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November is a month i dread, all the marking... all the words ..... ideas clutter up in my head.... all the hopes and ambitions weigh heavily on my back. the first day, my birthday hip hip hooray!!! then a rushing, pell mell downward track of red pens and meetings going on and on and on planning, prepping, late night stressing then, when not at work, not shirking, just not working hoping to give the brain a rest am bombarded... like i am ******** in cheer ...continual messages of christmas is near.... coffee and carols, shopping and angels harking, harking, joy to the world, fa al lalala... Santa queues truly not an Ebeneezer but Christmas teasers in November make me grey around the gills fish out of water lamb to the slaughter and running on empty, always empty, just want one day... when the world would stop hassling and just go away no end of year parties... prentending to be hale and hearty with all sorts of colleagues and academic smarties no presentations of budgets.. thinner than last no we could not fast this area, to be on line no it's alright, it will be just fine while sculling copious amounts of cheap, cheap, nasty red wine. no hangover from said feast... no,  you be the one to corner the beast. no more standing with mothers and others watching children in a god awful christmas play and clapping and chatting while little bettsy recieves an award for knitting a sleeve and george gets one for adding fourhundred and forty please, please show me the door..... not to mention hayfever, daylight savings and more but all this seems trivial... when I consider the blight of my life... in the stakes of annuity. the month of November has a great heart Movember...a charity of moustache art has an fanatic in my big, bluff,bloke for a month he curries and cares for the caterpillar  that grows on his lip... a fuzzy flecked monstrosity with the mange and a weird flip. November a month of avoiding the succour of contact.... with that thing, my toes curl now thinking of it.... tho I try not to react (after all charity begins at home) november november truly you are the *** last year he bought the ****** thing a comb yet in the end you are but a month and it seems I survive you year after year thank god for take away meals and long cold beers....
0
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Thirty days....just 30 days
November is a month i dread, all the marking... all the words ..... ideas clutter up in my head.... all the hopes and ambitions weigh heavily on my back. the first day, my birthday hip hip hooray!!! then a rushing, pell mell downward track of red pens and meetings going on and on and on planning, prepping, late night stressing then, when not at work, not shirking, just not working hoping to give the brain a rest am bombarded... like i am ******** in cheer ...continual messages of christmas is near.... coffee and carols, shopping and angels harking, harking, joy to the world, fa al lalala... Santa queues truly not an Ebeneezer but Christmas teasers in November make me grey around the gills fish out of water lamb to the slaughter and running on empty, always empty, just want one day... when the world would stop hassling and just go away no end of year parties... prentending to be hale and hearty with all sorts of colleagues and academic smarties no presentations of budgets.. thinner than last no we could not fast this area, to be on line no it's alright, it will be just fine while sculling copious amounts of cheap, cheap, nasty red wine. no hangover from said feast... no,  you be the one to corner the beast. no more standing with mothers and others watching children in a god awful christmas play and clapping and chatting while little bettsy recieves an award for knitting a sleeve and george gets one for adding fourhundred and forty please, please show me the door..... not to mention hayfever, daylight savings and more but all this seems trivial... when I consider the blight of my life... in the stakes of annuity. the month of November has a great heart Movember...a charity of moustache art has an fanatic in my big, bluff,bloke for a month he curries and cares for the caterpillar  that grows on his lip... a fuzzy flecked monstrosity with the mange and a weird flip. November a month of avoiding the succour of contact.... with that thing, my toes curl now thinking of it.... tho I try not to react (after all charity begins at home) november november truly you are the *** last year he bought the ****** thing a comb yet in the end you are but a month and it seems I survive you year after year thank god for take away meals and long cold beers....
betterdays
Written by
F/Australian
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
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