Tonight, I am feeling more Lemming than Lemmy.
As a matter of fact, if I had to rate my current mood on the wannabe gansta trousers scale, I'd say that it is currently set on the 'Justin Bieber Butt Struggle' level.
Lately, I have come to the realisation that quite a few people actually see me as the equivalent of a fucking human post box: damn useful to dump information into - and have it processed within 1 to 2 working days (with recorded delivery of soothing words), but with absolutely no right to transmit anything back to the sender.
In the recent occasions where I have opened my daft heart to obtain some sort of empathy, ears have fallen as deaf as Kanye West's humility, and enquiries on my life have been as prominent as Nickelback's talent (ie non existent for those who don't know).
The worst is probably the fact that in most instances, I have had to drive out entire conversations single handledy, perenially enquiring about the state of the alleged respondent - and obviously obtaining grandiose responses -without a fucking enquiry about my sad, depressed sexy arse.
Yeah well, fuck that shit.
Y'all gonna learn this year.
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