A very ego filled post from 2015 Try #2: The post I couldn't help but writing

My blog does not represent the views of Murdoch, Cisco Ltd., IBM, The Australian department of immigration or any of their affiliates. 

This blogs opinion of people of Irish or Russian origin or the population of Madison, Wisonsin are not actual views of the blogger and were exclaimed by a freind while he was intoxicated. Honestly.

All posts are NOT to be taken seriously and are written only for entertainment purposes.

Selections of text below may depict particularly graphic circumstances, but if you are alive enough to read this, chances are they won't be particularly interesting.

It's a beautiful Thursday, the sun is shining in a completely empty blue sky, I can hear the wails of the undead, stumbling around on the beach 12 stories below me, there's a dank smell of rotting flesh in the air and I can see the exciting scene all up close and clear through the scope on top of Dave's rifle.

Our new spot is awesome, hunting through the reception desk of this beach front hotel (unfortunately the name has since been stripped of the building by loiters, and replaced with a badly sprayed phallic.) we acquired the access card to the penthouse and have commandeered the several bedrooms and bathrooms as a fortress of solitude on which to kill time in.

This has been a very plesent week all round, as the emergency broadcast system has confirmed the crisis over, and we are now promoted from "Fighter's of the resistance" to "Clean up crew." Which means if you're reading this from a secure area camp, congratulations, your stay is almost up, and you have survived and soon will be returning the central city areas. Of course, I question what will actually happen when the populace returns, we were overjoyed to find in the building opposite that there is a collection of soldiers also doing "clean up" with the remaining walking zombies. We were even able to gain their attention and play a rather riveting game of charades.

I do feel happy about this all almost being over and are sad to hear; the large amounts of causalities that feel victim to the violent undead, the lack of sanitation of the over populated camps and the fact it will still be several months before I can order a pizza.

It's been an interesting couple of years, the explosion of infected dead persons, meeting different groups of resistance and the interesting tales of how they obtained their firearms. I would like to take this opportunity to mourn the dead, and for us to think about the work that now needs to be done to rebuild.

Thinking time is now over.

On the beach, Dave and Emma have now emerged from the beach front shopping center with the newest delivery of milk and long life food, Dave makes a pass at Emma. Emma hits him. You know, usual stuff. He should be more considerate, just because she's the only girl in the group doesn't mean he can hit on her, she knows how to use I rifle, you know. I'm considerate. I'm going to wait until a few minutes after she gets up here and settles back down to pitch my lame pick up line for the day.

Further down Curtis is trying to push the latest cannon fodder from last night into the sea while being ambushed by seagulls. They're after him now... he's fallen over... Oh bugger, I better go down and see if they're all right.. Nah, Dave's going

As for me, I'm sitting here abusing internet, writing junk and just loving the fact that I can just sit back and do nothing, a lot of people hate the idea of having nothing to do, they need to be getting energetic, not wasting the day away. Me, I'm glad I can just have this little bit of time to myself to sit back and relax.


But before I have my mid morning siesta, GRAFFITI OF THE WEEK:

That's Curtis' gun in shot, btw, dunno why he wanted to look so tough... he he... he can't even lift that mini gun we found.


Neither can I, but that's NOT THE POINT.

Until I get zombiefied myself, goodbye.