My God i hate Boxing day. What an utterly bloody pointless day it is. It's a nothing day, nothing happens, nothing nothing nothing. So how was your Christmas?.......mine, oh thanks for asking. It was dull. I suppose that is a terrible thing to say really, seeing as we spent it round the outlaws, but hey it's the truth.
Why can't Christmas be like the front of a Christmas card? All snow and open fires, sing songs around the piano, smiles, hope, wonder, excitement. But no it's not is it, it's BORING!. That is my problem with Christmas, you see everybody thinks that i am a miserable git, and that i hate Christmas, well i suppose i am, and i do, but it's more than that. Christmas should be either like the front of a Christmas card, or not at bloody all.
It's that middle ground that the vast majority of us have to fall into that i so despise. That sitting there with a paper hat on, listening to some relative, that you wish you hadn't got, drone on about fuck all. Opening presents that you don't want. It's happened again. Yes the Christmas classic has struck home once more. I received a t-shirt that is at least two sizes too small, and i wouldn't wear if i was a downtown L.A. pimp.
Oh you shouldn't be so ungrateful Andy blah blah blah. I'm not being ungrateful, but i would rather they gave the money straight to charity or something, instead of getting me involved as some sort of reluctant middle man. The bloody thing will end up in a charity shop anyway, BUY IT, AND TAKE IT STRAIGHT THERE!
So here i sit, staring at the monitor with tired eyes, letting it all out. Shall i get a can of beer, i think i will, hang on.......
I'm back. I have had to undo my trousers due to the extreme expansion that has taken place. Yesterdays brussell sprouts are still depleting the ozone, and my gorgeous little girl cat is walking all over the keyboard, so blame her for the typo's, not me.
Why the bloody hell is there such a fuss made about the Christmas dinner? People panicking about turkeys, and fannying about worrying about this and that. For Christ's sake, it's the same fucking meal that most people have most Sundays, but all because it's Christmas, people fret about it. I suppose in days of old, a roast dinner was something special, and hence this was why they had it on Christmas day, but today it's run of the mill, so why don't we have something outlandish? Lets have a Lobster, or Romanian hog's penis. Roasted Golden Eagle on a bed of Nun's Hymens, or boa constrictor with flaked gold or something.......sigh, swig.
I just want to be left alone. Everybody just go away, and let me sit in my pants that i have had on since Dec 10th, and wallow in a pit of Vesta curries, the discovery channel (or dave), computer games, and violent self abuse.
Now of course we are on the slippery slope to New years eve. Without doubt.......swig.......the worst night of the bloody year. Forced fun, that's what it is isn't it, forced fun. I don't really feel like going out tonight thanks, i am feeling a little quiet and reflective, and would rather stay in and get an early night. You can't do that everybody tells you, you have got to be jam packed in a pub (That you have paid to get into , although the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, entry is free) and pour hideous amounts of alcohol down your neck, until you reach twelve o'clock. Then stand in a circle and jump around a bit waving your arms up and down, miming the words to a song that you really should know by now, and shaking hands with people that normally get right on your fucking tits.......sigh, swig
Again, if it was a party to end all parties, then take me there baby, i'm first in the queue. If it was full of dancing girls, and water slides, whooshing around on jet packs, and jamming on stage with the Rolling Stones. Psychodelic trampolines, fireworks, juggling dwarfs, paint ball, foam and water fights, then bloody well let me in! But it never is. Just like everything else, it's another anti-climax. It would be standing listening to some bastard telling me his opinion on everything from the answer to the credit crunch, to the pit falls of Chelsea's back four.......FUCK OFF! .......swig
Christ i could almost start smoking again, i could go a fag right now, but that's another avenue of pleasure barricaded off.......swig.......Well i suppose i'd better go and see what program Miss Marple has fallen asleep infront of, but before i do that, sod it, i am going to go on ebay, and see what i can get for my recently acquired 8 stone pimps t-shirt, my '1001 things to cook with turmeric' book. My 'Garfield' pants, 'Balltic Stalion aftershave', and personalised chamois leather gift set.......Big swig.......
Roll on normality! Lots of love Andy x
- ► 2009 (21)
- ▼ December (5)