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This weekend
...was Nooma's last weekend before going off travelling. So she had a leaving do on Saturday, much of which she spent drunk beyond belief. Her boyfriend's boss was in the fallout from her performing 'The People's Elbow' on some punter. And she spent much of the evening lying underneath a table. A sterling performance.
This weekend was also my last in The Ship Of Fools. So I spent my last shift licking that dog bald, and giving away a vast amount of drinks to people I liked. When my shift ended, there was an impromptu gathering of a few chums. We bobbed for lemons. I ruined a huge cake by planting my face in it. And cocktails. Oh, but cocktails. Impish Northern Bar-Manager has a talent for creating masterpiece beverages. Amongst others, there was a zombie (not red and gungey as one would expect, but named after the well known fact that zombies enjoy having half a pint of mixed rum in their drinks), and a red and gungey drink which I named 'Gott Ist Tot'. I think I should be nicer about God, as He has punished me with a motherfucker of a headache this morning. And we all know what happened to Nietzsche. So more deference is required, I think.
So back to Nooma. I didn't get to speak to her as much as I would've liked on Saturday; so it was a joy that she popped by to see me (and pick up my mosquito net) yesterday morning. I made her croissants. We were mutually amused by the male half of Murder Mystery Couple being in the doghouse, as the female half had uncovered his collection of porn. She showed me the drawing of an eyeball just above her "arse-crack" (exact origin unknown). I'm glad we got an hour of Nooma and Squash time before she left. There was an earnest moment when we told each other that we would miss each other. She probably won't, as she'll be too busy doing travellingy stuff. But I liked that she thought she might. She joked that my every day would be empty without her constant barrage of emails. This is actually not that far from the mark. She is the best blogger that never was.
So. Onto the next thing...
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1.11.04 11:03
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I forgot to mention
...something amusing from yesterday evening. The Figmentalist joined my chums for our impromptu 'end of era' drinks. He is very young, earnest, and intense. He was telling some folk about his passion for martial arts. I started earwigging just as he was loudly and excitedly talking to Charming Doe-Eyed Physiotherapist Chicky :
The Figmentalist : ...for instance, if I was on top of you *right now*, punching you repeatedly in the face...
Charming Doe-Eyed Physiotherapist Chicky : [disbelief]...
I like it when people are tragically dysfunctional, with hilarious consequences.
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1.11.04 12:39
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So
...nostrils. A name for something that's not really there. Holes in the face, filled with air. As areas of not-head, can I claim that My Nostrils are everywhere where I am not ? Are they omnipresent ? How much do God and My Nostrils have in common ?
I claimed earlier that I was going to be nicer to God. So I should stop likening Him to My Nostrils. I have probably jinxed myself by not believing in Hell, and as such will almost certainly go there.
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1.11.04 13:03
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What the
shitting fuck have those cow-fucking scat enthusiasts at Wanadoo done with my cunting internet settings ? I wanted to connect to the net, not to have my entire hard drive violated by the ISP equivalent of a retarded sex-pest. Motherfuck.
(As I am featured in lovely Bobble's top twenty list this week, I thought I ought to take extra care to ensure this entry was a model of erudite articulation.)
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2.11.04 10:26
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So, it would seem
...that - by being disparaging about Dark Forces - I have unwittingly secured armageddon for everyone.
Oops. Sorry 'bout that.
In other news, I start my new job this morning. I have to wear a tie. Ick. Wot are the odds that I'll say or do something really stupid that everyone will remember for the rest of my tenure there ? Watch this space.
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3.11.04 09:07
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I am at
...work.
And I'm blogging.
Five me, motherfuckers xxx
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3.11.04 15:10
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So Big-Eyed
...Irish Cutie got back yesterday. She invited me straight down to the pub after work, then over to her place for dinner and boozahol. All was going really swimmingly, I thought; until I was asked the question "If you had unlimited funds, what would be the first thing you'd buy ?". I answered "I'd get something built that was really high and you could jump off, but then have a squishy or a bouncy landing. Like a high-dive board with rubber foam beneath... Or a bouncy castle with a really high tower. So you'd drop for ages, then just bounce". BEIC's flatmate - also present - commented "I can't believe [Nooma] is with [her boyfriend] and not you... That's exactly the kind of thing she'd say".
This wasn't helpful for either (a) putting Nooma to the back of my mind; or indeed (b) my proposed conquest of Big-Eyed Irish Cutie. It was slightly awkward, in fact. Gah.
The Irish lovely and I stayed up talking and drinking until about 3.30 a.m. No snogs, tho. She is devastatingly cute. I texted her this morning to remind her that I fancied her (in case she'd forgotten). I haven't heard back yet. Am I a muppet ?
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4.11.04 13:50
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So it's
...Blow Stuff Up Day. So which of these things should I blow up ?
- My new office; home of the most monotonous, brainless job in the world (mine) ?
- Big-Eyed Irish Tease's house ?
- 20Six ? (I'm feeling contentious)
And back to the real world... Should I go round to Irish Tease's gaff this evening for fireworks, and yet more dangling ? Or just stay in and watch 'Dogville' with four bottles of wine ?
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5.11.04 11:08
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I haven't worked
...in a small office for some time. I'd forgotten about the type of notes that go up and memos that go around. There is a great one in the bathroom, written with genuine scorn, about someone who has been picking their nose whilst sitting on the toilet, and then wiping the product on the wall. This 'disgusting habit must be stopped'.
This made me smile.
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5.11.04 14:04
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So I know where I stand
...with Big-Eyed Irish Teasing Cutie. Which is still dangling. We went to a club on Saturday night. It is town's 'classiest' joint. Which means there are a couple of columns outside, and they've called it Matisse. Presumably after the French Fauvist's depictions of clogged toilets, vomit-sprayed floors, and countless walking hard-ons. It's not the kind of place I would go normally; but BEITC (in what way is this acronym evolving ?) was insistent. There was tons of touchy-feely flirting. There was (readers of a weaker disposition, look away now) hand-holding. And there was a monologue later on in the evening about devastated she was after her last boyfriend and her broke up, and now she didn't want to get involved in anything for fear of being hurt again. Hell's tits.
It is unusual for a few hours to go by without some form of contact. She popped round for a few hours this evening. We watched almost every episode of 'Willo The Wisp'. Then she went home to her bed, and I'm about to go to mine. Seems like I've got a girlfriend. Only not one I can snog or do any of that fun sex stuff with. And I fancy her rotten. Frustrating is not the word. For this reason, hanging out with her is both brill and bollocks combined. But now her best mate is leaving the country for good, I'm guessing she'll want to hang out even more. Wot am I going to do ?
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7.11.04 23:30
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To break up the
...mind-numbing tedium that is my new job, I have set myself a project. For those who haven't been paying attention, I thought the position I recently started was as photojournalist, whereas I am actually photo editor. Or 'scanner-boy'. What this means is that I am cropping and changing the levels on each photo used in The Rag. And, er... that's it. Pretty much.
And the project ? See if I can slip one photo per week past the subs that has been 'enhanced'. It will have to be subtle. I may start a 'spot the difference' competition each week on this blog. Watch this space.
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8.11.04 12:15
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I like days
...when you get to spend the day 'learning' rather than working. I got to go to a bigger office, look at pretty girls, and talk all day with my 'teacher' chap about Lars Von Trier films and 'Jam'. And I got to drive back through an autumnal countryside at just the right time of evening, happy in the knowledge that the profit I was making on the mileage amounted to more than I earn in a day.
I don't like the day that follows, when you have to go back to your own trudging graft. Moses on a moped.
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10.11.04 12:09
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I am hungover
...and mingy. I went to a comedy evening last night with Big-Eyed Irish Cutie, amongst others. She was looking dazzling. I am becoming worryingly besotted. She found the wrongest gags hilarious, and hence is brill.
Example :
I was kept up all night by the bulimic upstairs vomiting. I told her to keep it down.
An interesting interchange. Her flatmate wishes to enter a competition in The Local Rag. It was theorised that it would be useful to know someone who worked there. So I volunteered my services. I offered to sleep with all the subs in order to secure success. BEIC fixed me with a glance and said "I don't think we're going to get anywhere if you sleep with a bunch of people. You should spend more of your time just wooing". Double-edged indeed. I read into this that she wishes to be wooed. So... How does one woo ?
In other news, some total motherfucker has keyed Ora, the SquashMobile. Since 'Pulp Fiction', I didn't think anybody would ever do that kind of thing again. I am fantasising about hammer-smashed teeth.
How is your day shaping up ?
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12.11.04 11:10
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So
... I Killed Blog Crush is finally off the 'Blogs Of The Month'. How many of you guessed who it was really ? I think the high point of that little experiment was being called a 'miserable fuck' by lovely Beso, who I'd only just crushed before the second Blog Crush got deleted.
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12.11.04 16:44
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