Must be nice being an asshole. Not caring for others feelings. Only dealing with your own. Actually giving a shit about people is far more difficult I think.
I’ve often really wished that I was not able to care,
And that maybe I could just go and run off somewhere,
But I’m stuck with this feeling,
Making my life less appealing,
But I won’t break away from it so there!
Balls to it.
Death comes for us all. Everyone has their own reaction to it. I’ve had the chance to watch such reactions in the last year. Yesterday was a funeral and so I have written a limerick about death. Because that’s what I wanted to do.
The loss of a loved one is hard on us all,
You never know which person could be next to fall,
But keep them in your mind,
And to those left be kind,
And never forget to give those you care about a call.
Look after those you care about.
Those who know me know my love of food knows almost no bounds. Pizza, pasta, chips, steak, ice cream, Chinese, Indian. I love it all. Well almost all.
I ordered in curry the other night. Which came with a bag of onion salad. Here is my advice to you all. Don’t eat the onion salad. It’s fine at the time, but when your breath is waking you up at 4am and you can’t get back to sleep without brushing your teeth for the second time in as many hours, that’s a problem. But the curry was good. So that’s OK.
On that note, onto the rhyming.
Now I quite enjoy the spiciness of a curry,
Masala, Rogan Josh, Jalfrezi, Ruby Murray,
But give me Vindaloo,
And I’m afraid that you,
Will have to get out of my way in quite a hurry!
My workplace has some right lazy sods who are so lax with their dish washing they can’t even be bothered to put their dirty cups in the machine.
This is a limerick in response to the slightly cross response to it from my boss.
We have a small problem with washing dishes,
That could lead to someone sleeping with the fishes,
But this concrete shoed threat,
Can be avoided yet,
If we just do as our superior wishes!
Clean your stuff people!
New Years Eve parties. Most of us probably went to one. Some were probably excellent. Some were rather dreary. Some were utterly terrible.
Luckily for me the worst I had to deal with was a hangover and some pretty rubbish fireworks. For £15 we bought some thoroughly underwhelming rockets and roman candle like things that blinded us momentarily before fading fast. Guess that’s what you get when you don’t spend much on some things. Spend little, get little. But considering you are simply setting fire to money, maybe it’s best left to the professional displays.
On an Eve of celebrations ringing in the New Year,
Some fireworks were bought in to brighten the cheer.
They really didn’t sizzle,
They hardly could fizzle,
So we gave up and just drank some more beer.
But it could have been worse. Much worse. Best wishes to anyone involved in the events in Istanbul. Except the gunman, you sir can do one.