And the highlight of my year was...

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by auscam, Dec 31, 2009.

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  1. There wasn't one, unless you count HPH wanting to call his spawn The Mailed Fist Of Righteousness, which really isn't on.

    Fair dinkum. Not a single variation in the bereft, Stygian, silent, existential void that I call my 'life', for want of a more apt term. Being gang-raped by Jamaican stevedores and set alight by transvestite Nazi lepers whilst being filmed by Al-Jazeera would constitute a brown streak in my otherwise grey existence. Mustn't grumble, even though I do, frequently and at length.

    What about you, eh? Go on, tell us...

    (Oh goody, I've just found a new stress zit on my scalp. How thrilling)

    P.S.; Happy New Year. Cunts.
  2. Getting back in the mob.
  3. Hearing that. Its made my year! :twisted:
  4. The highlight for me was blue-toothing a video from his phone to mine of a hot boy I know shagging his missus. Lowlight was him finding out.

    Still w@nk over it though.
  5. I'm happy for you. No, really, I am.
  6. Getting out of Iran was a real highlight for me. Living there was bit like living in a Charles Lutwidge Dodgson book.
  7. Becoming a grandmother :D
  8. Coming home.
  9. 'twas a strange year of ups and downs............ won shed loads of money ( but not enough to retire ) had a heart attack and almost died. fine now though
  10. Moving to Thailand. Heaven.
  11. CountryGal

    CountryGal LE Book Reviewer

    Finally getting divorced - shame it took nearly £4k to do it though
  12. Is that what's called 'Sexually Transmitted Debt'?
  13. My highlight is nearly getting to 2010(won't tempt fate), realised my life is pretty mundane and very boring compared to some.
  14. CountryGal

    CountryGal LE Book Reviewer

    Nope thats called marrying a dick who argued everything just because he could :D
  15. Actually, the highlight of my year was thinking back and realising that as I ra[idly approach my 40th I'm actually pretty damned lucky. I have a lovely wife; two adorable daughters; a good job which pays well and which I enjoy-ish; a nice home; all my limbs and faculties intact; and nobody shoots at me except in the everyday Glaswegian fashion.

    When I think back to the wee shitehole village I come from and how my contempraries are faring all I can think is, "There but for the grace of God..."

    Wow. How did I get this lucky?