Dole based fun.

Alright champ, I haven’t wrote a blog since back in the day when my hair looked like a black wig and I had a vodkat and bluebolt addiction, so thought maybe it’s time I got back in the game. You can currently address me as Lukat or maybe just L-kat out on the street. I’m going for the half feline, half man approach to things and seeing how that works out for me. Meowww purrr...stroke my luxurious fur...pull my whiskers...watch me defecate in a kitty litter tray.

I’m taking a break from my lengthy erotic novel at the moment, it’s set in space but in the past and it turns out everyone’s dead at the end but are also being attacked by cloned dinosaurs and faggot vampire werewolves. It’s pretty deep stuff really, you wouldn’t understand. Anyways I need to use my writing powers for other forms of evil such as insulting fat birds on facebook and upsetting the general public. Look at them with their little boat shoes and disgusting opinions. Makes a man want to be sick in someone else’s sink; one word of advice is to remove the plates and cutlery before you do so.

Anyway let’s get to it, I’m sure people are dying to hear about the total non event that is my life. If Kerry Katona can have her own TV show then surely I can allow myself some coverage. We can’t all be slow witted and overweight can we. I won’t be plugging Iceland however as I have developed a crippling phobia of the place after shopping there for 3 years. It’s amazing how many different dishes and recipes can all have the same generic taste of offal and cheap cardboard, I take my hat off to them. My non existent hat. (Interesting fact of the day; a hat is an item of clothing designed for bald men to hide their naked bony scalp and fool women)

So pretty much since uni and getting my ‘degree’ I’ve been looking for a job, watching Jezza Kyle, making sinister keyboard music and trying to look like I’m on steroids. It’s a wonderful time of self respect and success. It’s especially good when approaching women in nightclubs. ‘Hello my name is Joe. I am unemployed and live with my mother. I have a condom but it may be out of date. Would you like to make love?’ Things aren’t going so well, turns out there is some kind of recession going on. I don’t know, they should just print more money or something. At first I thought maybe having this ‘degree’ might put me in a good position to get a job but it turns out a degree is the equivalent of having a massive dick at an erectile dysfunction convention. Sure it looks good but there just aint much of a use for it. Instead I get to go to the job centre every week and justify to slimy office scum that I’ve been looking for work. I show them my little booklet which says fascinating things like ‘looked in newspaper…no jobs’. It’s a really great read. Oh and by looking for work they don’t just mean browsing a few jobs they mean they want you to swallow all your pride and beg to scrub piss off someone’s floor or cut up dead lambs for 16 hours a day. Your prospective boss is most likely one of the lads from school who used to pull your pants down in p.e for a bloody good laugh. You have to beg though as we’re all so very grateful for the opportunity in this time of struggle. Please sir please, pretty pretty please can I work for you…I’ll wash your car…I’ll make you delicate pastries…volevonts and éclairs….cummon mate...I’LL SUCK YOU OFF…PLEASE…PLEASE OH GOD PLEASE…PLEASE LET ME SUCK YOU OFFFFFF YOU SWEATY BALD RED PILE OF BASTARD.

Luckily this hasn’t happened quite yet but we’re rapidly approaching level 3 in dole terms, I’m currently on level 2. (I’m a real dole veteran…a dole legend if you will. I have my own set of playing cards along with Pissy Pam and the geezer who used to sit outside Woolworths shouting at passers by in angry gibberish). Level 2 is a middle of the range kind of abuse, like being chased around the car park with sticks that have dog poo on or someone sticking a cold thumb up your anus. I can only presume that a step up from this is extreme sodomy and beatings with carrier bags full of spare change. Dignity. Another real cool thing they like to do is call you in for special meetings and group sessions to give you tips on how to get back in to work. They give you mind blowing advice like…maybe you should use the internet? Maybe you should work for free and hope they give you a job? Yeh yeh that sounds great, I could work 40 hours a week...for free...in a job I don’t actually want…so then maybe if I’m lucky I could get the kind of job I would probably have walked in to 7 years ago after I finished school? Thank you job centre, god bless your beautiful souls. If it wasn’t for sitting with that bunch of crack heads watching a PowerPoint presentation I guess I’d still be unemployed right now. Oh wait.

So anyway begging for jobs I don’t want and trying to impress people I’d prefer to punch in the ear is my current lifestyle ‘choice’ I did have an interview last week but kind of got the impression after 5 minutes of talking and them saying ‘That’s all we need to hear’ then ushering me out of the door was probably a sign I didn’t get it. Then the follow up email which stated ‘JOE DOES NOT HAVE THE SKILLS REQUIRED’ was an extra special kick in the balls. These job rejections are definitely getting a lot more offensive. I’m pretty much expecting to get obscene hate mail now. ‘JOE...U FUKIN DIK U DINT GET DA JOB BECOZ U R A STUPID SILY TWAT N NO1 FUKIN LYKS U U UGLY BASTARD FUK OFF FUK OFF LOL LOL YOU DIK OMG I BET UR DIK IS WELL SMALL LOL WATA NOB HEAD’. Nice one lads.
Although that’s probably better then my first job interview when I turned up half an hour late sweating like a lunatic in Cuban heels. It’s always good to check where the interview is taking place beforehand otherwise you have the risk of running up and down a hill for an hour in full business dress and shouting at members of the public for directions.

Now they say Lukat needs to do work experience so he is capable of answering a phone or sending emails with shite jokes in them. So incapable am I that I can’t be trusted to undertake the kind of tasks that any human or well trained ape could handle. What the fuck do they think is going to happen when I answer the phone? Hello could I speak to Mr…’FUCK OFF…JUST FUCK OFF...YOU CUNT...YOUR MOTHERS A WHOREEEE...YOUR FATHERS A PUSSY. YOUR GRANDMOTHERS IS DEADDD…DEADDDD...BUT I’LL FUCK HER…I’LL FUCK HERRRR YOU CUNTTTTTT. OH I WILLL…I WILLLL...I’LL FUCK HERRRRRR’. These are soul crushing times for a man with the intellect and charisma of the Lukat. Work experience? That aint Lukat baby. Lukat's ass is so sweet…so sweet you better have a good dentist bitch…Lukat’s ass is so sweet that it could kill a diabetic in seconds. Better believe it sugar loaf.

We all make mistakes though, except me, I never make mistakes. I just enjoy making really shit life decisions to spice things up a bit. Next week I’m thinking of starting up a meth addiction.

Speaking of meth I was thinking that maybe getting in to the drug trade wouldn’t be a bad career move. The industry is always thriving and you get to work outdoors and meet lots of new people. Those people may be crackheads but they usually have some interesting stories to tell you. Like how they robbed their dying grandmother of her ornaments and sold them...for crack. Or how they use their child support money...for crack. Or how they like to take…loads of crack.

Had an interview just last week actually with the local dealer. Went down to the crack den to show him my c.v.

‘Hello I’m here about the crack dealer vacancy, my names Joe? I hope I’m not too early’

“No that’s fine Joe come in, we’re ready for you. I’m Ste and these are a few partners of mine, Tank and Skinny B. So Joe tell us a little bit about yourself?”

‘Great to meet you guys, Mr Tank I’m familiar with your work, I believe you broke the fingers of a mutual friend of ours. Well Ste I’m a hard working university graduate, I have excellent written, numeracy and communication skills. I’m a team player; I have a working knowledge of most Microsoft office programmes. I also have a degree in photography; I was mainly focused on the fine art side of it. We had some pretty big exhibitions.’

“Ok that all sounds great Joe. Could you tell me what skills you think you have in relation to the crack dealing position?”

‘Well as I said I’m good with numbers. I have some promotions experience we had to market a lot of our own work at university. Which I think would be helpful in pushing the crack, maybe targeting a younger audience or just starting off small. Getting the kids hooked on M-kat or skunk to start off with?

“Ok Joe well it was very nice to meet you, we’ll be in touch hopefully within a few days”

It seemed to go well so hopefully I can fill the position. Actually I’ve just got an email right now. ‘Dear Joe, I’m afraid your application has not been successful for the position of drug dealer with our organisation. We wish you luck in all future endeavours. Thanks. Tank’.

You dirty no good bastards. JOE DOES NOT HAVE THE SKILLS REQUIRED. JOE CAN NOT FUNCTION. JOE IS UNEMPLOYABLE SCUM.

But hey these things happen, things will work out. If all else fails maybe I just go back to uni and add to the 21 grand of debt I’m already in. Maybe get a degree in the performing arts or music. Something equally as useless as my current one. Then there’s always freelance work like allowing myself to be a subject in dangerous drug testing experiments or just giving fat perverts a hand job for a two pound coin. That will buy me a tin of cold hot dogs to make it through the week, just eat them with my bare hands, no problem. Life is good.