Thank Darwin, It's Monday

Here we go; first blog in eons from myself, mostly due to my video-game addiction that consumes all my free time like a ravishing mold. It's not that I don't want to blog and read everyone else's fantastically coma-inducing entries, but I'm almost on the brink of anticipating an intervention by god-only-knows-whom to break my addiction and cart me off into rehab, so I can "reconnect with the real world", where I can no longer jump 8 feet into the air and shoot a laser out of my hand. Why must my dreams be crushed?

Anyhow, onto my angry antimonosyllabic disorganized rampaging redundant monologue concerning the stigma behind Monday, that day of the week that just makes you wake up and go "Fuck. It's Monday."

I can't stand getting up early in the morning, partially due to laziness, but also partially due to the fact that I can justify my laziness with an important philosophical argument, because animals sleep for a *majority* of the day, and spend the remainder of their time killing and pooping. That's nature's way, and our society is going against nature, and is constantly trying to annihilate nature with bulldozers that spew toxic radioactive waste, because they use medical waste as fuel rather than petroleum, because the harder a machine pollutes, the closer to an orgasm industrialists come. That shit just gets them all hot. Bitches.

There also happens to be an inviting lull in the monotony of school and work that you wish would last forever, but is jarred by an abrupt kick in the groin-area by what is known as "Sunday Evening", a time which was spent over a dinner table in the '50s, however, which is now characterized by drinking, television and occasional bouts of domestic abuse, which ironically, still counts as "family time". Monday then arrives, primarily just to piss ME off personally, and whoever is responsible for it is going to pay. THEY SHALL PAY.