I have completely mistimed my morning and have given myself a very limited time to write today’s blog as a result. In but 30 minutes from now, me and Layla have to leave to head to her brother’s house for lunch. 30 minutes may seem like ages to write a short blog, but combine the blogging with having a shower, brushing teeth and generally getting out of the house, and suddenly 30 minutes becomes a record breaking target. I think it can be done, but, God forbid, if it looks like we might leave slightly late this blog will be posted half finished for nothing shall stand in the way of a free roast. Except maybe the fact I’m a veggie. Ok, nothing will stand in the way of a free nut roast. Except maybe that nut roasts can be horribly wrong. I don’t think this one will though, and there will be roast potatoes which I am fully capable of eating until my stomach bursts and I die. I’d quite like to be found dead like that. It would baffle the hell out of the coroners for a little while at least. Once confirmed that that’s how I died, detectives would spend some time trying to work out if it was suicide or if those tatties were forced upon me, never finding out that it was neither and instead just the outcome of severe greed. Newspapers would call it the ‘Spudheliked’ death. Maybe.
Me and Layla watched the film ‘Let The Right One In’ last night. Have you seen it? No? Why not? You’re an idiot. Its amazing. I still can’t quite fathom how it manages to be touching and horrifying all at once, and I don’t mean in the way similar to getting groped by an ugly person is both of those things. Truly excellent film and even if you’re some sort of moron that doesn’t like it (as not liking it would quickly class you into that category of person) then you could at least turn the subtitles off and laugh at Swedish words such as ‘skrika gradig skrika’ which sounds far funnier than it is when translated. I was very pleased I bought the film for last night’s viewing but the purchasing was made more difficult than it ever should have been due to (cue suspenseful dan dan daaaaan music now. Yes that is music made by three Dans) a RED TAG! After skipping home from HMV with my new blu-ray in hand, I unwrapped the plastic wrapper and started to open the case to look at my shiny new buy when I suddenly realised I couldn’t open it at all due to a stupid red thing that was keeping it closed. This instantly made me very angry. How on earth could the staff have been so incompetent as to leave this red tag on? Had this particular blu-ray been bad? Was it the technological equivalent of an ASBO tag, because once it fell off the shelf onto a child’s brain or something? I could not be bothered to head 20 minutes back into Islington and so I attempted to open it myself. Using a butterknife and Layla, I managed to prise the case open without too much difficulty. Don’t worry I didn’t use Layla to prise it open with, she merely held it as I did so. Then, thinking it was all over, I attempted to take the disc out of its case, and it would not budge. The red tag ran along the underside of the case and was not allowing the pressy button bit in the middle to depress. Yes it was keeping it far too happy and everytime that bit started to get tearful it would sing ‘Sunshine and lollipops’ till it smiled. Not really, it was just lodged underneath.
I started to panic at this point. Would my disc never be able to be used or would I have to cease laziness and just head back to HMV? Damn those stupid arses of staff who’ve ruined several hours of my day! I looked on youtube for guides as to how to destroy these tags and free the blu-ray, but everyone I found was for DVD cases which are so slightly different that it doesn’t work. It didn’t stop me trying. I bent the case everyday possible and used all manner of kitchen implements – no a spatula or cheese grater are in no way helpful at all, trust me. Eventually, for fear of breaking things, I gave in, a defeated man. I asked Layla if she would drive so I could jump out and get this tag removed and we headed back to the scene of the crime. 15 minutes later I strode up the busy till, barging past others who had been waiting and said out aloud what had happened. The man just said ‘oh right’, took the blu-ray, put it by a thingy and the thingy took the tag off and he handed it back. I was about to burst into a tirade of ‘is that all it took? Yet you’ve wasted 2 hours of my life trekking here and back blah blah blah’ but he just turned away and served customers, no idea of how much he had damaged my life. I hate him and next time I go to HMV I’m going to put red tags in his shoes. He’ll probably be able to remove them quite easily and I’m not sure how I’ll get behind the counter to get to his shoes but I’ll try goddamit. He must pay. What good is the tag anyway? It didn’t set off the alarms, and as I hadn’t stole the film it was just preventing me from using what I’d bought. Whats next? A wire mesh around an apple? A metal lock around the openey bit of a book? Handcuffs on criminals? I tell you, what is the world coming to?
Yes this is how dull my life is without gigs. Right off to eat roast.
