Why do I write the worlds shittest blog (part too)

This is about why I write the worlds shittest blog too.
Few previous post for the prelude.

Hi again. My millions of followers have demanded I continue writing and do a follow up. They have voted in an underwhelming majority to hear more about the last few days of this drug addled shit heads life.

They are obviously insane.

But, me being me, I am here to please. So do as they say.

I flew to Auckland on 100% aesthetically correct but psychopathically verified airlines (Jet*) yesterday. All in all they are not too bad. Considering the jokes all the comedians (yes, you Dai Henwood) throw out with regards to the company, I think they out performed expectations. Expectations being low.

The day started normally enough.

By forgetting to have a coffee at 10pm it meant my sleep was constantly interrupted by six or seven thought process vying for my attention. A bit like a kindy teacher with six or seven unruly ADHD kids to deal with. I tell them all to sit down and shut up and sit in the back of the class and stop disturbing those who want to learn.

Slowly but surely the more unruly ones quietened down and the class could have a quick nap. Until one of the little buggers started off needing attention again. Sod them.

So, four hours sleep, off and on. Maybe three. Let’s just call it four. 

Gave up trying to sleep about 5.30 am and watched SledgeHammer for a while off dvd recording. Still don’t have the digital tv on in the bedroom. Which has been good, apart from when six or seven unruly idiots are keeping me awake, of course.

Got bored of this about an hour later, so was up and showered and fed and coffee’d well before my ride to the airport was due at 7:45. I had time to think. I thought “why don’t I leave the car near the airport and walk the last kilometre?“…

So, I text the guy who was driving my car and said “don’t bother” and went shopping before going towards the airport at 7.50.

He rang and said “are you sure mate?“…

Sure I am sure. No worries, sorry to disturb you...”

Uh, okay. Have fun, don’t come back with three arms from those experimental drugs they are going to fuck you up with…

Hahahah. I have left the plane ticket in the car. I’d better go back, okay. Cheers. Bye….

Shit. I get back to the car and there are no tickets in there. I had taken them out and left them on the table at home. Jet* is awesome at not allowing you to check in ONE MINUTE after their cut off time.

I rang my lift again.

Hey mate, I left the tickets at home.

You fucken clown.

I will drive back there now, can you meet me there and give me a lift back right to the airport doors?

Okay“.

Thankfully he cares as much for red lights as I do when in a hurry. Thankfully the car is mine, so any tickets will come to me.

I got in the door of the airport and ran to the computer check in. The girls at the counter wearing Jet* uniforms all looked expectantly upwards. The machine gave me a boarding pass. They all looked down, somewhat deflated. My boarding pass was issued at 8:19. It cuts off at 8:20. We ran three red lights and broke 50km/h speed limits by almost double the whole way there. But got there. Cheers.

I like taking off and landing, but sitting in a plane seat for an hour really does my head in.

And then a bus for 40m. The bus is better than the plane. Even though I ended up making friends with a couple of the psychopathic aesthetic girls so got window seats to myself, the bus was still better than the plane. Much more to see. Much faster scenery changes.

Had an hour to kill before meeting. Auckland was raining. Wondered around, had a coffee, walked to meeting half an hour early. They saw me early.

Was really good. Met a bunch of very clever doctors whom talked quite openly about aspects of virus infections and the drug lifestyle. Was mood enhancing even.

Went upstairs after an hour, having signed many forms allowing them to produce a third arm out my chest, and was surprised to see a very modern hospital ward there. In some random office block. Just, well… There it is. Doctors, nurses, interns… All there. But all just dealing with drug research. They had beds with people doing long stays. They had a full blood and urine lab’. They had… Well, pretty much everything you would need if you’re researching certain ailments and the drugs that are supposed to help.

The nurse couldn’t get a vain for blood samples to be taken. I have always done it easily, but she wouldn’t let me. I convinced her to try this one that is the easiest in the world after she dug around in my arms futile style for a while. I think she was going through them. They are thin and near the surface. OUCH. Anyways, bloods done. Urine samples done. And out the building. Bored as all bored can be walking around Auckland, so caught bus to airport and was bored there instead.

Although I did get some entertainment when a bunch of Asians who were supposed to be on the flight before mine showed up one minute late. The coffee shoppe people have all seen this before. For me though it was a classic case of corporate psychopathy. And it was very entertaining from an outsiders perspective.

The really grumpy psychopathic aesthetic one looked my way as I walked over. I said “excuse me, but I was just wondering if you could look at this ticket and see if it is the correct one…?” She looked at me as though I was an idiot and looked at ticket. She looked back at me, I was smiling, trying hard not to laugh. She looked like she could go either way at this. GRUMPY was a possibility.

But, quick as a flash, she beamed her aesthetically prepared teethy smile and said “of course sir, that is correct. Here, come with me and I will check on the machine to make certain.

She walked over to her machine, typed in some numbers and said “that flight is almost empty sir, here, I have given you a new ticket next to the window. Would you like more leg room too?

No, I don’t care. It is less than an hour. I don’t smell really bad do I?”

No, you smell better than you look.

Hey, you’re not supposed to tell loyal paying customers that

And you knew that you had the correct ticket too sir.”

Yes, well.”

She gave me that toothy ear to ear grin (I am sure it actually reached her eyes this time, although a good psychopath may be able to fake that) and went back to extracting $170 per person out of the Asians for them to “re-book” on the same flight.

So, it appears as though I could be on a drug trail. Will find out soon.

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