| Des |
[21 Oct 2003|09:55am] |
I made this. It's a fucking DVD mock up with Des on the cover:
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[21 Oct 2003|03:19pm] |
And here is the damned back. This took me two fucking hours to make.
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[21 Oct 2003|06:55pm] |
The aformentioned, and indeed displayed Des film was used in a practical joke. This morning, i recieved a DVD i had ordered for David, and presented the Des box to him instead, saying "Looks like Amazon fucked up, Dave! They sent me this by mistake!" His face....
Anyhoo, on the way to the Bell this morning, i nearly passed out from chest pains. That's the worst it has ever affected me. I may have to go to the doctor about this. I'm desperately scared about it being something serious, however. Sometimes the beauty of the ignorance of health matters is prefereable. I'd rather not know.
I will have to give my talk tomorrow. I am at considerable peace about it. Whats more, nothing in life is really bothering me. I've read back to my last five months on this diary. I remember being rambling, unfocussed, and often temperamental. I am no longer like this, and for that i am happy. I am no longer convinced i am physically and emotionally and intellectually inferior to every woman i have a fancy for. I am no longer so self deprecating and certainly am much more confident just to be my fucking self, acting the arse and not thinking how shit i look or am every fifteen picoseconds.
Hey, i'm in no way perfect, but you would see from my writing style and emotion a kind of discipline and calmness i have not had before. I can't really explain all that, but i'm okay. For once, i'm okay. And i'm off down the Bell soon, to enjoy the last night before Ian returns. Rugby talk and sneering will be ramped up considerably from tomorrow. Things i can no longer do:
1. Use my mobile phone.
2. Do impressions of Ian.
3. Put U2 on in the bar.
4. Laugh without permission.
5. Chloroform customers
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