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[21 Dec 2004|08:48am] |
Your Christmas is Most Like: The Muppet Christmas Carol |
You tend to reflect on Christmas past, present, and future...
And you also do a little singing.
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[21 Dec 2004|09:03am] |
Lot's of very awful films on today...Christmas spirit and all that...you have to forgive them really. Coming up...Emelio Estevez and a meat eating asteroid embark on a cosmic trip to save Christmas...
And Santa's rise to fame, with infamous clips of his appearance on Big Brother, the day he turned up to work drunk and in casual clothes, and the hooker parade incident are all present. Pardon the cunting pun.
Old Git Noel also appears in "Slaying 'em", a cosy toes-in-front-of-the-fire flick about a murderous rampage carried out by a disenfranchised stand up comedian. Dressed as Santa. With baubles where his bollocks should be.
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| Bono: Yeah...Santa was there...hurling mince pies, kicking reindeers in the shins... |
[21 Dec 2004|09:06am] |
Well, the evening was largely enjoyable, depsite my ability to attain an excruciating headache despite not actually having given myself one for once. Oh, I was fine as I stood shivering in icey train platforms, as once again a connecting train was fucking MISSED at Ramsgate. Much more of this and letters will be sent. Spelling DISTASTE.
Anyway, as I approached college my head began to thump, and got progressively worse as the lesson went on. However, we heard some good essays from last week, and to be honest they were all excellent. I wish I had been there to write my own, but as we all know, my muscles were roundly fucked last week.
Staying little over an hour, we all piled out of the Kingsgate building, into two cars and bound for Crampton's, a familiar sight to myself, as i'd frequented the place on my college trips of yesteryear. Tonight was different; with college friends and tutor, and a wretched football match played on a screen in silence whilst awful rotational dance music was pumped almost woefully into the place by a cd automixer or something. Jesus, Thorley doesn't do atmosphere, does he?
It was a pretty nice get together, despite my head's attempts to make itself the biggest thing at the party; it banged away as I tried to drink it out with Guiness.....I sorely failed in this, and after a while of managing brilliantly to converse with Sam, Carole, and Alysson about some great subjects (Dyslexia, music, overseas trips), I had to eventually sit and try not to be ill. Concentrating on it simply makes it worse, and watching men arguing over a sphere on a big rectangle provides no real distraction.
After watching mouthing sports commentators presumably wanking on about offside goals for the trillionth time, I listened distantly to conversations, not hearing through my increasing headache...
We went about eleven....talked a lot to Carole, as we wound through the dark streets...forgot many directions as I was tipsy and banging on about other things...remember being told I was very handsome and individual, as i'd got onto BDD at that point. Funny thing is...I actually am starting to believe these things. Which is wrong!
Maybe.
Got home, watched some Frasier until my head knocked me into sleep.
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| Paulie gets a roasting. |
[21 Dec 2004|09:22am] |
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Well, today it's a matter of dispiriting work in the shape of another fucking massive Christmas party, followed by a rush back to get changed and go to the Belgian bar. I don't know who's going, but I hope it's an early trip back, as I have doctor's tomorrow and am not particularly in the mood for getting wankered anyway.
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[21 Dec 2004|11:06am] |
Graham's book that he wanted me to order is here...alarmingly garish futuristic font, it's called "reMix"...a sci fi novel about a dj addicted to crystalmeth who's trying to find a kidnapped girl. The front states that it is "William Gibson meets Quentin Tarantino". Presumably to discuss a lawsuit about having their names emblazoned upon someone else's work. You'd think they were the bloody authors.
Anyway, i'm off. That's probably it for today. I only hope tonight is salvagable. Whatever happens, you'll know about it, as usual.
bye.
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[21 Dec 2004|03:47pm] |
Arrived to work to have my future relationship gossiped about by staff. By god, do they know, or what? However, they seem to be pretty happy for me...which is excellent, chums, because so am I. I really could not find a more likened soul. Pretty soon, this will be a reality.
Okay, yes...the work was utterly awful and tiring, as you would expect. Christmas is certainly not the friend of those who work within the catering field. Office folk get to have holidays, with some exceptions...even a fucking pig has a weekend to stave off being slaughtered..unless they're being served up as gammon roasts or something. I don't know...chickens...they surely escape when the turkeys are being rolled out for slaughter. Listen, lads..yer just drier chooks. Stop pretending.
Everything is done at the Bell, and the place is closed until six. I, am off to make myself look dark for Christmas, re-tie my hair in a pony tail that looks like a model donkey's tail, and fuck off to the station. I will see you tomorrow.
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