Thursday, February 28, 2008
So why now? What on earth could possibly give MM the idea that now was the best time to get emotional?
He's probably feeling the pressure too. And we have to prop up each other. But he isn't doing anything. So....I don't understand. More on this later. But who wants to bet that later I've slapped him accross the face and gone to live at the train station?
Buggary. To everyone.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
His words, last Friday, were as such: They would accept my if I was a gay man or a lesbian, and they will accept me for this. This was promptly followed by being held up by my neck and paraded for all to observe. Which they did, with a gentle, mocking scorn heaped on my lover. But I was so proud that I was his, so very very very very proud. To have someone who could accept our nature, or his nature, and that's what it meant. It meant that it was his nature. It isn't something I have coaxed him into, or forced him to do. It is his nature.
I am ashamed. I am ashamed and it puts me in a predicament when asked to do things which mean the complete surrender of my dignity. When asked to kiss the floor I hesitated. Hesitate! I ask you. Though I will gladly bend over, and I will gladly be pinned to whichever surface you like, or try my hardest to work on whatever task I've been given. I can say when that happens that it was under durress, there is deniability. Bit pitiful really. But the little rush of joy I get when I sit down and pain shoots up my thigh and my back is enough to comfort me.
But when people know! Oh! It is a guilty pleasure. The Shunt Lounge is by this point well aware of our extra-curricular activities. To be babysat (for want of a better word) by two perverts who are holding my leash, however pitiful they may be at punishment, is just...heaven really. To be referred to as nothing but 'it' is it's own reward. To have people know and accept is wonderous.
To have people know and be wary is also a guilty pleasure, though in a very different way, and I can't figure out if my flat mate knows or is just an awful pervert.
FM: Are you ok?
Me: Oh yes, well, no. I'm in trouble.
FM: Oh! Have you been a naughty girl.
Me: (Ignoring that and searching through my bag) I lost MM's credit card. I can't find it anywhere. Oh I'm in trouble
FM: Oh! Naughty ES, very very very naughty. Oh ES, ES, ES, ES. Bad little girl
Me: (catching on at this point) Yes, and I'm panicking a little at the moment.
FM: Well! Go sit outside and calm down then.
Me: (getting worked up to the point when almost any instruction would be taken) Yes, yes I will.
Now he's in the room next to us. I assume he's heard us fucking, and I assume he's heard me cry out when I've been whipped. If he can hear the riding crop or anything MM is saying though then the walls are officially too thin and I just have to stick up my chin and bear it.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I could understand if her soul purpose at this hell hole we call 'work' was to inspect when I arrived at my desk. But its not. And what gets me the most is that she sits on the complete other end of the department. She cannot see into our office. How does she know when I arrive? If she checks my log-in times thats just laughable, I'll get the cynical bastard who sits opposite me to log me in. He won't mind, it's 'breaking the system man'. And if she doesn't! Well then she just sits there every morning with a pair of binoculars scouting me out, which makes me think she secretly wants to ask me out on a date.
If only I didn't love my bed so goddamn much.
The sickening onslaught of the word 'flowers' when you enter any crowded area is just unreal. I could handle it, I would infact have a wry smile on my face, if every now and again some smarmy businessman who has obviously never felt the warmth of a human touch since he left home says: 'Well, I'll get her flowers' but no! It's everyone! People at work, people on the tube, people who sell newspapers to you, people who just happen to be within earshot and hope to hell that they're going to get laid soon. It's disgusting! One man even used the justification: Well, she likes flowers! She may like them but I swear you'd be getting a much harder fucking if you had a well thought-out personalised gift in mind.
Your loss I suppose.
As for me! I got 3 new bruises and a bucket load of rope for valentines, oh, and I'm not allowed to talk when I'm on the tube. Suits me just fine.
His intelligence leaves me with a modicum of respect for the man, not something I grant most fishies I encounter. They may be nice people, I may get along with them just fine, but respect is not something which should be granted to anyone who would willingly subjegate themselves for an invisible sky-daddy, albeit only once a week.
I don't like it when people I respect and who's opinions I mostly trust come out with something as terrifying as: Sharia law will be introduced in this country in the next 20 years. It scares the crap out of me, and should scare the crap out of everyone else. Because you know what? He's probably right.
Look at the PC crap muslims get away with. Heaven forbid we point out that half of its followers openly despise democracy and would kill you rather than treat you as if you were a fellow human being because apparently a life of chastity and fatwahs makes you holier than every other person on the fucking planet. And somehow, in this model of the universe, 'holy' translates into 'better'.
Goddamn these people make me angry.
On the other hand, I am thinking about buying a hijab. Why? I hear you cry! Its a symbol of male oppression in a backwards religion practiced only to give its followers a free pass into lala-magic-land where they'll happily frolic forever with booze (I think its nectar actually but I'm sticking to my guns)
Its because! When I have a bad hair day, I tie a hijab around my head. When I can't find the hairbrush, same deal. When I want to look inconspicuous or I just want the repressed men in my part of London to LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE (seriously guys, I don't want you to have my number) I put on a hijab. It would be nice to have a proper one just as a deterrant to the rest of the world.
See! Its not sexism or oppression at work. Female muslims are just misanthropes, and I will happily join their ranks.
So today I offer proof.
This is the day I find out whether Sarah Lawrence will allow me to grace their hallways. This also marks the first time in around 9 years that I've actually bothered trying to do anything with my life and any failure will surely drive me to be an office worker of the most mundane kind for all eternity.
My mind has accepted this. I'm quite nervos but regardless my head has decided that what will be will be and as I have very little influence over the final decision short of winning the lottery and adding a wing to the place I should just relax and be content to live out my bland and dreary existance in peace.
Try telling that to my body which has subsequently decided that we are in Defcon1. I don't mean to be crude but that I can stray 5 metres from the bathroom to come type this up is nothing short of a miracle and if my teeth or my head could stop aching any time soon that would be an added bonus.
But of course they won't. Because that would mean I had some semblance of control over the damned thing. And I don't. So fuck you science.
Friday, January 18, 2008
The introduction could just as easily have been: What they don't tell you about quitting smoking:
Nicotine is not that addictive. I know I know they've done all of those studies, the withdrawal is supposed to be worse than heroin withdrawal, just in smaller doses. BULLSHIT. I think the cigarette companies make this crap up to keep you smoking. Yes, nicotine withdrawal is bad, I'm not denying that. But if you distract yourself during the 5 minutes of pain then you're fine! And those pangs only follow you for about 2 days if that.
For creepy, Freudian reasons, its the sucking on something which is extremely addictive. I am going through what some people might call a withdrawal, but I really really don't want any nicotine. I just want to suck on something (
You can no longer feel comfortable eating crap - Again, total surprise to me. I am one of those fortunate people who can eat as much as she wants and not put on a pound. (It was pointed out to me that as I never want to eat anything this is a moot point, I will still continue to boast about it) I like my chocolate. Before I would eat nothing but chocolate all day and then some vegetables in the evening. No more! Every time I want to put that chocolatey goodness to my lips my stomach protests, and I weep. I can't eat fruit, and too much bread will kill my already struggling digestive system, what to do?
Which brings me neatly to my next point:
Your colon will not know what hit it Again, what the hell? Cigarette companies want you to know that you'll have horrible, excrutiating cravings (for all of 5 minutes a day) but they won't tell you that moving 10 metres from the toilet makes you an official Level 2 Biohazard? Why? Surely it would be a better deterrant? Or is it the fear you like? THE FEAR!
Cigarettes change your personality - I am happier, a lot more tired, but happier, than I was when I was smoking. I feel almost (please note I say almost) exactly like I did before I started smoking. Bear in mind that I started smoking just before being made homeless, living in a drug den, living with FF, being raped, being molested, going through some sort of financial hell etc etc etc. Lots of shite has happened in the meantime. Trauma is still there, but I somehow feel lighter.
The last point could be because BL (a.k.a. NM/MM) is living with me. Oh wow it's wonderful! I will not gush to the internet, I bitch to the internet, its the relationship we both know and love. But Ooooooh!
From: Salvatore, Elena <>
To: G******, Michal <>
Sent: Tue, 15 Jan 2008 8:59
Subject: Dragon Dictate
Dear Mr G*******,
This email is to inform you that your copy of Dragon Dictate software is now available for collection. Please liase with **** for collection and/or ***** (who is in today for the last time before the end of January) regarding this pilot.
Sent: 15 January 2008 12:39
To: Salvatore, Elena
Subject: Re: Dragon Dictate
I'll drop by
By the way I'm female
From: Salvatore, Elena <>
Sent: Tue, 15 Jan 2008 13:03
Subject: RE: Dragon Dictate
Sorry! Won't happen again.
Sent: 15 January 2008 13:25
To: Salvatore, Elena
Subject: Re: Dragon Dictate
Monday, January 14, 2008
Download all the hardcore fucking action on our full videos!
I think my favourite part is the merry BONJOUR! A jaunty introduction to hard fucking if ever there was!
The second one, entitled 'Ufm' (to which I would like to respond Wtf?) says:
Tired of being the brunt of jokes in the locker room? Increase your dick size today
Though I pine and pine for a penis of my own, I know I live 5 minutes from an Anne Summers.
Jeez what a waste of everyone's time!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
<3 is both corny and nerdy! Double charisma points!
RIchard is going to kill a baby tonight. I have enjoyed my time with him.
i love children like sean loves you
Richard is also bitchy tonight. Yayz!
Is that snappy noise my computer and if so how do I kill it?
fi <3 misanthrope
Richard = fail More fail EPIC FAIL!
All the ducks are swimming in the water. :)
txt back "how can you press buttons on yur phone if your wrisys are cut to ribons? THIBK SEAN. PLAN IN ADVANCE FOR THIS SORT OF THING. Really, it's things like this tht made me leave you x"
switch it down a tad
Now Ican't hear it - hence the noise cancellation headphones :P I love being deaf
EEEE PPPP II CCCC FFFF AA II LL !!!!
E P P II C C F A A II LL !!!!
EE P P II C F A A II LL !!
EE PPPP II C FF AAAAAA II LL !!
E PP II C C F A A II LL
EEEE PP II CCCC F A A II LLLLLL !!
<3 when that wom an spoke to me there was a massive surge of adrenaline and now i am on the comedown and it is hard to hold my book - or type !
Job Title: C.E.O., Managing Director
Line Manager: Myself
Start Date: The beginning
Time in Current Role: 200 years
Date of Psychological Assessment: 2nd March 56872
1. Well, I'm glad we got to sit down and have this chat Caroline, my apologies for taking so long. You know how it is, being in charge and all, very busy. You really should come out to dinner with me you know...I value my employees mental health above all else and it is extremely important. A representation of me and my business of course. I couldn't have any of them snapping could I?
//Very astute of you//
Yes. My name is Mr Jehovah and I am in charge of this model building project. I first got my break when the Commissioner of Moving Parts, I'm sure you heard about his untimely death, very tragic of course. Yes, well, he saw that I was an up and coming worker and gave me the tools I needed to start this business. I don't tell the story very often of course, but I do want to encourage anyone who may read this to remind their employers of their own determination and...no one will be reading this? Well then why am I giving this interview?
//Every business should have a mental health check-up, you just said...//
Perhaps...next question please Caroline.
2. My role? I run the entire thing! Every decision, every hard decision, is mine to make. Employees have to be kept in line and yet happy at the same time. It's a very delicate balance; I have to be on guard at all times. Some people...well, I'm sure you of all people can guess which ones are the trouble makers, in fact you will have that report for me yes?
//These are confidential Mr J//
You can call me Tod. Well, I expect you to fix them at least.
3. I think they hate me. I mean this whole 'God' business is beginning to be a problem. It isn't a nice nickname and regardless it is just trying to make me crack under the pressure. Subterfuge really! Micromanagement gone mad, and I keep telling Stan that if we just left them alone they would forget about it but of course he is a bleeding heart woman underneath all that chest hair. Only a woman could see a loss of stock as some sort of emotional crisis.
Of course I shouldn't have hired my sister, that was the mistake. But I will get her you wait. All of those years taking the last biscuits, stealing the television. It won't last forever, the tide will turn my way.
The 'workers' love me though. I'm proud to say that. I treat them right I do.
4. Well, when an important man like the commissioner gives you an opportunity like this one! I could hardly say no could I? He obviously saw I had the brains for it. And after his death I knew it was what he would have wanted, the two practically coinciding and all! I see it almost as his dying wish...
5. Brilliant! We have just finished reconstruction from that unfortunate incident with the octogenarian. Stan was going to foot the bill but we generously decided to pay for it instead.
//Who is we?//
Well, me and Gabriella, upper management and all.
//Does Gabriella make a lot of decisions with you?//
My word is final you must understand, but of course I consult her on all matters! For example, it was my idea to have a dungeon fitted in the basement, as a recreation room you understand, the D&D meets we hold for employees need to go somewhere! Of course after consulting Gabriella on this it was I who realised the financial implications of actually running the thing would drain the company dry.
Sometimes she does get ideas in her head. The other day, and I tell you this in confidence, she wanted to install some water coolers and bean bags, you know, for the migrants. There is no benefit to the company there! I told her that if they actually worked the full 18 hour days they are assigned I might consider it. She threw a tantrum of course but at the end of the day it is my decision.
//...Tod, what about those bags in the rec-room?//
The bag...? *standing up he looks out of the office window and see's the bean bags in the corner* Sonofabitch! Well, she will be reprimanded I assure you.
6. Management improve? I didn't authorise that question...well, I suppose employee feedback is important. Nothing of course! Everything is running as it should be. I can't see anyone but the known complainers having much to say for that.
7. 10 years....I would like a woman I think, maybe one of those Asian girls, yes. And a large house in the mountains, with an annex for mother. That would be bliss.
8. Well, being so close to home I get to spend a lot of time there. Mother does occasionally have complaints about the amount of noise we're making. And of course there are the occasional problems when I try to use "her things" - I always find that so cute, as though she paid for anything in the damn house! Mostly though it is just a power struggle between the two of us, and I can't overshadow my own mother can I? I just have to remember that I am the Lord of my manner and a guest of my mothers I suppose.
//Do you ever see yourself leaving your mothers? What about friends?//
Of course I have plenty of those! I mean we have the D&D meets, not to mention the various communities I've created online. You have to know your market you see. Being a Galalea with 12 Disquiet is all well and good but if you can't influence and cajole those around you, or even persuade them to buy your miniatures then what is the point? Yes, the RP community owes me much, I am repaid in kind....
//Yes but your moth..//
9. No, no woman for me yet. I mean I would like to have a girlfriend, but they're all so inaccessible. It doesn't seem to matter how much power or influence you hold or where you hold it! I have been on dates, don't get me wrong! I know how to show a lady a good time. It's just that...ok, and example. The last date I went on, I was pepper sprayed. I had taken this wonderful angel of a creature out to dinner, she didn't seem too interested in her food. I presented her with jewellery, we had spent months on this courtship. I made such an effort and she seemed to be interested in the workings of Earth and these 'humans' I'd made. I invited her to my next RP meeting, she agreed, it was going wonderfully. And yet the minute I try and get close! Pepper spray. No, I don't have the time to be dealing with that at the moment.
Add to that that mother doesn't like for me to share a room with anyone. She really is the only woman for me for the time being...
//Oh, look at the time! I'm very sorry Mr...Tod, but I have to go.//
Are you sure? It hasn't been that long and I would love to buy you a drink...
//No, patients don't like to wait//
Of course, well here's my.....*door slams shut*....number.
This is just my example of the day:
But I want to...
Are you going to go downstairs?
*pouts* *receives another slap*
Now bend over...He he you do everything I tell you, even when it will hurt you.
I'm sorry, how am I supposed to interpret this? Do you come with a manual?
Of course I can't particularly talk.
Elena came over while I was out the other day. He can seemingly stay on his toes perfectly when that happens, and yet I can't handle a little mood swing?
Myergh, unworthy feelings coming back! Hurrah!
Friday, January 11, 2008
So! For those of you with less experience in the building/programming industries I offer these peices of advice:
1. The company who asked you to submit a price know they did it
Yes this may seem like rudimentary advice and I know you need to fill those pages up somehow. Telling your potential employer what they have asked you to do on the other hand is not one of the things they need to know from you. Try and fill the pages with content.
2. I know my own name
Much in the same vein as number 1. The potential employer knows who they are. Yes, it is an ego trip. But it is also pointless. Especially if all of the gentlemen get Esq. P.H.D. or Mr and all of the women get sweet sweet FA
3. We will be the judge of you
...has been approached due to the many years experience in the...field
This is a lie. If you knew why your potential employer had actually picked you to give a tender the banality of your very existance would probably cause you to weep like a little girl. If you have experience, why not show it with a detailed account of how you would manage the project ahead of you, followed by a price?
4. Wales is not better than London
I'm sorry you valley huggers, it just isn't
5. Recommending that we use you does not mean we will
This is quite possibly the single worst tender I have ever read. Where is the project management strategy? Jeez!
6. We already requested testimonials or as they are otherwise known 'references', do not ask us to request them again
Please remember at all times that you are in fact competing for our money with many other companies, one of which we have used numerous times before and are quite happy with. Do not waste our time
7. If you have worked for the Daily Mail, don't tell us
6. Going back to number 6, we have already requested a specification, do not send us an advertisement of yourselves followed by a request for a request for a project specification. All of the other companies have already submitted theirs. You are wasting my time. You were already given 2 months to complete this.
Oh I feel like a school-teacher.
Ok, that's it. I have read 11 pages of absolute drivel from what is supposed to be one of the best program development companies in the UK. Congratulations! You just lost yourself £20k!
(Along those lines I have had 3 cigarettes today already. Buggar!)
For the meantime though I am going to just go through my questions to my characters. Development is fun and I might as well get it over with now.
Time in Current Role:
Date of Psychological Assessment:
1. Hi there! Tell me a little about yourself
2. What is your role within this project?
3. And how do you think you fit in with the rest of the team?
4. What was it about this job that attracted you to it?
5. How is the work environment?
6. What do you think management could do to improve?
7. Where would you like to be in 10 years?
8. Does the job affect your home life?
9. Are you currently in a relationship?
10. I noticed when you came in you were carrying_____Does that interest you?
11. Interview gets cut short. Pick a reason.
Should be sufficient I believe!
Is it important that your innermost desires are filled? Or is it important that you care about that person?
This is prompted somewhat by my ex constantly asking me: Do you love him? Do you? Do you? Do you? And my being utterly incapable of just yelling: YES NOW LEAVE ME ALONE! at him.
Hmmm. List time I think. Mostly to ensure I don't have to work for another hour, but also for fun.
Pro's of NM/ex-MM
Makes me laugh
Is incredibly sweet
Knows a lot - I like to learn
Actually wants to do something with his life
Seems to get on with Elena (?)
Very good at being Master-esque
The body, oh my dear sweet Jesus that body...
I should probably mention the sex as a side note
Likes to listen to my stories
Can swing with the mood swings....somewhat
Con's of NM/ex-MM
Can be selfish on an unprecedented scale
Doesn't seem to understand the reality of work
Will be leaving to join the navy
Not to seem like I'm running out of things to say, but he can be unbelieveably selfish.
Doesn't actually enjoy being Master-esque, just seems to do it for me
Has little interest in American politics or religion, my 2 main passions
Has no respect whatsoever for any culture other than English culture
Seems to be a little racist
Makes me feel wholly inadequate at every turn without trying
Oh dear god the selfishness
I don't know. I should probably stop this now. Its getting fairly depressing.
Basically, we're in a rather odd mood-swinging stage. I'm mood swinging because A: I'm under a lot of stress (I defy anyone to say otherwise and be able to back that claim up with impirical data. Never mind the children starving in Africa, I have stress) and B: PMS, it is our friend.
FF is mood swinging because he keeps slipping in and out of reality. He knows damn well that if a man answers my phone its going to be MM (- N.b. MM is no longer an appropriate name. Navy Man? Suggestions?) And yet I get this lovely text:
Some strange man is answering ur phone. Lol. Call me when u can.
Ok, I can forgive him for not knowing what MM/NM sounds like. But surely he has the braincells to put 2 and 2 together?
Then this morning he rings. I respond in a cheery, friendly but not heartbroken ex-lover manner (specific eh?). For a while the conversation goes well. He asks if he can come over to hang out, I don't see why that's a bad idea. The man is hurting and if I can at least give him a hug whilst repeated the mantra: "No, I don't love you like that, no I won't marry you, yes it's a shame, yes I'm moving on. No, I don't love you....." then where's the harm?
Ohhh the milk of human kindness is not a taste which suits me.
Proceed to the emails!
4 u (he's extremely literate is FF)
I still love you
(Cue a link to a flat which I could afford but which is all women and in Plumstead, land of the stabbing)
So somehow he possesses the braincells to know that should I move into an all girl's flat MM/NM can't move in with me. But he doesn't have the braincells to figure out its NM/MM answering the phone?
This is all very confusing. I think something may be afoot.
The judgey teller decided to tell the entire bank how much money I have in my account, to remind me again in a loud voice that i Was overdrawn, and then to stop serving me halfway through so she could comment on just how nice another customer was.
Maybe she's not a judgey bitch and I'm just jealous.
Anyway! I feel a lot less melodramatic now. So I just wanted a post to fill up space and push that entry further down really.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
The past month has been a menagerie of financial crisis, love lost, love gained, what looks to be love lost again, losing my home, losing my great-grandma, spending a rediculously short amount of time with my family for christmas, having my job put into jeprody, losing family heirlooms, working rediculously long hours and having no respite whatsoever.
I'm not fine. I know I'm not fine. Why won't anything break me? Why can I keep going and keep going and not feel any pain? I don't understand!
The worst bit is that if you don't break easily people think you are coping. I can't stand people thinking that. I don't want someone reasonably telling me what I should do or how they had the same experience once. I'm sick of the fact that if you heap too many complaints on someone at once they ignore you as if you're just bitching about little things and thus are no longer worthy of their attention.
I want someone to hug me, tell me it will be ok, and take some of the strain and stress away from me. Yet I feel too guilty and unworthy of that priviledge.
If I did what I wanted to do right now I would cut my entire body to ribbons and stagger to a hospital. Every inch of my body would be covered in blood and scars. I would get on the bus and sit in St Mary's waiting room and look at the scorn in the nurse's faces as they admitted me and smile because I would know that was nothing compared to what I was coming from.
But my mind tells me, if you did that you wouldn't be able to pay rent, and as such all of your posessions would be put on the street where people would steal them. Your friends would be gone and your family is too poor to visit you, you would be alone even more than you are now. You wouldn't be able to go anywhere or see anyone. This is also true of right now, but it would be worse as the illusion that it is possible would also be gone. They would put you on meds and expect you to talk to someone about your problems, and you can't do that. You just cant, physically, do that.
And then people would of course ask: Why go directly to hospital? Because I don't want to die. I want the outside of my body to even slightly resemble the inside of my mind. I want someone, anyone, to recognise that I'm not better from before. The only thing I have done is grow up and get a guilt complex meaning that no one can or will if the current trend continues, see what is on the inside. It's hidden well.
WHY WON'T I BREAK?
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Oh! How glad I am that they made a return.
I didn't even particularly like the reggae message, I see people who follow Bob Marley around obsessively to be as misguided and slightly pathetic as fishies themselves. But at least Bob Marley didn't publicly tell people to hate, ever*, and wasn't fictional.
Just let me fix the tally....Bob Marley 2, Jesus 0.
You could tell it was going to lean that way when they started praying. Praying is of course something lots of people like to do. However, I do question the valitidy of taking a moment out of your schedule to pray when zombies are coming to get you and you're trying for an 'emergency evacuation'. It would seem a better idea to me to say a silent prayer in your head. Saves time, and I'm sure invisible sky-daddy can still hear you.
I really want to type: They then lull you back into a false sense of security. But that makes it sound like A: I was offended by a little prayer, which isn't true and B: I need a nice shiney tinfoil hat, which would be nice, but I know the Jeebus radio waves aren't seeping into my brain. Just the CIA's.
Regardless, you forget about the prayer. They lay on the Marley message, and you go: yeah, he was a nice man, shame about the dead thing. Never mind, carry on with the zombies please.
But then! God starts actively speaking to people! From nowhere! The most random, non-plot-sense-making thing ever.
Obviously, this film was taken from a book. And I am sure in the book this plot-twist made sense. I'm sure it was explained in-depth and that character background was added. In the movie however, a random lady and her son show up, start spouting about Jebus, and then God speaks (in a surprisingly girly voice) directly to Will Smith. The entire point of this being in the movie seems to be: God is great! Hurrah! And not, look, its like Noah's flood, but with viruses and....well I really can't fathom why the man needs God to save humanity considering he has the antidote to the virus. Surely thats enough?
And why is paradise a church compound full of armed militias? I thought that was Waco.
Oh, that made me mad. However, Will Smith's performance is nothing short of stunning, and the movie up until the end is fantastic. Good with bad. But Jeez that was bad.
And the worst bit? Because I am Legend did not suck ass but The Golden Compass did the fishies will now use this as an excuse to say people want fish! Never mind your Dawkins and Hitchens, they want warm, fuzzy comfort with the chance of always being saved.
Which is true. But come on people!
*I don't know that much about Bob Marley, so if he did call people to arms let me know, I will re-adjust the tally.
Oh! I love going on dates. Especially with gorgeous men in army uniform. Even more so when it involves going in to London, best city in the world damnit! (puts inappropriate civic pride in a drawer and locks it)
Can't wait until next Wednesday when the Shunt Lounge re-opens. My favourite place in London, my favourite man, alcohol and art. Hmmmmmmmm *sighs*
We went to Leicester Sq to go to one of the many many Odean's there. I should know by now that you don't go to Leicester Sq unless the man in question is quite rich. But hey, I see it as a test of gall. Not so much, how much are you prepared to pay but more, what is your reaction going to be when they tell you how much a ticket costs? Luckily for me MM was as smooth as can be.
Ok, I'm just going to restart this.
So, here's a nice heart-felt list.
I wish you would have asked me when you thought I was cheating on you.
I wish I had yelled more, so you would know I was upset.
I wish your family had never liked me, so that I could tell you what was on my mind.
I wish you had never gotten the YourMove job, so I wouldn't have to hold in my breakdown to deal with yours.
I wish you wouldn't have ask me to sleep around.
I wish you wanted to do more with your life.
I REALLY wish you had never called my Dad 'mate', thus tearing a family apart.
I wish I could've noticed when you broke down my self-esteem with months of guilt tripping.
I wish I had had the balls to leave you earlier, then maybe we could have had a chance.
I wish you didn't have the worst luck in the world.
I wish your weight had stayed the same, not for me, I like my pillow, but so that your self-esteem could have come back.
I wish you knew what nuance was.
I wish that I didn't feel like shouting Bruckheimer every time I see the word, it makes me think of you.
I wish we had had more in common.
I wish you'd learn to talk.
I wish I'd have learnt to just ease the hell up on your grammer, its not that important.
I wish you would have just said: Yes, I watch porn. You're human, I knew
I wish I'd cried in front of you, or loud enough to wake you up.
I wish it was you, and not Jacko, who stopped me slitting my throat.
I really wish you hadn't got Benny in the breakup
I wish you didn't hate anything above your 'class'. There's nothing wrong with yuppie things, just don't be one!
I wish that when I hurt you you didn't just tell me about everything I missed out on because I'm such a bitch, because knowing you it would've all gone wrong and we would have cried anyway.
I wish you didn't have a temper which still gives me nightmares, so that I could talk to you without fearing for my safety.
I wish you didn't love Millwall.
I wish I didn't understand why you love Millwall.
I wish that I could get upset without going into total cold hearted bitch mode so that you'd know I wasn't doing anything for the specific reason of hurting you
I wish you gave 2 shits how my day went.
I wish B&Q didn't occupy so many of your thoughts.
I wish you'd just grow up! When something hits you, don't sit there and cry. FIGHT!
I wish you hadn't wanted me to be a child. My Dad might have been gone, but I didn't need another one.
I wish people wouldn't keep leaving you in a heartbreaking fashion, so you could realise that sometimes its ok. Just because they're gone doesn't mean you're going anywhere.
I wish I didn't have hurt you, and failing that, I wish I didn't have to see you hurt.
I wish I could still love you like you love me, but its impossible.
So there. Fuck you. "What I want."
What this means is that occasionally I go in to the bank do withdraw 50p. Not because I'm desperate, just because I want a packet of crisps and that is all the money I'll have in my account until next week and hey! 50ps don't fall out of cash machines.
Usually I will just make a quick quip about being a lucky lottery winner fallen from grace, or just kiss the money and act like they've just handed me a puppy. Strange and slightly creepy though that may sound it usually goes down quite well.
So! Went in to my local bank the other day and, handing the lady my card and passport proclaimed: I would like all the available balance in my account!
The sullen looking 20 year old hands me a slip showing that I am overdrawn. Luckily for me I have a nice overdraft which doesn't charge me interest. Being paid weekly means its never left overdrawn for long. Me and the bank have this understanding, I signed a contract along those lines. The teller knows this. She should also know that I just asked for all the available balance in my account. Failing some sort of amnesia or selective hearing (in which case why shove the receipt at me?) I just told her, she knows.
"Oh yes! I know, all of my available balance please."
"Yes, but there should be about £100 available for me to take out."
"But you're overdrawn."
Cue about 20 seconds of awkward staring in which I am very tempted to say: Oh! My apologies madam. Due to the fact its January, the worst month in the financial calender, and I am trying to take a measely £100 out of an account which is well balanced, I must be some sort of financial harlot! I'll just go re-mortgage my house with another subprime like the rest of the population shall I?
Eventually the silence breaks and she begrudgingly hands me my £100.
"Could I have an envelope with that please?"
"I only have this one"
She brought out a tatty, used envelope with the branch's address on it. This was obviously send in by someone with gloucoma its so ugly.
It would have taken her 3 seconds to lean over to the next teller and give me a nice, fresh, specifically designed for money envelope. It would have saved her a good 20 seconds of being stared at to just give me my damn money. Hell, she wouldn't have even had to give me a stern warning about being overdrawn.
Bank tellers, I love you, but judging is not in the job description. If you'd like to silently judge the general public, become a Texpert.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Yes! So, this naked man, MM, hurrah! Slightly less fun in the naked men department is my ex (baptised Fuckface, or FF, by my mother). Who has taken it upon himself to print out every lavacious email I've ever sent, regardless of whether we were together at the times it was sent or not, and put them in a nice folder for me to read. Then! Has decided that this wasn't creepy enough. We were 'meant to be together' and for gods sakes can't I see that if someone is invading my privacy like that it means that they care about me? 'I have a ring that's just itching to get back on your finger'
Its slightly scary watching someone depart from reality. Especially someone you cared about for so long.
So let us say that songs about relationships ending are not songs I want to listen to. Nor are songs about how depressed someone is because they're alone, or anything really who's music reads: 40 = quaver dolce.
This is all the woman plays. Add to that her theme of the show is usually something obviously aimed at the easily frightened audiences. Mark needs some advice for a first date! Why is Caroline alone? Why not listen to this man bend balloons whilst I go: Ohhhh! For a while?
By the end of her show if you were not already depressed about something one of the songs would have gotten you. And then when you were trying to claw your way out of said depressed with some sort of amusing banter you'd hear: Now everyone get their sweets out! Yes, now.. eat! Followed by 12 callers asking permission to open whichever sweets were available, which will cause you to lose faith in human kinds artistic and intellectual progress. And as you raise the gun to your head you will hear: Oh! It's very hard to describe over the radio...
Friday, January 4, 2008
I needed to contact you; it's due to a business
valued at $44,500,000 in my bank.
If you are interested, email me via this email:
Its nice sometimes when you know where you stand.
On the other hand I was listening to Lisa Tarbuck earlier today. The woman is obviously either completely incompetent or just depressed out of her vacant head. The music selection is enough to push even emo kids over the edge. Unfortunately for me, I've been unable to charge my iPod. Its Lisa Tarbuck, radio five live (racist, mysogynistic, misinformed pundits all round!) or question time for gardeners.
But a new low was acheived today! A balloon shaper, on radio. This equates half an hour of squeaky noises and Mr Tarbuck saying: Its very pretty! Its hard to describe on radio.
The logic escapes me....