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[07 Nov 2004|10:06am] |
Yergh. Both the coffee machine and I are spitting out the brown with similar vocal today. Yes, another four and a half pints. I don't mean to do it. It's just so........pure.
Work was okay. Lisa was in tears though. Much as i'm awful at it...I sat with her on the wall in the car park as she told me why. Her grandfather died four years ago from cancer, and she is visiting his grave tomorrow. Not knowing bereivment as yet to any large extent, I had no words. I simply did what I could, putting an arm around her and giving her the time to sit.
Later on, as she'd perked up a bit, she showed amazing character in trying to comfort Suzanne (Bell barmaid), who was in a tearful mood also about something that had been said to her. A few minutes afterwards, she said to me "Ever wished you'd said something?"
Yeah. But you did fine. One saddened heart reaches out, and helps another. I think that was lovely.
Apart from all this, work was pretty quite. In the way that fifty five people is quiet at any rate. We were out by twenty past ten, by which time the Playhouse fraternity were sprawling in filling the bar like a cloud of thespians. There were loads of them. Stuart arrived loudly and drunkenly. In normal circumstances, he is louder than a clown choir, on two bottles of wine, he is louder than an exploding firework jammed into the ear.
Good fun. Lots of drinking ensued. Me trying to approach S's volume, failing, and just getting back to laughing and drinking.
We went to the New Inn, too. Rather quiet despite being post band. One last drink, then home. Woke up this morning with a small headache. Nothing to worry about but still un-necessary.
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[07 Nov 2004|10:54am] |
There is nothing more annoying than proof reading Blurty posts and digging out solecisms from the text. Typos, spelling mistakes, glaring mishaps of grammer, then stabbing the edit key until your head bleeds annoyance. EDIT, NOW. Come on you FUCK.
Work in an hour, wherin my assistant is Micheal, a young man who I am rather timid about giving orders as he is about twice the height as I am, even being about ten years younger.
It has to be said, i'm not in the mood for work. The yawns are also returning with insolent regularity.
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| The football results, written by ME. |
[07 Nov 2004|11:14am] |
Because you know a game in which millionairs boot a sphere about in front of derisory and pasty eating proles really has to be given some stab of humour.
Aston Villa 3 - 0 Portsmouth
Villa's Killers. Literally, as the VILLA went on a killing spree, knifing four players, poisoning two, and choloforming the other five for later "fun". They also scored three goals, consigning Harry Rednapp to a bin of tears and beers.
Chelsea 1 - 0 Everton.
"We've been Robben'd", Everton didn't sing, as Chelsea finally stopped all games played against Everton being always boring, all the time, forever. By putting a goal into this one. Everton were happy thought. They got their washing up done and installed a metal hammock on the pitch.
Crystal Palace 1 - 1 Arsenal
Another draw for Arsenal, who obviously believe in sharing a few points these days, out of the bank of them they're sucked up for a season. Crystal Palace, disbelieving of taking a point from the longest ever English unbeaten team, simply stood about laughing in an astonished manner for an hour afterwards, whilst Arsenal stood about saying "What?"
Liverpool 0 - 1 Birmingham
Liverpool threw so much at the Birmingham goal there was no room left in it for the ball. So Birmingham got bored and pissed it into the Screamin' Scousers net instead. Oscar Wilde, Frank Siantra, and Big Bird were all booked.
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Norwich 1 - 1 Blackburn
Blackburn are this seasons comedy team, a bunch of chortlsome dunderheads with a clown like attitude to football, and a habit for simply breaking down and crying on the pitch, screaming and biting the pitch in desperation. Sadly today, they forgot to lose, and are this week not as amusing as Liverpool.
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Southampton 2 - 2 West Brom
These two went down the beach and threw pebbles into the sea. Southampton made six bounces, West Brom five. If they'd been throwing footballs, it wouldn't be anything like this match.
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Tottenham 2 - 3 Charlton Athletic
Tottenham were still looking for Santini when Charlton turned up. The door rang, nobody answered, because they were all over the house trying to find him. The Athletic broke the glass, opened the door, and made off with three goals before you could say "Stick that lung up yer hole". Tottenham chased them down the road, but after a quick struggle could only get two back. The police have been informed.
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[07 Nov 2004|11:34am] |
Okay, that's enough of me this morning. I trust you'll all be well.......it's time for kitchen dancing and washing up prancing.
I am the rhythmic portering ass shaker.
Now get out.
Baby, I may see you later, with any luck.
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[07 Nov 2004|06:33pm] |
An odd afternoon. It's as if my body turned up for work but my mind did not. It doesn't even feel like i've been working at all. This though I did, and we had seventy two people in. Due to the swift assistance of Micheal, it was a breeze, barely approacing momentary exertions.
Good then. I'm just on for a bit of bumping, but I think I missed my bump. We'll have to......bump later on I think. Oh yes.
I am late today, and will not be around for long. I have homework to do and want to take a brief rest beforehand. Two stupid nights of drinking have taken money and energy from me. See you in the pub, Stoney.
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[07 Nov 2004|07:28pm] |
I am slowly achieving a level of anger on a par with a grizzly bear that's discovered it's wife cheating. FUCKING POST. I'm not getting e-mails of comment replies either.
Wonderful.
I'm going to throw this computer at the spluttering television that is also annoying me.
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[07 Nov 2004|07:47pm] |
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Right, well i'm well and truly fucking at the end of my patience now. Being now pretty fed up with stabbing a mouse button until it bleeds, i'm going to go and wash my hair instead.
Don't know why, but I feel depressed again. Various reasons make me want to punch the walls until my fists break and weep again. I feel utterly humourless this evening.
POST, YOU FUCKING GLACIAL CUNT!
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[07 Nov 2004|07:58pm] |
I'm fed up. Fed up with feeling thick, naeive, and directionless in my writing. Fed up with insidious biting hate from various quarters. Fed up with not being able to write anything funny anymore. Fed up with stupid fucking muscle tensing fucking reasonless FUCKING blood pressure making me want to smash my fucking head out and be as lobotomised and unfeelingly obliviously content as the rest of them.
Fucking CUNTING hell, i'm pissed off.
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