Angsty has made it clear that this site exists purely for him and anyone who happens to view it does so without him caring, or possibly with his disgust. Yet he doesn't understand that if one leaves their website just lying around in the public domain, someone might accidentally read it. I remember when he first started, Angstythink.com was supposed to be a way that a bright eyed young man could express his thoughts and hopes about life with anyone else who would care to read. Now it's deteriorated into a front row seat of watching Angsty's life swirl down the toilet. [ED: Jair.... wide eyed naive Angsty was way cooler then crotchety old whore Angsty. The latter Angsty is too peeved with the world to think about doing anything but whinge and post porn, while the former Angsty used to post cool thoughts and stuff]

Links that work are outnumbered by those that don't. The font is repulsive, I could do better on a typewriter. The new writers have a combined IQ of six, and their grammar is as atrocious as Angsty's. The layout is just plain shit on any resolution other than Angsty's, bigger or smaller. The ftp account he gave me is always playing up, and he fills my storage space with his seldom legal junk. Maybe he does this deliberately to give the site some sort of pseudo home-made charm, or perhaps he really is a useless buffoon. I think he does it because he's just an great guy with a large brain and even larger penis, and I bet he'll edit that too. [ED: i would only edit it, if it were false]

The type of emails I get from those who bother to write show me that quite a lot of visitors here are from overseas, imagine what their impression of Australia is. They'd think that we're retards who can't even write a full post.

How come disorganised crime doesn't link Angstythink?

How come Jaymis doesn't link Angstythink?

Angstythink does actually have a linX0r button. But as you can see it is shit. Mad props to anyone that will make me a button and or a banner. Especially the button. Noone will link me untill i get a button. Ill give u linx0r and sex0r and whatever u want, if u make me a trendy looking button. I'll even give u ops in #themp3a1t. NOTE: #themp3a1t may not be the same channel as #themp3alt.

How come nobody emails me anymore? I can only assume your silence means your laughing on the inside at my jokes and agreeing silently to my ideas. If not, then email me, and tell me how wrong I was in my last post, how not funny I was. Either that or tell me the truth: i'm fucking cool. I dont care. Just tell me something.

Im using dreamweaver ultradev 4. It sux0rs. But i have to use it if i want to get a job.

ExistAngst: Hi. Umm im looking for employment as a webdesigner/developer?
Web Design Company: Do u know how to use dreamweaver?
Me: No sir. I write all my websites in raw HTML using notepad. Its l33ter that way.
Him: Litre? Son I dont know what you think measurements of volume have to do with designing web sites, but without basic competancy in dreamweaver, u might as well forget about a job here.
Me: But but but..... u didnt even look at my portfolio!
Him: SECURITY!!! Escort this young man to the exit.

And thats that. I trundle off home with my tail between my legs to learn Dreamweaver.

I hate it. It fucks with my code. Im a control freak about this shit: I like to be in charge of how my html looks. Dreamweaver makes such messy, unreliable code. The design window doesn't seem to understand my javascript. Theres no save icon. Dreamwever uses

Of course i'll grin and bear it, because i NEED a better job. Preferably sitting on my backside slurping coffee, eating doritos, and making websites in between idle sessions in #themp3alt (dalnet you mofo.... efnet is teh suckie too). That will be the easy life. Infinitely preferable over serving kebabs. But it all starts with learning how to use dreamweaver. Damn.

Aparrently a whole heaps of SS agents threw the bag of pretzels to the ground and covered it with their bodies to protect the president from a 2nd pretzel attack.

Osama bin Laden must be quaking in his boots knowing this George Bush character is after him.

Eton Boarder 1: Care for another spliff old boy?
Harry: Oh yess jolly good old chap.
Harry has a biiiiiiig toke
Eton Boarder 2: Ohh jolly good show Harry! Now lets all go play a round of polo
The "Round of Polo" quicky degenerates into "Rolling around on the grass, laughing at the polo horses and chasing one another with polo sticks".
This carries on untill 2 minutes before the end of the show.
Then Prince Charles comes along, clucks his tongue a few times, and takes the young prince to a rehab clinic"

Movie insiders (like myself) know better.

Its because New Zealand is practically still in the dark ages itself.... so the costumes, makeup and extra costs are almost nil. They just tell the main actors to go out into the countryside and slay some of the butt ugly orkesque New Zealand farmers while the cameras are rolling, and then they call it the "battle scene". The animal/human rights folk never really catch on because it all looks so legitimately cinematic. You notice at the end of the film there is no disclaimer to the gist of "No Animals were harmed in the making of this film"? Thats because such a disclaimer would be untrue: as scores and scores of ugly little New Zealand farmers were put to the sword to appease hollywood.

They didn't even need to spend any money on constumes or makeup. In fact, as im told, the only hitch throughout the whole production was getting the farmers distracted long enough to get a decent segment of footage.....

Director: Excuse me sir, could I beseech you to quit fucking those sheep for a few moments while I film Aragorn here running a broadsword through your ugly little face? It's for a little movie im doing.
Orkesque New Zealand Farmer: *grunt*
*said farmer puts down the molested sheep which run away, and the director seizes the moment...*
Director: ACTION!!!
*Brave Aragon slays the ugly little New Zealand ork*

Shortly after I was slammed in and the door ushered shut. It was a standard office, desk, big comfy chair, window with a great view of the abattoir. The office spun around the chair and there was Angsty, wearing his sporty yellow number, his firing dress. He shut his eyes tight and pressed his palms into his ears, I did the same in anticipation of what was to come. He let off a loud, shrill squeal and held it for a few minutes. He opened a drawer in his desk and handed me my replacement. Well I knew it wouldn't last, I should've seen it coming. After giving my thanks, Mother Teresa guided me out the door and helped me funk my way to my cubicle. I put my replacement on my desk, giving it's key a few turns, retrieved my fishing magazines out of the bottom drawer then headed towards the window for the last time. Looking back at the Angstythink.com building, I pondered what to do now. I could start a new life. An adventure! Yes!

I rode the public crocodile all day and all day. This village needs better public transport, something that works on cold days and is death-roll free. Everyone was at peace, no danger to smell of and certainly nothing adventurous to undertake. Niceness was a really big problem this year, I was lucky to have been vaccinated when I had the chance. A crowd was gathering outside the pet store, making it hard for me to go into the restuarant next door. I gave the croc a hand, she gave me one finger fifty change and went on her way. Adventuring is easy work and I needed something small to keep me coming. The chicken sandwich brought the plate in, which I slowly regurgitated the waiter onto. The sun was going dawn and realisation was downing on me, I was tired, hungry and out of a job. Time to go home.

Adventures suck. I stood in my kitchen perusing today's manual looking for potential excitement, but I couldn't get past the page three insect. A good looking guy ran out of my laundry in a hurry, and my future self lying on my/his heater gave me a knowing frown. I must be the only me on the block without an adventure to call my own. Soon after there was a trumpeting at the door, I didn't remember doing that. Incinerating the door I was greeted by a penguin smoking a pipe. I invited him in for some friendly banter, but instead he rudely ate me.

I was squashed into a ball covered with stomach acids and fish remains, I haven't enjoyed myself so much in years. My feet were next to my head and my arms were indistinguishable from the former food I shared my new home with. The days rolled on, I survived by eating the parts of me the stomach digested. The soft bumps I felt turned into a gentle bobbing, I was being taken overseas. My shoe caught my eye, basically because it was partially lodged in it. Stuck to the sole with a mix of gastric juices and shame was the black disc, it was there the whole time. Well the first half was pretty disturbing, but I had a lot of time on my hands... yes... they were mostly still there. And it was an adventure, even if it was Angsty's. I unloaded the second disc and put this one in, fast fowarding to where I left off.

Angsty: Ok whats the order im meant to pack stuff into boxes? Ummm elctrical items on the bottom, heavy shit at the top. Cool no problems.

*Then i completely abandon technique and just make a game of it by seeing if i can piff stuff into my packing box from the other side of the room*