I'm all about the scarlet nail polish

Fucking internet purchases. I've ordered a metric fuck-tonne of T-shirts over the last 3 or 4 weeks from various sites on the 'net, and not one of the fuckers has arrived. Some of these companies are no more than two-bit fucktards, but the others are respectable entrepreneurs. I reckon my bastard postman is knocking them off...I've never seen him, which makes me suspicious.

Anyways, my parents were down visiting for the weekend, which meant a coupla days of heavy boozing. God, I was working on both days too, I didn't start until 4pm. It was a merry old time. I was supposed to meet them in a (very heavy duty) Ranger's pub to watch the Old Firm game on Sunday, but I got there so late it was full. There was a whole swathe of guys jostling to get in, and after talking to a few of them we decided to get a taxi to another pub showing the game. It was a strange sensation watching the game with a load of random crazy Scotsmen, none of whom knew one another an hour before, but I had a good laugh. And the 'Gers won.

The boys come down this weekend, so no doubt I'll be fuckin' pratted for most of the time. Ah, the heady life of an alcoholic.

Keep it Jackson...