Worse Than Heroin

Those Collingwood bastards did us by a point
The day mother died.
When they told dad he shook his head and said,
"Makes you wanna cry."
Winmar, you're a football genius, and, oh,
Let me tell you son,
Remember my old man 'cos he wasn't
Referring to mum." - Father and Son by TISM

According to the fucked in the head ever helpful AFL website it's just 37.5 hours until Melbourne plays Fremantle. And I've officially never been less enthused by a game in my life. So why will I be there anyway? Because I'm ill - so seriously ill.

Let's get into classical theatre instead. Then we can write abusive things about the Bell Shakespeare Company on the internet and sit in the audience of amateur theatre and heckle poor casting choices. "YOU'RE NOT A JET'S ARSEHOLE YOU CRUNT - GET OFF" @ the Ringwood SC Year 8 production of West Side Story etc..

Actually I think, shamefully (), that I secretly love it. When you can rationalise your whole week being ruined by a directionless forward line and talentless backline just days after god knows how many people were either shot or blown up all around the world then you're probably onto something.

God forbid Melbourne ever win a flag I'd like to request that the elusive extinction level event comet give me a few days of glory and then blow us all to buggery. This turn of events may not sit well with the rest of you but at this point I'd like to remind you that I'm an only child and care not for others.

Until then raise a glass to slops and ask yourself just why so many allegedly normal people lose it at the sight of 44 idiots chasing a red ball around in front of 30,000 morons.