GodCrapBuggerSHIT.

Out of money. Got another bill. No, sorry - got another THREAT. "Pay your gas bill or we'll rape you right through your pants" is what was written. So I phoned up, set the Charm-o-meter to 10 and seduced the young lady on the Customer Support line to extend the already 2 month overdue bill to Friday, when they can claim ALL of my 2 weeks of pay. I'm gonna have to kill local dogs and cats for food again.
Also: bowel-eating terror, akin to Stage 3 Ebola, has struck finally as I've come to realise my Final Degree Results are gonna kick me in the ass on Wednesday. Guess it's time once again for bad sleep and terrifying nightmares.

In this time of malcontent I listen to Beck. "Cyanide Breath Mint" pretty much sums it up.

"There's blood on the futon,
there's a kid drinking fire..."