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[11 Dec 2003|08:59am] |
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mood |
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music |
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Underground - David Bowie |
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Tired. I got a little drunker than i'd anticipated last night, Even danced out of the pub. Which was a new experience.
Today is busy. Very busy. I'm not looking forward to it at all.
To top it all off, Des is clumsily fumbling with the window. He always appears to be trying to lift the latch, despite having paws too cumbersome and fucking huge to do it. He can open the study door though.........
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| Santa's Grotto |
[11 Dec 2003|09:16am] |
INT: The grotto
Tim: Hi, Santa!
Santa: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING GROTTO!
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[11 Dec 2003|09:32am] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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Searched for something i said last night.
"No, "A" for arsehole".
http://cgi.peak.org/~jeremy/retort.cgi?British=arsehole
I found that. So, if anyone was in any doubt at the colloquial British term for an anus, your minds have been put at rest. If not particularly expanded.
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| Lookin' through the archives. |
[11 Dec 2003|10:05am] |
On April 4th, at the now nearly defunct www.therubylounge.com, i started my diary. Here's my Dial a Date video entry:
"ALRIGHT? I'm Phyllis! Er, not me real name, of course....erm...what was i here for? WOMAN! YES, that's it....i'm looking for a woman of a description...quite honestly, you'll have to be human at least...and have some hair...and eyeballs. Got to have eyeballs....i find it's important....most times....and you have to have an extremely forgiving nature as far as me sporadically screaming and clutching my sides in terror goes...oh yeah, and i sometimes shave my stomach for no reason. If you've got your own bike, for god's sake don't go under a car on it...you'll die. gimme a call, yer woman you!"
You'd have to say i sounded pretty desperate. I'm sure this is still the case. Hang on! This was all just a BIG laugh! Ha ha.....yes....
Anyway. Some more classic moments coming up. You don't know how i met Zoe yet, do you?
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| Meeting Zoe Malloy |
[11 Dec 2003|10:12am] |
You know, it's amazing how much more fastidious and less rambling my entries have become since then. I used to write in such a jocular fashion too.
I hope i haven't lost THAT edge.
Anyway, this is from the night i first really met Zoe Malloy. If i recount it now, it seems absurd that i held her in such a messiah like status. In fact, i didn't. I was just looking for someone to be in love with. She walked into my world at a vulnerable time; i needed a woman to latch on to. Of course, i still think she's sexy and very attractive, and unique in her Gothic beauty, but to think of myself like this is embarrassing:
"Last night was good. The first part was completer boredom...only alleviated by me and Fuschia chewin' the fat about bears driven mad and backpain...yerhh....we had a good laugh kim'alls.....anyway i was gonna go home early because drinking too much is eating my funds...but we met up with Stuart and Zoe. And we went to the New Inn. Zoe is and really, really sweet and intelligent. And she spoke to me quite a lot. Unfortunately, that's a NO go area for many, MANY reasons. And anyway, i've learnt not to get infactuated that easily with someone recently. Ain't worth it mate. MATE. But christ, those eyes. Delicate, dark eyes. She could bottle them and sell them to marble companies. They're that good."
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[11 Dec 2003|10:12am] |
Quite sweet, really. Perhaps this was my problem. I've learnt in a very short time that no one is to be put on a pedestal, and i forgot that for a while. Look at these entries, i sound like a teenager. Although obviously not a disenchanted, apocalypse obsessed teenager. Or a chav. Or BOTH:
"Killer evening. Sat with the girls, who'd just been back from the tandoori, innit? They were cackling and shit, and Zoe was there! Ooooooooooohhhhhhh! I'm turning into a giggling boy. She would have let me walk her home, it didn't turn out like that...i had to walk a pissed up Helen (not my sister) home. Not that i mind at all...i'm a gentleman! But i wanted to give Zo my number! Sob. And we would have talked and everything. There's no chance with her at all....but having an admiration for someone is no bad thing if you don't take it too seriously. I hope we become good mates"
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[11 Dec 2003|10:15am] |
I love this Phyllis history lesson. It's quite entertaining to relive my past.
Anyway, we reach my holiday. And the week of Cinderella's birthday.
"Bono's birthday, and the aftermath of Zoe's. We all had a lovely evening...and it was wonderful to see Zoe having fun; i know things are hard for her...anyway when they took photographs of us in the Chinese, i saw myself in it...and i lookfe horrible...i nearly had a BDD attack...something tangible and horrifying like never before. I couldn't look at it without wanting to vomit. Kind of ruined my night, until...
we were in the Bell...and i was asked to walk Zoe home again. Mad Helen had long since stumbled off to relieve the babysitter...yes!
I must say, i was utterly lifted by Zoe...as we walked up the road she made me feel a million times better, said i wasn't ugly at all...(i'd spilled out my heart by this point) and she stuck her arm in mine all the way up the road..put her arm around me...and held my hand loads. It was sweet..i didn't want to look in her eyes too much in case of what might happen to me. Can't get too "thingy" about her...but i absolutely swooned; gave her my number too. And i've got hers on a text. She said i could get it off that. I won't do anything though...don't want to cause any friction...still she has mine if she wants to talk. I'm just glad she was so happy last night.
"
I did enjoy that evening, but looking back i can see i'd shot myself in the foot slightly by being terribly insecure and voicing these insecurities to a woman i liked.
Hardly attractive conversation. However, she made me learn a few things; i'm not ugly, and i'm not fucking stupid, and i'm not unattractive. I am however, hiding all that's good about me under a layer of self pity and controlling disorders.
After this, as you will see, i latched onto her a little too much. Of course, i still like talking about her, she is an enigma to me and fascinates me so, but now i don't give a shit wether she likes me, spares me a thought, or anything else, because I KNOW i'm good.
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| May 12th, 2003 |
[11 Dec 2003|10:22am] |
"Right, so last night was a fucking BLARNEY mate. Started off at home...i'd just been feeling bored and sodding restless...so i decided to go down the Bell...like i do...often....and on the way Royston gives me a lift. Twenty minutes later we're drinking and laughing about the "ALIENS" quotes...boozer! Then i talk about Zoe and how i talked to her about auditions and shit on the text...and he's only said she's in the Bell that night, eh? HHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! She walks in ten minutes after Bolb, who gives Roy much BOOMIN' CHRISTING over a meeting confusion. Lovely..when tiny Zoe comes in i can feel myself sliding off the chair again. After Ian scoops me up with a knife, i talk to her for a while. She makes me fucking melt with her eyes..later on i walk her home again. I'm so wammed i start asking her about what she thinks of me...don't know what i was saying. She said "probably a friend", which really depressed me. It was a few minutes later that she was more specific...something about it being her situation that meant i would only be a friend...in fact she said if it were different and she were single she might have gone out with me. CRHISTIN' BOWLERS MATE. This made me feel pretty good. The reason we can only be friends isn't because she doesn't fancy me or like me in that way...it's more the situation she's in. Which is not what i want to complicate for her anyway. Indeed, when i dropped her at her home, i was so worried for her... "
Interesting entry. Trying to work out what women actually MEAN is an art i am not greatly adept at. I changed a few words here, as Zoe later became aware of the diary address.
In my own stupidity, i gave it to her. And she read the lot. I asked her if she was offended, she said "more like extremely flattered", and you know what THAT means.
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| May 16th, 2003 |
[11 Dec 2003|10:25am] |
Ah, now this was amusing. In those heady eventful days of summer, before i slipped into the coma of Bell Inn drinking and bewilderingly boring days working, i had things to make actual scripts out of. Like this situation outside the local fucking corner shop:
"
Picture the bloody scene. I'm going to work...pass Bens to get some Rizlas...CASH POINTS WORKING! Beezer, i can get some money:
Me: Yeah...come on you cunt...give me some dosh...nice to see this ACTUALLY WORKING for once, even though that twat from the Halifax is still on it...
(Voices from beyond)
Alica & Zoe: HI PHYLLIS!
(Ahhhh! It's Zoe! Going to rehersahsl! They've just come out of Bens! I'm so struck by Zoe yet again, i start wildly stabbing any old numbers until i get nonsense on the screen. I've lost all thought)
Zoe: How are you?
Me: I'm okay....er....just...working...yeah..bye!
Good, eh? I'M SUCH A LADIE'S MAN AREN'T I? CHEROOT YER BEERS!
They toddled off to rehersals after this, leaving me screaming into the card slot.
On a serious point, i'm afraid of getting to know Zoe too well. In case i get to falling for her. I don't want to be hurt, and i don't want to hurt her somehow. She's been and is in the mill as we speak. But it's a double edged sword, because i know she's already fond of me...and i like her company. The few times we've spent together there was a warmth and tingling thing..and it wasn't because i'd just pissed myself. No, i felt crackles on my skin...little feelings i can't describe. I've probably had closer contact to her than i've had to anyone. (Friendly, that is)Just the holding hands thing. It's all new to Phyllis. But that's just it! She never moved away when we talked, never flinched. It's nice. Confortable. I could bottle that fuzziness and pour it into my mouth and eyes. Still trying to work her out.
Yeah, i'll text her later. See if i can't make the little lassie laugh."
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[11 Dec 2003|10:27am] |
I hope my flirting skills have improved somewhat since that day. Fuck, remind me never to fall in love with anyone, i'd be insufferable.
I mean, if i can get like THAT during a crush, the effects of genuine romantic feeling for ANYONE will result in a gooey implosion.
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[11 Dec 2003|10:32am] |
"Well this was quite funny. I was talking to Zoe on the text, and whilst i'm smashing out a reply, she er...walks in the door of the Bell. Phone seems kind of redundant. We have a nice chat, after which she has to go and then i get hammered with Bolb, Stan and Dave. Dave can make us laugh just by doing this:
"Yeah sorry can i just get past please...sorry...yeah....YEAH.......*CRAAAACKKKK!*"
What he does is he mimes trying to get past somebady, and then pretends he's headbutting them. It's true physical comedy.
There was other stuff about image and comparison and lots of things i felt...but i feel a headache which is bigger than those thoughts at the moment. I'll tell you later.
At some point i am going to get Dave the rave on here. Hopefully some others before the camera is moved on."
Fascinating evening. It was one of only TWO times i've had alone with Zoe. That is in terms of substantial time when we actually got to talk without others present.
It was great; sort of like a genuine connection. I really bounced off her that day, though possibly not in all the ways i would have liked.
Sorry, attempt at humour. Didn't come off.
Phyllis, you filthy fuck.
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[11 Dec 2003|10:33am] |
"So this chat i had with Zoe. She and Alicia turned up about 1pm at the Bell, selling tickets for the play they're both in. Zoe looks as usual, and i just sit there loosing all ability to make words:
Zoe: So you guys coming to see us? Me and Alicia? I play a butch lesbian...i snog a redhead!
Me: Blarneyblahajkdhaksdhaksdhiuydidhasidhashdkjhweuwhi
Zoe: I'll take that as a yes.
Well not exactly verbatim...but you get the idea. Most ambarrassing. Daniel really likes Alicia, and later i ask Zoe what Alicia thought of him (He asked)...zoe returns the text saying Alicia thinks he's a "shag". This makes me feel shit, Daniel getting compliments again. Later it transpires that Zoe felt similarly shit next to Alicia. And the general consensus is that men are somehow always after her. I'm not. I don't see that in Alicia at all. Maybe i'm biased, but i find Zoe infinitely cuter. To me anyway. But then that isn't the point, really. At least, it shouldn't be. Our conversation later in the Bell involves this stuff. I do my best to tell her how bloody stunning she is...but i guess if i don't believe people when they say things about me, she's not going to either. She said she has a very similar problem. Ah well, can only keep trying.
Also blathered out stuff about my diary. Stupid fucking idiot, i am. She said something about going on the computers in the library to read it. I said i'd probably have to do some hefty editing. Maybe so, but she gave the impression she knows what i'd have been writing about. I didn't give her the address though. But hey, my intentions are harmless anyway. I have a huge crush, but there's nothing reeeeallly wrong with that. I'm quite content to have her as a mate and nothing more...at the end of the day she could be such a good friend. That's all that's really important. Question is, who is my one soulmate? Are they out there? Do they exist? It isn't Zoe or Mel or *cough* Denise.......so who? Are they right now mucking out a shed somewhere on earth? Or picking hairs out of a scone....or staring into an abyss they've just hurled some used tyres into. Oh god, they sound like a farmhand! Nah seriously....who was i meant to find? And when? 'Cos it's getting late."
I still find this funny. I got very flustered that day when confronted with Zoe. I remember also that Jo had seen us holding hands, and spread a rumour about us fucking.
Which wasn't true. But at the time it seemed rather flattering. Now i'd just shrug my shoulders and mumble something under my breath about gossiping fucking arseholes. Which seems more logical.
But WHY did i obsess so much on the subject of women? Why did i care? You can't pin down your idea of an ideal woman. Unless you're one of those kids out of "Weird Science".
Maybe i had a point. Maybe it's still pertinent. Maybe i just don't know who that person is. I walked home drunk the other night shouting at her to appear. You see, i haven't met her yet, and i'm getting impatient for her to turn up in my life. Fuck fate.
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[11 Dec 2003|10:39am] |
"Was a little bit monotone and withdrawn yesterday. Something to do with my commencement of anti depressants, but also the situation of Zoe is still getting to me. I know it shouldn't because it's not my problem...not my world....but it does. I feel an emotional connection to certain people...i'm not gonna fucking break that because people tell me to. I can't break it. It's not in my hands. Anyway...spent a miserable hout watching Roy kick a bottle at a dog. The dog came back every time. Roy tired. Roy goes home. Get a lift home with Neal, apparently i can talk to him, he's had similar treatment for depression. This is a good thing. This kid on "Little House On the Prarie" looks like Martin Fowler out of "Eastenders". How about that. Zoe is down tonight for ticket purposes, and not to drink, because of "situations". I feel very bad about this Now fuck off. "
A more vicarious moment, if ever there was one. One thing that's changed in me is emotion like this. I no longer live through others, and i know it did her no good for me to be like this.
I still know what happens, what goes on. It's not that i don't care...i just don't let it permeate into my conciousness any more. I don't let HER permeate me. Except for this lengthy flashback. But this is fun for me, and let's me know how different i am. How much i've grown and changed. Especially with her.
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[11 Dec 2003|10:43am] |
"I'm experiencing a considerable dearth of mental material at the moment. Much as i try to come up with a witty and biting piece of mind shattering comedic excellence, all i can think of is two Rhino playing with a beach ball and then bursting it and rubbing it angrily into a muddy paddock. Well fuck that...i'm going to read BOOKS to get some inspiration. I've started reading Ben Elton's "Inconcievable". Which is startlingly familiar concept to writing this diary. Except for the whole book being about two people's struggle to concieve, of course. My problem being i have no one to concieve with. My tadpoles are about as much use as those down the marshes. At least those ones can grow legs.
Sincerely, i will read more. And not just books by one time sit-com writers either. I have some other books wot i am going to read, innit? Unless Graham wants them back. He's been moaning about it for ages. I think either him or Mel will drag me along to a college very soon.
It occurs to me i've been drinking the same cup of tea for two hours. I found some filmy tea floating like a brown sea in the pot, left there by my mother before she leaves at seven forty five. It was lukewarm then. I keep swigging it, and it's past stone cold now. More like rock cold. Or granite cold. Are there different temperatures of sediment? Dunno, but i may have to make a new pot soon. Of tea, you arsehole. This one has now got a curious dark coloured skin to it. The mug, incidentally has a humourless "BIG CUPPA" in a generic font, accentuated with a crude indifferent picture of a stemaing mug of tea, complete with wavy lines that look more like weeds growing out of the beverage. I think this was sprayed on by a giant machine operated by a bleary eyed operative. Sweat shops, i fucking tell you."
Nothing to do with Zoe, but a sticking point first touched upon here was my writer's block. To tell you the truth it still worries me. I feel like Lisa Simpson, like i'm losing my intelligence and my mind through the culture and society i'm in. Can others make you thick? What about watching too much Trisha or Kilory? It can't be having a particularly positive effect.
I have a vision of myself ten years time in a filthy bedsit, spouting proletarian rhetoric.
"So i turned round and said"
KILL ME.
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[11 Dec 2003|10:47am] |
I have to go Christmas shopping soon. I have some things, and not some other things.
I need a new coat, too. My current one is resembling a disintegrating leather duvet.
The account is also taking a hammering. I object strongly to having to order the Cutting Crew's "Broadcast", but had to as a favour for Dave. He needs it for his uncle.
It's a dreadful album, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
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[11 Dec 2003|10:49am] |
We'll have more history from the Ruby diaries later. Fucking miss Zoe, i really do.
But don't get the wrong impression. I'll never allow myself to be that vulnerable around a woman again.
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[11 Dec 2003|10:52am] |
Oh yes, i've finished "Animal Farm". Now at least i'm not entirely politically ignorant, having grasped the basics of communism.
I may be able to struggle through that particular essay.
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[11 Dec 2003|05:22pm] |
Oh, you know. Normal day. Normal boring stabbing myself in the fucking hand with a steak knife sort of day.
Yep, i managed to impale myself. But apart from that it was non-descript.
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| The Stalker - More from the archives |
[11 Dec 2003|05:33pm] |
Back in April, Melanie and i acquired ourselves a very own filthy miscreant. His name was William, and this is his story. Well, the bit involving us, anyway.
"Fuck. You know stalking has reached new levels when confectionary eggs are involved. Picture the scene, 2:30, Tuesday afternoon.:
Melanie and i are in the Saddlers....mel is flicking idly through the Sun, looking at some story involving 50 Cent and Beyonce, strangely enough. Suddenly, like an evil Micheal Palin, a tall gaunt gentlemen in a beige coat appears! I am pretty frightened...but Mel looks like she wants to jump through the nearest window.
"Excuse me...but can i sit here?".
Perfectly normal enough. But it's the manner which frightens....he grips me on the arm several times and motions towards Mel...even taking her hand twice, and rather disturbingly starts to talk about anger
"You look angry! Why are you angry, have you been crying?"
Ok....now it's getting a litttle bit odd...
Mel: "No, i haven't been....where are you from?"
(His name, we later discover, is William.)
William: I'm from.....Edinburgh.....i come down here....DOWN HERE....to get away from...this!
(Motions towards newspaper)
I want to feel alive! DO YOU FEEL ALIVE?
Mel: "No, but this place is...dead...
William: "Go back on that....why's it dead?"
Mel:................
And so on. We're really scared! I'm just thinking "Please don't punch me or stab me! I'm only 26! Take the girl instead! She's got big eyes you can sell!" (Sorry Mel! Just joking!"
We make our escape after a brilliant plan of Mel's which involves kicking me in the shins and telling me to drink up. We leg it to the New Inn, still fortunately open. They know who he is as well....
Anyway...he tries to get in there too! Bloody hell! He's after us! Luckily it's after closing time so he's turned away. I think he's going to be waiting for us outside, sure enough...he's followed us to the local shop, inne? EH?
And....and this is the best bit....he comes out having followed us out...and plants in Melanie's hand...a goddamned Creme Egg! Stalkers are into confectionary now? What? What happened to hastily pasted threatening messages made out of newspaper cuttings?
"Creme Eggs - For the stalker who really cares."
Mel doesn't eat the egg, instead electing to give it to a fellow barmaid's child. Hopefully the egg is not poisoned or anything. Still....it's an anectode. Next week, we leave this crazy village and go into town, ok Mel? I'm not being Williamed again. I'm just not that way inclined! In the evening i got wammed on cheap wine, and danced to "The Magic Dance" from Labyrinth. Again.
Today itself was fun....spilled me emotional guts again...just remind me to keep my big old mouth shut in future. I really am far too earnest.
Goodnight gorgeous ones...see you tomorrow. I'm off to smash my head out on a length of piping."
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| Stalker 2 |
[11 Dec 2003|05:35pm] |
Yep, a lot happened this year. Here was my second vagrant experience:
"On Friday i attained a further mentalist to add to my collection. This one was an Irish lady, clearly not used to her beer, swigging Stella and telling me she could murder me. This is a bad chat up line in anyone's book. Apparently "Oi can moider you over a long period of time and there would be no evidence in the post mortem". Cheers! Anyway, she was abusive to several people and thrown out by Ian, Gordon and Carol. It took three to talk her out of the pub. Brilliant! She was last seen hanging around the road outside the New Inn looking lost, finally getting into the passenger seat of a passing car! Boozer.
Saturday was nothing to write home about....because i'm writing it here, you arsehole. Still, got totally stressed out at work, only tempered by the satisfaction of getting the job done. Which we did. 69 sit downs and 30 buffet. HUGE.
Sunday was punctuated by an early storm, which it was hoped would break up the humidity and freshen us...it didn't....it just bought a power cut. Wicked. And so i sweated half my body weight out at work, hopefully lost a few stone. Every shit shift has a fucking silver lining. Got Bank Holiday bonus though! BLIDERIN' BOOGIE! And the beauuuuuuuuuutiful Zoe came down on her way to the rehersals. She was melancholoy...obvviously...but seemed to have cheered up a bit in the pub later. Still....she was tired and more than a little vocal on her situation. I don't mind at all....i love listening to her...but i was desperate for a response i could give...some timeless gem of reassurance or some platitude about how things would be better one day. It didn't. I'm not dishonest enough to do that, and she's too intelligent to take that kind of thing. I think she just appreciated my listening ears. My pleasure. I get to walk a charming and graceful woman home. She was also dressed curiosuly like Paine out of FF X-2. Odd, as it was a costume for Comic Potential...but she was so stunning and gorgeous i thought i might collapse under the sheer weight of swooning. I held my nerve, left her at her home, and slipped off into the night chewing my fingernails.
"
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| The one big flaw of any traditional RPG |
[11 Dec 2003|05:44pm] |
One of my favourite sketches from earlier this year:
"I've noticed the most taxing thing in your average RPG is the ritual of opening a fucking door. ULTIMA VI, being a case in point. I just cannot do it. Imagine if this was the case in real life:
INT: King's Chamber
Clamus: So i will go now my king, and retrieve the sacred stone of our kingdom
King: You have my prayers behind you
Clamus: Where? Oh, i see what you mean, yes. GOODBYE MY LORD! Come along, dear friends
Oatis: We will feast on oxen, and kill troll today!
Gorph: YES! We are mighty warriors! (Fiddles doorknob)
Clamus: Is there a key for this?
King: It's not locked. Just twist it a bit. Gets a bit jammed sometimes.
Clamus: No, can't shift it. You two try
Oatis & Gorph: HNGGHHH!
Clamus: Well, for fuck's sake."
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| Once again.... |
[11 Dec 2003|05:59pm] |
Retaking the fucking survey i did earlier this year.
last car ride: Gordy, half way up the road from the Bell
last good cry: I can't remember.
last library book checked out: I don't remember
last movie seen: Aliens.
last book read: Animal Farm
last cuss word said: Fuck
last beverage drank: Tea
last food consumed: makeshift pizza using toast.
last crush: Zoe
last phone call: Lucy, i think
last tv show watched: Spongebob.
last time showered: Yesterday
last shoes worn: Westwind boots
last cd played: Wu Tang Clan
last item bought: Milk, and some cheap gel
last downloaded: A manual for an M1 Korg keyboard
last annoyance: People fucking about moving papers and stuff on the same desk i'm trying to use this fucking computer on.
last disappointment: I don't know. Is that a disappointment?
last soda drank: Coke.
last thing written: The last diary entry you read, bonehead.
last word spoken: "Mould"
last cigarette: Two hours ago. The remains of one, to be honest.
last sleep: Last night.
last msn im: Ages
last ice cream eaten: Yorkie ice cream
last time amused: When i was listening to awful Christmas muzak in an empty pub, and staring at George the cat.
last time wanting to die: Yesterday, when i coughed my face off.
last time hugged: Zoe i think, on the Saturday night, the last of the panto nights. Mmmmmmmmm.....girl is soft....
last time scolded: Can't remember
last time resentful: Last week.
last shirt worn: My lovely tight sleeveless blue thing. It actually makes me look reasonable.
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| Destruction of monkeys |
[11 Dec 2003|06:13pm] |
Fucking tragic sketch about a man losing his monkey business:
"THE DESTRUCTION OF MONKEYS
INT: Gift Shop
Joe: All these monkeys......so many of them.....i really wish i could sell one or two...seems like such a waste of materials....
(Door goes)
Joe: Er....hello! Welcome to my monkey shop! Monkeys......fucking loads of them.....buy them. Lots if possible.
Customer: I'm not here to buy monkeys...i'm here to issue you with demands for immediate payment. You do not have to say anything, although....actually no...that's the wrong thing...but I can take a monkey for my boss. He likes monkeys. 50p alright?
Joe: FUCK OFF. GET OUT.
(Joe looks around at his monkeys with enraged and teary eyes, and clenched fists. Each seems to mock him individually. As he looks at each one, his face gets redder and shakier, and more bulbous.)
Customer: Ha ha. You know the problem? No-one likes monkeys anymore. It's all meerkats, mate. You might have at least painted them. Fucking dull grey shit. The eyes don't even stand out. They're blank. Ah ha ha. See ya!
(Joe is left in the shop alone. He falls to the floor sobbing, before getting up through gulping tears, taking each off the shelf, and placing them neatly in a circle. He then sits among them, lies down, and spins round screaming, using his legs to kick the monkeys violently around the floor. He carries on sobbing and screaming, and spinning, until shattered stone and dreams are spread everywhere)
Joe: ARGHHHHHHHHHH!! AHHAAAAGHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!
"
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| Monkey Business Part 2 |
[11 Dec 2003|06:14pm] |
"INT: Prison
(Joe Jones is in prison for credit card fraud, following his crashing monkey business (No pun intended). he sits in his cell looking at the floor.)
Joe: Fucking hell. Monkeys, that's where it all went wrong.
Officer: Oi, Jones! You've got a visitor!
Jones: Fucking hell. Not my mum again. Piss off mum! I hate you and your bollocks about my monkeys being the best in the world! LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!
Officer: You can go in now..
Jones: YOU!
Bloke: Yep, i've come back to see you, Joe. Hear you've been done for fraud. I can see this was my fault for turning up that day, and turning your life to shit byu demanding payment. I'm sorry i made you mad.
Joe: It matters not....I got myself into this mess, fuckin' monkeys.
Bloke: That reminds me, i have a gift for you....
Joe: Oh thanks....this looks interesting....wait....it's a fucking porcelain monkey! WITH GLOWERING HUMAN EYES!
Bloke: HA HA! GOTCHA! (Runs out of the door, which Joe hurls the monkey at as it closes behind the laughing man. The monkey crashes agasinst the door and shatters, scattering stone and eyes at Joe. He picks up the eyeballs, and pretends they're his own.)
Joe: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH............AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! NOOOOOOOOARGHHHHHH!!! "
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| The Lonely Hearts Club - August 25th, 2003 |
[11 Dec 2003|06:25pm] |
"The Bleeding Lonely Hearts Club. Sort of like a band of people in Final Fantasy but without the ability to fight skillfully. For this club you need to be:
1. Lonely.
2. Single.
3. Single and Lonely
4. Have some unrequited love you just can't seem to reach, no matter what the fuck you do, which throws you into a nightmare world of desolation and drink.
5. To be slightly adept at pushing people away when you don't want to.
6. Up for drunken chats about it all.
7. Good at writing stupid lists.
Graham and I are the founders. It's been like this for a year...and last night i had to go out again...felt so fucking lonely and missed someone so much, that i didn't want to stay home anymore. The whole thing has made me sick, i was supposed to see a band, so i exited the usual serenity of the Bell and entered the New Inn where it must have been crammed with er....seven people. No band there clearly.
I sat and watched a match being played by Blackburn and Manchester City, and my eyes blurred. I felt sick again...Stan came in and Stan went out, Bolb in the car outside. I talked to them for a few minutes and went back to my pointless match watching. A Man City supporter watched on his own. As they scored, he celebrated, but kind of almost self conciously. Like this: "YeeeAAA....Yes. Goal."
Hmm...Anyway, the highlight of the evening was having a smoke with the other Lonely Heart, Mr Graham Burton...we lay looking at the huge dome of the sky as it spat shooting stars across the night. There were loads out. We smoked some more and talked and laughed our heads off. It was great. Then we saw a hedgehog and started to discuss politics with it.
The hedgehog was unmoved."
The Lonely Hearts boys have taken a back seat, as Graham is up in Kingston. Roy is back with his ex wife, and everyone else is (sometimes happily) in a relationship. Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Club. Population: ME.
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| How "Friends" should be. |
[11 Dec 2003|06:28pm] |
From August 28th, 2003
INT: Flat
Ross: Like....oh...my goooodddd....my legs gone dead! Like...whoa....
Chandler: Obviously...trying to get to know the rest of you a little better...(Raucous laughter)
Ross: Fuck you...you wisecracking little fuck pod.
Chandler: Weh......hahahahhhhWHAT?
Ross: You heard me, 'tache boy. What in the name of Cuntingdon's Cobblers is that anyway? Looks like a vague smear of shit across your upper fucking lip. You big cock.
Chandler:.........i've never seen you like this. Must be a fever.
Ross: RACHEAL!
Racheal: Yea Ross?
Ross: If you burnt your hair you could make a tidy lair.
Racheal: Jesus.
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| More proper "Friends" |
[11 Dec 2003|06:31pm] |
INT: FRIENDS FLAT
Ross: Oh. My. Gaaaadddd. Bill for immediate payment. For Channnndler...
Chandler: What's up, Ross?
Ross: Oh nothing....nothing....just a bill FOR TWENTY FUCKING MILK FLOATS! WE DON'T HAVE MILK FLOATS IN MANHATTAN!
Chandler: Don't we?
Ross: I've no idea. FUCK YOU CHANDLER.
Chandler: I live over the hallway. The bills don't count in your flat.
Ross: Well if you SCHYTHED OUR LAND A LITTLE BETTER MAYBE THIS WOULDNA HAPPENED TACHE' CUNT PIG
Chandler: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Ross: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
(Both drop to the floor clutching their mouthes and eyes and crying as if their whole world's had turned to FUCK)
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| Fill the hearse, it gets worse. |
[11 Dec 2003|06:32pm] |
INT: CENTRAL PERK
Racheal: And then he turned into a man of shit and steam. Worst date i ever went on!
Monica: So you gonna see him again?
Racheal: Yes.
(Racous retarded laughter)
Ross: Hey guys.
Fucking everybody: HEY ROSS
Ross: Oh god.
Racheal: What is it, honey?
Ross: Chandler has replaced his kneecap with a beer barrel, and keeps rolling down the goddamned hall
Racheal: I'll get some coffee.
Ross: HES MY FRIEND. A MAN MADE MAN BEER BARREL. WHAT AM I GONNA DO?
Monica: We could ferment beer in him and sell it.
Ross: FUCK SHOES.
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| Oh lord, make it stop. |
[11 Dec 2003|06:33pm] |
FRIENDS
INT: Flat.
Ross: Oh. My. God.
Racheal: What is it Ross?
Ross: I've nailed twenty three monkey testicles to my face again.
Racheal: Oh god!
Ross: What?
Racheal: I didn't notice.
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[11 Dec 2003|06:36pm] |
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That's thirty entries today. A whole lotta reminiscin'.
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