Retardation in the UK (London Part 2)

I learned two things this week:

1) I really suck at counter-strike. Like man, my reaction time blows, probably from all the punches to the head or something. I am actually through obsessive enough to create an experimentation regiment using several online reaction tests and charting the data in excel to insure I can creditably argue I suck based on physical disabilities so I can get a “handicap gamertag". (Not joking, I’m thanking some god my reaction time is getting better.)

2) Learning British accounting is like dealing with anything British, shit is all fucking different when it just doesn’t need to be. Furthermore, all that stupid shit is completely fucking over your day. FOR FUCK’S SAKE WHAT IS UP WITH THE THREE COLUMNS ON THE FUCKING BALANCE SHEET!!!? I ALREADY HATE ACCOUNTING AS IS! AND NOW I HAVE TO RELEARN THE WHOLE FUCKING THING AGAIN?

Now these annoyances are probably not enough to make me go out of my way to write a post, but Scritty was kind of enough to call me a fag and I strongly suggested I should hurry the fuck up. As such, I’m writing part two of London time.

Union Gurren

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