Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em!'s Blurty Day [entries|friends|calendar]
Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em!

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[06 Oct 2004|12:10am]
Probably fucked our friendship up. Probably hates me...probably....

Don't care.. doesn't matter now. Stole a traffic cone. I'm good.

Good night.
2 Petty criminals| Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|08:21am]
I should never message when drunk. Ah well. So yes, was drinking with Bolb at the Bell last night, and following this we walked home, and not even being "wankered" drunk, I calmly swiped a traffic cone from near a skip, declaring my bonkers streak once and for all.

I now have a roadworks sign and a cone. What a haul..

Day off today.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|10:25am]
Hmm....just been playing DOOM 3. It's scary, but not that scary. More DOOM scary. Not a bad game, but a little lower than cerebral.

However, DOOM is and has always been a guts and blood shooting massacre. Like a cosy blanket splashed with a cow's innards. Cosy.

Had good fun with that.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|12:26pm]
A non descript afternoon. Guess it's better that way, no way of me offending anybody. I'll listen to your songs again, maybe then i'll know.

But I doubt it.

Can hardly be bothered to type...no words come, the mind is empty, as it has been for a while. Give me the inspiration, please.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

Quiz Wanking. [06 Oct 2004|01:22pm]
[ series 1 ]
Name:Neil
Birthday:06 09 76
Birthplace:Margate, England.
Current Location:Minster, England
Eye Color:Hazel
Hair Color:Dark brown
Righty or Lefty:Righty
Zodiac Sign:Virgo
Font:I don't know, the one I write in, bucko.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
[ series 2 - your favorite ]
Music:Nobou Uematsu
Cartoon:Angry Beavers
Color:Black
Car:A micro clown car.
Slushy Flavor:Strawberry, I would suppose.
Magazine:Anything with cats. A cat magazine. Written by cats, for cats.
TV Show:Twin Peaks
Song at the Moment:Melodies of life - Final Fantasy IX
Language:I love French
Spice Girl:They all make my vomit turn bloody
Food & Beverage:Chicken. Guiness.
Subject in School:English.
Weekend Activity:Little time for anything other than work.
Frozen Yogurt:I don't like it.
Roller Coaster:They go up and down fast. No preference.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
[ series 3 - what is ]
Your most overused phrase:"You really are a lumbering priapic imbecile, aren't you?"
First thing you thought when you woke up:"What the hell did I do that for?"
Last image/thought you go to sleep with:A Futurama DVD menu
First feature you notice of opposite sex:EYES, of course.
Best name for a Butler:Graves.
Wussiest Sport:Sipping piss from a shoe
Your best feature:I have nice eyes.
Your greatest fear:Loneliness.
Your greatest accomplishment:Getting out into the world.
Your most missed memory:Talking to Zoe. For better or for worse, she made me fell better.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
[ series 4 - you prefer ]
Pepsi or Coke:Black water.
McDonald's or Burger King:I want to kill everybody in the world when I read this question.
Single or Group Dates:Depends who they are.
Adidas or Nike:Fuck both of them. Right up the arse.
Chicken nuggets or Chicken fingers:NUGGETS.
Dogs or Cats:Cats. Dogs are fur masses with tongues
Rugrats or Doug:Rugrats.
Single or Taken:Single as a black flower.
Monica or Brandy:They're both pushers of diluted R&B piss, fuck them both.
Tupac or Jay-Z:Tupac, at a push.
Shania Twain or LeAnn Rhymes:Hate........HATE.....HAAATE.
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea:A pea lager of my choice, if you please.
One pillow or Two:Two.
Chocolate or Vanilla:Chocolate.
Hot chocolate or Hot cocoa:COCOA.
Cappucino or Coffee:Coffee
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
[ series 5 - do you ]
Shower everyday:Yes. Twice usually.
Have a crush:I don't know. I don't think so anymore.
Think you've been in love:No.
Want to go to college:Am at the moment.
Like high school:I didn't much, no. it is past.
Want to get married:I've no idea. Are you offering? Where is my ring? Oh, there it is.
Type correctly:Indeed.
Believe in yourself:In some ways yes. In other ways, no.
Have any tattoos? Where:Not yet.
Have any piercings? Where:See above.
Get motion sickness:No.
Think you're a health freak:Nope.
Get along with your parents:Not as parents, no. More like two people I live with, who argue with each other for my benefit.
Like thunderstorms:Yes, they're beautiful.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
[ series 6 - the future ]
Age your plan to be married:I don't know if I do.
Number and names of children:2. Amelie and.......can't think of the other. A nice boy's name. Possibly James, or something.
Where will you be at age 20:Are you paying attention to previous details? No, you're just a list of questions. Carry on.
Dream wedding:With a wall of heads circling and wailing campfire songs in Russian, and a saxaphone playing cannon ball. With a face.
How do you want to die:In a bed with the one I love. Never gonna happen.
Dream job:Comedy writer
Country you'd like to visit:Canada, Japan, China.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
[ series 7 - opposite sex ]
Best eye color:Hazel
Best hair color:Dark brown. Black. Anything unusual as well , I suppose.
Short or long hair:Long.
Best height:Quite short, thought it really doesn't matter. Just going on past fancies.
Best weight:Not bothered.
Best clothes:Whatever befits the person wearing them.
Best first date location:A restaruant revolving on a plastic wasp's back.
Best first kiss location:"Field of the shrews"
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
[ series 8 - other ]
Last time you slept with a stuffed animal:Couple of years ago. It was later used to snuff out a flaming bin that i'd hurled a lit fag butt in.
Rings before you answer the phone:Either two, or I don't bother.
What's on your mousepad:Nothing. It's a wooden shelf.
How many houses you've lived in:Two.
How many schools you've gone to:Three
Bedroom carpet color:Black with grey things.
Shave your head for $5,000?:Yes. I could always grow it long again.
Stranded on a desert island. Take three things. No people:A claw hammer for smashing things up whilst crying.. A book, and a pen.
Best time of your life so far:When we were all friends.

Series 1-8 brought to you by BZOINK!
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|01:23pm]
My hair is insane. It's recently been wet and is hanging in long straight bits with curls at the end. I look like i've got a fucking black flower basket upturned on my head, for god's sake.

Going to style it like Vincent Valentine's when it's long enough. That is a look I would like, very much. I want to be a shadowy figure cutting through dark with my black flowing locks.

In the meantime, i'll try and straighten what i've got. It goes under the nose at the front. Woooo...my current favourite look is a bang over one eye, and a little tie back...not a ponytail...but just enough to thrown together. Looks nice. Though I do get called a New Romantic under the breath of the leering short haired clone BLOKE-wankers in the Bell.

Fuck them. They're not fit to go toe to toe with my mind. Or indeed, cell to cell.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|01:30pm]
As pleasing as it is looking at a virtual Rinoa's arse, I feel I must change the wallpaper soon. I'm thinking an archipelego shifting change...something that will make ramifications in the Phylly Blurty Diary world, that will last for years, like an ice age, or having an allergy to monkey nuts. Or the horrific mental effects of going to see a musial on eighteenth century seal farming starring Jim Davidson.

(It's going to be another Final Fantasy picture, isn't it Phylly? - Readers)


You said it, gramstones.
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[06 Oct 2004|01:50pm]
There's Tifa Lockheart there, during an angry flurry of legs and kicks.

Anyway, i've been eating noodles. My appetite and desire to stay a certain weight is limiting my diet. I wanted more noodles..but the only ones I can find are er....a year out of date. This may be risky.

Although with noodles it's hard to tell. They look like dried intestines...I'm not consuming that. Perhaps i'll find some eggs or something. And boil them. I used to like eating them with salt and vinegar, putting more on every time I ate a spoonful. It was a terrible situation. I love boiled eggs.

Perhaps this should be my main. Let's try it now. Boiled eggs. For me, and for me. Oeufe's upside your head.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|01:55pm]
Now then...I think it's five minutes in boiling water...though the last time I tried this it was runnier than a hippo's nose, and twice as disgusting. I'm going to hot water the FUCK out of this cunt.

Now, then. Snoopy egg cup, or the embracing chicks? My choice has been made...IT IS THE YOUNG BIRDS.

They will carry me my egg disease.

Freaks.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

R(eggs)cipe for disaster [06 Oct 2004|02:17pm]
Boiled Egg.

Ingredients:

1 egg.
1 face and mouth and eating throat thing and stuff...
Digestive system
Eyes
Poorly designed eggcup, designed to force tears from loner's soul when gazed upon

Method:

place saucepan under tap, and pour water into grimy, barely clean receptical. Sigh and place apologetically onto hob, tearing at a small tuft of hair that won't stay down, whilst turning oven on. Make sure it's the right RING, idiot.

Boil water whilst sitting at computer typing about it, and trying to stave off fundamental emotional difficulties, maintaining a teary eyed humour about it all. Scratch keys a little too harshly whilst typing. Stare at saucepan again, with red eyes. Wonder how the egg is. Get egg out. Stare at that. Wonder if the supermarket gets eggs from battery farms, momentarily. Set egg down regardless, thinking no more about squawking claustrophobic chickens. Cry internally. Sit down again, wonder why water doesn't boil as fast as it used to.

Wait for god. No god. God hates me. Wind up myself by pointing accusatory finger at my soul and pointing out where it went wrong. Shake self out of hatred for own persona, shamble to saucepan, put weasily tiny egg in water, notice egg is about the size of a polo. Also notice not enough water to cover egg.

Queasily pour more water in to cover egg, carelessly set down on hob again, and setting egg timer (shaped like chicken, do you see?) at a stupidly lengthy amount of time, to make sure egg is boiled to it's second death, the first being ripped from the warm feathers and arse of mother hen.

Chortle at this pissing on of a life. Continue boiling. Type more. Strangle all thought of happiness. Repeat. Wonder why a bit more...WHY...WHY...

Stare at timer...seven minutes....more life blood hardening in the veins..more youth disappearing along with yolk's liquidity.

Notice opening theme of afternoon watery medical drama. Decide to cage the cast one day, making them eat raw eggs from demented chickens, whilst pissing in their eyes and faces.

Wonder what a detention centre for chickens would be like. Full of tiny baseball caps probably. Cockerel wacking other chickens with a piece of gravel in a sock. Maybe not. Ponder the allegory of such a thing for life......find there is none...it's just a comical animalisation of the film "Scum". Possibly with a really fat fucking chicken as Ray Winstone's character.

Don't know.

Stare at window, at beautiful trees, sighing this way and that in light winds, whilst golden sun cheers down from the heavens. Appreciate it only in passing thought, unable to escape deepening hate for plastic egg timer and own life tribulations. Punch egg timer. It moves slightly. Wonder whether to do so again. Decide there is little point.

Three minutes. By now, egg is probably splitting and oozing a lumpen white string through water. In my case, not. Scream a little....taking all soul out of air with the resultant sucking back in of breath. Decide current actor on "Doctors" really needs to be thrown into a lake that's about to freeze...watch in minds eye people (possibly own disciples...out with poles, pushing him under until surface freezes, and his face and hands against ice trying to break through..no good...being to smile at thought...perhaps this could extend to Hollyoaks characters too.

Timer buzzes, intrusively. Egg is done. Let us look at egg. Take egg out. Crack open, like a dead dog's skull...yolk is fine...chickens hug egg in cup shape, smiling at me as if to suggest egg is better than it actually is. It is not, it is mediocre. Pour vinegar on, take a bite. Try to pick bits of shell off, one tiny shard still remains, upon which you should crunch disdainfully.

Eat egg. Think about life. Cry at egg cup chick faces. Are they crying back? No, they're just eggcups.

Next time: Tame, weary noodle boiling.
2 Petty criminals| Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|02:26pm]
Well, that was fun. A bit like cooking with some corpses, corpses with chef's hats on. It's definately no less enjoyable than I thought it would be.

The egg lasted a few seconds. Like eating a melting smartie.

A WASTE OF FUCKING TIME. Stealing the young of birds never seemed more futile. I think we should all think about that for a while.

Right, that's enough chicken sympathy. Back to your posts.
2 Petty criminals| Get your lovely gas giants here!

[06 Oct 2004|03:20pm]
Well, I may be in the process of change. It seems that I could, if all goes well, be leaving England sometime in the New year.

Unbelievable. I've been so unhappy, so bored, and so dispirited living here in this village, I never thought things could change. But maybe...there's something to change that. Maybe I need to just get up and go. May have somewhere to stay, get a Visa, maybe find work. Who knows.

Next June, after AS levels...a new chapter. Possibly. Let's hope so. My life needs kicking off, perhaps this is meant to be the even that does it.

Lots of planning to do.
4 Petty criminals| Get your lovely gas giants here!

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