Go on. Make my day.

[puddingcat]

Tell me Bad Things that have happened to you in the past 48 hours. Whinge & moan & complain at me. Tell me how it sucks to be you. I want to feel that fate hasn't *really* got it in for me, specifically, more than anyone else.

I promise not to point & laugh (unless I don't like you). At least not where you can see.

Comments

[munchkinott.livejournal.com]

I'm sick, I ache, I'm PMSing and I'm annoyed that these Blair-pills the quack's given me (guaranteed to eliminate obesity by 2010 - hence I call 'em 'Blair-pills' as the size of the national waistline is Tony's latest crusade) are making me bloat and retain water like a sponge. So I'm getting heavier and wider and fatter only I'm 'not' because apparently they're just 'slower acting' on me. Garbage.

Add to this I'm getting tutted at by the DWP because PMS isn't a debilitating, soul destroying illness that incapacitates like a bullet in the spine once a month. Apparently it's a lovely, wonderful thing that should be cherished and I'm just being lazy and making excuses.

[puddingcat.livejournal.com]

If Tony taxes us much more, we won't be able to afford food. Then he can claim to have solved 2 problems at once.

[munchkinott.livejournal.com]

Are you sure there aren't any decent sniper angles in your building?

*blows dust off laser sight*

I feel a minor assassination coming on... *twitch*