Monday 22 June 2009
My car still smells this morning and this depresses me no end.
So it is with the stink that this week begins on a bad note and unfortunately I cannot see things improving, especially in the light of having only two tops to wear that fit me for the five days ahead.
Once on the train at Chelmsford Mr Boring Cunt Couple gets on and sits next to me with his back to me. What part of this twat’s psyche prevents him from just sitting in a fucking chair like a normal person? When his back predictably bumps into my elbow repeatedly he appears somewhat shocked that the world fails to accommodate his choice of existence. He should just fucking die.
Not long after we leave Chelmsford suddenly some lunatic begins walking up the carriages of the train and it is this guy’s doppelganger carrying a bag containing two buns. This feels freaky, too surreal even for me to contemplate dealing with on a dark mood Monday morning. Fortunately as he walks off into the distance (the remainder of the train) neither of us ever see him again.
For the remainder of the hell ride to London a young Bradley Walsh lookalike sitting opposite me leans forward seemingly wanting to read his copy of The Sun in my lap. Why am I always surrounded by freaks on these fucking trains?
When we near Stratford Bradley Walsh gets up and steps on my new Airwalk trainers and my reaction makes it evident that today I am far too stroppy for my own good. I force an apology out of him via subtle reaction and glare/stare but this is not enough, this does not suffice. For him to really make things up to me I want him to just go away and leave me alone. Unfortunately just before Liverpool Street, while our train is beached, the guy fucking steps on my shoe again and this time I feel like hitting him. Chill. Pill.
The beaching of the train outside Liverpool Street feels like an extended period/spell today, even to the point that Information Jimmy apologies for the delay. So National Express, now that this is an official and admitted delay as the train bowls into the platform at 8.05 shouldn’t we be getting another apology?
By the time I am on a tube I am listening to “Group Sex” by the Circle Jerks at full volume on my iPod just to annoy my fellow passengers. How old was I the last time I looked?
When I get to my line change at Baker Street the next train is not for another seven minutes – welcome to my Monday.
Once eventually into work it is on time, just slightly delayed on usual but The Girl happily bowls in at 9.16 oblivious as ever to the fact that she is late. It might be fun living in her head some time.
It is difficult getting started this morning, especially acknowledging the fact The Girl is taking the opportunity to look online for a new place to live, making it tough to build up any steam.
Just before lunch I get pissed off as she begins harping on about going to a fun park on her day off later this week and I ask her when she booked the day off as I can’t find the email. This I do on purpose to pop/burst her bubble because she is pissing me off too much and this gives birth to an office atmosphere/tension that actually comes from her.
The Gossip are in session on Jo Whiley’s Radio One show today and they still sound exciting and in interview Beth Ditto gives good head that, whether by design or not, serves to empower the freaks and geeks and inspire them onto success giving them strength to get through the hard times of now. For this I think she is fantastic even if I know question her commitment to the cause but she and the band are truly the first band (in the mainstream) I have heard sing such a message since Nirvana. The band sound great doing “Heavy Cross” followed by a cover of Kanye West’s “Love Lockdown”.
For lunch I have fishcake. It is full of cakey fishy goodness.
The afternoon turns out to be a flakey one but I do manage to accomplish some stuff but it is a bit pedestrian in the process.
Being a hot day thankfully the boss lets us out early and as I walk up Loudoun Road to the tube station I swear I see Denis Norden. As a result of leaving the restaurant early I manage to catch the 6PM train to Norwich. When I get on it I see Sarah and she clocks me and responds with complete evils. I’m too tired to really care but what she represents to me is a drag especially in the light of a tube ride spent depressingly thinking about my American friend who I was never once nasty to but still chose to shat on me from a great height. These things bother me more than I should allow them to. This girl Sarah though, through her history of actions alone it’s a wonder that I don’t hate Muslims or Pakistans based on her representation of them. Fucking people.
To complete the bad memory flashbacks this evening when I get off the train back at Colchester I see Lulu from Butt Road reminding me of what happened there. What is this tonight, the crap nostalgia train? Why did these people ever enter and taint my life?
It is a genuine relief when I get to Balkerne Heights this evening as I feel exhausted both physically and mentally. The dog only appears semi happy to see me and this enthusiasm wanes even more when I decide to ping him on the nose with my credit card and he goes bonkers on me.
Tonight I leave their place pretty early and when I head home unfortunately my car still fucking stinks causing me continued discomfort. Once more I unleash an excessive amount of air freshener spray into the car before realising I have sprayed far too much and am now struggling to breathe as I become light-headed. Suicide by air freshener, is that possible? Has it ever happened? To counteract this foolishness I just roll down my window and it does the job.
I finally get around to playing my “From Out Of Nowhere” seven inch by Faith No More this evening but the fucker is half snapped. It’s an eBay purchase, so what do I do now?
Again tonight I watch Jon Stewart on More4 and on this episode he is mocking the new food invention in America of pancakes and sausage. Actually it looks pretty good, the kind of indulgence that will make you sick thirty minutes later but it looks like a great once in a lifetime ride to experience. I am sure my American friend has already eaten her fair share of the plate/dish.
When I head to bed I watch the Have I Got News For You repeat and guesting on the show is Clare Balding who is the spit of the “manager” at Baker Street that made my life hell and thus the sight of such a hideous memory causes me great discomfort and sadness.
My night ends with falling asleep to a pretty piss poor episode of Big Brother.
I need a holiday.