* breathes *
Don't mind me. Just having another of those "little moments" with the DVD player. Hold on for a moment, just got to . . .
Why does that Christing shitting machine thwart me? Why? Every arsing crapping time I get a moment to myself it makes my life a fucking Hell. That bastarding queynting fuck-faced wank-arsed miserable piece of bollocking shit!
The fact that it's a new machine doesn't help. I thought that my DVD troubles were over when the last machine was banished from my sight. But, oh no. That would have been far too easy. Why on Earth would the universe allow me to have a couple of hours of emotional entertainment? What was I thinking?
At least this machine doesn't skip through the film like a schoolgirl with a new rope. No. This particular mechanical monstrosity spews forth subtitles like a bulimic teenager after being left unsupervised at Woolworths pic'n'mix. Bastard!
And before you say "have you tried turning off the subtitles?", yes of course I fucking have. I'm not a shitting retard. I've tried a million times. I've tried until my button pushing finger was aching and bleeding.
Why does technology hate me so?
Oh great. Now I can feel my heart racing and a tingle in my left arm. Bollocks.
To dilute my consuming rage, I went over to Wyndham's and took this test:
You are Green Lantern
|Hot-headed. You have strong|
will power and a good imagination.
The hot-headed bit's right. And I can certainly imagine a few choice unhappy endings for that infernal machine.