Corner of solitude

I hate my job. I’ve had one of the worst nights at work ever.

Working on the machine called the Front Cover machine is mind numbing, and I’m telling ya it ain’t no fun. That’s why I hate it.

I’m not talking about starting another world war with the germans, I’m talking about the austrian piece of shit who imprisoned his own daughter as his own personal sex slave. It is fucking worms like him that makes me ashamed of my own humanity.

I’m reluctant to say I hate him, because even though it’s a pretty strong word I don’t think it’s strong enough to describe what I am feeling towards him at the moment.

When I read it in the newspaper I felt revolted, angry and wished that I was God and could deal out some divine wrath. I know that wishing death on other people is wrong, and that it is not my place to judge, but I truly feel that if I had the power of life and death I would have no qaulms on sending vile fags like Josef Fritzl to burn in hell.

And if there is no hell, then death would be too good a sentence even for people like him. He should be kept alive and tortured, to suffer a thousand times the suffering of those innocents he has inflicted.

Tomorrow is Australia’s national day. It’s a day that’s suppose to commemorate “an actual historical event,” that is the arrival of the poms, namely Captain Arthur Phillip and the first fleet sailing into Sydney Cove.

Which is why some people have been politically riled up about it. They choose to call it “Invasion day,” and I don’t blame them.The culture of the Indigenous people of Australia have virtually been destroyed because of this day, if I was one of them I would be riled up about it too. I’m suprised they haven’t maintained the rage as much these days.

I would support for a push to make another day Australia day. Only if they kept this current one as a public holiday of course, they can rename it whatever they bloody wanted to. That way we have another public holiday, and you know what that means don’t you? Public holiday means another day off work. Which I am all for it.

Speaking of work, I had to go to work today which is the reason why I couldn’t go to the BDO. RATM are the headline act, I miss out once again, what a bummer. Hate of the day missing out on my favourite band.

Unfortunately I still feel like shit which only compounds the problem. There is one thing I hate more than going back to work after a break, especially a short one like a long weekend or after the christmas slash new years week, and that is work itself. Yes folks work and I don’t mix.

I’ve told countless people many times that I have a rare disorder that makes me allergic to work, but would they listen? No, all they do is laugh, my mum and dad, Lauren, my friends, my workmates and my boss. My worse nightmare is of my boss standing over me like a master to a slave, laughing like a maniac Har Har Har. I wake up in a sweat, screaming like a little girl.

For people to say that they love work makes me sick to the bones. As far as I’m concerned the people who say these things are made up of three types of people.

There is the macho wannabes who say things like “work never hurt anyone, the hard yakka makes a man outta you” but really they are just trying to hide the fact that they are pansies who find it hard to admit it to themselves.

Brainwashers and the brainwashees. Let me explain, the brainwashers are like the evil masterminds who have a suspect penchant for stroking cats, and who want to build a mass of slaves to help them take over the world, yes bosses this means you. The brainwashees are the poor sods who actually believe that the bosses, who sit on there arses all day shuffling paper, are their friends and doing them a favour by letting said sods do all the work. They have no idea that they are in fact working for peanuts and a boss who is a megalomaniac nutbag.

And the third is the actual genuine worker. This includes people who get bored without work and poor people who have to work hard just to afford their daily crust. Both probably think their work life is better than the living hell they call for a home life. These are the people who when they say they love work you can tell in their faces that they are genuine. But they still make me sick because I hate work.

I guess all I am saying is that my hate of the day is work.