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Sunday, December 17, 2006

Oh my weekend is was complete...*squeal*


Friar-Fucks slag turned up today yesterday the day before yesterday along with her kid. I wonder if I continually roar out my window dirtyyyyyyyy bushpig sssssluuuuuuuuuuuutt if she’ll get upset and go back home.

No, probably not. So I won’t bother.

My sisters horrible mother made me get up at six bloody thirty this yesterday the day before yesterday morning. She wanted to be in at the shops early. We were. And guess what...there was some bloke with a table set up selling raffle tickets for some charity at seven bloody thirty in the morning. I avoided eye contact with him when entering the shop because I wasn't sure if I would have enough money. Upon my exit I threw a few two dollar coins up in the air and made him run around collecting them like you do with kids and lollies [candy]. Fuck 'em no such thing as sitting on yer butt crack if you want my money.

Heh...no I didn't, I'd bloody like to do that one day tho. Just to see their reaction. They'd probably tell me to go and get fucked. I know I would.

Accck. Got that stinking Christmas Party to put on this Tuesday. I don't wanna. I along with my mother were looking forward to having it held in the local Club. Kicking back and actually enjoying the day...well maybe not enjoying it on my part exactly...but not having to bother with the food as I had arranged with the Club Manager for their caterers to do it all at twelve bucks a head. All was going well until there was a wee whisper in my ear from one of my old tarts about non club members being unable to enter the premises.

I rang this same Manager and asked if this was true. He cited the five kilometre rule...which is if you live within five clicks from any registered Club you must be a member to enter. Now, this is no where near a new rule but it should only be applied if you are wanting to purchase their alcohol and shove your money in their poker machines [slots] not for freaking functions. I asked if members can sign the non-members in for the day, his reply was no. Which again is a load of cow patties. I know all this because I used to work in the registered club industry for many moons and I don't believe the criteria has changed any.

Turns out he was pinged and fined by the licensing police for selling grog to non-members. So in his wisdom he made a blanket decision. Nice if he had told me this when I first made the booking. Instead I went a few weeks in utter bliss thinking Ha! no setting up, no cooking, no running around like a headless chook, no cleaning up...yeah yeah blah blah.

Prick.

If he hears me scream his name on Tuesday it won't be because my panties are wet.
Posted by apositivepessimist :: 11:35 am :: 10 comments

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