A Monday From The Past

I began my day by looking at a car from the Olden Days, the days when a car like that would have had you knee deep in vagina.

First stop, this house, the one with the red door. Where everybody knows my name, but not my real name.

Using an anti-lock key I opened the door. Would I catch the three inhabitants in the middle of some sick and twisted sex dance? It's a thought that enters my mind everyday.

Ali was in the kitchen making a lasagne food. There it is.

I often use this mug. It's not the best mug they have, because they have some very good mugs, to be fair. It's not often that you will find a home with such a rich and diverse collection of drinking plates.

Ali washed some dishes and we discussed Lost, and how it has become quite brilliant again. It really has, but it's no The Wire.

I went to check on Evan to make sure he hadn't hung himself overnight after a freak wanking accident. It's a thought that enters my mind everytime I knock on his door.

A photo of a wall area.

A plan was hatched, we were to go to Lidl to buy Jelly Beans. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was summer and no jumper was required.

Evan gave Ali some cheese. To those who say that these journals are nothing but brilliantly scripted and staged events; I spit upon you.

In the spirit of the cheese giving, Evan used his nose to smell some cheese, like that thing kids do when they say "smell my cheese", then beat you until not even your own mother recognises you.

There's nothing like a nice relaxing cup of cheese while you're chatting away on the phone.

That's my Mallrats. It belongs to me. Did you know that I consider it to be the only good Kevin Smith film?

We set off on our journey, our quest, our voyage, our late afternoon stroll for jelly beans.

Even when a nuke has gone off in Cardiff, Jimmy "One Leg" Lewis doesn't pick up his leisurely pace.

I give you my word as 19th century English gentleman that he has two eyes.

What's all that racket? Ha, racket.

If I sold heroin for a living, I'd do it down there.

If I sexed kids for a living, I'd do it in there.

If I wanted to sell heroin to kids for living I'd do it from there.

It's not often that shops get sequels, because they rarely live up to the original.

Open and closed at the same time. Something doesn't add up. This inattention to detail by the shop owner has led me to believe that this business is nothing more than a front for something sinister. I believe I will be going to Cool House this very Saturday.

How very tragic. At least they're together now, in heaven. Unless, they aren't. It's hard to tell, but just by looking at the body language I'd say that the dad was one hell of a drunk. He probably used alcohol to cope with the fact that he was shorter than his wife. He'd beat her for it, and by looking at the distance between the father and son, I'd say that the mother was protecting her child from a beating too. In conclusion, this is a textbook example of a husband with an inferiority complex killing his wife and son and then himself. Case closed.

In case you weren't quite sure if that's cheap; it is.

An excellent cereal.

Like a kid who grew too fast in the sweet section of a supermarket; the "kid in sweet shop" for the Tarrant On Tv Generation.

These are the things that I bought. Look at them well, because there'll be a quiz afterwards*.

That woman sure does love to shit. I asked her why and she said "I dunno, I just love it".

Evan's mouth had never been blessed with nougat pillows, so I told him to eat some, but not before they had time to soften in the milk. Never before.

He said that they were good, but I think he may have just been saying that to not disappoint me. I guess we'll never know.

Takeshi's Castle. It raises a lot of questions about humanity. Most importantly; why?

I went to find Old Man Dunster. We call him that because he has the crooked back of an old man. He probably hates it.

We played some Pro Evo 6 as a team. We managed to get a point as Italy against France. We've yet to gel as a team, I think it's because he disapproves of my shooting from 45 yards all the time. But I always tell him "You've got to shoot to score". He thinks that we can win every match by playing down the wings.

On this particular occasion John chose chicken.

People often believe that the television was created by John Logie Baird, but Bill Lawrence thinks otherwise.

John ate some pizza. Ha, racket.

Look! It's me! Gooooooooooooo Yankees!

After many things happened, I found myself sitting in a pub. John says he likes drinking from bottles because it makes him feel like he's sucking a penis. Evan says he likes drinking from a pint glass because it feels like he's chewing on Goatse's arse.

After more things happened, I found myself in Q Bar. I much prefer taking photos of people taking photos of people than taking photos of people posing for a photo, it highlights how silly and fake the posing for photo thing really is. I guess people had to do it back in the day because it took hours to take the photo, so you had to sit still, but this isn't back in the day anymore. If we can put a man on the moon we can stop standing still for photos.

Gambler's Corner, right next to Crack Addict Cove.

After a few more things happened, I found myself queueing for close to an hour to get into Tiger Tiger, even though I was in the VIP line. It made me feel like a bloody non-important person. Half these people didn't even have web site, for crying out loud. I did get to watch a bouncer do that thing that bouncers do where they make the most of being allowed to act like a thug and king of the world to someone in the queue. Is there a less likeable profession? It's doubtful. I'm pretty sure that because 99% of the world are not bouncers we should be able to come up with some sort of way to not be treated like bastards.

Hell of a body on him. I'm not jealous, he put the work in and he deserves it. I'd rather have a terrible body such as my own than have to spend most of my day standing up and doing things.

When you've got such a rockin' manly body you can get away with wearing a girl's bag.

I pretended to be sad. I wasn't pretending to be yellow. Look at how yellow I am. It's quite concerning.

Rachel was there. She always puts her hand up before she speaks to me. It's too formal, but it makes me feel important.

Before I knew it I was getting food and looking at a mirror. That's Amy. It was her birthday. Her only one of the year.

Chicken burger and chips.

Amy and I compared scars, like in Lethal Weapon, but without the sex and without Mel Gibson. My scar is better.

John and Amy did some looking at each other.

The best thing about kebab shops being run by foreign people is the executions. Because of their religion or something it's customary to decapitate a member of staff if they get your change wrong, because it counts as stealing. In a way it's quite sad, but it's hard not to get caught up in the orgy of cheering and waving as the head hits the floor.

After some more things happened I woke up asleep in my bed listening to Miss Misery by Elliott Smith. All in all, the night was full of non-bad times and I was drunk enough to make the room spin. I've just realised after looking at that photo that is pretty much how I'll look when I'm dead. Now I'm all distressed. I don't want to die, you see.

*Quiz may not be included.

1 comment:

  1. I, too, hope you do not die, as you look much nicer alive.