I Will Follow You Into the Bar...

I must, as a rule, never, ever listen to Death Cab for Cutie while drinking.
Have you ever heard any of thier tunes?
If you have, then you'll get what I mean. if not, then haul your ass down to CD Warehouse and buy every copy they own...it's only karmically right.

I'm not a fan of Sundays. Not because it's a religious day etc..(unless you're Jewish, which makes Friday your Sunday..but' I'm sure you know what I mean...)Anyways, I'm not a fan of sundays because, as a child, a Sunday always ended with a blow out of sorts onmy dad's part and a morning wasted listeneing to threats of Hellfire and Brimstone.
Now, it's purely because I finish work at 5am and spend most of the day sleepign until I get hungry...and then all teh shops are closed...fuckers!!! I'd like some yoghurt at 6pm on a Sunday.

Aside from teh supermarket's Sunday early closing rule (I got my wine anyway) nothing much has happened in my life.
Ok, so I called the ass. manager a dick. I maintain he asked for it.
I need a vacation. Very urgently. but have far too much things to do to allow for such a luxury.
missing my mates like mad.


I'll go finish my wine now...

Go on...Push My Buttons

I have a lot to bitch about:

Like people not getting back to me about serious gigging.
Like teenyboppers stealing wristbands from me by lining up from 3am so I can't get to see a band I like.
Like my job pretty much sucking.
Like me feeling the empty part of being single.
Like missing my mates back home fiercely.
Like having to beg favours from my mates because my job pays so porly i can't afford to get my posters printed up.
Like nearly getting mugged on Sunday morning (I did punch the 7ft hoodie for his sad attempt at taking my cell before jumping back onto the bus. Mind you, I was a bottle of wine and a 12hr shift down)

But today's post isn't about me. It's about all the loonies I see everyday in the city, on my bus, muttering or ranting to themselves, smelling like a toilet and looking as though they've fallen through the cracks of the matrix.
And I wonder to myself - sure, London is a tough city. It's big, intimidating, unfriendly, harsh etc etc. But is that an excuse to go off the deep end and creep out tourists and old ladies on buses by telling them that the little purple men have taken over the government and HQ is in your left pinky?
I mean, really. Jo'burg is a far harsher place to live and therefore making it easier for a person to lose thier grip on this reality. But then where are we hiding all the Jozi crazies? And why isn't Ken Livingstone (mayor of London) not rounding the crazies up over here instead of tearing down major historical music sites (read:The Astoria) to replace them with railnetworks (which we frankly don't need).

Unless of course its the weather that is that final little nudge you need to fall into the mentally unstable abyss. If that's the case, then someone, please, bring me a straitjacket. I feel the madness approaching.

Stitches, my ass...

As I've often confided on this blog, I'm a wuss. A coward. A complete non player.

I've been asked by a band to be thier tour manager - my dream job, only, i doubt I can pull it off. Am shitting myself at the idea that if I fuck this up, I might as well apply to work at the Edenvale Tiger Wheel and Tyre with my sister for the rest of my life.

Anyways...

Tonight I proved that I care so much for my job I shed blood for it...literally. Some genius thought they'd put a 14oz glass inside a Jamiacan beer branded glass and when i tried to free the pair, the damn branded glass shattered in my hand, slicing my thumb to shit!

So fuckface ass. manager looks at it and goes "I've had worse, you don't need a doctor" over the tim burton movie happening in my thumb. Fucker!!!!
So i now have the tip of my thumb taped to the rest of it. Hope it decides to rejoin, or else I'm going to have a wierd thumb, and that's just wrong...
So in the Afternoon, I will brave the hospital once again to make sure I don't need stitches.

wish me luck!

I want a kitteh...

Pass the shovel...

I have a big mouth.
And it gets me into trouble. A Lot.
I should keep quiet. I should censor my ramblings.
I don't.

I also procrastinate. Which, in this day and age is a luxury I can ill afford. I have so much to do, yet I don't do it. I guess its because I'm so scared of failing on an epic scale and being reduced to working the reception at a relative's friend's auto shop for the rest of my life.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing destroyed, no one hurt and nothing to be hassled about for the rest of my life.

Ok, I'm going to go do that to do list. Now. Right after I've figured out why my computer won't play YouTube..