Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Check out my birthday cake!
Housemate Claire made it for me.
It is beyond fecking Yum and is Coeliac friendly.
I had a great birthday and some cracking gifts.
Books, book tokens, speciality vodka, wine and a day Clay Pigeon shooting!
Oh! Yes! I will be ARMED!
The main celebration is on Saturday.
My Father is leaving his house, the Nottingham contingent are coming south, the locals are mobilised and the Irish are flying in.
It should be epic!
If my niece wrote a blog I think her post yesterday would go something like this:
I popped into see the mad lesbian auntie this afternoon.
She opened the door with her ear on her right shoulder.
‘Oh! Have you got a crick in your neck?’ I asked.
“Darling! Come in! Come in! No! Hydrogen Peroxide in my ear” she cheerfully told me, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
The scene that greeted me in the front room was, well, carnage.
It looked like the sofa had been sexually assaulted.
Half the covers were off, cushions were all over the floor and the cat was looking traumatized.
‘Oh Dear! What happened?’
“Oh? This? At 2 this morning I decided to wash all the covers, forgetting that getting it undressed is a lot easier than getting its clothes back on!”
“I’ve cried in frustration then kicked the shit out of it” she said.
Her head was still tilted.
‘And what’s with the Peroxide?’ I asked.
“Cleaning the wax out of my ear. There’s a huge lump in there and it won’t shift. This shit is sizzling the fuck out of it!”
I left the house laughing and laughed all the way to the car.
I’m sure at some point during her drive home she put her hand on her baby bump and thought, ‘Please G-d, don’t let it have any of her DNA!’.
Bi Polar Grandfather, Asperger’s Great Aunt, you’d hope something balanced would be coming from the Dad’s side.
His Mum is adopted and they have no clue to her background!
Baby Russian Roulette!
At last we have a government.. Or something that is doing an impression of one.
So the ‘Tactical’ vote for the Liberal Democrats, to keep the Tories out, like they fucking told us to do, was totally pointless then?
They will NEVER get a vote from me again. Not even for the local council.
Clegg’s name has been mentioned so often in the last three days I was convinced Capello would name him in his World Cup Squad.
Isn’t Democracy fucking grand?
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
I made the absolutely horrific mistake of cleaning the front room windows.
To tell the truth I can’t remember the last time I did it. Or if I ever have!
Armed with Mr Muscle spray and kitchen roll I had at it. Only to be shamed into stopping by the colour the paper quickly turned.
It was that special yellow/brown colour that used to be reserved for pub ceilings before the smoking ban.
The difference is amazing, my world is no longer Sepia toned!
Today is the last day of my thirties and I feel a bit weird.
It’s hard to explain, but I think I’m supposed to feel more ‘grown up’ than I actually do!
In my head I’m still about 15.
My Superego exerts a bit more power these days, well, as much as mine can.
“It” is there though, the elemental, uncivilized and primitive me.
And the Ego?
Barely remains sane playing fucking Switzerland with the other two fuckers and being constantly stoned.
I now intend to get totally and utterly mashed up.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
I had no idea who to vote for so decided to indulge in some ‘Election Roulette’.
The first fucker to knock on the door would get my vote.
Unless it was the BNP or any other of the Nazi parties.
Not a one came near me.
It was local elections too, so I voted for the bloke who was the most help with the trees.
Even when I was stood in the booth looking at the paper I didn’t know where to put my cross.
So while I was there, wondering whether to spoil my ballot, I decided there should be a ‘Don’t Know, They’re All Shit’ option.
None of them have convinced me they can organise a piss up in a brewery.
We’re fucked whatever way it goes.
I also had Connectile Dysfunction the whole of the Bank Holiday weekend.
Virgin Media? Fucking load of shit.
I was ‘phoning for three days, arguing with Indians called Ryan.
Fucking Ryan? Yeah, popular name in the Punjab that one.
One of them started every sentence with “I suppose..”
‘I suppose it is unplanned maintenance in your area’, ‘I suppose you could be back on by the 7th of May’.
It got very heated.
Eventually I got through to a British call centre and things seem to get sorted.
I’m still not sure if it was them or James the giant Apple engineer.
My money is on James.