonton, not Calgary where I fucking live. On a positive note, the teller did give me the phone number to call. Who says service is dead? To make a short story long, the # was a dead end as it was completely automated (who would have guessed). I got the runaround as one line connected me to another line and back again, never being able to actually speak with somebody at the branch. As the day drew on, I realized that I was fucked. I had money in the bank, but no means to get it. For all you philosophers out there, answer this one: If the cocksucking bank won't give you your money, do you actually have any? The answer is of course not.

So you're probably wondering what I did for new years money. Well, luckily I had just sold a newborn baby on the black market and I had a suitcase full of cash. That's another story though. I finally reached an actual human being (or a very informative and interactive answering machine) today, and I was informed that there was a glitch in the system and several people were in the same boat as me, except that everyone other than me had their account fixed within minutes on friday. Apparently, if I hadn't phoned, my account would never have been fixed. It sure makes you feel good about all those goddamn service charges you pay.

Anyway, the moral of the story is this: Banks rule the world. They can do whatever they want to us and we're helpless to do anything about it. Because unless you're extremely wealthy, banks don't give a flying fuck about what you think. And I'm definitely not extremely wealthy.

The bastards. Fuck, I'll get em.