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[23 Dec 2004|09:02am] |
Fucking cunt mornings, throwing sun into my eyes like a man tipping caustic soda all over a tramp's face. Anyway, it's here and that's all there fucking is to it.
Check out last night, it wasn't too bad after all. I was missing all day, which was a fine experience. Walked into the the Bell to an apperent relief that I was still here. During my hour's not knowing where the fuck I was I had been searched for, through Ramsgate, by several people. Whoops. There are places you'd like to be drunk in, looking for someone else who's wankered, and then there's Ramsgtate. FUCKING RAMSGATE.
Anyway, had two pints of Guiness with a cup of tea to break up the flow a little...then took Burton up the New Inn, to escape Ian's arrival (He'd apparently got to the Bell after our "jaunt" last night and called Ian a cunt, amongst other alienations), and the place was being rattled apart by a pub bad, who thought it was a good idea to play Darnkess songs. Thanks. How about taking the tribute to it's extreme by dressing up like massive cocks, eh lads?
Graham and I sat trying to shout over the brash noise being pissed out of the bar...smoking cigars and so forth, and were later joined by a bloke called Jay, who was so inebriated he could only pick up on parts of conversation by throwing a swear word after it..
"Whaaababaouttt..the postmorderrnn aspects of SHIT!", he bellowed at one point....
Right, so it wasn't all bad. Went home to watch Peep Show. Realised it was on last night, and at that time I was knocked out after two Dogbolters and Golden Draac. Cunts.
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[23 Dec 2004|10:31am] |
Lots to do today. Wrapping up cheap tokens of my affections, and work. The penultimate day before the real Christmas shit starts is looking very busy indeed. A group of twenty nine tonight alone. For fuck's sake, I may as well just forget about relaxing until the New Year.
3 of a kind are camera mugging CUNTS. That is all.
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[23 Dec 2004|11:09am] |
Right, that's it. McFly are pallete swapped Busted, in designer cunt faux indie haircuts. This cretinous rabble are busy putting their maggot faces up to my television screen. This and the fact I have to wash up after sixty pensioners means i'm outta here.
Good lord, help us all. Bye!
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[23 Dec 2004|04:08pm] |
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Feeling pretty fucking fed up with the world today, and work doesn't help. Another late one, and the frankly horrific prospect of having forty people booked tonight, within which I shall be washing up on my own. Beginning to want to machine gun indiscriminantly; and i've got that FUCKING ECG tomorrow morning.
Yep, rotten day. Like a damp corpse, quite honestly. Still, at the least a sweet Mel helped me put stuff away this afternoon.
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[23 Dec 2004|05:44pm] |
Feel better now, talking to online chums of the highest order. There's also nothing like reams of fucking cheese for Christmas to warm the heart. Mix it with wine, and you've got a bearable end to the year. Just.
I'm going to have to wrap up ill directed gifts very soon. I'm fucking lucky to have them all by this point, as opposed to resorting to buying packets of sweets and oranges as usual. I still have one left to get though. I wonder how many individual fruits amount to a decent present and not a grocery order.
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