Misanthropy and rage
It’s been an interesting week in the world of the Nothing Man.
Firstly, I’ve realised that IKEA are cunts of the highest order and may very well be in league with Satan and divorce lawyers everywhere.
Last Saturday involved a trip to two IKEAs with my girlfriend. At the beginning of the odyssey we were in something resembling a decent mood. However, by the end of the six and a half hour journey through the heart of motoring darkness that is Cunt London we were barely on speaking terms, having raged at IKEA, other car drivers, town planners, each other and anybody else who we didn’t like the look of.
All this because IKEA won’t keep furniture in store if you ask for it. It’s more than their job’s worth you see! Fucking bullshit! It’s because they’re a bunch of lazy fucks who realise that so many brainwashed drones turn up at their stores looking to buy furniture that they can afford to treat them like cunts, and not have it affect profits in the slightest!
And the thing about IKEA is: firstly, it really isn’t that fucking cheap; and secondly, the furniture really isn’t that good. It’s the sort of shit you see at Homebase or MFI but it seems more exotic because it has names like Rypdaal, Kompliment, Koksuk, Kuntfaart, Arschloch.
Fucking bullshit; it’s MFI with a fancy fucking name!
And we fight each other tooth and nail for the privilege of building these pieces of shit in living rooms all across the globe.
Most of my time in IKEA (total: one and a half hours out of six and a half) was spent dodging the Deth Kaarts pushed at breakneck speed by housewives with a glint of insanity in their glazed eyes. Obviously these women had succumbed to the IKEA urge once too often. Arguments broke out all around me; otherwise rational men and women indulged in stand-up rows and more covert ironic sideswipes. Plus, people had parked their cars in any space they could (no matter how small) just so they could rush into this temple of consumerist doom. Oh, what cunts we all are!
That short trip to IKEA has refilled my well of misanthropy to overflowing. Yes, folks, I’m just brimming with the venom of human hatred!
And if I am going to hell I bet the place will look just like IKEA.
***
I managed to pay my tax with the help of my father. It filled me with dread to ask him, but he was surprisingly okay about it. He sent me a cheque and a note saying he hoped I could myself financially afloat some time soon! He probably just wishes his children lived up to their potential! Neither myself nor my sibling are filled with a quarter of my dad’s drive.
It must pain him.
***
I’ve also realised that everything bores me at the moment. My life bores me, my career bores me, my debts bore me, writing bores me, not writing bores me. Maybe it is the fact that I’ve hit my mid thirties and I still don’t know exactly where I belong in this crazy fucked-up world.
Maybe I should start an affair with some perky young blonde girl or a curvy brunette bombshell with an arse you could bounce coins off and a pair of breasts that defy the existence of Newton’s law?
Or maybe not.
I’m not the cheating kind (I love my girlfriend too much to pull a stunt like that) and I’d probably only get bored!
No. I need a lifestyle change of some kind.
I just don’t know what it is yet
But I'm thinking maybe a change of scenery might be in order!
Firstly, I’ve realised that IKEA are cunts of the highest order and may very well be in league with Satan and divorce lawyers everywhere.
Last Saturday involved a trip to two IKEAs with my girlfriend. At the beginning of the odyssey we were in something resembling a decent mood. However, by the end of the six and a half hour journey through the heart of motoring darkness that is Cunt London we were barely on speaking terms, having raged at IKEA, other car drivers, town planners, each other and anybody else who we didn’t like the look of.
All this because IKEA won’t keep furniture in store if you ask for it. It’s more than their job’s worth you see! Fucking bullshit! It’s because they’re a bunch of lazy fucks who realise that so many brainwashed drones turn up at their stores looking to buy furniture that they can afford to treat them like cunts, and not have it affect profits in the slightest!
And the thing about IKEA is: firstly, it really isn’t that fucking cheap; and secondly, the furniture really isn’t that good. It’s the sort of shit you see at Homebase or MFI but it seems more exotic because it has names like Rypdaal, Kompliment, Koksuk, Kuntfaart, Arschloch.
Fucking bullshit; it’s MFI with a fancy fucking name!
And we fight each other tooth and nail for the privilege of building these pieces of shit in living rooms all across the globe.
Most of my time in IKEA (total: one and a half hours out of six and a half) was spent dodging the Deth Kaarts pushed at breakneck speed by housewives with a glint of insanity in their glazed eyes. Obviously these women had succumbed to the IKEA urge once too often. Arguments broke out all around me; otherwise rational men and women indulged in stand-up rows and more covert ironic sideswipes. Plus, people had parked their cars in any space they could (no matter how small) just so they could rush into this temple of consumerist doom. Oh, what cunts we all are!
That short trip to IKEA has refilled my well of misanthropy to overflowing. Yes, folks, I’m just brimming with the venom of human hatred!
And if I am going to hell I bet the place will look just like IKEA.
***
I managed to pay my tax with the help of my father. It filled me with dread to ask him, but he was surprisingly okay about it. He sent me a cheque and a note saying he hoped I could myself financially afloat some time soon! He probably just wishes his children lived up to their potential! Neither myself nor my sibling are filled with a quarter of my dad’s drive.
It must pain him.
***
I’ve also realised that everything bores me at the moment. My life bores me, my career bores me, my debts bore me, writing bores me, not writing bores me. Maybe it is the fact that I’ve hit my mid thirties and I still don’t know exactly where I belong in this crazy fucked-up world.
Maybe I should start an affair with some perky young blonde girl or a curvy brunette bombshell with an arse you could bounce coins off and a pair of breasts that defy the existence of Newton’s law?
Or maybe not.
I’m not the cheating kind (I love my girlfriend too much to pull a stunt like that) and I’d probably only get bored!
No. I need a lifestyle change of some kind.
I just don’t know what it is yet
But I'm thinking maybe a change of scenery might be in order!
posted by The Nothing Man at 31.1.07
7 Comments:
You're bored? Fuckin' hell man, I'm in the middle of a Mid-Life/ SADS affected crisis. I want to curl up with the TV and eat Pringles FOREVER.
Boredom begats boredom begats boredom...
I think you know where this is going!
I'm just trying to make sense of the world, write a bit and maybe do something of which I can be proud.
Anyway, you're off to Noo Yoik soon. And the boredom will be alleviated for awhile!
Erm, no I ain't. I've heard less than nothing. Although she is busy and I fully expect an email of dates before long, and a sudden departure of me out of this shitpit and into a nice warm bed on the other side of the Atlantic.
And also the cinema, the Statue of Lib, the Guggenheim, and too many delis.
Wah wah wah.
Oh shoot... that wasn't very supportive of me.
I meant to say... you two young men are just going through the same thing that everyone does in their thirties. 31 -- hated that year. Bored, frustrated, couldn't see where life was taking me.
And there was some amazing point to this comment. Some very wise advice.
Did I mention that I got stoned today? Seriously!!!! First time in 20 years!
Listen -- here's the advice! Never comment on blogs when you're stoned! You tend to keep telling people about it and lose track of what you were trying to say.
Yes, that's it.
Getting stoned is a wonderful thing! And S.E.X. is brilliant when on it
And I don't do either anymore. Pah!
The S.E.X. was more than brilliant, Nothing Man.... I had an orgasm that just wouldn't quit.
Yikes. TMI. This isn't that kind of blog.
And Fweng... I keep offering... what's a little ocean between friends, after all?
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