Sunday, 29th December 2002
Scholarly Interests
I have decided to take myself back to school. Owing to my ignorant fascination / obsession with the number 23 and the fact that I have already read a couple of Aleister Crowley’s works I have just bought myself the following books -
The Voice of the Silence by Madame Blavatsky
The Secret Doctrine by Madame Blavatsky
The Heart of the Master by Aleister Crowley
I realised that my brain is turning to mush and I am so self-obsessed that I need an outside interest. I am, however, about as interested in following politics as I am in being an enraged bear who shoves cacti up it’s arse for a hobby. So, Theosophy it is…
Addendum:
My weblog’s ping says I updated at 2.32pm. Hurrah! It’s a sign I tell you, a sign! (What fucking time zone are they in me wonders..?)
Friday, 27th December 2002
The Transmogrification of Time for Feckers Like You.
It’s been a long time, I know, but that host vessel of mine, Tank Green, has been completely self-absorbed for months it seems she forgot my existance…
Well, luckily for you gorjus juicy Cunts, she was sat down trying to be self-absorbed and write some more macabre poetry and feeling, well, soulless. And that’s when I, Snot Girl, showed up, because lets face it, how much depressing shit does the world really need..?
Today will be an earthly adventure and serve as a warning to you Knickers-In-A-Twist-Must-Do-It-My-Way kind of people.
So this is what done happened…
Occasionally, when the moon is not blue, pink, orange or wine coloured and my elbows have not sprouted their elephantine wings, I grab Tankies Banana Baby and take it for a ride. I mean, lets face it, the beeotch don’t ride much anymore anyway since she smokes too much to breathe properly, so some Cunt has to rub themselves all over her seat before she starts feeling lonely and gives herself over to whoever she meets…
So today, I was riding, faster faster faster, I was pumping thigh to nose and smile to grin and my cape was blooming behind me like some kind of parasol for camels and ahead of me was a bloody cross-roads. Now, because Banana Baby is the Supreme Cunt of bikes, I waited until the last moment to pump the breaks to a sharp halt. The cross traffic consisted of a car and an old fuck on another bike with a fucking WING-MIRROR ON HIS HELMET. 
You would think this ridiculous round protrusion on his helmet was enough prickish behaviour for him, but oh no, this old fuck decided to glare at me too…
Obviously he didn’t know who I am and I guess the rod up his arse forbade him from seeing my halo and Supreme Cuntiness so I decided to teach that fecker a lesson in ALLOWING OTHERS TO BE THEMSELVES WHEN THEY POSE NO THREAT TO OTHER PEOPLE.
So this is what I done didded…
I very quickly created a copy of the world as Rod-Arse-Prick-Mannie knew it, but speeded up the time-space continuum as experienced by humans and added a clause that anyone with a mirror attached to a helmet on their head was labeled a fucking moron and should be punished. I then duplicated the man and placed him into this new amphetamine realm. In this world his usual slower than slow, holier than thou, I’m jealous of you because my thighs are mostly gristle and fat, you must be how I am to be normal, state of being was so slow that he was unobserved by some of the inhabitants and ridiculed by the others. Therefore he was run over 23,000,000 times by the following:
A slug.
A chrome lunchbox.
A hedgehog.
A bat.
A MAC truck.
A lipstick liner.
A turtle dove.
D’Angelo.
Micheal Douglas.
A bottle of tea tree oil.
Winnie the Pooh.
A rabid eyeball.
A bottle of Fairy liquid.
A Cycle Courier.
A floppy disk.
A cup of tea.
Pink Floyd.
A blade of Grass.
Homer Simpson.
A nipple piercing.
Faith Evans.
The Encyclopedia Britannica.
The fingernail clippings of a thousand ex-Guinness Book of Records Really Long Fingernail Competition Winners.
Obviously there were more things than that, but quite frankly I can’t be fecking bothered to type out the other 22,999,977 of them.
So let this be a lesson to you, you bloody judgmental buggers, you may not like how fast a person is cycling, (and please, feel free to apply this metaphorically to other facets of life), but you also do not know their circumstances.
This is Snot Girl saying roger matilda under and through.