Anyway, back to the pokécenter. I was in there for a routine heal and there was a fucking queue. Sure I can be patient and all kinds of shit, but the faggot at the head of the queue was arguing with Nurse Joy. He kept shouting about his pokemon being improperly healed, as it had Pokéflu. Fuck that shit. If I hadn’t had pokéflu already this year I would have been all over him like shit on a infernape.

Stupid shits everywhere, they don’t understand how lucky they are.

Also while this faggot was arguing with the well endowed Nurse, two people in line with poisoned pokemon fainted. What a shit. It took 3 hours for everyone to get fully healed. Nurse Joy was almost in tears. If I find that bastard I will rip him a new colon.

Firstly:
Everybody already knows Breast Cancer exists.

Secondly:
The place you like your handbag kept is largely irrelevant.

Thirdly:

The colour of your bra and the location of your handbag are completely irrelevant. Stop filling facebook with your bullshit cryptic messages and do something to help people survive this horrible disease.

In all seriousness, please donate money to help find a cure for cancer – not just breast cancer but all cancers

Point is, Growlithe used to be cool. We used to go around burning things to the ground playfully and talk about how dumb certain trainers were (lookin’ at you, Ash) and all kinds of awesome stuff. I still remember that time we went on the town and used alcohol to set that one barge on fire. Man that was fun.

Anyway.

Now he’s dating this Slowpoke, and I swear to Arceus, she’s dumb. And I’m like, dude, she’s a Slowpoke. Slow’s in the bloody name. Slowpoke. Say it with me now. Slooowpoke.

It’s not even that she’s dumb. I mean, I am friends with a couple of Psyducks, and sadly I admit that I can stand a few Bidoofs here and there, but this Slowpoke takes the cake.

Well, she would if she knew what a cake was.

She takes bloody forever to get ready to go places, firstly. Which annoys Growlithe because his speed is like four times that of hers. And then of course she thinks she’s a Charmander. She runs around screaming, “Charmander, Charmander CHAR! Chaaar!” And of course we all know Charmanders don’t even sound like that. Seriously. That’s an insult to all Kantoan Pokemon. SO REALLY GROWLITHE SHOULD BE OFFENDED TOO. But he just laughs. I don’t think he realizes she’s being serious.

If that’s the case, maybe he’s dumber than I thought.

Anyway, whenever I send him Pokémail with Gold’s Noctowl asking him what’s up and if he wants to go burn some stuff, he responds, “Oh I’m with Pokey.”

Pokey. Seriously.

He always tells me how compatible they are after he rails on about how slow she is at getting ready or how she takes forever to eat or how he hasn’t even gotten to second base with her and they’ve been dating for like three months now. And he talks about how they talk about the future and how things are all bright and sunny in bloody DELUSIONVILLE. And I get to hear about it, whether we’re training together (when we actually do that anymore), or when our trainers are having tea and decide to let us hang out on the obstacle course, or whenever he sends me Pokémail through that one Murkrow who I swear has a crush on me. (Seriously, are you trying to set us up? I swear to Arceus I’ll kill you if that’s the case.)

And it’s even worse when we all have to hang out because his stupid trainer decided taking a Slowpoke and a Growlithe together in her party sounded like a fan-fucking-tastic idea. I get to see her eventually hang all over him, and get to see him beam as if he’d been hit with Sunny Day while in Viridian Forest or something. She talks about how compatible they are. I’m surprised she knows what the word means.

Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe he told her to use it because he knows I know she’s d
umb.

GAH. GROWLITHE. YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN HER EGG GROUP.

You’re probably only with her because your trainer caught her.

I do not want to evolve. Most people do not get this.
Gold tried to evolve me on my 16th Levelday but I kicked him in the cunt and I’ve been carrying an Everstone ever since.

The main thing I hear about my choice is that most other trainers and Pokémon think it’s “wrong” and “unnatural” to not want to evolve.
I understand where they’re coming from; it’s not “the norm”. Most Pokémon evolve and become stronger and battle contently, but it’s just not for me (I’d also like to take this opportunity to say it’s not about strength; I could take on a fucking Typhlosion with my eyes clo- well, I always battle with my eyes closed but you know what I mean. I’m fucking tough).

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t give a shit what anyone actually THINKS of my decision; that isn’t what this blog is about. I’m just putting forward my reasoning behind it in case any fuckwit with only half an idea of either own wants to debate with me on this subject (and thus will begin the flame war, but more on that later).

Cyndaquil’s list of reasons for not wanting to evolve:

1. Everybody has a Typhlosion. Everybody. Fuck them all. Seriously, next time Elm gives out a Cyndaquil to some halfwit noob I will fucking burn his lab down.
2. Have you SEEN me? I’m a fucking stud.
3. Females cuddle me to their breasts. Breasts.
4. Adversaries in battle let their guard down. At this point I cover them in petrol and set them on fire.
5. Despite how much of a faggot he is, I do have a soft spot for Gold and when he defeats the Elite Four using only yours truly, he will finally be a man.
6. Brock Eye Syndrome is lulzy.
7. It just wouldn’t suit me. Think about it; Typhlosion’s Quills of Fury? The joke is in my name, CyndaQUIL > QUILLS of Fury. What would I call it if I became fully evolved? Typhoid of Fury? Fuck no.

I hope that clears things up a little, if only to save ClanSoul effort when he has to delete all the fucking spam comments from bullshit noob trainers whose top-percentile rattata could “beat me up”.

As for any impending flame war; you know I’ll win so don’t even try. Faggots.

As requested, my reserved table was in the corner.
As the Maître d’ and his Empoleon showed me to my seat, I noticed the next table over was filled with a family of Meowth.
Arceus fucking damn Meowth piss me off.
They’re just so loud and obnoxious.

“Mummy mummy look I’m a Skitty!” said one young female, spreading rawst berry ice cream on her face, to which her brother retorted “NO LOL YOU’RE A PURUGLY” and threw his oran berry sorbet at her – which missed, I might add, and splattered up the wall next to me.
The little shit’s lucky it didn’t hit me and stain my fur blue, I actually made a fucking effort that evening.

Eventually a waitress noticed my fucking existance and walked lazily over to me.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Mew almighty, I don’t remember rudeness like this being part of a service I’m fucking paying for!

“Give me the chili. Make it hot.” I replied, mimicing her tone.
She scowled and fucked off.

“Oh, nothing else thanks!” I shouted after her. It’s not like I was thirsty or anything, hell, I’m never parched after spending eight hours expelling flame from my face.
If you can’t tell, I’m being sarcastic.

Anyway later she returns with this piss weak bullshit.
I called her back over and told her I asked for it to be extra spicy, which she seemed to have forgotten.
“IF IT DOESN’T BURN YOUR HANDS IT’S NOT SPICY ENOUGH, BITCH.” I shouted (the benefit of this being that it halves her attack strength so she can’t fight back).
She reemed rather taken aback by my rudeness but I ushered her away with a simple yet effective paw gesture.

Eventually a half decent meal arrived but I left without paying so I guess I can’t complain.

I graduated from school for a reason: to move on, and never see the assholes I had to deal with.
“Hey firefag” was pissing me off enough. I’d moved on to a higher education in Pokéschool and was enjoying my day until this stupid bratty Vigoroth came along.

I realized; oh god, it’s that dick that made life a living hell for me. Snotty, huge ego, always fixing that stupid red lick on his flat forehead- you name it. He was one of those “popular-tier” guys just for his looks. Not only that, but he was the president of our class and frankly I really just wanted to spit a fireball at him after some shit he tried to pull with me.
What makes this little incident even worse is that he came up to me with a stupid smile on his face and asked “Hey, how are you?”

How am I? I was fucking fine until you showed up.

But instead of calling him out in public I decided to be the better person.
I played dumb and acted like I had no clue who he was.
“Who are you?”
“Um… we went to school together.”

“We… did?”
“…Yeah.”
“…Kay.” So I just walked off. He looked fairly surprised (and obviously hiding his unhurt).

You passive-aggressive, stupid, self-absorbed bastard. I wish you would have never shown up. I swear to Arceus, if he shows up again…
Hey, does anybody know a good way of hiding arson?

Why the hell was he going to the same school anyway? How did he get in? He isn’t bright at all, in fact he’s an absolute moron and the only reason he got good grades was because he flirted with every female teacher he had.

If I see him again, I’ll burn his faggot balls with a flame wheel.

You know I said I fucking hate blogs? Know what’s worse? Public transport. More specifically, buses.

Dante once said there were nine circles of hell. He missed the 10th circle; bloody buses.
Do you even know what it’s like trying to get on a bus as an unevolved Pokemon?
“Where’s your mummy, dear?”.
Dear. I ask you. And when it’s not the condescending bloody drivers with their bloody opposable thumbs and their bloody … height, it’s other passengers.

More recently I was just, you know, sitting there on the bus, minding my own business, when OH MEW MY POOR EARS.

“I LOST MY VIRGINITY WHEN I WAS 10.”
It came like a foghorn from the other end of the bus, where four Buizels were sprawled, all herping and derping, their faces 90% acne and 10% facial features.
“THIS BAG WAS FROM ARCEUS.”
Once again came the assault to my ears.
“HURR. HURR. HURR. HURR.”
I turned, rage contorting my snout and I stared meaningfully but it was too late – their preventative attack had struck, and it had struck well.

“HURR. HURR. HURR.”
Turning my back again, head ringing from the bellowing from the other end of the bus, it struck my head. A rolled up ball of paper, but it might have well have been a bomb.
“MEW WILL YOU STOP PISSING AROUND ARCEUS I ACTUALLY HATE YOU ALL,” I raged as more ‘hurrs’ errupted from the back of the bus. A possibly deadly rain of pencils, balls of paper and sandwich crusts rained down upon me.

PEOPLE. People like that can die in all the fires. All of them EVER. I couldn’t really tell you what happened after, apart from the fact that it involved a small hammer, half a cabbage and lots and lots of fire. Most of it has been blanked from my memory. I don’t care if they were kids, they burst my ear drums with that incessant fucking HURR HURR HURR. Mew.

After blowing all my $poke at the game corner I went to the department store to take some more cash out (Gold’s pin is 2515, in case you need it).
I was heading for the cash machine when I saw a Vulpix I knew years ago, before I left school. Let’s call her Gemma, for that is her name.
Now, I used to have a crush on Gemma but this was a LONG time ago; as I said it’s been years since I was in school with her and I moved on a very long time ago. Now she doesn’t look as good as she did.
Her fur’s a bit tatty.

She spotted me and I smiled at her because I am a Gentlémon, obviously.
She just looked away awkwardly and walked off.
The fuck is her problem?
I took some cash out and headed out to buy some more coins and I spotted her again, with some Sneasel at her side.
She saw me and grabbed this guy’s claw as if to say “I’m taken, don’t try anything”.

What a cunt!
Narcissism aside, what did this imply? That I’d murder her and rape her dead mouth in the privacy of a fucking department store?

As I said, tatty fur.
I have standards.

Who even has enough time in their busy day of battling bitches and whores to take time out and write some words down for the fattiest, laziest, most socially inept of the world to read.

So much work goes into some blogs as well, all that effort wasted on behind the scenes making their blogs look pretty, making them run well and be easy to use. Fuck that. Why not use your powers to help cure cancer or 90′s websites? As said before, the only people who’re even going to be bothering to read your pitiful blog are the most socially inept of society, and they’re in no state to determine whether anything is good or not. They’ll just accept anything shoved in their fat faces.

And while I’m on the subject, what kind of a word is blog anyway. B-log. A log not good enough for A. It’s delegated to B. Which is worse than A, as I’ve established. Because B-logs, suck so badly. Even being called a log. The Captain’s log is a good thing, but B-log. That’s where he just puts up messages of what shits he’s done. Which only the saddest member of the crew ever wants to read.

In conclusion, blogs are shit diaries full of every day nonsense which only the socially inept read. And that’s why I hate them.