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Choice of the professional

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-07 21:32:07 EDT
Rating: 1.83 on 53 ratings (53 reviews) (Review this item) (V)

Some people, the fucking pussy-faced amateurs, will tell you tales of how they spent time viewing the word through the bottom of an empty bottle, their faces taking on a mask of contrived shame that they don’t really feel as they spin their yarn. They weave the twisted strands of their life’s tapestry to try and create some kind of moralistic fable, the fallen hero who lay there on the field of battle beaten and broken, only to come back later with a new sense of purpose, driven by memories of past mistakes.

And I guess it’s this that fucking irritates me more than anything else, the ubiquitous prescribed sense of remorse that such warriors feel the need to taint their story with; ‘don’t make the same mistakes I did kids, don’t give in to your weakness’. Worse than the self-righteous piety with which these reformed characters preach though, is their audience’s reaction, respectful nods supposed to belie a sage understanding and acceptance, ‘yeah, this guy made mistakes but at least he’s sorted them out now and got the balls to admit it’.

And I guess it’s just me that sits there eyeing them with scornful disdain, unable to contain my vitriol. Saw the world through the bottom of the bottle did you fuckhead? How positively fucking terrible it must’ve been for you. But tell me this: Did you ever view the world from the inside of that fucking bottle, looking out? Did you ever just dive right in there and encase yourself in that convex prison, choking on the fumes, drowning in the sweet syrupy burn of the elixir?

Because let me tell you man, when looking through the bottom of the bottle, all you really need to do is take that bottle away and you’ve got yourself a clear picture right there.

But from the inside? That’s where everything’s distorted man, from every angle.

It goes without saying that the worst part of my day was the waking up and because of that, I’m not going to waste my time on you fuckers explaining the extent of my hangover, you’ve been there I’m sure. The only thing I will ask though, is to try and imagine what it’s like to feel like that every morning for so long that it just becomes routine, normal, like that slight ache in your hip on those cold frosty days, something you just accept, just get used to it: Mornings mean pain. Cool. Deal with it.

Dealing with it’s not so hard either, not when you walk past Bargin Booze and Burger King on your way to work and you’ve found that a quarter bottle of rum mixed with a supersize cup of coke can last you till lunch.

So that’s how I spent my mornings, slumped at my desk, barely able to keep my eyes open and with a groggy smile leeching it’s was over my face.

And I can’t deny it, the first couple of times it was the danger that thrilled me, the knowledge that I was getting away with something I shouldn’t. Fuck, the first couple of times, I probably got more drunk off that then I did the Morgan’s.

Over time though, I stopped caring, or maybe it was because I didn’t care that pushed me to the drink in first place. I dunno. Sure as shit I aint gonna waste my time asking myself questions like that though because like I said, I really just didn’t give a fuck.

And when after a couple of months I have those moments of lucidity and look around at the empty desks that surround me after their previous occupants requested to move away from me it’s not shame that I feel, not remorse. There’s nothing there but amusement: yeah that’s right, leave me to my own devices you stupid fucks, cos my device sits right in front of me in this plastic-coated cardboard cup and there aint a single one of you that’s as reliable as this shit.

Paul of course, was not happy about it and as he walks me through the sales floor to the glass meeting room so we could discuss my recent drop in performance, I try and feel an ounce of pity for him and what he has to do. But I can’t. He’s made the mistake of actually liking me, giving me the benefit of the doubt – and that’s something I stopped doing myself a long time ago because I realised, those months ago when this all started, that you can’t destroy something you have any kind of affection for.

He invites me to take a seat as he strolls round to the other side of the desk and actually starts his speech with his back to me, gazing out the window. I guess it makes it easier for him to do this if he doesn’t have to look at me.

“What’s going on mate?” He asks me quietly.

I feel the bile rise up in the back of my throat as I hear that tone in his voice, the underlying sibilant whisper of the good Samaritan. Fuck me, this guy actually thinks he can help me.

“What do you mean?” my reply is caustically defensive and I guess that really, it’s just because I want him to toughen up, to hate me. It’d make so much of this easier for him.

“You know exactly what I mean Sam – I’m talking about your performance over the last couple of months, not to mention your...” He turns to face me halfway through his speech and stops dead in his tracks when he sees me. When he resumes, the friendly edge has drained from his voice and he’s full of barbs and wire.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

And he’s shocked because while he had his back to me, I’ve put on the fucking huge pair of aviators I swiped from somebody’s desk on my way in, just to piss him off, a final little fuck you from me to him.

I take a long noisy slurp from the cup and stare back at him with shaded eyes, swaying in my seat slightly as I attempt to protest my ignorance.

“What do you mean?”

“The Shades Sam, take them off.”

“Can’t” I slur, “Doctors orders. Monochromatic Light Sensitivity Disorder. MLSD. The strip lighting in here gives me serious migraines and could be detrimental to my long term health”

And I’ve gotta be fucking drunk because at 10.30 in the morning, there’s no other way I could come up with some bullshit like that.

And Paul sighs and doesn’t even bother with the rest of his spiel, just sends me back to me desk to finish my day.

Later that day I recount my anecdote to an enraptured bar and a dozen or so puffy red faces all chortle along merrily.

“I don’t know how you get away with it” they say.

But they’re all fucking wrong because really, that’s not how I wanted this story to end, I never got away with a thing.

And afterwards, when I’ve clawed my back out with bloodied hands and broken nails, I’ve got no saccharine speech for you, no rallying soliloquy about how the booze was my crutch and how I regret the choices I made, how things could’ve been different for me if I'd done things right because, as crutches go, that bitch was fucking solid, and at the time, I desperately needed something to lean on man.

And likewise, I don’t look back on it with a shred of remorse because it was just a choice, nothing more, one made freely and without persuasion.

And no matter where they lead us, what are we if not just the sum of the choices we make?

Review This Item




Submitted by X54 at 2008-09-11 18:04:42 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

People always seem to become insufferable after they kick some bad habit. Quit smoking? Nag, nag nag every time they see someone with a cigarette. Find Jesus? On and on about what a difference He made in their miserable life and how YOU should believe in Him, too. Quit drinking? Same shit. Actually, I think that's what motivates people to quit drinking in the first place: the thought of being a sanctimonious asshole is even more appealing than being a drunk.

You'll be insufferable too when you finally quit drinking. Then we'll have one more of you assholes to listen to. Unless, of course, you take the high road and drink yourself to death.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-09 14:13:34 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

Red, that's probably the most horrible thing anybody has ever said to me.

Haikamoooooouououou: - that is damn fine work sir, my ex used to have those stupid fucking chairs and they are inconvenient to say the fucking least.

Submitted by haikumikoo at 2008-09-09 13:38:42 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Last night I drank an undisclosed amount of home made wine, and, of course, began to behave in the manner of a caveman.

I considered masturbating because my girlfriend had to get up for work in a couple of hours, but decided against it, because...c'mon, sex.

Now, I suppose I could have done this in the bed she was already sleeping in, but I wanted to continue listening to Animal Collective, and the only music player in our apartment is my computer, which is in the living room.

With the scent of fruit concentrate and yeast strong on my breath, I went into the bedroom and scooped her up without explanation. I was, however, polite enough not to club her over the head before I dragged her onto the couch in the living room.

I went down on her for starters, because to me it's the most efficient way to get things going. Lubricates, makes her grateful, and gives me an erection. I started to pass out while in the process, but she helped keep me awake with friendly taps on the head.

Now it was time to master my domain, and poke her insides with my flesh hammer. Things were going as well as sex usually goes, when I started to pass out again, and leaned to the side of the couch.

Our couch is actually more like two La-z-boy chairs connected together with a metal bar on the bottom of the couch, and both chairs have a reclining function, which for some reason was being used. I remember thinking it would give me more room.

Anyhow, I rolled onto these things, which aren't made to support horny, drunken asses, and we both fell onto the carpet.

I AGAIN almost passed out while inside her, but managed to hit stride, and finish what an undisclosed amount of home made wine had started.

This seemed like the right venue to share this story.

Submitted by redskieslookfake at 2008-09-09 13:25:09 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

I also heard you looked like Jay Kay, only with shitter hats. Fact or fiction?

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-09 13:19:14 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

I'd fuck Johnny Vegas in an instant, and I am fussy.

Red, I can't log into FB to reply, my two key is broken so I can't type in my email. But, thanks :)

Submitted by redskieslookfake at 2008-09-09 13:18:33 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

p.s. Berty is funnier than you.

Submitted by redskieslookfake at 2008-09-09 13:17:26 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2008-09-09 18:16:00 BST (#)
Ranking: 0

Of course, the down side is that whenever I shave, people inevitably draw comparisons to Jonny Vegas, which is never a compliment.
That's because you are a fat cunt with a stupid accent.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-09 13:16:00 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

Of course, the down side is that whenever I shave, people inevitably draw comparisons to Jonny Vegas, which is never a compliment.

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-09 13:13:41 EDT (#)
Rating: -2

Brits do not say 'tail'.

The resemblence is uncanny, and a good filter. Only a cool chick would know who he is. Well, at least one that doesn't dwell under a rock.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-09 13:01:40 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

Sorry picasso nose, that was mean of me. Although I woudl like take this oppurtunity to point out that I have scored a fair amount of tail with the Kevin Smith line.

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-09 12:53:54 EDT (#)
Rating: -2

Oooh, you bitch!

But not my nose! My cute button nose!

Let's face it, the guy was an amature, everyone knows you should hit in places not usually visable.

At least spam, I don't look like Kevin Smith.
Lard arse.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-09 11:21:20 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

I still reckon you probably had it coming.

perhaps you just have a very punchable face, no?

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-09 09:37:04 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

I chucked him out about 5 hours ago, and have written him off totally.

What did you want me to do, chocolate? Fight back? Does that mean I have backbone if I fight back, or just as bad as him?

I think it took me this long to react because I was in shock. Fuck, who wouldn't be?

And if you read a whiney tone in any of my comments, you, young man, have a very vivid imagination.
I believe I made several jokes, stop being so retarded.

Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 at 2008-09-09 07:43:31 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Orphelia - Write a post about your man busting you up, that'll get a fucking laugh.

I think very little of anyone wiothout enough backbone to remove themselves from such situations.

I think less of you after reading your whining. You need to fuck of at least, or prefferably to fuck him up real good with a weapon of some sort. you'd be surprised how a big shot to the back of the head with a hard blunt object would put him down.

Tell you what, fuck him up, hurt him real bad, then post about it. I wanna read it.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-08 17:39:02 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

seriously, how the fuck is this no 5 most heated. Uber is fucking bullshit nowadays.

Submitted by Sacrilicious at 2008-09-08 16:31:03 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

No, I think I understand now. I don't entirely agree- a mistake isn't always a regret, and to deny I've ever made a mistake is as bad as the other extreme to me- but I can relate to what you're saying.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-08 15:51:36 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2008-09-08 15:10:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

So you're saying that it is impossible to learn from your mistakes, or anyone else's?


Not at all. Just that what constitutes a mistake in most people's eyes is sometimes quite ridiculous. If it seems like a good idea at the time and - most importantly - nobody else gets hurt, then it probably wasn't a mistake. As mentioned, if we are the sum of all the choices we ever make, then to take just ONE and call it a mistake pisses all over the whole thing - you may as well say that every choice you ever made was a mistake and end it all, because at the end of the day, it's never just ONE thing that fucks it all up but the cumulative effect of everything you've ever done. Butterfly effect and all that.

Bah, I am rambling and that doesn't make any sense but it does to me.

Submitted by Sacrilicious at 2008-09-08 15:47:12 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

Well I'm not about to try to tell you how to live your life, but you told us about it, so I will say this much- it's bad enough that victims of violence often forgive their abusers because they come crawling back, full of sweetness and apologies- only to do it again. It sounds like he's nowhere near doing so- he's still seething and hateful toward you- I can't imagine the risk you and your children must be in. I hope for your sake you can get out of there and fast, FOR GOOD, no matter how you have to do it.

Submitted by Fungah at 2008-09-08 15:46:34 EDT (#)
Rating: 2


Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-08 15:37:40 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

It is our home and yes, after a caution, he was free to return home. I could have made it much harder for him but I guess I am more of a doormat than I suspected.

Submitted by Sacrilicious at 2008-09-08 15:11:08 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Orphelia- Jesus Christ- he was allowed into your home with no supervision?

Submitted by Sacrilicious at 2008-09-08 15:10:05 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

So you're saying that it is impossible to learn from your mistakes, or anyone else's?

Submitted by JoeyG at 2008-09-08 15:08:12 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Hmm. Nice way of putting it.

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-08 15:03:22 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

And true, Red. :(

Worse part is, when he was released sunday afternoon, he went straight to his mums and when he came over for a change of clothes for work, I had to ask for an apology, which was spat at me. Tis morning he told me he despised me. Oh well. Hey ho.

At least Uber loves me....

oh, wait..

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-08 15:00:51 EDT (#)
Rating: -2

Certainly, next time he comes home drunk I'll know to keep my mouth shut.

Ah well, I always thought my cute button nose was my best feature, now I look like Krackas white sister.

Time to put Bianca, Laqueesha, Tyrone, Kylie and Marc in their weekly bath ready for their 10pm bedtime episode of CSI Miami.

Submitted by redskieslookfake at 2008-09-08 14:57:48 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-09-08 19:45:24 BST (#)
Ranking: -2


Would it surprise you to know, my other half broke my nose early sunday morning? Me, 32 weeks pregnant and no taller than a garden gnome. I had him arrested, of course.
Despite the new big house and large collection of matching Marks and Spencers underwear, I am still living the chav dream.

Jesus christ. That is the most depressing thing I have heard all day.

Submitted by monkeyswithguns at 2008-09-08 14:51:32 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by Ejryuu at 2008-09-08 14:49:22 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

It's Monday and I know that this is the best thing I'll read all week.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-08 14:47:18 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

well maybe next time you won't be such a mouthy twat and you'll just do what he tells you like a good little lady.

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-08 14:45:24 EDT (#)
Rating: -2


Would it surprise you to know, my other half broke my nose early sunday morning? Me, 32 weeks pregnant and no taller than a garden gnome. I had him arrested, of course.
Despite the new big house and large collection of matching Marks and Spencers underwear, I am still living the chav dream.


Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-08 14:41:40 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

don't be a pussy Orphelia, stick to your convictions and bombard me with the -2. I love it!

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-08 14:39:36 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

PS I find 'slurping' to be a quick action.

Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-08 14:38:32 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Actually, I logged on specifically to give you this +2. Good sport.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-08 14:36:07 EDT (#)
Rating: 0


Submitted by orphelia at 2008-09-08 14:29:50 EDT (#)
Rating: -2


Submitted by jtrujillo34 at 2008-09-08 14:13:31 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by Judgement at 2008-09-08 13:40:33 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by Replen at 2008-09-08 13:28:30 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Top class.

Submitted by experima at 2008-09-08 12:51:24 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

spam rocks my face

and with that, all my ratings of the day are DONE.

Submitted by redskieslookfake at 2008-09-08 12:19:55 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Piss artist. In the nicest possible sense

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-08 11:34:50 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

possibly Yozz. I was absolutely shit-faced when I wrote this and I tend to ramble when I'm drunk.

Submitted by Yozz at 2008-09-08 10:21:30 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

WAY too many adjectives.

Submitted by Spam at 2008-09-08 07:28:16 EDT (#)
Rating: 0

I don't agree Skrappy, with either mentality. None of it makes you stronger or weaker and there's no such thing as falling down or standing up. If you can look back without regret - regardless of how others view what you've done with your life - then you win at this thing called life. If you can't, then un-fucking lucky.

Submitted by skrapmetal at 2008-09-08 07:13:26 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

A good read, despite that every tale in this vein is told by someone who would have you believe that they stand taller for having fallen. That which does not kill you makes you stronger, and all that. The truth is that never falling takes more strength than getting back up.

Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 at 2008-09-08 07:09:16 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

I relate to this story, I know it's not the same but I have quite a serious weed problem, I'm stoned 90% of the day, through work, everything.

I think i get away with it quite well, they think I'm actually good! Perhaps I do get on better stoned.

meh who knows, thanks for provoking those thoughts.

Submitted by Earth Collapse at 2008-09-08 05:49:31 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Nice, but your tattoo still sucks.

Submitted by Fey at 2008-09-08 04:49:01 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by bromide at 2008-09-08 04:21:39 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

thought provoking stuff, nice one.

Submitted by sir_cowman at 2008-09-08 00:23:16 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Will you impregnate me? I want your baby.

Submitted by haikumikoo at 2008-09-08 00:23:13 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

I enjoyed this rather thoroughly, which was surprising, because I didn't like your last series deal at all.

Anyways, great stuff, fellow.

Submitted by sandmantate at 2008-09-07 23:29:17 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

As good as expected.

Submitted by kaos-king at 2008-09-07 22:18:47 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

Submitted by Linus at 2008-09-07 21:57:44 EDT (#)
Rating: 1

Bart: Wow, Dad, you took a baptismal for me. How do you feel?

Homer: Oh, Bartholomew, I feel like St. Augustine of Hippo after his
conversion by Ambrose of Milan.

-- Homer Simpson
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