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[04 Nov 2004|09:06am] |
Well, the orthadoxy of drinking does not usually lend itself to late night shopping. This is what happened though. Let me explain.
Weaved my way to the pub casting glares at chav clusters as if to dare them through eyeballs alone, came to a busier than usual pub and commenced my usual drinking.
Our resident flirty barmaid Jo began asking my opinion on whether mini skirt and thigh length boots would look good on her, as she was thinking of buying some for a party of some sort.
I choked through my Guiness, and gave my answer as least suggestively as possible. All I could see was boots and zips, flying around in a tornado, battering me in the head.
"Er....er...er....yeah! That would look good!", I stumbled...trying not to think about boots. Yes, I like boots. Zipped ones. I don't WEAR them, before you ask. I just...like them...on...women.
Anyway, this chortlesone parade of fun extended with more drinking and a suggestion by Jo that we visit the Tesco's all night store so that she could find such things. I agreed, having thought that a trip to a 24 hour supermarket would be quite amusing after three and a half pints of Guiness.
And so we did, the dark roads embraced the car like gnarled dead trees as we sped towards Tescos. We talked about family on the way there....and about death. It was more than that, though I will spare you the conversational details as they're not clear enough to me now.
The supermarket was a huge rectangular light with an incomplete sign. "Welcome to T SCOS", it blared, the "E" being there but unlit enough as to be invisible. Full of the almost childlike excitement of being out shopping at midnight, Jo and I looked around the DVD's, cheerily staring and talking about the garish animational delights of "Tigger the Movie" and others.
Naughty Phyllis. I bought a "Coupling" dvd. My first trip to a shop in ages and I could not restrain myself. However, I do like this show. Not least for it's funbag of nervosity, Jeff.
Then, looking at long fucking boots. All different, all zipped. All very sexy. Stood there trying to say hilarious things about them whilst helping Jo decide.
"These are really nice, but they hurt my left foot" she moaned, whilst I gazed at the rest of the boot bonanza stretching along the wall. ZIPS!
Waffled some stuff about contrast and denim skirts to try and sound like a fashion guru as opposed to....er.....ME. Jo decided not to buy these as apparently thirty five quid is a lot to spend simply to hurt your foot. I thought that was largely a secondary thought to many women buying shoes. But hey.
Once i'd stopped staring at boots, we left the store and were soon back in Minster.
I slapped on my dvd gorging on my own indulgence in entertainment media. Now then, "Coupling" is not belly laughs all the time as "The Green Wing", nor is it as tightly scripted as "Friends"
However, it does contain familiar embarrassments, perfectly concieved. And you have Jeff, a man whose flitting between seatingly cold embarrassable conversation and TERRIFYING inner thoughts that cause him to say the most brilliantly insane things to a woman he fancies last night had me choking with laughter.
A perfect moment is when he is talking to a girl on a train...his BRAIN is thinking..
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING STUPID JEFF! SAY SOMETHING NORMAL! SAY SOMETHING!", camera zooming into darting frightened hilarious EYEBALLS, and this random stream of conciousness makes him burble
"You look just like the back of yer 'ead"
It gets better. He starts talking about amputations. I am a naughty spendthrift whore, but I have a trinket this morning. So there.
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| Magazines for the irritable |
[04 Nov 2004|10:38am] |
An occasional feauture in which I take a magazine cover, and change it to what I think it should look like. More later, but for now:
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[04 Nov 2004|10:57am] |
Work time. First of two undoubtably horrificly busy shifts, which I must struggle through. I also need to get some cash off Aleks for next week.
OAP specials Thursday awaits.......
Bye for now.
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[04 Nov 2004|03:43pm] |
Quite tired, but reasonably happy today. And full. I've been gorging my fat little face on chicken korma, from the Bell.
Forty seven this afternoon, which was enough to drain me considerably. And now my hair is a mess and shall require washing. I hate having to stuff it into a horrid little cap during work. It does no good to it at all. However, it was brushed in such a way this morning as to provoke Dee to liken it to that of a "Spandau Ballet" image.
Which is pretty damned groovy, I think.
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[04 Nov 2004|04:15pm] |
Okay, the giving up smoking thing. I have succeeded largely in cutting out smoking at home, even when I am in my bedroom.
However, it's still a very present part of my social lifestyle. I'm wrapped up in the feel of it. A pint almost seems naked without it.
And so how do I do what i've managed elsewere? I don't smoke here, I don't smoke in work, and I can go for hours, albiet feeling a little horny as a result. Like now.
Tension....
I don't know, but I want to quit permanently. I want my skin, teeth and health to be in good shape. I really could be very nimble without cigarrettes. I'm fairly fast on my feet, but I lose breath easily.
It's a challenge.
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[04 Nov 2004|05:46pm] |
The thought that somewhere,
someone might just be sparing a gentle thought of me.
The warmth it gives my heart.
Is like being cradled by the fireside.
Hmm....i'm in a cosy mood. Directly a polar opposite to the emotional hell of this time last year, i'm in a mood that is uncertain, warm and melancholy. It's as if I don't know what happy and sad are, settling on a decent neutrality.
Regardless of this...i'm beginning to feel some beauty in life again. Despite it's heavy evils and creeping hate, there is much to satisfy.
It's a transition, and I mean to see it through. I am too, breathless. Let's find out why.
Must be all that smoking. No. That's not it.
Something's changing.
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[04 Nov 2004|05:58pm] |
Using firesides as a warm metaphor for the cosy, tingly thought that you may just one day find a solace in the arms and ears of somebody. I like that. So many nights, I watched the coals and wood crackle in Stoney's fireplace when we'd sit laughing, drinking, and watching dvd's whilst screaming insane diatribes all in the name of fun.
Many times i'd fall silent during these days, (about a year ago no), and stare into the fire, the flames licking the roof of the fireplace itself, and seeking my soul in the glow, whatever and whoever had it. Or could. At that time I could only see nothing; no familiar heart...i'd let my hazel eyes reflect the bright flickering ghostly flames and go back to my drinking and screaming.
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[04 Nov 2004|06:09pm] |
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Ah, what immeasurable fun. I'm trying out a client for updating, just this once, but if it turns out to be fun, I may use it more. Check it out! Instant italics! Yes, you bastards, we're finally going up in the world. As in er...being able to type a little quicker.
I have work tonight, which means a tedious trawl through more plates and more walking of cold streets, sighing at the increasing numbers of horrid little unwashed dickheads, shouting in the anodyne singular tones that they so often adopt.
They now have grotty little mopeds, that they ride up and down the sreets trying to impress each other with. It's a bit like when you get hold of new ages and tehnology in real time stragegy games. They sound like giant insects buzzing around, though they probably share more win common with the average fly than any human.
I am edgy. Background noises are causing me tensions again.
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[04 Nov 2004|06:35pm] |
Screw this, i'm out of here, to watch some "Coupling" and then go to work. I trust you'll potter along without me for a few hours, Blurty. Just don't leave the house unlocked again, okay?
We'll reconvene later.
Hope it all went well, baby. You know who you are. xx
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| PHIL |
[04 Nov 2004|06:39pm] |
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"Hi, i'm Phil. For the last sixteen years, i've been stuffing deadly nightshade into the open mouthes of sleeping drunks"
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