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[24 Nov 2006|03:13pm] |
Work, nothing but work. Events take place and all we can do is try to ride them out. We have a busy weekend and no little drama to deal with.
But that's enough about that. I was going to do some work this afternoon but I really cannot be bothered, i've got all double shifts until Sunday and am in the mood to do nothing in between. I've got something down already anyway, and I don't care if it's crap. I'm too busy to bother doing it with any real care at the moment.
You see, split-shifts completely destroy any possibility of sitting down and relaxing and being able to tend any sufficient mental time to it, because i'm always thinking about work in three hours and what I have to do beforehand.
However, I need the money, so Fridays are full up for me until Christmas is over. It's a shame i'm likely to spend all that money on booze and tobacco.
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| Frasier - Fucking the Felt Fox - Part one |
[24 Nov 2006|03:38pm] |
INT: Studio
Frasier: And so, Maureen, I suggest that the next time you're out and have a fear of crossing the road, you sit down and shit INTO A FREAKING BUCKET!
Roz: (Bangs on the window and scowls)
Frasier: FUCK OFF YOU. (Slings a finger up and hurls a rock at the window. It shatters into small pieces and Roz screams)
Roz: You asshole! What the hell is wrong with you Frasier?
Frasier: Nothing a little aimless screaming won't sort out. AHHHHHHHHGGHHHHH!
Roz: Jesus Christ, I gotta get a new job.
Frasier: I gotta new job for yer, Sherlock. Find my asshole and stick a cake up it!
Roz: Anyway, you have seven thousand complaints today. All because of that lady you called a whore with the head of a minotaur.
Frasier: Yeah, that was unfair. I couldn't see the broad's fuckin' face. Yee haw!
Roz: Anyway, dickhead. I'm off, i'll see you later. I have a date.
Frasier: When don't you? I gotta date too, with your exhaust pipe, toots. Now fuck off and blast me a butcher!
Roz Leaves. Niles enters.
Frasier: Wellll looookeeee here, it's Niles the pin-headed matchbox version of me. What brings ya here, you pisser?
Niles: I could swear you used to be considerably more stable and less immature than this. But then again perhaps I was dreaming.
Frasier: WELL I'M DREAMIN' OF YER ASS BEING FRIED, BUCKO!
Niles: Anyway, I just thought i'd tell you there's a ticket to the opera tonight with our names on them.
Frasier: Our names.
Niles: Yes, literally. But to win them, you have to do something.
Frasier: Like what, yer freakin' SCIENCE TEACHER? KICK ME A STONE, MUD FUCKER.
Niles: You have to be the celebrity contestant on "Fuck a felt fox"
Frasier: A veritable alitteration nightmare. Get out of here, get out. Go on. OUT!
Niles: You'll do it?
Frasier: Yeah sure, a fox is just a dog with smaller bollocks after all. Oil me up and call me a lampost!
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[24 Nov 2006|04:28pm] |
I've nearly got all my shopping done for Christmas and I haven't had to traipse around Canterbury staring into reflective windows wondering where my youth went, feeling the puddles seep into my shoes, and wanting the world to fuck itself to death.
Ace. I used to love walking the streets at yuletime. I guess I still do, but i've no time to do it anymore. It's all these sporadic working times, you see. Two years ago was the last time, when I went with Graham Burton, and I bought a certain coat.
That coat...if only I could still wear it. Mr Coat has seen many things. I drove Graham insane that day by reeling off puns about everything.
But you know, I do it to alleviate the part of me that wants to hurl myself into a stand of baubles.
http://www.blurty.com/talkpost.bml?journal=zoomeister&itemid=1391086
The day itself. Is it really so long ago? Well, yeah, for fuck's sake, it's on the date.
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| The Phylly Show |
[24 Nov 2006|06:18pm] |
Wherein I show you my tidy room, talk about Neighbours, and prostitute cats.
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