Saturday, October 23, 2004

September 22 (Wednesday): Baccalieri. I wake up this morning feeling like I want to punch myself in the face. I find myself late leaving home, a sure sign of reluctance in my attitude towards my destination (work). Also I have to make moves to make a visit to the doctors and when I keep phoning the surgery/practise the number seems permanently busy, which suits me, I don't want to go to the doctors so he can look at my ticket. Sixth call though, and I am in like Flint, the woman giving me an appointment for 3pm this afternoon. I become officially nervous.

At work, Lulu is in for the first time this week, having been in London at BPP courses for the previous two days (I am so jealous). I tell her about Friday and she finds great humour in it all and actually seems almost impressed by what I did.

At lunchtime I go to the cheapo bookshop with an urge/desire to purchase cheap WWF books. I hit paydirt when I find the Hulk Hogan autobiography there for just £2. I add to this some crappy WWF Trivia Book and Dice Man by Luke Rhinehart and I get three books for five pounds which I am unlikely to actually get around to reading.

I find myself talking to people about my doctor's appointment and the reasons why, maybe I shouldn't be talking so explicitly to people about my penis. It all adds and works towards making light (and finding humour) in something that I am really really worried about.

3pm comes around and just before popping into the doctors, I drop in at home and wash myself (you know where) thoroughly. I get to the doctors on time and sit wholly nervously and await being called in to the doctor (called in to my death). There is something really unnerving about having a doctor called Dr Banna, Banna pronounced "Banner" as in Dr Bruce David Banner aka the Incredible Hulk. Is it possible he will take one look at my cock and go green? I get called in and bite my lip as I thoroughly embarrass myself in front of the doctor, getting the fella out when the fella really doesn’t want to come out. It is panic stations early on when he looks at my problem and then asks “do you have health insurance?�. Not funny. The doctor is rather droll, making a couple of muted jokes and telling me I have nothing to worry about, I just need a snip. Dude, don’t say that. In what seems less than two minutes, I am in and out of there, with a future date at the hospital lined up.

When I walk back to work, I feel pale. I stumble in and just miss seeing Purple Haired Girl by seconds. All girls will always let me down but her existence will always remain a happy constant for me. I saunter back into the office and have the piss ripped out of me for my little visit to the doctor's.

After work, we have football and this week it is a league match against Birkets. Our team this week is Iran, Jeremy, Kev, Jack, Ben and myself. Before the game I note that we don’t have any scorers nor any real runners. Andrew has now started uni in Hertfordshire and will no longer be available. I however turn up late, Andrew from Hays finally catches up with me and gets hold of me on the phone. We discuss the job position at Rose's and we now have reached a sticking point with regards to study assistance. We end the call with a sticky wicket, he is going to get back to them and then back to me however they do not seem open/interested in paying for any of my fees (which to be honest are nearly £2,000).

When I finally arrive, the game is already in motion and Jack is actually playing in goal. Holly calamity. I quickly get changed and take my place in goal, for all the good it does. This week Birkets are ON and soon they are 4-0 within what seems minutes of my arrival. Ben's isn't moving much this week either and is getting stripped but then again, the majority of our team appear to suffer in the mobility area, mainly Iran and Jeremy do the running and appear to resent it as a result. I can’t decide if I have a bad game or it we’re just unfortunate. I do make saves though. I know this because sod’s fucking law, I take the hardest shot in my bollocks that I have taken in months (ironically on the same day that I went to the doctor’s for the fella). Late in the first half Jev severely takes Ben out, flooring him like a motherfucker and there is a sudden apparent air that league matches get taken more seriously than the friendlies of last week. Ben looks fucked off and shocked, and pretty winded, by Jev’s actions, to the point Jack calls him off before he soughts revenge. Ultimately, the first half is a disaster as we go in half time trailing 2-13. Things pick up slightly in the second half and we actually begin to score and come into the game (but perhaps this coincides with Birket's able to take it all easy). Eventually the game ends with us on the losing end of a 9-23 score line. After the match, Ben leaves unimpressed and I'm likewise.

When I return to my car, I dig out my mobile phone and there is message from Sara going "it just keeps getting worse". I wonder what on earth is up but Sara remains tight lipped, being cryptic for a text before stopping to reply all together. I really worry about her sometimes.

On my way home, I find myself scraping together pennies in order to get some dinner, and I wind up with only just about enough coinage to buy some sugar sugar cereal. Very healthy.

When I finally get in, The Wedding Singer is on TV and I dig that movie however I do find myself asleep by 9pm. Why the fuck am I so tired and lethargic these days? Need greens I guess.

In the meantime, I awaken around midnight to discover that Millwall have beaten Derby 3-1 which is an amazing result.

I go back to sleep but find myself being scared out of my life when at 3 AM Tom begins MSNing me like mad, my computer binging a dozen times in a matter of seconds scaring the living shit out of me, thinking my PC is coming alive to kill me, out of revenge for all the abuse I hand it. I politely tell Tom to “fuck off� pointing out that it is a school night and I have work (unlike him). He apologies and I go back to sleep, listening to an MP3 of a Hunter S Thompson lecture.

I just about manage to fall asleep when at fucking 5 AM, Bella begins beeping me on MSN, waking me up again. What on earth is wrong with these people? Don’t they sleep? Vampire killers.


np: Men At Work - Down Under


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