I am 24 and I am sad.

Things have as usual go pear-shaped.... again!!!

Why, oh why do things just not go according to any plans that I have.

Here is what I wanted to happen :
1) Go to company BBQ.
2) Get slightly p!ssed.
3) Go to a party.
4) Score.

Here is what I remember happening :
1) Started drinking at 7pm.
2) Went to BBQ.
3) Had food, started drinking.
4) Started dancing.
5) More drinking.
6) Back to a mates house for a party.
7) Started into the Sambucca.
8) Had part of first smoke.
9) Talked to a few mates.
10) Watched a really disturbing sight that may require counselling later.
11) Started into some illegal activities.
12) Had a short conversation with a nice cop and sh@t myself.
13) Left the party rather quickly and started looking for a cab home.
14) Found cab, cost €30 and arrived home at 4.30am.
15) Nearly got beat to death by my rudely woken brother.

See how a simple 4-part plan can change and develop into a 15-part disaster.... Especially now that the cops have my name and address. I can feel it coming, that the cops are going to start drawing a lot of lines that are going to all point to me.

Anyway, I am going to take a break from my usual ranting style and change the topic.

Love a.k.a. The Ultimate Killer.

Love is a dangerous thing. Especially if the object/person that is receiving your love does not return it. This can lead to the famous "We can still be friends..." line that everyone fears.
I don't know how the majority, or even the minority, of women view love. Does love exist, or is it just a chemical imbalance in the brain due to to endorphines or some other crap floating around our bodies.
Love, to me, is an unusual thing. I love crime, I love committing crimes, I love watching other people commit crimes, but I don't love when a crime is commited against me.
I love people, but I am not going to marry them.
Love causes too many problems. If everyone was emotionless then love would be an easier thing to cope with.

I am single and I am finding that love of anyone or anything is causing me more pain than pleasure.

Let me tell you about me and my brick.

While I was in college, doped off my head, one of my mates brought me home a brick from a construction yard. I accepted the brick and named him Traban Skye. I brought Traban with me everywhere, although convincing bouncers is tricky when you have a brick in your hands.
I loved that brick. I taught it to play dead, sit, and attack with assistance. But then my brick died tragically... he was pushed out a second story window and didn't survive the impact.

I really loved that brick. I was deeply hurt by his sudden departure.

I am getting rather tired of this blog so I think I am going to call it a day.

One final note though....
If people don't start taking my warnings seriously, then I am going to begin naming names, and I don't think anyone I know really wants their name blasted all across my blogs for the world to see.