Where are my socks?

2007-11-22T01:17:00.000-08:00

Is murder.

By: Peemil.

I bet you this guy thought, "Why don't they stop attacking me?"

As many of us would.

2007-11-20T00:20:00.000-08:00

When it happens it moves all by itself.

By: Peemil.

The veracity of reports that I am, in fact dead, are not correct.

I am attempting to write a particularly difficult e-mail at the moment and am trying my best to avoid it.

Opening is always difficult. You should say something along the lines of, "I hope your fist lodges in your ass after a horrific cycling accident," or, "May Allah rain down rock hard muffins on your head."

I have had a thing for muffins of late, however, I haven't yet bought any. Every time I pass them in the supermarket, I stop, pause and think about buying some. I deny them to myself because I like the feeling of bitter disappointment. That, and often I am being chased by knife wielding leprechauns from the fresh food section, so time really is of the essence.

Not American muffins, those sweet things, but English muffins. The ones you put in the toaster and put great dollops of butter and Vegemite on.

Lord be praised!

Driving through the park recently I wondered exactly what I was doing. So did a young couple who were having a picnic.

They didn't have many muffins.

Recently I've taken to the park in the afternoon with a six pack, a book, grapes, sandwiches and crisps.

A woman stopped to talk about shit, but I think she wanted to eat my crisps.

Either that, or she was eying my beer.

I gave her some of both, but then she claimed that she actually knew me.

I tried to stick my finger in her cunt through her underwear and she jumped back aghast.

"What are you doing!" she exclaimed.

She doesn't know me that well.

2007-10-01T01:48:00.000-07:00

After fucking your mother in the arse, I wiped my dick on your sister's mouth.

By: Peemil.

Apparently, a new Blade Runner is going to be released. "The Final Cut," or something of the like.

I realized yesterday that I haven't seen this movie, and after a bit of a hunt around Youtube, I found a segment of it that I quite enjoyed.

My friend L. has probably seen it, and is shaking his head in disgust. What can I say? I don't even have a Blockbuster card.

I found my beer in the bathroom.

The walls keep getting in the way.

This is the soundtrack of my days at the moment.

So tell me? I'm jubilant today. It has been a while since I've smiled.

Can we fight the Germans again? In fact, let's fight everyone. Welcome to Peemil's University of International Relations.

1. If they smell funny they ought to die.

2. Banzai! We die for the Emperor!

3. What are you lookin' at punk?

4. Don't get pissed! You can walk off a couple of rounds in the arse.

5. Don't even breathe near my fucking girlfriend.

6. The reason that I took your chair is because I spilt beer on my own. Deal with it cunt.

7. Your black missus is lookin' mighty fine.

8. Your mother has every venereal disease known to man.

9. You see my friend? I'll give you fifty dollars to blow him. I hear you poofs do it for less.

10. Oh? They're your motorbikes I pushed over?

We are your brothers.

H. and I talk and talk. I like her.

For D.

I asked God to be more providential with the heating of the beans.

He told me that I ought to stop hanging my balls out on the stairs.

Bastard! Why does he make it so difficult?

La paloma es agua potable

Stop putting it in the toaster.

2007-09-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

Important news from the Undergroud. 4 5 4 2 5 6 2 5 4 8 7 1 3 6 4 2 7 3 6.

By: Peemil.

Soon there will be a great nuclear holocaust.

The people on the rolling hills soaking up the money and blood of the poor and enfeebled, who they left for their houses of bitter gingerbread, will give pause, turn and run.

Amongst the wreckage many will take their own lives, and others, alone without misery, will take to enforcing their wills.

Those of the day will tremble in terror at the fire of the own making.

Others will complain of eating the eyes of the nuclear fried for sustenance and a long held desire since High School.

It's soon you sick bastards.

You have been warned.

Above: A couple of swells.

2007-09-29T23:42:00.000-07:00

Summer has come early this year.

By: Peemil.

When Truckee, Calif. animal control officer Robert Brooks got a cell phone call five minutes after his shift ended, saying a bear was trapped on the arch of a roughly 100-foot high bridge, he was sure it was a joke.

But then he went to the Rainbow Bridge and saw a bear nestled below the car deck.

The black bear had tried to cross the two-lane California highway on Sept. 15. But Brooks said cars approaching in both lanes honked, and the scared bear climbed over the concrete railing. Somehow in his panic, the bear reached the bridge arch, a few feet in from the car deck edge.

Seattle Post-Intelligencer.

I suppose it's all our ends really.

2007-09-29T22:49:00.000-07:00

Your wife needs more ball time.

By: Peemil.

18 Now the birth of Iesus Christ was on this wise: When as his mother Mary was espoused to Ioseph (before they came together) shee was found with childe of the holy Ghost. 19 Then Ioseph her husband being a iust man, and not willing to make her a publique example, was minded to put her away priuily. 20 But while hee thought on these things, behold, the Angel of the Lord appeared vnto him in a dreame, saying, Ioseph thou sonne of Dauid, feare not to take vnto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceiued in her, is of the holy Ghost. 21 And she shall bring forth a sonne, and thou shalt call his Name Iesus: for hee shall saue his people from their sinnes.

What a way to get it over on your old man.

Slut!

2007-09-21T23:05:00.000-07:00

An Odeish to my Balls.

By: Peemil.

I am so tired of my testicles bleeding for no apparent reason.

It always seems to happen while I am in the shower, which leads to much blood being everywhere and yet another soiled towel.

Before you think that I am brutalising myself to extremes in there, I can tell you that you are wrong. Even I am not that sick as to keep wanking while bleeding profusely from my balls.

Although, I once ate a Canadian girl out who was on her period, but that was because we'd just been chased by a Thai guy with a shotgun and I was hungry.

I am not going to bother going to a Doctor, because they are quacks and don't know what they are talking about most of the time. Instead, I will diagnosis and treat myself.

My theory is that I am the reincarnate of Saint Bella of Alazikie, who is both a little known saint and was quite the lady killer. According to legend, he traveled most of early Christendom spreading the good word and chasing tail.

That was until he set eyes upon the Roman Emperor's wife, who quickly succumbed to his busy hands and quick tongue.

The Emperor was furious when informed of his wife's philandering and subsequently Saint Bella was arrested and crucified by the balls.

This theory therefore confirms that my current problem is a stigmata, and also that I am closer to God than any of you punks.

H. and I have been playing telephone ping pong all day. It is about to rain soon, so I hope she turns up and we'll get stoned and she can rub my head, which is what she likes to do - because unlike you mob, at least she talks to me and doesn't think I'm some kind of whacko for talking about my balls.

Get fucked.

Above: Saint Bella of Alazikie

2007-09-21T03:20:00.000-07:00

Out my window I see you.

By: Peemil.

You'd be surprised how often this happens to me at the dinner table.

This doesn't happen often enough.

2007-09-21T00:52:00.003-07:00

Get me close to the honey pot.

By: Peemil.

I had something extremely important to say today, but I can't think of it because I just ran out of cold beer.

I must go to the Bottleshop and get some more. I should only be five minutes.

Instantaneous writing at its best, without the audience.

I went for a cigarette and started thinking about the Strait of Hormuz.

American hegemony must be protected at all cost - And for the sake of ice-cream makers the world over.

Word is, that all ice-cream makers will be sold into Islamic slavery if we do not conquer the Caliphate.

Free Ben and Jerry!

I still don't have any beer.

The Australian Federal election will be called on Sunday evening.

Above: Anal slaves of Mohammed's mates.

2007-09-18T01:29:00.000-07:00

Be fried banana on my fish tank grasshopper.

By: Peemil.

I woke up this morning with snot on my finger, which means that I was probably picking my nose, got a good one out, and left it there to dry.

Sometimes I just lose my head. I have found something that I have the potential to love, and will most probably provide the money that I need to do the other things that I already love. I am not a prostitute.

If I were a woman, I'd be a slap-her-funny, probably infested, scratch your hard-on, moan for me whore. Let's face it. You women have got it easy. All you need to do is to get drunk enough to fuck after having all your drinks paid for by some guy.

And to do that, all you need to do is not eat anything and have a run around the block every day. Fat bitches are just soft, and aren't trying hard enough.

"And Sargent Dow Jones, 27 years old, commanding his very own tank."

Kraft are a mob of cunts. They've changed the average size jar of Vegemite from 455g to 400g and are still charging the same price. There should be a national outrage.

God damn it, just go up for fuck's sake!

Many people wonder where I am through the day. The answer is- I'm not home.

Stop thinking of dry humping my dog, you filthy swine!

Above: Seek and destroy.

2007-09-16T01:44:00.001-07:00

It's all here.

By: Peemil.

The first picture I ever spunked over. And maybe, the last one of tonight.

Above: Who's a lucky girl?

Someone tried to run me down on their bike today.

2007-09-16T01:27:00.000-07:00

I made pirate noises last night.

By: Peemil.

I was talking to my Prime Minister today and I asked him what his wife's pussy taste like.

"Melon," he tells me.

"Soon though," he continued, "I'll have to beg for it."

"Why is that?" I inquired.

"Because I'm selling it to the Iranians in exchange for ten poppies, a lock of hair, and a plastic fairy wand for which I shall scratch my back with."

Strange man our Prime Minister.

Above: Fruit.

2007-09-15T04:15:00.000-07:00

You can take it.

By: Peemil.

When elected, I promise to execute every third person.

Above: Brmm!

2007-09-14T03:28:00.000-07:00

O.H.M.S

By: Peemil.

2007-09-06T02:55:00.001-07:00

Bed time for Peemil.

By: Peemil.

A fat man died today.

We should all be tearful because there just aren't enough fatties in the world, and the loss of one, is a grave tragedy.

2007-09-06T01:02:00.000-07:00

In pyjamas.

By: Peemil.

Today I discovered that the best song to listen to in the laundromat is Velvet Underground's "Venus in Furs."

Something about that song just clears my head, the same way that the washing machines clear the skid marks of my tightie whities.

I can't wait till I get a girlfriend and she can lick them clean like the cheap whore that she is. The laundromat, despite the VU, is a real drag.

Anything by the Cocteau Twins is making it's way up the best songs to listen to while waiting for something, or someone.

I imagine that a lot of the Cocteau Twins has been the last tune heard by a successfully suicidal Emo teen.

People will often boo-hoo about teen suicide and point fingers directly at Emos and their like.

I take the approach that if you want to mix depressing music, a pathetic outlook, bad dress sense and teenage hormones, then you deserve what you get.

It is much like a hard-core raver taking a wander in the desert and swallowing a handful of ecstasy.

I think the girl who cuts my hair is on her period. She smells like it.

That's all I have to say today.

I'm horny and want to jerk off now.

*BANANAS*

2007-09-04T01:02:00.001-07:00

What is wrong with you people?

By: Peemil.

Pooh. Merciless corporate raider and enslaver of bees, or promiscuous slut, dipping his bits in lots of honey pots?

Disney has a lot to answer for, especially considering that I came on this thought when running it through the knuckles in the shower while attempting to think good thoughts about the girl at the fruit shop.

I like the girl at the fruit shop. She smiles, winks and gives me my apple for morning tea.

What bear ever did that for me? Most would just try to rip off my head and suck the goo out from inside.

Walt and his minions are cunts.

2007-09-03T01:15:00.000-07:00

Cotton tips in a clown's eyes.

By: Peemil.

I'm listening to Mozart's Requiem Mass, because it is a perfectly imperfect piece of music. It is a tribute to the maxim that "You ought to get stuck into whatever you're doing you lazy sod, because you never know when you are going to take ill and die."

It also helps me imagine disabled fat midgets in wheelchairs pushing themselves across a cratered no man's land into a nest of machine guns, which contrary to popular opinion, gives me much pause for thought.

When I was at work today my boss was talking to his wife and I was muttering about something.

"I'll see you when I get home honey," he said, "the angry giant is about to lose his top."

When he got of the phone I told him that I wasn't going to "lose my top," and was well under control. This, he reckons, I'll just let simmer for a while, but sooner or later, I'll have to let it out.

I'm the first one to admit that I do lose my nut on the odd and very irregular occasion. One coffee, two fucking sugars. What the fuck is that shit? I thought that fucking rule was well and fucking correct. What dozy fucking lesbian, left wing, town trollop of a second grade teacher told me that one? Filthy mole. Ought to be hung up on a hook by the vagina and whipped by everyone in town.

When I was at the lights a few days the woman near me and I reached for the button for the little green man at the same time.

"I'll get that for you," I said, trying to be charming.

"Thanks" she said with a stuck up air.

"Well if you're going to be like that, I'll just fucking throw you in front of a fucking truck."

Fuck.

2007-08-29T19:03:00.000-07:00

I want to eat a sandwich and have a nap now.

By: Peemil.

Women seem to think that they ought to be given a medal for laying on their backs and getting fucked.

Most gay men also think that they ought to get a medal for laying on their fronts and getting fucked. However, the difference between the two acts is that only one has the chance of leading to procreation of the species.

Sometime during the rule of the Nazi party in Germany, women were given medals for how many children they could pop out. This was a system of control, and it worked well. The Nazis, despite all their evil, could at least keep their damn women under control.

These days though, they get three wheeled baby buggies- Which seems a bit more practical, but not as shiny.

They also, at least in Australia, get a big wad of cash from the Government. Which pays for the baby buggies. This is like the Government telling women that they better get their pants off, spread their legs and fuck all and sundry.

This is because women will do anything for money. For a woman, money= I can buy stuff. For a man, money= I can buy women. The system is sick like that.

See, a man doesn't care what state he lives in, as long as there is beer and condiments for a sandwich in the fridge, and the possibility of sex.

Women on the other hand, need to fill their lives with shit. It is constant consumerism on a grand scale. Three billion women everyday, out there, laying on their backs for money, sucking all nature of dick, so that they can go on shopping sprees to placate their vacuous minds, and sooth their sore cunts.

Women are the cause of all the environmental ills in the world. They are the ones who built the factories in China. They are the ones who fill the streams with pollutants and drive the economy, in which men, the slaves, work to get money, to give to women, so they can go out shopping for goofy Paris Hilton glasses and boxes of Tampax.

Free yourself men from your slavery and stab the nearest woman in the throat.

Especially Grandma. Those bitches will do anything for money. I saw that on the Internet.

2007-08-01T03:13:00.000-07:00

What the donkey saw through the keyhole.

By: Peemil.

Seven months ago, or about that, there was a knock on the door.

The rational thing to do at this point would be to answer it after asking various questions, such as, "Who are you?" "What do you want?" "Did you bring something to eat or drink?" and, "Do I have to put on any clothes?"

Being the irrational soul that I am, I generally take the least expected course of action. So, rather than answer the door, I took the next best step and grabbed a bag of clothes and Igor, climbed out the window, and hid under the house.

After a few days in the dirt with only the mains water tap to amuse me, I realised that not only was this course of action hasty, it was making me rather smelly.

So back through the window I climbed to ponder what I was to do with the rest of my days.

The last seven months have been interesting and I want to start talking again.

I'll see you all on Tuesday.

2006-11-12T02:16:00.000-08:00

Let's federate them.

By: The fingers on the keyboard.

I'll be back soon enough. Final exam tomorrow. Feeling confident.

In the meantime. What the fuck is it with this country and mustaches?

Photo from article.

2006-10-30T01:56:00.000-08:00

So long, so far, so far, banana.

By: Peemil.

Why do I always address myself as "we?"

Because he tells me to.

I'm coming for you and there is nothing these chipmunks can say that will change my mind.

2006-10-09T03:38:00.000-07:00

The retarded person in the shopping trolley is making me uncomfortable.

By: Peemil.

1. The voices have stopped. I think they may have gone somewhere. I'm not going to go looking for them this time, no matter how alone I feel.

2. With the Internet and the way those pesky kids keep fucking around with perfectly good grammatical conventions, the English language isn't going to be the same in two hundred years. I'm not sure what it will sound like, or what it will look like, but what I am sure of is this. People probably won't say, "That is complete and utter bollocks," as often as they do now. Unless of course, they had to listen to the tripe that this old bag was waffling on about to me today.

3. I had this woman once. She came on to me in a club. We went home and had sex.

Then she started coming around more often and having more sex.

I was happy with the arrangement as she was a nice girl.

When we had sex, she used to moan really loudly.

One day she left me for the neighbour on the other side of the wall behind my bed.

Soon she stopped coming around and started moaning and hanging around at the neighbour's house.

She came over to visit me.

She told me that the purpose of her picking me up and having sex with me was because she wanted to get close to the neighbour, and turn him on with her gasping and what-not.

"Surely there are easier ways to ask someone out than having sex with me?" I asked her.

They stayed together for a long time.

I still had three months left on my lease.

5. You know how in books how when one of the characters runs another over with their car, it is always described as a "sickening crunch?" Well, they're right.

6. I once rode over a cat on my motorbike. It was a hell of a shot and got him clean across the head.

What I learned from this experience is this. Always wear boots when riding, and secondly, cleaning cat brains off your feet isn't as fun as it sounds.

7. Why does my toilet cleaner smell like roses? What type of moron puts roses in their toilet?

2006-10-08T01:36:00.000-07:00

Everyone must have a hero.

By: The fingers on the keyboard.

2006-10-07T01:59:00.000-07:00

Abstract conceptions of class consciousness and you.

By: Peemil.

My brother and I were having a yarn a few days ago, and he told me that he had a ticket in this week's lottery.

"If you hit it big, you ought to give me some of the bounty," I said.

"That's depends. What would you do with it?" he asked.

"I'd do one of two things. I'd either eat so much that I put on two hundred kilos- so fat that I'd have my belly hanging around my knees- then, I'd get a hooker and have her blow me on the toilet while I expel ten pounds of curry from my arse, and, as she fought for dear life trying to hold up my ample stomach and the noxious fumes coming out of my severely tortured bowels, I'd laugh like a demented man. I'd film it too, just for the sake of posterity. Or," I continued, "I'd fly to China, buy a panda, take it to Tiananmen square, pay some poor deluded woman to have it fuck her, and then, when it was done with her, I'd shoot the black and white abhorrence in the back of the head in front of a crowd of stunned on-lookers."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that I probably won't win then," my brother replied as his fiancee called the local hospital to tell them that I was having another one of my attacks again.

Above: Like a duck, its head can be held underwater. However, only a duck will come back up and say "quack."