I feel like that that girl from the Exorcist today.

Perhaps she had been a heavy smoker and they’d taken away her nicorette patches…. Suddenly I sympathise… I too could project a priest out of a window, to his death.. with little or no remorse.

Which approximates to I’ve quit smoking again.At the risk of becoming one of those really dull yo-yo smokers (is she? isn’t she? etc), I feel the need to try again. Today I am so angry, like biting, spiteful, vicious angry. Not just grumpy, but foul. (see the bold tags, you can tell I really mean it…)

I spoke to some hapless muppet at Telstra and let rip with my most demeaning, impatient, whatsortofanidiotareyou? voice, then felt overwhelming guilt after I hung up the phone. That’s really not cool at all, taking it out on customer service representatives is like the equivalent of bullying the small kid at school. It’s easy and it’s unkind.

I feel like Jeff Goldblum at the end of the Fly where the messed up mutation holds the shotgun between it’s googly insect eyes and gurgles “kiiill meeee”.