Firstly, I would like to pay tribute to our fallen heroes as it is Armistice day today.
Secondly, *snaps* to our student comrades and their protest yesterday at Millbank. It's about time someone did something about these hideous cuts. (I will NOT be voting Lib Dem again next election).
Luckily, my fees were capped at £1200 a year when I was studying, they then went upto to £3000 (my other half will not-so-happily confirm this) and now they expect to charge £9000? I'm sorry that is disgusting, and moreso for the fact that those figures, as my flatmate pointed out last night, don't include the interest you receive the minute you stop studying. Shameful.
On the plus side, southbound traffic from Vauxhall was a complete dream last night.
Anyways, I would like to start todays proceedings with some extremely sad news..
The last little bit of me that didn't want to slay the Skeksi in cold blood, has checked into the penthouse suite at the life-sentence hotel.
In Hertfordshire.
In a certain garden city that shall not be mentioned.
(This little pictorial tribute is for my former colleagues/ escapees who have clawed their way back into the London zoning system)
After some fast-paced, trans-capital, e-counseling from Missy Epl, (fresh from her little jaunt to Paris I might add *cough* green eyed mo*cough cough*) her wise words were simply, "let it all out on the blog honey". And here I am.
Now, far be it from me to moan, (as my loving whanau* in one of the Pacific rim colonies will vouch), I'm actually rather an amiable chap most of the time, but today, well today! I don't want to go into detail, but I went beyond annoyed, I went beyond angry... I had a capitalist 'negapiphany'. Or at least that is what I'm calling it.
The moment, the crystal clear, self-defining moment you realise. I actually don't get paid enough to deal/care/ listen to this shit.
And I don't, so instead of getting mad, I'm going to get even!!
Resignation typed and ready, in the mean time...
Mwahahah!
When I am done with her, she will actually wish she was in the Dark Crystal.
MR EPL!
Over and out!
(I'm sorry, I'm watching 500 days of Summer in the background.. Umm what the hell is this, more like 500 minutes of my life stolen, what was Joseph Gordon-Levitt thinking? He should have left this cliched, contrite indie-wannabe trash to Ellen Paige. DON'T get me started on Juno. Urgh, although... she does get snaps for Hard Candy. Oh, what is this, a commercial for the only way is Essex? I'm sorry but yuck. If I was a TOM TOM, the only way would be any where BUT essex. Vile.)
ATE: Spine-tingling, hatred infused rage! Ooo and some delicious golden syrup porridge.
PAID: My usual fare for the journey of doom, plus a cheeky coffee from my personal barista @ Nero (Kings Cross).
LIVED: The usual, on-edge train ride with other digruntled colleagues. Followed by a wet greeting from the most heinous weather of the year so far.
*pronounced 'far now' and translates as family (in my case: emigrated from the motherland), for those who haven't sampled the native delights of New Zealand Maori.
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