Same Shit, Different Day

You know life has become desperately mundane when you have to wait for something of at least slight abstract occurance to well, occur just so you feel like you have the right to blog about it, like you finally have the ability to document any thoughts/feelings/happenings of that day that extend far beyond the self-consumption of your new found love for museli or that you really hate queuing at the super market.

My extraordinary incident was in entering the Doctor's surgery for my prescription. Waiting was a woman and her child (the child being the obvious patient due to the self-sympathetic look of woe on their face), an old man quite bizarrely looking at the contraception section and an old woman sat on a chair in the center of the room with the face of a slapped ass if I ever saw one. Anyway, anecdote continuing, I walked up to the counter and waited for the desk clerk to come from the back of the shop, she approached me first to ask for my name, upon which the old woman rose and immediately blew her load over the fact that she was first. I turned around and said I didn't realise she hadn't already been seen to. She replied with some holier than thou bullshit about it being 'obvious she was waiting', and that it was right for her to be seen to first. The woman behind the counter was just as suprised at I was, and was probably thinking that had she not been sat on her decrepit derriere about 7 feet from the desk I probably would have known she was waiting. What pissed me off was her self-righteous look of victory upon putting a deliquent minor in their place. I'm pretty sure that even old people hate old people nowadays, they're that pent on getting one up on the World and everyone in it.

My 'suicide before sixty' pledge has never looked so promising. Rant over: I really do have a new found love for museli.