After a lot of planning we recently decided to go ahead and finally do something about our boring old kitchen. We ended up switching all the cabinet-doors for new highly glossy white ones, as well as putting in new boards and brand spanking new fridge and freezer. Plus, new awesome looking wall tiles for a slick, darker look to give some contrast to all the whites.
It ended up being so fucking perfect we just can't stop smiling walking in there... but of course, getting such a wonderful kitchen costs a bunch of money, which now forces me to hold of on most (if not all) of my DVD-purchases for a while. So that's that. No purchases until all the loans are paid. So far I'm doing okay cause there's still a few packages in transit that are yet to get here but once everything is recieved I'll really start getting the shakes. Then again, I guess that's just one of the risks you take when you choose to be a movie memorabelia crackhead.
Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life...
But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. But who needs reasons when you've got fucking Blu-rays?