Dear diary,
It's the end of the year when we meet to compare notes on how the plans to eliminate santa and take over the world have advanced, again. What can i say, i'm sure glad this one's over...
How the year was you ask?
Pretty much the most fucked up year of my life. When i'm 90 and taking my umpteenth hike on Mars with my pals and pet Venetian(rare breed of feline-like creature found on Venus), and as we are sitting in our camps trying to spot which star is the earth, and they ask me,"Say ben, what can you tell us about 2010?" I'll go, "Say what?",sick the venetian on him(and make him walk back to camp). I think I'l name it bob.
If anybody asks me what's so bad about 2010, you know what i'll say? I'll tell them to pick a month.
The 2009-2010 segue was the most fucked up ever for reasons i reserve mentioning, coz you, my dear diary, have been known to spill prematurely...maybe i'll ask the guy doing my biography in 2050 to throw that in.
It has been a year of so many knives in the back, a pocupine hit on me once. I know, right? Wasn't even holding a scrubbing brush or pineapple!
Where do we begin? Again, pick a month...off the top of my head...july. Found the ass wipe colluded with the stupid suppliers to skim extra cash from us. And we wrote him a polite notice saying before the company is dissolved we shall take the liberty of deducting the amount he stole from the supplier and us, before giving him his stake. It was my idea to throw in the "fuck off you incestous piece of shit". I curse the cunt that bore him and it shall forever bear the burden of the mark of cain on it. Why i say these mean words? Because, diary, in December of 2009 we consoled a 'close friend' because his momma died and catered to th funeral/cremation from our pockets, to help the 'dear friend'. Flash forward to August 2010 and we find the dead woman is alive, my account short 150k, and a case time barred. Pretty much recipe for revenge...but i can't stoop to his level. Enough of the knives now.
Oh, yeah, i quit my job too. Not fired, quit. It was for several reasons actually...depression, need to graduate, screwing investors by the big man, and the big one...fucking with my money. But we are still pals with my boss, aren't we Mr. Boss man? (Boss man:"fuck you, ben!")
Yes diary, i'm letting it all out! Pick a month.
I read somewhere that misfortunes come in threes. Pretty sure they were wrong there and left out "multiples of". So as i waded through the mud of lies that enriched the jungle of betrayal, i looked for that lone ray that broke through the canopy. That small beam of light in the distance that made you forget you were getting swallowed up into the murky existence, that you will give up and die and be absorbed into the very system you abhore. In the face of all the negativity, greed, lies and predictability that had become my environment, i had a ray. Small, steady and strong to guide me. In the darkness that had become my heart, body and soul, i stumbled around and almost gave in to it, but i had a hand to guide me out of it. And finally i did come out, a strong middle finger aimed at the world, "fuck you very much, but my soul is mine to rule." All i have is a couple of deuces left as i fix the rest of me. Alas, the one that guided me was weakened by the battle, and i swore to stand by them through thick and thin, good or bad. One good person is worth all the suffering in the world.
Yes, santa came bearing gifts, gave the bad kids the bikes and remote control cars. But for the kids who were good, he threw up in our presents, as if the lump of coal he was giving us wasn't bad enough. You know what we did? We pooled our pieces of coals and made a fire, then we grabbed one of his reindeer, the one with the red nose, and cooked it, and it tasted good prickled by santa's bitter tears, as the rest of the good guys beat up santa for the deed and location of where he got the coal. We left him the hooves though. Coal is the new oil, bitch!
So you know why i know 2011 will be a good year? Because i am taking fate by the nuts. If it doesn't play ball, we give it a little squeeze.
So dear diary, please inform 2011 that 2010 has been wiped from history, there shall be no knocking. Neither shall there be a "we're selling girl scout cookies" routine, no huffing and puffing and no, we didn't leave bread crumbs to show us the way back. We'll take the goddamn house down and build the road to our future through it!
As we push all the sorrows, sadness and disappointment with 2010 into the grave, we wash and cleanse ourselves in the rain; a sign of hope and fresh begining for the new decade.
Hello 2011, this here leash goes on that scrawny neck.
Ben.
~Happy holidays pals, may the alcohol bill and decibel limit not be a buzzkill as you usher in the new year. Don't drunk drive~
~Happy holidays pals, may the alcohol bill and decibel limit not be a buzzkill as you usher in the new year. Don't drunk drive~
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