SHIT FUCK BUGGER.

My response to forgetting the fucking blog.
   Shit fuck bugger.
   There's a place in fiction for profanity. Except, as I went to type that, I jumbled the words up and almost typed...there's a place in profanity for fiction. At that, I said FUCK and resolved to tell you of my mistake.
   Didn't have to tell you that bit. But, fuck it, telling you that bit added to the paragraph. It's what's known in the trade as padding, and you'll find it in the works of...
   Ah, I am not playing that fucking game today. Maybe another fucking day. So what threw me off?
   The fucking bins. Yes. Bin-men didn't turn up. So bin-day was bin-day the next day. And this is the fucking thing if you live a writer's life.
   Days merge with one another like butter mixed with chocolate. Blend enough, and you are staring at chocolate. You have to do something, experience more, to notice the day changed. Actually taste the fucking buttery chocolate.
   Now if you don't like that Monday Morning Feeling, and every fucking day feels like a Monday, well, I can't help you. Jog the fuck on.
   Fuck. There's a message on the blog here. What the?! I was looking up, not really for inspiration - I was checking for flies. I know there's a fly in here somewhere. Fucker.
   Oh. It's my fucking stalker, LOL.
   You are being stalked by a fucking fly?
   Yes. And I'm the spider. So that's a plot-twist giveaway right there. Enjoy. Ah, fuck, I've completely lost the fucking thread. Guess I'll just have to be pumped by the minotaur after all.
   No, that wasn't my fucking plan all along, thanks very much. Where the fuck was I? At the centre of the maze built by Daedalus. I hear he's moving into aircraft design.
   Fucketty fuckitty. Spelling? I'm undecided, and went with both. Fuck. Yes. It's bad enough with the writer's life blending days into more days, without the fucking bin-men adding to my strife.
   Point is. Everyone in the street has to deal with the bins. The days blend for the writer. The bins are fixed items in the weekly calendar. I set my watch by those fucking bins. And when the bins are off, the blended week REALLY fucking smears and smudges.
   So here I am, writing this fucking non-rant. Trying to include profanity in every paragraph. I have to tell you. That's not been fucking easy.