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

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[05 Nov 2006|12:04am]
Christ. Not only was I sent more homework from the week that I was away that I have to knock out in two days, it's the most absurdly complicated thing i've been given in ages. It's all about iambic pentameters, and I haven't a clue how to approach it. After some brief tuition from Rich, I have an idea, but to an old mind like mine, it sounds like Welsh.

Work tonight was equally silly, a buffet of twenty three joined forty odd eaters. The party didn't finish until late, which means a crapload of washing up for whoever is on tomorrow. I couldn't do it, it came in too late, and the water was off for a while. I finished, went to the bar, and got trashed.

Tomorrow I am going to make some sort of attempt to write a shit poem based on this pentawhatomie shit, and then go out to get my wages, watch some football with Dan, then go out for Mel's birthday. I can't resist that. I didn't work well with Melanie, but whenever I see her she's a breath of fresh air. Little beaming face. We shall all do some dancing.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[05 Nov 2006|12:14pm]
Welcome to the din. It's noisy with words and I still haven't got this fucking iambic pentameter worked out. I must have lost a few brain cells somewhere. Probably when in a pub.

Let's try it.

St GEORGE, out on, the TILES, one NIGHT. SAW a
DRAGon,all DRUNK, on the, FLOOR, so HE,
inSTEAD, of KILLING it, LET it, SLEEP on, his CARPET,
IN the, MORNing, he LOOKED, at HIS, old WATCH,
and SAID, LOOK, DRAgon, it's FIVE, IN the, MORNing,
and THE, bloodHOUNDS, will BE, after YOU, what WITH,
all THOSE, hard DRUGS, you've STILL, got ON, you, SO,
talk TO, the PORter, and HE'll, direct YOU, to the,
ESCape slide, it'll TAKE you, RIGHT out, of TOWN, now GO!


Right, the premise was that I had to write an iambic poem with the words Dragon, Carpet, Watch, Bloodhound, Porter and Slide .
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[05 Nov 2006|12:52pm]
Football season is over! Oh no! What am I going to do with my balls now?

It's going to be ages before I can smack a ball into a net and run about screaming. I might have to do something else to maintain suppleness. Maybe I should go to a fitness centre. I know of one which has a pool. A pool! I could swim and everything.

Mel's birthday tonight. Or tomorrow. But the boozing is tonight. Jesus Christ, it was bedlam last year.

http://zoomeister.livejournal.com/2005/11/13/

I must have yakked up my pancreas the next day. The PANCREAS I ask you..one of the subtler organs, you don't know what it does, but it must do summat.

I'm not getting this drunk tonight, because I have a day of work and iambic pantyliners to sort out tomorrow. I'm looking forward to hurling my botched poetry at ol' Whitters. Before the Royal, i'm going to provide some vicarious support for Dan as his beloved Tottenham take on Chelsea. The stats are stacked against the Spurs. They haven't beaten Chelsea in the league for thirty one games.

Oh dear! Let's hope that by the end, Dan's face isn't frownin', or we'll all be drownin'! In Dan's frownin'!
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[05 Nov 2006|06:32pm]
No need for frownin'.

In a rowdy New Inn, we watched Dan's team win 2-1 for the first time in sixteen years. It has to be said, he was audibly very pleased. I think he's lost his voice again.

Now, the Royal awaits.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[05 Nov 2006|07:09pm]
My night of fun is off. I have to work, because there's nobody else to do it.

Fuck.

I'd better get to it.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

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