Well, just your standard evening in Mancunia. You leave the house for one sodding night and your house is broken in to. My lack of organisation in my past has generally plagued my life (see previous posts). Who the fuck would have thought that in my very time of need that my disgusting habits should see though some good fortune in a circumstance which hits those of us who are most unlucky.
I spent a month of my life living in ACTUAL poverty over this item which I am using to type up this blog post. £230 of my hard-earned cash (or 33hrs of my life) all for this little piece of electronic heaven. And to think that it had been stolen, (along with my other laptop which was infinitely better in every way except it was no where near as cute) wrought on to me the pain which only a parent could experience with the loss of a child. Probably.
But no, in the robbers haste they neglected to notice the little white box under my over-flowing washing basket which contained the one true object of my desires.
I'd like to think the moral of this story is that I should live like a squatter forever. Though it is really infeasible since I would like to be able to welcome other people into my space at some point, one day in my life.
On the downside they still stole a laptop worth £400 from my room. It also had Rome: Total War in it. And it shall be mourned appropriately and forever hold a special place in my heart, since this laptop doesn't even have a sodding optical drive.
But, when it comes to the standard view of assessing whether the glass is half full, or half empty. In my situation some cunt knocked a full pint out me hand, but the glass was dead nice so I nicked it anyway.
(It doesn't count as stealing when there's no victim!)
Yeah. Shit happens. Fuck you thieves! (Real ones)
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