Got a full on day today so shall make this a quick ‘un. I know most people have full on days everyday and to place my day in perspective, I’m doing a fun radio thing at 2 and the going to see the Funny Women (because they are Funny. As funny as men. Shut up non-believers) semi-final at 7, with a possible drink with friends inbetween. Essentially, compared to someone slogging away 9-5 today, my activities are in no way full on. They aren’t even semi-on. Not that I feel the need to justify such things. Regular readers of this blog will know a large percentage of my life is spent not doing things. This also directly relates to the large portion of my life that is spent poor. Its like there’s almost a direct correlation or something. Who’d have thunk it? So based on how my usual days go, this one feels full on. I’m tired already thinking about it. Oh no, wait. I’m tired because I was out drinking last night. That’ll be it. Stupid stupid me.
Here’s some things:
I probably shouldn’t find it exciting, but how amazing is the story of Gareth Williams the M16 agent found in a sports bag in his bath a few weeks ago? I don’t mean to belittle his death as it was a grisly affair and much condolences to his family, but it is by far the most interesting spy story I’ve heard in ages and my overactive brain has been trying to come up with how its happened ever since.
So far, my theories are as such:
– He was packing for going to the gym and slipped, then during the slip realised he was at heart an escapologist, padlocked the bag from the inside and then realised he was the opposite of an escapologist who just traps themselves in things then cant get out.
– He was killed by a clever ghost
– He was killed by Euegene Toombs from the X-Files
– He was eaten by a killer sports bag
– Spies are well good and they done him in all clever
– He was killed by the invisible man
I think all of these are possible and the police and MI6 should totally call me now. Ta.
Going on dates has changed loads since I last did them. Not that I’ve ever really done them. During school years you’d just sort of snog someone and then you’d be going out and that’d be that. Then from 17 onwards and through university, you’d just sort of get drunk, snog someone, sometimes wake up next to them and then you’d be going out. Then I left uni, was in a relationship and have now emerged on the other side of it all, rather confused about how dates really work. What I’ve gathered is that for a start, they are never directly referred to as ‘dates’. They are now known as ‘hanging out’ or ‘going for a drink’ as though everyone needs to skirt around the obvious to avoid any sort of awkward knowledge of what everyone’s direct intentions are. Or, perhaps, I’m massively reading the idea of ‘going for a drink’ with someone very wrong. Hmm. I hadn’t thought of this much.
Once you’ve established you are meeting in some way, you then have to work out where and when whilst somehow never seeming too pushy about inflicting your choice on somewhere else, nor judging them on where they choose before you’ve even met up. This is already far too much worry for me, and as such causes minor panic. I know I only like going to cool places because I’m hella cool, but I also know that each to their own and in reality I have no real social life and probably know nothing. At the same time, I would find it hard, were the lady to suggest heading to a Wetherspoons or some such, not to just call the whole thing off and tell them all the things that are wrong with their life.
The meeting bit I like. Chatting is always good and I can do it quite a lot. Possibly too much. I’ve realised that if they have a good story about things but I know I have a better one, I will sit and fidget until I can trump them with conversation strength points. This is not good date chat. This is me, in social comedy mode, ruining things. I must work out the distinction. Or just keep winning. I like winning. Then you have booze, then if its going well, things move on, and then they get the tube home. Oh. How has that happened? And once again the foils of dating evade me. I would call myself a Casanova, but I would mean it only in the Spanish for ‘house full of hot gas’.
I went on one of these last night. It was lovely, and she was lovely, and then the pub closed at 10.30 because its a Sunday. Therefore with nowhere else to go and certain social boundaries not having been surpassed we went our separate ways. I berate myself for going out on a Sunday. I berate the Christians more for ruining things for me. Stupid God.
My friend Suze said I should wear shirts more often. Today I am wearing a shirt. I’m not sure I like it. I will see how it works when I go outside, but at the moment it feels like whilst I could be wearing a spiderman tshirt and letting the world know I’m a hugely immature big kid, they might now just assume I’m an adult. This could go wrong. People might stop patronising me and assuming I don’t know things. Oh. Oh wait. I like shirts. I shall report tomorrow how its all worked. Or if I’ve accidentally walked into an office building and been sat at a desk to work all day due to confusion.
Sometimes its nice to read other blogs isn’t it? Yes it is. Well today, I turn your eye and reading mind towards my friend Wilz’s blog. Wilz is currently in Uganda doing charity work for a charity type things. I did listen to him when he said it, but as I’ve known Wilz since I was 14, I have a tendency just to switch off when he speaks. Saying that, he is funny and far too intelligent for his own good, and this interesting blog combines his new life in Uganda with a view on the current non-reported corrupt political situation. Have a read. You will enjoy: