How I miss Myspace

I miss Myspace and I miss the excitement that it used to bring. Facebook is the ultimate messaging tool, but it's just so conservative that I don't feel like I can even communicate with people sometimes.

And it's also a let-down, because it doesn't actually have much content, given the number of users. Some people post hilarious shit, but most people don't do anything other than add applications.

Anyway...

I filled in a survey for Rinse FM this evening. And then set about downloading a load of old shows. I need a PC with a USB 2.0 port. This isn't even funny. No sooner do I start earning money, than I have to spend it all on mad shit, like a new PC (just for the USB port), or new glasses (just so I can continue to look like a geek), or new clothes (so I can look smart at work). It's all bullshit. All I really want is a new phone. If I can hold out another 2 years, I won't need to buy a new PC - I'll have everything I need on my phone....

- - - - -

I made a potato and olive flan tonight. I spent a long time mooching around Sainsbury's in search of flan bases. Then collared some workers in the nicest possible manner. I'm so damn polite and entertaining, that these people actually like helping me. Witnessing me explain my life and ask for help is clearly quite an entertaining thing.

Anyway, the staff at the Colliers Wood Sainsbury's (one of the largest supermarkets in Europe, according to Wikipedia) are exceptionally friendly. The checkout staff are wonderful. And, so far, I don't think anyone of wholly British origin has dealt with me. I think there's something in that. Yes, I'm saying that ethnicity is what makes Britain lovely.

Words are falling out of my fingers here and I don't even know what I'm writing. My head is jumping around all over the place this evening. It's like 3 Chains of Gold, by Prince. That tune just goes everywhere. It's insanely good. I'm listening to it for the second time tonight.

And that's where this blog ends.

I don't think I swore once.

I can feel a spark of anger

I really can. I went to the gym this evening, and it got my blood flowing and my muscles stressed. So now I'm in one of those moods.

Oh, one of those moods...

Several ideas hit me as I was taking the rubbish out, but I can't remember any of them now. At least one of them was very good.

- - - - - -

I came home to find an empty pan on a lit stove. It was making one hell of a stink, and the pan was getting very ruined. Who the hell could put a pan of water on the stove, and then forget all about it?

I needed the bathroom, but I was beaten to it by a young Lithuanian lady, who clearly needed a bath more than a paying tenant needed a shower after the gym, and a play with his toothbrush before going to bed.

While stretching off at the gym today, I realised that, other than education, I rarely stick with anything for more than a year.

So today I announced that I'd be moving out. I have a new job. I might as well find a new place to live as well...

- - - - -

I read two articles about facebook today, and saw at least three. Well, anyway, it's the hot topic, isn't it?!

- - - - -

I really can't say anything more, because the only things I have to tell tonight are sad thoughts.

My head is just too far up my arse

I don't write shit here any more, I'm too busy writing "serious" nonsense on that other blog. But fuck that, I'm listening to Plastic Little and feeling silly...

What's with the weather? I've been feeling slightly colder over the past few days. It's wet. I can't sit outside at lunchtime and read any more.

My emotions are a mess, I don't understand anything. Fortunately, I discovered today that most people are in the same boat. It's the weather. Yeah, it's raining, and we're all in the same boat. We'll call it Noah's Ark.

Tenuous.

Anyway, what's with my flow? I can't find that rhythm tonight, I've got a numb foot and I don't know why it's numb, it's not like I've been sitting on it.

DOES ANYONE WANNA DO SOMETHING CRAZY SOMETIME?

I mean really crazy. If you do, get in touch with your ideas.
And if not, thengetamuthafuckinlifebitch.

A thought

Why do I see the need to write so much?

I'm sitting here tonight, looking at these blogs, wondering what their worth is. Sometimes we do things and we don't really know why we do them.

"Sex with Jiggy was hard to resist"

I picked up the Daily Star when drunk last night. I see this paper every morning. "Sex with Jiggy was hard to resist". It was true though. Each morning of this past season, all I've seen are newspapers with talk about sex with Jiggy. The media just can't get enough smut.

- - - -

But the paper looks absolutely hilarious. The front page is just a huge version of a tiny story, with a smutty hook to get the reader in. It's the Official Big Brother Newspaper. THAT is how much Big Brother controls the media. Everyone writes about it. And actually, now I see the irony: I'm now writing about it, because it is everywhere.

My wrist really hurts from typing, so I'm going to rest.

Have you ever...

Have you ever loved and lost somebody?
Wish you had a chance to say "I'm sorry"?

- - - - -

That wasn't what I was going to say when I sat down to write this piece of nonsense. I was going to say: "Have you ever had one of those days?"

YOU HAVE. We all have.

But today, my day left my absolutely exhausted and unsure of reality. I walked home worried that I was losing all sense of reality.

Seriously, you have no idea how I feel today. You won't, until you read the blog which I can't post today, because the fucking email didn't come through. I'll have to grab it tomorrow, and while I grab it, I'll also grab whichever cunt's in charge of blocking my email messages at work. I'll grab him, and smash his fucking face in.

- - - - -

If there's one thing that myspace had which blogger didn't, it's a hit counter for my blogs. I no longer have any idea if anyone's reading what I write. This is potentially a good thing, as if I don't think anyone's reading my work, then I don't care what I write. I can write all sorts of shite.

Nobody comments. Two blogs, and nobody fucking comments. Photos, and nobody comments. Jesus, does anybody else have anything to say about anything apart from that pic of Hulk Hogan and my sis?

Look, get bent.

- - - - -

I'm waiting for my buddy to show up so we can go and drink some beer. And I'm feeling nigh-on psychotic right now. I'm absolutely manic. I have no idea what I might end up doing this evening. Hanging out with friends and having a beer may calm me down. On the other hand, it may send me over the edge. I want to drink spirits. Shit, I have spirits in my bedroom. I could drink, you know.

I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in a day. I think that's what's at the root of all this. I got so caught up in the story, that I now feel like I'm actually one of the characters. I feel that it is my duty to get horrifically messed up and then go out on the town and wreak havoc. If I had some acid, I'd be up on Wimbledon Common right now, and I'd give it to some young girl, then act like a complete animal with no remorse. You have no idea.

These are all just thoughts. I can write this shit down. I won't do it. I'm not that deranged.

But if you push me... If you push me, you might see me turn that deranged...

okay okay let's go, let's just write this, let's fucking write this...

I'm so fucking tired today that I can't stop myself from swearing, so stop reading this right now if you don't like gratuitous swearing. If you do like gratuitous swearing, then read the fuck on, because I'm about as volatile as the stock market today and ready to unleash my emotions on this here blank electronic page.

Fucking weather.

I was kept awake last night by the sound of something shite on the telly next door, but I thought: "Hey, it doesn't matter, just get up later!" So I set my alarm for a later time, put my earplugs in, and just lay there until I was relaxed enough to sleep without my earplugs. You don't want to go to sleep with earplugs in. I mean: imagine it, imagine rolling over onto your side and being woken up by something sticking into your ear? It would FUCKING SUCK.

- - - - -

My sister met Hulk Hogan today. I'm jealous, yes I'm jealous. So what? I got to tickle a honey today. That's about as good as meeting Hulk Hogan.

- - - - -

Anyway, I was explaining why I'm tired, so I'll get back to it. Like I was saying: I set my alarm to wake me up later than usual. But guess what? GUESS FUCKING WHAT?

Some cunt goes and wakes me up early anyway.

As it turned out, I actually got up EARLIER this morning than I normally do, despite having planned to get up later. Fucking shite, eh?

And, to make matters worse, I'd had a bad dream. I hate bad dreams. I dreamt that the girl I fancied was just too in love with her boyfriend, and she would never leave him. And he was a boxer, so it was unlikely that I could knock him out of the picture. And that was how I woke up. Talk about a shite dream.

- - - - -

We need a pic here to break things up a little...



See, told you she met Mr Hogan today.

- - - - -

Well, whatever, I'm reading a hell of a lot these days to entertain myself. And loving the escapism.

Alright, alright, I swear that one was going to go somewhere, but I forgot where. I'll come back to it if I remember...

- - - - -

I used the Lush bag four times, so today I was rewarded with a free Happy Pill! I don't take baths, though. I may just give it to someone at work and really confuse the hell out of them.

Work is lovely at the moment, because, like I said at the beginning of this little tirade, the markets are volatile like a drunk teenage rugby player who's just been rejected by the girl he really fancies. VOLATILE. People are losing serious amounts of money. Orders for Porsche speedboats are being cancelled as I type. Cunts. They deserve it.

- - - - -

Here's what I really came to say....

Actually, I have one more comment. It came to me while wandering home from Wimbledon Common this evening. I'd been sitting there admiring a couple of teenage girls playing piggy in the middle with some lucky guy. He could have been the boyfriend of both of them, for all I know. The kids these days... I mean, THE KIDS!

Anyway, one of them had a "Make love not war" t-shirt. And on the way home, I think I saw another one of those 80s-style slogan t-shirts. The thought came to me then:

UNLESS YOUR NAME IS HELEN AND YOU'RE MY LITTLE MYSPACE HONEY, THEN THOSE T-SHIRTS ARE NOT COOL.

I was listening to Spank Rock at the time this thought entered my head. Simultaneously, the following thought entered my head: there is one slogan t-shirt that WOULD be cool. I want one that says, quite simply:

PUT THAT
PUSSY
ON ME

That's what I want. I was trying to think of the colours. I was debating with myself whether the t-shirt should say "Push me in a corner, put that pussy on me." It had me thinking for a short while. I don't know which thought came into my mind next to displace this little turn of creativity, though.



Put it awn.

- - - - -

Now time to get to the point that I was intending to make all along: the thing that actually had me excited today. At the time, I thought I was going to write an entire blog about this, but I've left it too late. Dear reader, both you and I are far too tired now to get anything worth reading out of this. And besides, you've probably run away from all the swearing and all the talk of pussy. So fucking what? The next bit's in Italian, so you won't even understand it! GO FUCK YOURSELF!

I was terribly bored all day. Check out what I wrote to myself. I'm not even going to edit this, I'm just going to paste it exactly how I wrote it at the time:

Unable to concentrate on my work, and I’ve been like this all week. I read on the way in, and when I sit down to start work for the day, all I want to do is stop working and get back to my book. I wait eagerly for lunchtime to arrive, so I can get away from my desk and back to my book. I used to look forward to lunchtime so I could talk to a honey, but not this week: I just want to head outside and read my book in the open air and lose myself for a while. I read past the end of my lunch break. And when I return to my desk after the break, I still can’t focus. I flit between tasks without managing to even think of what I should do, let alone actually do it.

Well, I found some stuff to entertain me. I put into Google "mi scassa la minchia". That's Italian/Sicilian for "it breaks my balls". I found some great things. I mean, seriously: I sat there and had a good laugh every time I found some blog or other where someone had written "mi scassa la minchia". This one was by far the best:

GO VEGAN !!!

It's the blog of a crazy cool vegan Italian girl. The sheer anger and randomness of it reminded me of myself slightly, but it was wa-hey better than anything I've ever done:

Se qualcuno gli dice "Beh, ma allora anche le carote soffrono!" risponde con un "Vieni qui che te ne ficco una in gola e vediamo se soffri più tu o lei, brutto idiota!".

My rough translation:

If someone says to you "Well, but carrots suffer too!" respond by saying: "Come here so I can shove one down your throat and we'll see who suffers more: you or the carrot, you stupid idiot!"

Actually, that part also reminded me of vegan stand-up comic hero Andrew O'Neill, who has a similarly angry skit about dealing with stand-ups who make shite jokes about vegetarianism.

Anyway, this girl, she wrote the funniest paragraph. It won't be funny unless you can understand what she's saying. In case I ever return to read what I've written (unlikely: it's shite), or in case any of you do understand Italian (unlikely: not many people outside of Italy speak Italian), I'll quote her here:

Vaffanculo al prof. folco che ci fa comprare i libri da 220 euro e chissà come mai il suo nome è in copertina.
Vaffanculo agli amichetti ricchetti che vengono a lezione con l'alfa 146, e a quella puttana di giulia che se non si tiene alla larga dal mio uomo l'ammazzo.
vaffanculo pure a rachele che mi scassa la minchia dalla mattina alla sera e mi deve pure 3.50 euro delle fotocopie.
vaffanculo a chi non mi si leva dal cervello, alla donna che mi vuole rubare la fibbia alta 7 cm, a tutte coloro che hanno il cappotto verde come il mio, a quella che aveva gli occhiali da sole come i miei, a chi mi sembra molto carino e mi fa sentire molto molto triste e mi fa venire voglia di fumare le sigarette con la tosse e di spegnerle sulle mani solo perchè mi fa sentire molto molto triste.

You heard the girl: VAFFANCULO!

Panic on the trading floor

Excitement finally came today: there was panic on the trading floor. Not that I would've known, if it hadn't been for a chance discussion in the kitchenette at the start of the day. The markets went "bang!" and money was lost. $1.3 trillion was wiped off the equity markets.

Such news had me excited all day. It was perhaps the only thing that got me excited today.

Actually, I tell a lie...

A couple of plates of fruit arrived in the afternoon. That made me happy.



And when I headed to the toilets to wash my hands afterwards, I had to hold the door open for someone with my pinkies. That made her happy, which in turn made me happy.

And when I finally got to go home, I got a lift from someone. She drove me all the way to the corner of where I live, and I got home a full 20 mins sooner than I would've done had I had to stand and wait for the train. That made me very happy. I got to see Oxshott on the way home. The houses there are so big it's unreal. I mean, really: I'd never imagined that such huge houses actually existed.

- - - - -

So, why is it that running gives me a sore neck and shoulders?

Answers to the usual places, if you have any.

I ran a lot today, and I wasn't even feeling the pain. Hardcore. My tummy is flatter than ever. I'm almost at the stage where even my small trousers are too big for me. If I'm wearing trousers with a 32" waist, You could easily get your hand down there. With a 34" waist, you could go all the way and get your head down there.

Not that you would, of course.



- - - - -

I wish I had somebody to go to the pub with tonight. I feel quite up for it. As it goes, I have nobody. My closest friend is too far to reach at this time of night.



- - - - -

I have nothing more to say.

Edit: Ha! But just as soon as I wrote this, a friend came home and I went to that pub! A bit of Staropramen on a Friday night works a treat! Now I'm happy :-)

Good and bad things that happened today

I'll tag them with a "g" for "good", and a "b" for "bad"

g - I had a slight lie-in, after the most beautiful sleep
b - I discovered that I forgot to turn the fridge back on after cleaning it
b - I snapped the plastic holder for my DS lite. Not sure if that's bad or good, to be honest. It might actually be better that way.
g - I wrote some very nice code in an incredibly professional way
g - I lasted until 1pm until I ate lunch
b - But I ate lunch alone
g - As I was finished lunch so soon, I got to take the longest route for my lunchtime walk
g - A friend at work challenged me to eat a super sour sweet. I took him up on the challenge, and gave the office a laugh
g - I talked to someone I don't normally like in the slightest, but managed to control myself and have a laugh this time. I made other people laugh too
g - I sorted out more stuff in a very professional manner
g - I totally snoozed on the train home. I always do these days...
g - I hit the gym
g - I ate a very delicious dinner, most of which I prepared yesterday
g - I received mad love on MySpace
g - I did some brainwork
b - I didn't do as well as I wanted to on the brainwork
b - I found out that the job I was going to apply for is no longer available
g - I received a bit of love on Facebook too
b - I realised that, once again, the evening has proved too short for my desired activities

Writing the list down like that makes me realise that this day has been mainly good. I've barely noticed the weather. Or the lack of flatmates. Or anything other than what's going on in my head, to be perfectly honest.

- - - - -

I miss Helen.

- - - - -

I have a dubstep tune that I keep having to rewind. The drop is completely ill, and I just can't get enough of it.

Question time

Questions for you all to ponder today:

1. Why are so many girls with bellies completely unashamed of showing off their bellies by wearing tops that don't cover them?
2. Why don't men with tits try their hardest to lose weight?
3. More to the point: how can men with tits possibly get girlfriends?!?!
4. Is meat actually good for you, or are you just completely kidding yourself?
5. Don't you have something better to do with your life than read my blogs?
6. If the Street Fighter characters were real, and you had to choose one of them to be your bodyguard, which one would you choose?
7. If elephants laid eggs, how big would they be?
8. Do you ever get tired of girls telling you how they had a rubbish sleep because somebody texted them in the middle of the night?
9. Will The Thames really burst its banks?
10. Do you ever wish you'd paid more attention at school?
11. Are you certain about anything in your life, or are you just too scared to change?
12. Did you know that chocolate milk is a very good choice of recovery drink after exercise?
13. Have you ever investigated why we think that 13 is an unlucky number?
14. Do you seriously think smoking is unattractive?
15. How often to you think about what society will be like in 20 years' time?

Yes it is, yes it is... that's ALL it's about, honey...

The title for this blog just came out of my mouth a minute ago. Amazing that words managed to come out of my mouth while chocolate was in my mouth. Still more amazing that, no, there wasn't anybody in the room at the time: I was just talking to myself. Having a multiple personality moment.

You have no idea: I sit in my room by myself, and I confabulate with you all.

Confabulate. There's a good word. It's on my word list. It's number 3 on my word list. The memory hook I use to remember number 3 is "tits". And, no, I don't think of your tits, before you look down at them and think: "gosh, does he really think of these to remind himself of the number 3?!"

But that's not to say that I don't think of your tits when I'm jacking off, so don't feel too put out.

- - - - -

Now, that little intro was totally unplanned, and uncalled for too. What on earth has gotten into me tonight?

Do you really want to know? Okay, some lasagne and a bit of chocolate. That's what's gotten into me tonight.

I watched Carne Trémula last night. I'm starting to warm to Almodóvar's films. And who wouldn't? The man has a fixation with vaginas.

But anyway, the film gave me stuff to think about.



- - - - -

Not that I don't have enough stuff to think about as it is. There was one moment today that was so thought-provoking, that I'm not even going to discuss it here. I shall save those thoughts for my own delectation.



- - - - -

I paid £25 to subscribe to the Guardian's online crossword service today. A small price to pay to have some words to think about on the way home from work. I learned a new word today, which seems so simple that it shouldn't actually exist...

The clue was: amelioration (10). Answer to follow.

- - - - -

I skipped the swimming pool in order to get some food tubs from Sainsbury's. And what a disappointment they are: the lids barely stay on. So, what's the point in selling food tubs with lids that don't stay on?

Still, I bought some fragrant new fairy liquid. It really is fragrant.



But now I feel a bit bad about my actions...

- - - - -

Oh well, the answer to the crossword clue (the question was "amelioration") was:

BETTERMENT!

How can such a word exist?!?!

I can imagine a conversation at work tomorrow:

- So, this is my new spreadsheet, Pete?!
- Yes yes, it certainly is! I've made a few changes: I'm not sure that it's perfect yet, but I think it's definitely a betterment.

It just doesn't sound right...

- - - - - -

It actually reminds me of a song...

"She lies and says she's in love with him
Can't find a better man"

I just can't hide it

I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't!!!!!!!

I thought I'd wait until I'd written a few paragraphs, but I'll just start this one with the thing that made me smile all the way home this evening:



YES! The cattle have arrived.

You know, I had already composed an introductory narrative to the news that cattle had arrived: something about rugby teams having orgies while I was reading Beloved... But forget that: just check out the pix!



- - - - -

Anyway, these beautiful beasts were a wonderful end to what had up until then been quite a rubbish day. I was exhausted today. Exhausted through excitement, no doubt. I'm hatching intellectual plans like never before at the moment... my mind is on FIRE.

- - - - -

Yes, I'm going to be a treespotter. The idea came to me yesterday, when I realised that I can barely identify Christmas trees, let alone any other variety. Yet I live and work in an area full of beautiful trees. I thought: "Imagine if you lived through life and never got to know the names of any of the beautiful women you saw?"

And that was it: the resolution was made. I didn't hesitate in picking up a little book I can carry around with me on my travels, identifying trees. I'll even get to learn the Latin names. Now that will be cool.

Having enjoyed yet ignored nature for so long, like so many ungrateful lovers out there, it's now time for Pete to give his full attention to all the pretty things in this world that make him happy :-D

- - - - -

The Stella Sessions are on tonight, and thanks to my sprained foot / ankle / lower leg (the pain keeps moving, what have I done?!), I'll be in the house to listen to Skream spinning his stuff.

DMZ this Saturday, WO WO!!

This really is getting exciting.

- - - - -

I'm a learning machine at the moment, catch me if you can...

- - - - -

One more, one more!



She's called Billy. Billy is my favourite. How can you resist a sexy beast like that?!

What am I like?

First up: Diddy wasn't dumped for Sienna - he walked out on his girl FOR Sienna... It makes a bit more sense to me now...

- - - - -

Tonight, after a swim, a hobble and some spinach (a hobble?! whatever would you do that for?! Well, dear reader, I had a hobble because I've got a bit of a sprain in my left foot. All a shame - I can't run for the time being, and I'd better stop lunging too...) I paid a bit of money to get my hands on some tests. I need to test myself. These are testing times.

I'm now better with numbers than with words, according to the tests...

I took the personality test for a laugh. Allegedly, this time around, I'm a "persuader". Like Christopher Columbus! Or Arnie!



Well, I never...

- - - - -

So, here's a question: what in the world could be worse than not being allowed to eat chocolate?

And the answer: being allowed to eat chocolate, but not being up for it. No lies: I bought a bar of Maya Gold this evening, thinking: "yeah, you've earned a couple of pieces!" But after the spinach and walnuts and wholemeal pasta goodness, I simply wasn't hungry.

....

I just searched for a pic of some Maya Gold, and I discovered that, as well as being one of the Green & Black's recipes, Maya Gold happens to be a porn star...



Well, I never...

- - - - -

I think that's just killed my concentration. I'm off.

At first, I posted this without a title

So Diddy's been left for Sienna? I read the report on Yahoo! news but, to be honest, I'm still pretty much lost...

I can't quite grasp the significance of it.

- - - - -

I did some simply spectacular things tonight, I really was on form... I had to put on a load of washing. A load, not a load. I mean: "a machine load", not "a lot". But, hey, it was enough to fill the machine. But "a load of washing" would really be about three loads. Anyway, sorry, I'm sidetracking myself with my musings on language here. Sidetracking?! Is that correct English?! Good grief, I really am on one tonight...

RIGHT. I was saying...

Washing. That's right. I was putting on some washing. I put the machine on. Yesterday, after putting the machine on, I searched my room for my gym card. I then deduced that it could only be in the shorts which were in the washing machine. I had to call a halt to the wash to retrieve my card. Thank god they don't make gym cards out of cardboard.

Sorry, I didn't come here to talk about yesterday. I was talking about today.

So, TODAY, when I put the washing on, what happened?

I saw a sock. A solitary sock. Damn, I'll have to call a halt to the proceedings again. And, while waiting for the washing machine drum to depressurise, or whatever it does, I wandered back to my room, where I found another solitary sock. Not the pair of the one that escaped in the kitchen. But anyway, I got them both in the machine and started the whole damn game again.

- - - - -

I should've taken this as a sign that things were slipping away from me this evening.

I left the flat. Just as I shut the door, I asked myself: "have you got everything?" It was too late of course: the door was shut. And I realised that I didn't have my keys.

So what? I was off to the gym, and then for a swim: somebody would be home by the time I'd got thin.

(There was no need for a rhyme there. No need whatsoever. This isn't a musical.)

- - - - -

I got to the gym and started getting changed. I saw an absence of swimming shorts in my bag. I have no recollection of what I said, but I must've said it out loud, or at least thought it so loud, and with so much emotion that the other guys in the changing room felt what I said, because I sensed people looking at me.

I was pissed. No swim :-(

- - - - -

This blog isn't about narrating the events that happened tonight, though. That would be boring. The point is: after I'd got home, I went to pick up a pizza. I was so excited about this, that I even wrote to Helen to tell her. Imagine being half the world away, and receiving emails saying: "I'm off to get me a pizza!"

I mean, really: just imagine.

- - - - -



Diddy loves big booty!

- - - - -

I've been entertaining a kid on work experience today. Well, I've been entertaining myself anyway. This kid, he comes into the office on Monday and says: "Yeah, I'm interested in coding!" So I sat him down and taught him a bit of coding. He didn't seem too interested. He came along yesterday and said: "Yeah, I'm interested in technical writing!" So I sat him down today and gave him a chapter to read about style. Then I gave him a manual to correct. He said it was interesting, but he didn't seem too dedicated.

Right, that story was dull.

The interesting part is this: today I realised just how picky I can be when it comes to language.

- - - - -

I got on the train home and tried reading my book about technical writing. I fell asleep.

- - - - -

Once more, I'll say this: I did actually have something to say tonight, but it's gone out of my head now. Maybe it was a news story. Not the diddy one, though.

There's only one thing left to do tonight, while I'm in this mood: read some Macedonio Fernández.

Another day begins

My day started late - I was dreaming that I was at uni, studying Spanish, with a couple of hot girls I'd never met before, and I was entertaining them with my knowledge of Spanish literary quotes.

That kind of thing only happens in dreams.

I woke up late, but I needed the sleep after last night's mental session. Just 20 minutes more in the morning makes me feel absolutely wonderful

- - - - -

I really did have stuff to say when I started writing this, but I got so interrupted that all the thoughts went out of my mind.

I now don't know what to think about.

- - - - -

Reading's good. I've regained my appetite for literature. This makes me very 'appy ;-)

Nonsense is now falling out of my fingers and into a new blog

Hey hey hey! It's time for the 15th blog of my life. Here's the new baby to replace the junky-looking myspace crap. Of course, I owe myspace a lot, because if it wasn't for myspace, I would never have got so comfortable at writing such utter shite on such a ridiculously regular basis.

But anyway, a year on, and I've finally done what I said I'd do a year ago: I've migrated to Blogger.

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It wasn't my intention to write this blog, it was my intention to give the girl downstairs a box of sweets, for her to invite me in for a chat, and for me to finally start unraveling the mysteries of the girl downstairs. Who is she and what does she do for a living? What on earth was she up to out in Germany and why did she return? What does her flat look like? Why does she live alone? Does she really think I make a noise when I put my shoes on in the morning, or is that just a made-up story?

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As anyone who knows me knows, I don't make a noise when I walk, but I do have a tendency to dance a bit in the morning. When I put on "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince, and he says "Punch through that floor", I really do go crazy.

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Anyway, the girl wasn't there. Oh no. "The girl was never there, it's always the same: running towards nothing, again and again and again and again and again..."

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The bottom line is: I just wanna dance with somebody who loves me. I've spent a considerable amount of time lately thinking about people who don't dance, because they say they can't dance. It upsets me slightly when people tell me that they don't dance. Dancing is natural, dancing is wonderful, dancing is a celebration. Dancing is the only true thing in this world. Dancing with tears in your eyes is as true as it gets.

Of course, I'm in training for the big summer dance at DMZ in Brixton on July 14th. Be there or be a total loser who doesn't know where it's at. I'm training hard: today I managed to out-run the running machine. How on earth did I manage to do a thing like that?

The damn stupid machine decided I'd had enough after 25 minutes. I was nowhere near finished. Well, I was almost five sixths of my way through the run. But the damn machine slowed down, and pissed me off, I sped it up again and then it stopped, and then I started it again and got back into my stride.

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The people who run the pool are fuckers, though. The pool shuts at 8. So at about 7.45 a load of trainee lifeguards come out and start rescuing each other. One of the fully trained lifeguards eventually asks me if I can get out of their way - "they'll only be a few minutes". What a lying fucker - the pool blatantly shuts at 8 for them. So why the fuck should I give them even more time?

I mean, would they accept it if I stayed there past 8 o'clock? "I'll only be a few minutes..."

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The long and the short of it is this: I'm tired of eating salad, and I now only have some lettuce left anyway. I'm just looking forward to a fat pizza at the end of the week. It is for this that I punish myself so much.

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I left my bottle at the gym too. Damn.

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I don't actually know where my goggles are, so I bought some new ones. Now I know where my goggles are. But I still don't know where the other ones are.

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There are no pictures here! I need a pic to brighten the page up. You guys need a pic too, because you love glossy mags.



That's a very unflattering pic of the lovely Tori playing her beloved piano.

The new brain trainer (they've called it "More Brain Training" - I wish they'd called it "Brain Trainer 2: Train Harder", and used Bruce Willis to advertise it instead of Nicole Kidman, but who cares what I think? Right, I've lost you here, haven't I?)...

The new brain trainer - "More Brain Training" - has a piano game on it this time. Play the keys in time with the music. I'm pretty good at it, as it goes: it's the game I'm scoring highest on at the moment. It's only a matter of time and space before I get myself a musical keyboard...

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Nicole Kidman. I haven't seen the adverts, as it goes. What was the deal with Tom and Nicole?

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Where on earth am I going?



There's only one Nicole worth talking about, and that's lovely Nicole Richie.

Don't play.