Poo Eyed Man

HEATED MOMENTS

Traffic on a hot day is up there with the most worstest things everest. I have just driven my brother to the airport because I am the best brother in the whole widest worldest, and much of the journey consisted of us sitting in traffic, slowly boiling until we could probably have been served up with some vegetable and a pie as a Sunday lunch alternative. Not only is traffic bad, but when its hot, the people in traffic get angry and beep and shout. As soon as the traffic bit stops, those angry people drive like maniacs desperate to escape to somewhere cooler. I accidentally became one of those people this morning. A combination of tiredness, possibly still being a bit alcohol influenced from last night, heat rage, and the fact I was listening to the Wu-Tang (note to self: never listen to Wu-Tang when driving. You should know this by now) meant I nearly killed a man on a motorbike. When I say ‘nearly killed’, I totally was nowhere near killing him. However, had I continued to drive into him as he wove his way around my car, I would have at least bashed his knees off. It was a teensy bit his fault for his motorbike weaving skills, but it was mostly mine for not seeing him at all till he was nearly bouncing off my bonnet. He gave me such a dirty look. It couldn’t have been dirtier if he had poo in his eyes. That sort of dirtiness. I said sorry. He carried on looking. There was little I could do then. I was tempted to playfully nudge his bike with my car, but decided against it and drove off changing lanes to avoid his eyes of poo. Bad bad times. As a reward to myself I’m off to the park after this blog to sit somewhere other than in a car. Then I’ll drive to Fat Tuesday (on a Wednesday – don’t ask) later just to get angry again.

HOME ALONE

My parents are away and that means I am in the house by myself for several days. I haven’t been in this house without my parents in it probably since the night after my A Levels 11 years ago when I invited all my friends round and I passed out through drinking JD before most of them even arrived and they all had a great party while I lay upstairs in bed unconscious. I woke up the next day to find a lot of mess and some lovely notes thanking me for an awesome time. I won’t be doing that this time, but I am tempted. I’m also tempted to fill the house with traps to stop burglars and then go and use my dad’s aftershave and burn my face with it while screaming. Then I might jump on the beds a bit, and paint things on the walls with my fingers. Or more likely, I’ll just keep forgetting to feed the cat and apart from a dead cat my parents will return to find everything pretty much as it was. This mostly because I am now just a dull, slightly incompetent grown up. I wish I could still have a party. Though Tom Craine is staying round tonight and he is fully capable of making a party load of mess all by himself. I might just get drunk and fall asleep while he’s round. He won’t have a party load of other people to keep him entertained though so I doubt it’ll be as fun.

BREAKIN’

After some discussion with Rosie and Peter at FT last night (yes that is their real names. Yes, saying it like that sounds like a kids show) I’ve decided I’d like to try and get back into breakdancing again. I’ve wiffled and waffled about it shedloads on this blog, but as a recap, I did used to do it about 7 years ago, and now am too unhealthy to hold my own body weight up. This is partly due to the lack of muscles in my arms and partly due to the excess weight to now lift. If I had fat arms and no gut I’d be laughing. Well actually, I’d probably be crying at my hugely disfigured form. But in terms of busting a freeze, then I’d be all over it like a rash. Thing is, I used to do a class, because even though you are meant to learn it on the streets, I went round knocking on everyone’s doors on my street and no one knew a thing. So now I’d need to find another class and they are all at night. When I gig. So I may just have to teach myself and that will equal injury. Definite injury. At least it will be ‘breakin’ in one sense of the word I guess. Maybe I won’t do it. Hmm.

FT

Two top previews from Stephen K Amos and Elis James last night. Go see their shows in Edinburgh. Go on. Do it. Hurry up. Tonight we have Pete Johansson and Richard Herring. You can’t come cos it’s sold out. Hardehar.

I’m going to the park. Take that Wednesday.

One thought on “Poo Eyed Man

  1. Do do do go breakdancing learning – that electric boogaloo/mexican wave that went all round the hall was one of the coolest moments of the 24 hour show, and made me grin like a doped up demented child.As for the man with the eyes of poo – what's a guy to do? Well, personally, I think you should have bashed into his knees, then driven away, shouting 'that'll learn ya, you poo eyed man'. He'd tell the police, and they'd think he was making it up, cos that'd be the crappiest sounding insult ever!Home Alone – don't do cleaning. This is all I ever do when my mum's away, and it depresses me that the extent of my wildness is using baking powder instead of mr muscle. oh dear.

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