Do I need to do my
tax? I mean, fucking come on... I earned a ridiculously paltry sum of
money last year, easily less than the old tax-free threshold, let
alone the new one. I didn't get a group certificate from either of
the two legitimate employers I had last year, but if my mental sums
are correct, I'd say I earned about $5000. Shut up ATO, just stop
it.
I'm actually in a really good mood today, I've just come back from Direct Factory Outlet, (should I call it 'DFO'? Eugh, I don't know. So continues the constant struggle against my own contempt for my attempts to better myself... “Really? Really? It's such an integral part of your life now after having been there once that you're going to abbreviate it the first time you mention it in a blog post? Really? Fucking loser.” says the spiteful part of my brain. “But it's so much quicker, and plus, Mitch and Blake called it 'DFO' yesterday and they both knew what each other was talking about!” says the part bent on betterment. “This parenthesis has gone on too long.” says the part that worries about this blog post's structural integrity. “You just used a derivatives of the word “integral” twice.” says Mr OCD) where I purchased clothes.
The trip to Essendon got me out of the house for a solid few hours, and I got to make a start on “Roughing It” by Mark Twain, which I've been meaning to read for fucking EVER – I downloaded it as an e-book on my HTC while I was in South America but could never get into it, but I'm sure it'll be way easier with the actual book. On books, I finished 'If Only It Were True' yesterday in a fifty-page frenzy while sitting in a corner at the Comic's Lounge, and I must say (I can't remember whether I decried the book at some point last week...) my opinion of it drastically changed from my initial impressions. Although I will still maintain that it is, essentially, emotional porn for girls – in the same way actual porn is designed to play up to the stereotypical male fantasy, so this book plays up to the stereotypical female fantasy – I will say that the end of the book contained a nice little spin that brought everything full circle, and after taking the first hundred or so pages to fully suspend my disbelief, the ride was fun. I'm just glad it didn't end with some stupid, “and then they kissed *sigh*” moment. That would've been disgusting.
I had a bit of a scare after getting back from work today when I turned the taps in the kitchen only to find that they weren't working... that would have been fucking perfect – water disconnected. I stormed around the house for a good five minutes while on the phone to Phil screaming, “OOOOOH GET FUCKED!” and other inventive obscenities. Then, about half an hour later, I distinctly heard the rushing of water in pipes, went out to the kitchen, tried the taps, and they worked. Must've been council shit.
Now I'm going to do something... I'm not sure what yet, but there are plenty of things to be done, so I'll wrap this badboy up for today. New site coming, design quoted from Blaise's company at $300. Changed URL to something more straightforward. Exciting Times. Heady Days. Do A Backflip.
Peace, Taco.
I'm actually in a really good mood today, I've just come back from Direct Factory Outlet, (should I call it 'DFO'? Eugh, I don't know. So continues the constant struggle against my own contempt for my attempts to better myself... “Really? Really? It's such an integral part of your life now after having been there once that you're going to abbreviate it the first time you mention it in a blog post? Really? Fucking loser.” says the spiteful part of my brain. “But it's so much quicker, and plus, Mitch and Blake called it 'DFO' yesterday and they both knew what each other was talking about!” says the part bent on betterment. “This parenthesis has gone on too long.” says the part that worries about this blog post's structural integrity. “You just used a derivatives of the word “integral” twice.” says Mr OCD) where I purchased clothes.
The trip to Essendon got me out of the house for a solid few hours, and I got to make a start on “Roughing It” by Mark Twain, which I've been meaning to read for fucking EVER – I downloaded it as an e-book on my HTC while I was in South America but could never get into it, but I'm sure it'll be way easier with the actual book. On books, I finished 'If Only It Were True' yesterday in a fifty-page frenzy while sitting in a corner at the Comic's Lounge, and I must say (I can't remember whether I decried the book at some point last week...) my opinion of it drastically changed from my initial impressions. Although I will still maintain that it is, essentially, emotional porn for girls – in the same way actual porn is designed to play up to the stereotypical male fantasy, so this book plays up to the stereotypical female fantasy – I will say that the end of the book contained a nice little spin that brought everything full circle, and after taking the first hundred or so pages to fully suspend my disbelief, the ride was fun. I'm just glad it didn't end with some stupid, “and then they kissed *sigh*” moment. That would've been disgusting.
I had a bit of a scare after getting back from work today when I turned the taps in the kitchen only to find that they weren't working... that would have been fucking perfect – water disconnected. I stormed around the house for a good five minutes while on the phone to Phil screaming, “OOOOOH GET FUCKED!” and other inventive obscenities. Then, about half an hour later, I distinctly heard the rushing of water in pipes, went out to the kitchen, tried the taps, and they worked. Must've been council shit.
Now I'm going to do something... I'm not sure what yet, but there are plenty of things to be done, so I'll wrap this badboy up for today. New site coming, design quoted from Blaise's company at $300. Changed URL to something more straightforward. Exciting Times. Heady Days. Do A Backflip.
Peace, Taco.
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