what do you want, Lepht, a fucking medal?
i was informed today that i won an honest-to-goddamn medal, the University's "Quincentenary Prize". you know what comes with the medal? a fucking grand, awarded "on a basis of academic merit, personal qualities and needs". they had to pick one person to give this fucker to out of all of the schools of sciences, engineering and medicine, and it was me. that's awesome, if kinda fucked up.
translated: Hey Anonym - you're poor, right? Well, we feel sorry for your crippled, Government-subsidised ass. Have a medal. And get a suit at Primark for the award ceremony, will you, you fucked-up little cueball.
upshot: free rent for a couple months, and whenever anyone asks me "what do you want motherfucker, a medal?" i'm gonna flash that bitch like it was a fuzz badge.
all of this only lends more weight to my hypothesis of being incarcerated, heavily medicated and just making all this up to fool myself into thinking my life is awesome.
L
3 comments:
Hey, if you really got a grand - frigging awesome, man! Rock on! Being drugged and all stuff has nothing to do with accomplishment. Or may be I should drug myself too?
Okay, I'm gonna stop fucking with you now. I'm your mind. Solipsism turns out to be true, and everything you think exists was just me pretending.
Insider tip: you've got a crush on your mother, but you're in denial.
Enjoy the rest of your fictional life and your fictional grand.
How about just being happy to get the money? Not every weird cueball gets what we do recognized, you know?
Take a stand for all of us and don't wear a suit. End of story.
Post a Comment
[pls no ask about the vodka. debate is always welcome. remember, Tramadol fucks you up]