16 August 2002 The one where I become a mongoloid Well, there come's a point when you know you've really made it. The point where you can sit back and see that all the hard work has paid off. Ladies and gentlemen, I have reached that point. I have scaled the pinnacle of Diaryland heights. I am a Mongoloid. Yep, it's true. It doesn't get much bigger than that - unless Andrew comes round and personally cooks you dinner, with dessert and the understanding he'll perform great oral sex on you afterwards. You can tell I'm excited, can't you? Maybe I should get out more. No, hang on, I have been getting out more which would explain why I've slunk down to only updating this damned thing a couple of times a week. Damn these online diaries. You either sit and bitch about flame wars, taking nasty little sidesweeps at people or you get off your ass and find a life - in which case you're too damned busy to write in your online diary. Actually all that's pure bullshit. I've been playing Zelda. Yeah, Zelda 3, on an Nintendo emulator. I'd forgotten how much computer games managed to wind me up. Dave says it's like being out in the car with me, what with the amount of swearing, spitting and threating an awful fate on the machine right in front of me. It's true about being a Mongoloid though. Seriously, check out Genghis-jon's diary, he's managed to offend almost every single person on the planet and doesn't give a rat's ass about being politically correct. At some point I may have to kill him for being so damned good. Right, I'm off to email Andrew about a possible dinner date.
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