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[07 Dec 2006|12:15am] |
Panto opening was an odd evening, it has to be said. It wasn't very busy considering it is the first night, but a few came in after the show. Frictions took precedence, making me uneasy.
Still, I kept off the alcohol and broke the record on the javelin in Summer Games. My one achievement this week. Well, two.
Tomorrow is busy, but thankfully avoiding the booze may afford me the energy to deal with it. I'll try and keep sober after the evening shift too.
That's yer lot, folks.
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| Review of this stinking year. |
[07 Dec 2006|03:34pm] |
Go to your Calendar and find the first entry for each month of 2006. Post the first line of it in your journal, and that's your "Year In Review."
January: Well, that was fun
February: Not much updating today, I don't really feel like it.
March:
No cigarrettes for lent.
April: Well, as you can imagine, i'm as tired as a beetle that's been given the job of sweeping the desert free of sand on pain of death.
May: Bank Holiday Monday.
June: Nothing like stubbing your toe to get the day off to a shit start.
July: One hour to go. (Second post would have been better, it says "CLEANING ROCKS" in massive type)
August: A quiet evening. (For fuck's sake.)
September: she has yellow lips,
October: Everyone...everyone...everyone....everyone...everyone....everyone...every one! Everyone...EVERYONE!
November: Ever see someone you find attractive and you can't place the reason why?
December: A lampost.
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[07 Dec 2006|03:44pm] |
Memory of the year:
Re-discovering my charm and deft humour at the barbeque. I could seriously got laid that night if 1. I knew how to talk to women and 2. There were any there that didn't already know what a shitcase I am.
Song of the year: When you were Young - The Killers. Naturally.
Food of the year: Fried fist in an urn.
Romantic experience of the year: Only slight glimpses I completely failed to take advantage of.
Comedy of the year: Shut 9.
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[07 Dec 2006|03:45pm] |
Well, seems it doesn't matter how quiet OAP day is, i'll always get out late and tired. Just such a thing happened, again. Nothing compared to the night we're going to have. Twenty nine upstairs.
And that's just upstairs.
Argh!
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[07 Dec 2006|06:00pm] |
There's one thing that sometimes reminds me how incredible life is and how utterly tiny I feel, and that is the universe.
It's a bit roomy, for a start. I mean, there are millions of stars, planets, sattelites, and all kinds of garb. There's a big fucking star called Antares, which the sun could fit into thousands of times. And I always thought the sun was a little bit on the weighty side, I thought he was a portlly cunt. He aint shit.
I'm amazed by space and what's in it, and the theorys about it. It's so gobsmacking and frankly, a bit demented. I mean, who'd have thought we'd all end up coming to life right, in a massive black apparently limitless space, with shitloads of balls in it? How brilliant is that?
And this is the reason I remain open to all sorts of ideas and reasons as to why. I think the eternal question of life, mortality and simply why we're here is a deeply fascinating one. I can't get my head around the thing, obviously, it's huge. And we're in it, sodding about on a green and blue beauty of a planet, getting up to all kinds of shit. It's astonishing.
I think of things like this when I feel a little bored and dry in my day. It makes me remember i'm in a crazy and huge er...thing. I mean for all it's theorys, why? What before? Is it really infinite? You always talk about seeing it all but you never end up doing it, do you?
Jupiter's a slag though. Gaseous whore.
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[07 Dec 2006|07:01pm] |
Firstly, this:
Frasier:
Title: Skid Larks
INT:
Frasier: DAD!
Martin: Whoa! Don't sneak up on me like that! What's eatin' ya!
Frasier: What's eating me, is that small realisation, grey head, that you haven't left that fucking seat for three days. You're getting sores, and stinking the fucking place out. I don't mind the sores, they provide an amusing centrepiece, but the problem is the shit and piss.
Martin: I can't move! My hip's fucked! Call a doctor!
Frasier: Nah, better idea..i'll hurl you and the chair, together, out into the street. Now FUCK OFF! (Pushes Martin in the chair into the elevator really fast, when it's opening, the chair and Martin hit Niles, who is busy crying into a leaf)
Niles: ARGHH!
Martin: ARGH!
Frasier: Right, now I can get on with marking the walls with my own shit.
Black Screen (Those who shit first, piss longest)
INT: Studio
Frasier: And remember, Lydia, there's no substitute for excrement. It's the most natural food in the world, having come from one's own arse, or another persons. Or animals. Smear that on your gob and swallow it.
Lydia on phone: I asked what I should do about my feelings for my ex husband.
Frasier: Who's DA FRIGGING PSYCHIATRIST HERE, SHITFUCKS? WHY I OUGHTA MAKE YA PLAY FOOTBALL WITH A BEE'S NEST!
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And that's about it. Big thanks to the giro wankers for the music, the BallBears for the politics, and Jim Beam's Piss for the buffet. We'll be back tomorrow wanking into your shoes. Goodnight!
I wonder if she knows what I could do. I wonder what she could do, I do.
It's quite a thing to wonder about. Yum.
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