berndi

So, my brother is a big kid. He's  14, about 5'11" (and still growing) and big boned. And he seriously wouldn't hurt a fly. Doesn't even cross his mind. Still, though, he's not the kid you'd assume would be picked on, you know? He's no Peter Parker. And yet, a little punk ass dickhead went and punched him. His teeth are loose. His lips are swollen. And I really, truly, want to go out and commit some fucking homicide. I know the kid's name. I'm sure I could find some girls in my year who have younger brothers in my brother's year, at his school. And get them to tell their impressionable little kid brothers that whatshisfacethedipshit deserves

I've always been told it's important to have goals. I've never really paid attention to that message... Until now. My mother was going through the cupboards, throwing things out, when she came to her old collection of National Geographics (dating from 1980 onwards). She said I could keep the ones I was going to read. Well, I'm a bit of a hoarder. Anything that had any significance to anyone at any point, ever, I try to keep. It really makes for a lack of shelf space, but whatever. So, point is, I'm now in possession of what must be at least a hundred old National Geographic magazines. And have to read them all. Which I will. Because it's

I'm making a quiche, guys. Considering my culinary past (or lack of) this is quite a feat. So yeah. It's gonna be awesome. I'll post a photo of it's awesomeness later, before it gets all et up. EDIT: Here it is, guys, the... Quiche of Power