Sunday, November 14, 2004

  • Fupp Off!, Its Sunday!!


    Its Fuppin Sunday...  nobody should fuppin work, fuppin shop,  fuppin curse  or do anything fuppin at all fuppin interesting.  Its the day you can't get drunk. Its the day when there's nothing fuppin on the TV apart from fuppin football. You've to dress the fuppin kids,  take them to fuppin grand ma's.  Or you're stook making dinner for some fuppin friends you're too hungover to talk to.  Maybe you're sitting at home,  doped out on the fuppin sofa.  OR maybe you don't even know it sunday and don't give a fupp either way.  We should all be down the fuppin pub.

    Sunday is the day my brain starts reminding me I've got work in the morning.

    I remember spending early morning sunday at mass when I was a child... going to church and sounding like an out of tune drone stuck on repeat. 

    I remember getting dressed to go over to  Nanny Higgins or Nanny O'Neill...  it was a pleasure or pain decision on my parents behalf for sure.  Nanny Higgins would supply cakes, WWF wrestling...  cakes....  cakes....  orange.  I remember it was something similar to visiting a factory going over there.  The garden was pretty cool too, now its a lovely apartment block.  Nannay ONeill,  was ... sombre.... with murderous walks for miles.  She knew what she was doing,  knackering us out.  I never actually knew where we were walking too.

    Sundays?   They're a strange day.....  there's only 52 of them a year.... 

    Why the fup should I have to clean the whole dirty house today.

    Fuppin Hell


    If anyone wants me I'll be up in bed waiting for my fuppin girlfriend to come home




    http://www.homepage.eircom.net/~owen123/FILE0133.ASF

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