Sans Gout

Contente

This not having anything planned for the weekend malarkey is quite good isn't it? It's actually quite refreshing to go in to work on a Monday morning and not want to stab someone in the face because I've not had nearly enough sleep at the weekend.

It also meant that I got to be around for my Dad's birthday lunch which was the most ridiculously epic roast I've ever seen in my life. My Dad's birthday is always a bit hit and miss seeing as we don't actually know what day he was born on. So roots was his upbringing there are no actual concrete records of his birth, my nana said one thing, my aunt another and the midwife another so we just sort of play birthday bingo and celebrate it on one of the three possible dates it could be. Don't ask how he applies for important things. I really don't know. I'm sure he makes it as convoluted as possible.

Obviously I got up to bits and bobs and managed to see the people that matter but it was good to not be tied to some schedule squeezing in seeing people I promised to see 100 years ago and then feel guilty about canceling because I just can't be arsed and, frankly, I've had a better offer. I intend to make this sort of weekend a regular thing.

I am also certain that I shall remain in this state for at least the next two weeks. This Friday is The Big Day. Needless to say I've bought a shitload of confetti and a teeny weeny top hat for the occasion. I'm expecting it to get messy seeing as we're being bussed out to a barn in the middle of nowhere and there is literally no way out until midnight....where we'll be brought back in to Brighton to continue the carnage. I might tattoo, "Slow and steady wins the race", on my forehead in a mirror image so I don't go crazy mental and pass out at 5. PM. Such is my new transient approach to my weekend I'm still trying to decide whether to stay in Brighton the whole weekend (2 hour journey home. Eek. Thanks a fucking bunch FCC) or come back on Saturday to spend time with my favourite purple haired lady, drink home made, lethal cocktails and eat so much meat we're still rushing off of our tits on Wednesday. Or who am I trying to kid I am the most indecisive person in the whole world.....I'll leave you to decide.

EDIT:

Okay, okay. I'd literally finished writing this and wandered downstairs to find my Dad on the phone. I assumed, correctly, that it was someone ringing to wish him a happy birthday. Obviously I was ear wigging trying to find out who it was. They sounded Irish, definitely male. Could it be his best friend who went home to Ireland begging him to come back so they could sing forty shades of green together in the pub whilst they drink their pension away? No. It was his brother. Who lives up the road and I despise with a passion.

Anyway, you really have to meet this part of my family to believe they're real. They're so mentally ignorant and racist you wonder if they've had some sort of lobotomy. Oh no! That's it - they're Daily Mail readers (no, they really are). Furthermore, they impose themselves upon us without warning some Sundays. My Dad is such a wanker that even though they're HIS family he gets up and runs down to his little project house because he's just remembered that during World War II there may have been a bomb dropped in the vicinity that never exploded and he just has to check that it's not in the back garden or some other such stupidity. I try and explain that I'm actually a bomb expert and World War II is my niche but he's having none of it. I see. Deserter. They tend to stick around until my Dad thinks it's safe to return thus eating in to valuable tea drinking, newspaper reading family time. They also take it upon themselves to hold up the newspapers we get on a Sunday and laugh because we read "dem masssssive papers like". Good Christ I can't believe I have been spawned from the same gene pool.

Unfortunately they also sired a child around the same time as my parents had me. He's pretty much the most vacuous, insipid person you've ever met. And I don't mean he's really shallow and only interested in mobile phones and other such things, I mean he is actually and totally devoid of a personality. Trying to get a conversation out of him is like trying to get blood out of a stone. And it's not just me. My sister, my cousin, my mum, my dad, everyone and no one hates everyone enough to not be able to muster up some sort of conversation. Remember, this is me here.

So my cousin has been on his travels. To Magaluf (is that holiday destination painting enough of a picture for you). So my Dad is talking to him on the phone this evening because he has been forced to speak to Pa and wish him a happy birthday. Dad is working away, slaving and toiling to try and get some little nugget of gold out of him. Unfortunately I had to witness this. It went something like this,

So, day all call it Shagaluf, was it as good as da nickname?........what? you just did karaoke every night? Ah Jaysus you may as well have stayed at home........what the fuck is a banana boat? By Christ you're too big for a banana.........so you mean it's just a yellow boat? so why don't day call it a lemon boat? why a banana?

At this point my father is clearly on a massive wind up mission so I make signs for him to wrap up the call. It really isn't fair on the personality-less one to have to try and humour a man who is clearly several sandwiches and a flask of tea short of a picnic. I then interrogate Dad on the part of the conversation I missed. Clearly my cousin had behaved in a depraved manner on holiday such was the disgusted look on Dad's face. And then he answered my, "So how was his holiday?", question with the following:

Well, it sounded fucking shite. There were 3 of them in a room in a villa. How the fuck did he think he'd get fucked with 3 in a room?

I was sick a little bit in my mouth.

C'est Moi

What talent do you wish you had?
To play the piano really well

If I bought you a drink what would it be?
Gin & Tonic - Vodka, lime and soda water

Favorite vegetable?
Cauliflower

What was the last book you read?
The Rules of Attraction

What zodiac sign are you?
Pisces

Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Explain where.
Yup, yup (never you mind)

Worst Habit?
Smoking - Over-analysing

Do you have a Negative or Optimistic attitude?
I'd like to think optimistic

Worst thing to ever happen to you?
Far too morbid

Tell me one weird fact about you.
I have an insane fear of being inbetween or in very close proximity to lorries on the motorway

Do you have any pets?
No

Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
Clearly scary

If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
I'd stretch myself up a bit

What color eyes do you have?
Brown

Ever been arrested?
Nope

Bottle or can soda?
Can

If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it?
Spend it in the Tatty sale. Failing that, fuck work off for a fortnight and go on a massive bender with my favourites - all expenses paid

Where's your favorite place to hang at?
Seaside

Do you believe in ghosts?
Yup

Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
I don't have one thing. Drinking tea and smoking with my favourites, getting fucktarded and chatting shit, swimming in the sea, walking around cities with no particular aim.

Do you swear a lot?
Too much. 

Biggest pet peeve?
Bad manners

In one word, how would you describe yourself?
Accessorised 

Do you believe/appreciate romance?
Surprisingly, yes

If you could live anywhere in the world where would you choose?
Maybe Japan, maybe Oz 

Do you believe in God?
I've had a Catholic upbringing...what do you think?

Maintenant les biscuits sont sans risque!

This morning I should have really thought about my upcoming day a bit more....

Went to Court and had to have them search my bag (obviously). Sort of forgot to remove; 

• the 5m of red ribbon;
  
• the various ladybird related haberdashery that I've been carrying around for a week;
  
• the empty boxes of Marlboros; and
  
• the 3 spare lighters.

I could go on because I have a fuck load of crap in my handbag but they are most definitely the most random. 

As if that wasn't bad enough I put on a different jacket to the one I normally wear. Forgot to remove it before I went before the Judge, sat down, looked at my lapel and saw an offensive badge that says, "Damaged Goods", on it. Great. (By way of explanation, it was a 'gift'. Although I always thought gifts were meant to be nice things)

It wasn't all bad though. I remembered this conversation from when I was in Brighton,

Person 1: I need to get laid

Person 2: I bet it's been longer for me than it has for you. I'm basically asexual now. When I'm horny I watch the Care Bears

Cue much rolling around in laughter from everyone present interspersed with people saying ouch because we were on the pebbley beach.

I've also decided to sack this London thing off and move to Momiji Land. It looks dead nice there. Everyone is really friendly and I hear real estate is going quite cheap at the moment.

Soleil

So. I came to quite an important decision today. I decided to sell my spare Polaroid on Ebay. I've been umming and ahhing about it for quite some time. In fact, I've probably made a far bigger thing out of it than I should have. It's just a standard Polaroid but, like everyone, I love the fact you can take stupid, ridiculous photos with it and have them in your hand right there and then. And I'm afraid the other one I have will break...but, I've not used it since I was about 16 and I decided to be mature and pragmatic as opposed to hold on to it waiting for something I never use to break. Ergo if you're on the look out for a BNIB Silver Polaroid 600 Extreme (I totally chiefed the free film in the box about 100 years ago) get your people to talk to my people. Maybe we can cut a deal.

Talking of photos - Snappy Snaps totally saw me coming this week when I DESPERATELY had to print some pictures for cowtack's birthday. Seven photos. Five pounds. I felt so violated I couldn't walk properly the whole weekend.

So Bright Town wasn't half as raucous as it normally is. Basically Friday was the Devil's Day. Nothing actually happened to me but some seriously fucking shit stuff happened to my friends which left me a bit gutted. 

It may also have something to do with me accidentally getting drunk on Friday night with cowtack's boyfriend. We got through the vodka so decided it'd be a good time to start in on the bacardi. Then we finished that and thought that seeing as I'd lived in France n stuff that maybe we should drink the posh wine they'd brought back from their last booze run. And then I don't really remember much after that although I do know cowtack sat with her head in her hands at the kitchen table pleading for us not to get fucked as we wouldn't be on top form for Saturday. Amateur. Of course we were on top form. 

We drank steadily the whole day until I was pleasantly wasted enough to play Guitar Hero at about 3am. Is it sad to hear Cherub Rock by the Pumpkins and say to someone, "I can play this on Guitar Hero"? I think Billy Corgan would be well jealous if I said that to him. 

However, I did end up getting a bit carried away at our Sunday Beach BBQ and got so cained that I sort of forgot that I had to go home. Then I had to gather myself up to get the train. No mean feat when you're more interested in how great your feet look and singing about Horsefaces. Yeah. Horsefaces. So in all I didn't end end up getting in til about 11. On the upside, I sat in first class on the way home and the nice ticket man didn't throw me out. In fact, he didn't even say anything when I showed him my blatant standard class ticket. I think it's because;

a: I looked like I'd spent 3 days living in a desert; and

b: I smiled a lot

However, my smiles didn't last long when I got off the train. This total wanking prickface decided to actually push me out of his way on the platform. I'd say I went skitz but that would be exaggerating slightly. I most definitely was not impressed. So much so that I said, "Excuse me? You're a fucking cock." I'm not quite sure what came over me. I'm certainly not proud of myself and I wouldn't do it normally but I think I was probably cranky because I'd not slept for most of the weekend and all the booze and things from Brighton were beginning to wear off. He did deserve it though. Prick. Obviously Mum was appalled when I told her. Mainly by his behaviour. 

She was more appalled earlier in the week though. We went shopping and there was some wine in the trolley. Got to the check out and the girl is like, "Excuse me? Have you got any ID?", to me. Seeing as I'm a total skank I don't bring my handbag to go food shopping with my mum. I politely point out that the *cough* ahem year old woman beside me is buying it so it doesn't actually matter. 

"Um, no. You're with her so I need to ID you"

At this point I say fair enough and I don't have any ID but it's cool and all that and we'll just leave it. My mother, however, is a bit perplexed by the whole thing. She doesn't actually have it in her to be nasty to anyone and I'd say she was a bit like a dog with a bone over the whole issue but I won't because then I'd inadvertently be calling her a dog which she most certainly is not but I think you get the idea. 

She basically stood there for about 10 minutes like this, :-O, then this, :-|, then with this - ? - expression on her face before she finally said,

"But...but....she's 25. She's a lawyer. She's 25. I'm buying it. Not her. And she's 25. And....she's a lawyer."

A stunning argument I think you'll agree but they weren't having any of it. To try and placate her I said, "Don't worry. I got ID-ed for fags yesterday on my way back from work in a suit." Hoom. Not a good move. She fucking HATES me smoking. Oopsy Daisy.

Isn't it nice when you actually like a photo you take enough to have it as your desktop? That's never happened before. 

L'alcool, c'est cool!

So, everyone is up in arms about the fact that you can't drink on the tube anymore. I think my sentiments on the whole subject can be summed up in three words - give a fuck. I seriously can not see what the whole hooha is all about. If you're smart about it you'll put your alcohol in some sort of innocuous container and carry on as usual. Perhaps people will be able to get on the tube at night and not have some sort of fucking prick think that it's a massive moving bar where they can carte blanche chat you up with the sure fire, "Y'alright darlin?", and then move on to the next victim when you stare straight through them like they don't exist. 

And so I begin the preparations for another Bright Town Bender. Hopefully this one won't end in screaming women in night clubs. In fact, I'm pretty sure it won't cos cowtack is praying for sun so we can sit on the beach all day with our Party Ring Topped Lagers. A cowtack birthday special if ever there was one. 

Here's a tip: Don't go out with the people you work with and as a throwaway comment say, "If I had to live forever in a music video it'd be Gwen Stefani's first one. I like the acidy, crazy Alice in Wonderland shit". They won't get it. They'll think you've gone bananas. Except the 15 year old work experience girl. She'll get it. Great. 

C'est mon coeur. Sur ma manche.

Did you know back in the day there was this thing called a freggio which was a scar on a woman's face given to her by her lovers so others would find them unattractive? Weird. Then I thought about fat girls and feeders and decided it was basically the same thing. Fuck me I'm profound sometimes.

I also went to see the SATC movie this week. Yes. Mock me. I deserve it. If it makes you feel any better I came out of the cinema wanting to go and lie down in a dark room. For the rest of my life. There wasn't even that much pretty clothes in it. Total let down. I think what really annoyed me though was everyone else in the cinema...

***WARNING - HERE BE SPOILERS***

Basically everyone else was totally retarded (apart from my companions, obviously). I was particularly pissed off by the girl sitting beside me. For starters, she was obviously going for 'wacky Carrie elegance' but ended up coming off as 'bag lady that's just started going up in the world again'. Her handbag was particularly offensive. It got worse though. She fucking bawled the whole fucking way through. It started when Carrie got a stupidly big walk in wardrobe with lights and room for a pony. Yes. Cried like a child. Then she cried when Charlotte got pregnant. Then she cried when Samantha put on a bit of weight. However, when Miranda's marriage fell apart totally dry eyed. Nothing. Nada. Stone cold. Riiigghhhttt. It did make me wonder exactly how great a life she'd had if a really fucking big wardrobe that is built for a fictional character in a really bad film can bring her to tears. I was almost tempted to stop watching the film and pull out a pen and some paper and make a list of films that really make people cry, starting with Irreversible.

My intolerance also wasn't helped by the fact that I'd gone to Court that day and opposed some guy's Application to annul his bankruptcy and his Application had been dismissed. Yeah. I felt really good after that. I tried not to dwell on the fact that he was a nice man who was currently looking after his ill parents too much because I would have probably chucked myself in the river on the way back to the office.

So, having watched SATC and helped in the bankruptcy process and accidentally purchased another Tatty Devine necklace that is hideously over priced I decided that I was disgusted with myself and my material consumption of shit and vowed to not buy anything at all until next pay day apart from booze. That lasted 3 days. And I fell off the wagon badly. Really, really badly. I am now the proud owner of a really pretty colour swatch Tatty Devine bracelet. ARGH ARGH ARGH WHY? I think I might have to just never leave the house to avoid spending money. I'm also seriously considering asking IT if they can set up a block on my mac for TD that is as infallible as the one they've set up for FB. It's the only thing for it....