Thursday, September 02, 2004

August 4 (Wednesday): Day Of The Dot. Remember how I ate too much cheese last night, it did indeed result in me having disturbing dreams. First of all I find myself playing football with my boss and his friends and then wondering around Colchester town and coming across one of the footballers and his cheap wall tiles shop experiencing some kind of sales. We discuss an audio CD that has been made of us playing football. Next I find myself in the urban wasteland of Clacton, I find myself staggering around the industrial area. All the businesses are run down and I find myself talking to Nina who is working a soup truck sponsored by Amazon. I then find myself running with an executive from Millwall football club and we have a capsule of Viagra and playing piggy in the middle is some person desperate to get it from us, it appears it is his anyway (maybe he bought it off us). I wind up in the dream Clacton indoor market that appears in my dreams regularly. I find myself in the Diamonds and Guns video by the Transplants and that freaky punk guy/kid from town is present and I am giving him shit about looking like a member of Rancid, a total wannabe whilst at the same time feeling a bit jealous (of not looking like a scumbag punk?). I am never eating Red Leicester ever again.

Sara hits me on MSN within five minutes of me awakening and it is not welcome, I am not in the mood, I am a bear and I have a sore head. Surprise surprise we end up arguing again and she is still telling me how “nasty� I am. And she is also popping “why you so interested in what I’m doing all of a sudden?�, Grief! I can’t be arsed with this this morning and things fizzle about but not before getting onto the subject of Phoebe.

Eventually I get out and manage to leave for work. Again, today is hot! Moyles is on form and the first track I hear today is N*E*R*D, which is a good beginning. That said though, I still go into work a real grump. And it is noticed.

Things tumble some more when this morning’s email from Phoebe tells me that when we meet up on the 21st she will only be available for the afternoon, so there goes my plans to take her to see When Harry Met Sally at the Haymarket. That would have been the best birthday present for a weary young man turning 28. I text Sara for being in a mood this morning, blaming it on sleep deprivation and suddenly I find myself in an all morning text argument with her in Dubai. And fucking texts to her there cost 25p a pop (does that sound as tight as I think it does?). And in the midst of all this some gimp phones my mobile asking for someone called “Gareth� and then every arsehole in the office begins to call me Gareth, at the risk of each of their individual lives. One highlight though is Drew telling me how the people at Direct Steel made very favourable comments with regards to me and Emma last week. Ultimately though it is a bad morning and it flies by without me getting much done at all. By the end of the morning I do cheer up/come round though and Stevo comments “I hate it when you’re happy as much as when you’re grumpy. You have two gears: sixth and reverse�. How astute.

I lunch with Stevo and Ivan at the Hogshead, we sit outside and talk bullshit for an hour to the soundtrack of Jimi Hendrix (“Love Or Confusion�). Its not the best, its not the worst. We go into and visit Cash (Swag) Converters and I feel like a Customs & Excise bod on a raid wearing my suit. I buy Star Wars Attack Of Clones and the Ali G movie on DVD (I really need a girlfriend to spend my money on instead of continually buying all this shit). As I walk back to the office I bump into Ben in his car and have a word very briefly.

I manage to have a good afternoon and redeem myself while Stevo sits showing Sunny Star Wars for the first time on the firm’s laptop. As per usual, the woman who wears a neck brace all the time walks past the office and I shout out, also as per usual, “its fucking Avid Merrion�. I’m a prick to the end.

Five comes and five goes. Tonight is fantastic and I drag Stevo back to the Hogshead (still playing Jimi Hendrix) for a couple of evening jars in the beer garden sun. I recognise some faces, a certain friends ginger ex-girlfriend and friends and they are the most ignorant cunts in history. I also see crap semi teenage lesbian girl. Its all bad. Its actually quite a nice/chilled break but we soon become juvenile and when we catch a wasp in a beer glass we tease and torture it like a couple of hicks from a Larry Clark movie. We give it some Stella and try to see what effect getting a wasp pissed up on wifebeater will have on it. Needless to say the wasp gets really angry, we can see its stinger going hell for leather. Stevo realises this probably represents time to leave, which we do.

Back home I begin a big organisation of Bohemian Grove. I fill two bin bags and make no progress, I’m fighting a losing battle so I decide to have a bath with view to refreshing me and my vigour. Dad MSNs me for a bit pleading with me to find the log book to my red Escort so that he can get rid of it. I don’t find it. Sara texts me asking me if I have cheered up yet. Cheeky bitch.

Big Brother is doing a surprise eviction tonight and shockingly it is Stuart who gets evicted. The eviction is done in an “evil� way and I genuinely feel for him when he is told of his end, he looks like he is going to burst into tears. And there goes my pick to win the competition. I think Nadia will win but that’s a fucking sham because he/she is such an annoying cow, the type of person your mate has as a girlfriend and you only want to slap. Take that bitch.

Phoebe Toronto comes online around eleven and I MSN with her until the early hours which turns out to be my most enjoyable thing I do all day. My night ends.

np: Bob Roberts - Complain


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