People Eat When They Are Sad, Don't They?

I like the idea of going to the cinema late at night. I like it because the American style giant cinema which holds about 8 different theatres is usually empty, and it is surprisingly free of drunk and rude people who'd be there to hustle someone, or to have sex, or to throw up, or to make noise for their own amusement. Like it even more when I get special discount and I am occupying the theatre with just a handful well behaved, mature people, for £4.25.

 

Went to see a Meryl Streep film because I just wanted something cheerful, and she kinda fitted my mood. The film was OK, typical Nora Ephron, I'd say, could have been better. The film was sensational in the way that everyone in it kept speaking mouthful. And they smoked non-stop. But what was good was that I was actually on my own in the room tonight. I was in absolute solitary for 123 minutes. With a bottle of Pepsi Max wit 2 shots of Teachers. Heaven. Absolute heaven.

 

I sat in the best seat in the house, dead centre of the room, spreading my stuff and stretching legs out. Laughing out loud, gasping and giggling without a care in the world. This is what a solo person would do when one has 4.25quid.

 

When I left the theatre in the mid ending roll they even stopped rolling the film. They were running the film just for me, that's why.

 

I am doing OK, and I enjoyed the night. It is my time, and that is that. LOVE being here at this very moment. Don't think I am lying.

Black

This is totally random. I am getting drunk, and am BLUE.

Today I was looking, mighty miserable at the pub, and the Scottish chef said,

"What is the look? Have a sausage. Here. It's good, it's Scottish."

and the sausage never tasted better.

 

It sucks to be in a state like this, yet it's GREAT to know that people do care about you however miniscule the care was.

 

The sausage kind of made my morning. I was serving a large glass of sauvignon blanc to this, very hetero looking guy, who was sitting with, again, very hetero looking guy who only drunk G+T. We had some nice chat about Marlborough sauvignon blanc, before he settled his bill and pulled out this odd looking card. He knew his sav bla.

 

"Is Amex alright?"

He said, and of course it was, it's Ascot for crying out loud.

 

Why is this card so HEAVY???

 

Then, only then, I realized that it was THE Amex Black. The titanium one.

 

OMG. He pays 1,800 quid a year to have that card!! Grab him!!

 

I thought Amex Black was an urban myth, I really did. That made my afternoon. Some people.

 

And in the evening I enjoyed my favourite pinot noir.

 

Life is good. I am getting better. I hate you. I love you. Eat your passion to live, it's the only way.

Whatever You Believe

I think certain things that people say are total BS. I am in a place where I would do just about anything to get out of. I am deeply down and see no light anywhere. And people tell me things, you know.

 

Get on with your life, they say; How? I can barely move. All I can manage is breath in and out. Haven't even been eating for weeks.

 

Get some exercise, it is scientifically proven to reduce your depression; Really? Exercising always made me semi suicidal. I just think too much during. How would that help?

 

Get back on the saddle; Um, no thanks. That just leads to even more heart ache.

 

Go out. Do stuff; I am too afraid to leave the house. I just don't want to bump into anyone!!

 

Really. It hurts too much to even try any of these. I wish I did drugs and went on binge sex, that seem like easier and quicker solution. Yet I never will do do.

 

Ask me again later.

 

I am sure you know where to find me. Kill my soul.

I'm Going Back, Back to School

I am taking up a course, on booze. I am dead serious. The course materials arrived the other day, and I am already fogged up in my brain, my gosh, these are some serious stuff.

Who would have thought that I can be actually crying to drink so many, many drinks, while learning facts on them through many, many pages in text books.

It is totally opposite of giving up my vices...

Darn

Today is the day my friend, whom I love very much yet has not been on speaking term for about a month, dropped a bomb saying he might have cancer. It is just not fair, man, how can I stay mad at you after you pull the death card? and what you did to me was NOT forgivable...!!

I cried while holding ham and singles sarnie, sitting next to him. What else was I to do? The man is clearly freaking out, and he needs to see that I fucking care, and he needs to fight whatever the fate he will face for all those who love him.

Don't die on me. I need you. I can't go on without you. Oh, gawd.

Totally Trivial Matter of Fact of the Day

My car is a discontinued model and combined that with a fact that it didn't sell well back in the days, I consider myself lucky if I happen to see 2 fellow owners on the road per day, but many days I don't see none and that can be norm.

This morning I saw 3 within the duration of 5 minutes on the way to work, and saw one more in front of our office, which was the same reg, colour and fuel type. That's 5 of very unpopular cars within 2 mile range in Surrey.

My birthday don't seem to have many sharers, and the only people I know who have the same birthday were my grandpa and the daughter of my father's colleague, and one of the Royals (the family, not our football team.)

Today I had 2 people apply for our service, and one of them had the same birthday as mine, and the other one had the wife whose birthday was the same as mine.

You now, the next thing I will be saying,

"Oh, look, I saw 9 pigeons on neighbour's roof yesterday and the day before, and seeing the same again today!"

or, maybe not.

This is the Last One

I guess I just realized that I want to move on, rather than let the time pass me by. I guess I need to make the conscious decision to make this the last. I still hate you, and I hope you are dead already, but I am clearly over the whole thing, and I make sure it is done deal. Yes. This is the last, after 4 long years, so I have decided. Here we go.

Woudn't You Wanna Push That Boob..

I have this "connection" who gets me the very best of... well, any meat, I guess. Only ever bought pork from him, and only bought off of him once, but all my friends say the goods are pretty top notch.

 

Anyway, so I had this belly of pork stored in my freezer for a while, and only the other day finally got around to thaw it so I can saw it into thin slices for my liking.

 

I remember asking him, specifically, to remove all the skins and bones, but as I picked half thawed pork it was obvious that it had a bit of ribs and, well, the whole lot of skin on it. The skin had bumps on it. Bumps looked like buttons. Well, you know, it's the belly, so, yeah, all of sudden I was holding a whole lot of pig nipples.

 

I don't think I am wrong here to say that I am not the only one who would poke those things when faced with. I am almost entirely sure that practically everyone WOULD push them down. Well, I did, I admit.

 

That is all, really. I bought pork, and ended up poking pig nipples at 1.30 am in my kitchen with my index finger, before skinning the lot, butchering the block of meat into slices of pork. It was a weird night.

O, Baby

So, you get a new car, but the scenery outside of that new windows remains the same.

8.30 that freakishly tall and lean guy with the balding temple walks by you with rosy cheeks, knowing well how dashing he looks briskly walking like that every morning all the way to Oracle. (I wonder how he did with the date I saw him with back in September?)

8.35 do I get lucky this morning to see my baby, oooh, yes, he is there today, god, what a vision you are, you are SO GORGEOUS! Tall, strong glances and dark haired, and smokes like chimney!

8.40 that geeky looking guy on bicycle in total Top Man outfit goes by. How did you get on with the job interview from last week?

8.50 the girl goes by, you are almost due, should you be walking this much every morning? You look really happy. I know we never spoke for past 2 years that I saw you on the daily basis and I know you don't know me, but I just want to wish you the very best for the baby. I think it's a girl, BTW.

I know these people for such a long time, yet I don't even know their names. Yet I know when they are ill, or are on holidays. I wonder if anyone knows me going through the route every morning. I wonder if anyone sees me every morning, saying,
"O, baby, you are late again this morning. Had a bit too much last night?"
Well, I don't wish upon that, but I guess that's not entirely impossible.

It's Just Like dating, Again

I had a job interview. It's been at least 2 yrs since my last one, and the last one really was just a chat with a landlady of a pub, and all I had to do was to smile and say that I will obey whatever her command.

When you got a lame job you kinda hate you do think about trading up, or changing the scene. That is just like to do with relationships, and like most cases of that you probably won't get another job until things are so bad, or till you get sacked.

All these women I meet on Wednesdays, who bitch and moan about their partners, yet they never do anything, they are getting boring to me. If your mate doesn't turn you on any more but you are still horny, then stop bitching and leave the house, just do it. I am sure your mate is shagging some bird at his work who is 10 times perkier and eager to do him. What makes you think he is happy being stuck with you and your tired old arse?

Nah, I don't ever say that, but I want to, though. All these complaining make all of them such an unattractive things and I hope to sky that I won't be like that.

So, that's why I went for the interview. Not that I am looking to trade up, but felt that I need to do it. It didn't matter how I did do there. It doesn't matter now if I get the job or not. One has to try and test if one can still pull it off. Keep trying in any way and it will lead one to something. It has to.

Keep Your Enemy Closer

You know your enemy. You intensely dislike somebody, sometime loath them, sometime plain tolerate them, yet all along you are knit picking them on whatever they do in front of you. You can't stand them and you can't stand their joy or happiness. You may wish them harm, or you certainly wish someone to bring them the harm.

You know that somehow you are jealous of them, or at least jealous of what they have. They may have gotten your girl, or they may have gotten the job you wanted, or they may have the car you wouldn't get because you can't afford to and you were sensible enough to opt to an entry level car with 52mpg performance.

Or, it is possible that you just hate them.

I have a few of those. I know I am jealous of some of them, but to me it is like this; I am absolutely jealous of what they have, because I truly believe that they do not deserve what they have. I end up self-pitying me, saying,
"Why them? Why not me? What have I not done not to have those things?"

It bothers me enormously that sometimes in my life I do come across the chances for those things they have to become mine, and I somehow manage to think that I am this sad git that is trying to be the people one hates.

Why am I getting cars that are one or two levels down from what he ever had? Am I getting a beamer next? Really?? My guess would be 1 series? then what, a Bentley??

It's Been a While

I've been told by customers that my tone of voice was a bit off and that before, a long time ago, but this one I had today was way overboard. It was such a big come back. This 23 yrs old kid called up with the stupidest questions and I was being extremely irritated but was quite professional. I was talking to this kid as if he has no brain, speaking each word clearly so he can get it somehow.

Unfortunately, I have been too busy to keep the business facade and have been a little inpatient with some callers, and although I was never rude, I was a little forceful to end the conversation, by asking them to do things rather than sympathize with them in situations.

So this kid was one of them. He basically asked us to provide a telephone line to him but never told us which apartment he lives in  in this big building.

Glorious Me the Phone Bitch "We need to know your room number, or we will end up installing the line in someone else's room."

Boy Botch "How am I going to find out my room number?"

GMPB "Well, I suggest you ask the landlord, or the estate agent?"

BB "Oh, really? OK, well, then what number do I need to call when I find that out?"

GMPB "(Didn't you call us like 5 times before? Beside you got the caller ID display!) I can tell you the number now?"

BB "I am outside, have no pen."

GMPB "Is our number showing on your phone?"

BB "Oh, yeah."

GMPB "Well, my name is DiDi, please call us with the apartment number when you find it out."

BB "Is it always you if I call this number then?"

GMPB "Sorry? What do you mean, there are others, there is no problem for you to talk to any of us. Or would you rather not to have me answering the call?"

BB "Well, that's not what I am saying, but you better watch out how you speak to customers. You are always so aggressive, you got to think hard on that."

GMPB "I am sorry? I can't hear well. The reception is a little bad."

BB "I am fucking telling you that your attitude sucks, alright?"

GMPB "I didn't mean to sound like that but the reception is rather terrible."

Now I wrote it all down, it seems extremely unreasonable what he was saying. It really does. What a brat. You have no right to talk to any service people if you didn't know which apartment you live in, nor how to find out the door number of yours. GFYS, or go home, fuck face.

The Leading One is Black, and the Second one is Black, and the 3rd One is

Life is full of distractions. It is never a smooth sail no matter what you are doing. There is always the possibility for your car to break down on your way to work, and there is always a chance for the boiler to stop working in the middle of your shower, and there is always some fiddling needed when you use that electric cooker. These things make you think that the ife is rosier if you had enough money to pay so these things will be someone else's burden while you just enjoy the end products.

My distraction is a on-going one, and is so silly I just want to give up, but how?

I have 6 or 7 pairs of black socks, all from the same place but purchased at various stages of past 10 yrs or so. They are made up with slightly different materials, therefore displaying slightly different shades of black. Every time I do my darks I end up with 8 or 10 socks all in different shades (they look even more different when wet) and I have to play find the match. It doesn't help that some of them have been torn and thrown away, leaving odd ones with the individual shades.

I have been doing this for many years and I am quite fed up with it. I mean, who would have thought a person can have that many shades of black socks altogether? Why am I standing with handful of black socks that don't seem to match at all? Why? There must be a way out of this...

Today

Today is the day I've discovered DJ Splash. Monumental.

This is Serious

"You are contradicting yourself." They said all at once.

"You refused to identify yourself as woman, yet you sleep with men as a woman. They see you as female, you take that role, I think you have a big issue there."
Said one.

"Why do we have to be the sex, just because we are having sex!?"
I exclaimed.

"Who says I have to be woman to be sleeping with men? And would that make me a man if I was interested in women?"
I went on. This whole thing was ridiculous. Sexuality and sexual activity, plus gender identity and social identity are all too confusing to people. They either get it, or never, ever get it for all their lives.

This reminded of the time I was speaking with my colleague who said to me,
"Oh, I love European gays. They are more of women than real women."

I couldn't even begin to correct her, or point out how wrong the entire sentence she just uttered was.

"Look,"
I said, resolutely.
"I am comfortable in my own body. I love what I am."

"But,"
Mary interrupted me,
"you happen to be a woman. You have the body of a woman."

"Well, sorry, Mary, I refused to believe I do. I am me and that's that."
I continued. People looked confused, or even sorry to hear what I was saying.

"Look,"
I said once again,
"it took me almost 10 years around my puberty to get where I am now. I went through such a struggle and this is what I came to. I am not tied to one sex, and I just am me. The end."

They didn't get it. They never will. And they call themselves a support group. Fuck that. I was not sharing anything with you now, and I wouldn't start that now. You will never get it because you just can't break through. Pathetic, in a way. Yeah.

On Dark Rum

So I went to the weekly group session, where this woman burst out on the discovery of her partner of 17 yrs cheating on her for past 3 or 4 yrs. God, imagine that. It just crushed me, as I was not in the best place myself. I was dragged into her shoes. I began watering my eyes. Why can I not turn my back and say adios to all these crap?

I am too depressed to lose weight. How ridiculous is that? My diet is made up with collections of crisps, the mountain of them.

And the group turned to me as I was trickling tears, so I began explaining how depressing the whole story was because of my own situation. And they had this bloody guts to say that my life was such a mess.

I then had to use 4 Styrofoam cups to illustrate my dating situation. Got the name for each cup wrong, so what, I don't call them by names, do I? I hate that sort of attachment.

Their eyes were blatantly saying "you big whore", but, well, I didn't care. It's doesn't matter what they thought, and no I was not promiscuous in any possible way. Just trying to be aloof, is all. And failing.

I hate Sundays, and I hate long weekend while waiting for something to may or may not happen. How am I going to survive this bank holiday??

Pants

I work with so many youngsters. Some of them were born in 90s. How is that possible?? 90s?? That's got to be the level of different planets. I used to say, when great dame Olivia was still with us, that they are younger than my dog.

Today I was folding my underpants, and paused for a while when holding these pairs. Oh, my, god, they are now 18 yrs old. I work with people who are younger than some of my pants. That's just so wrong.

Senior Citizens in Love

Every April I get my heart broken. This time it took a year. I am no spring chicken, I am no longer that 14 yrs old who would have done anything to just kiss your finger tips, I am getting too old for this, and to waste a whole year you were so not worth it, and you are going to pay for this.

I am tired. I know, again and again in my heart, that it is NOT me, but there were only 2 people there so it had to be something to do with me somehow, is what I end up with every time I think about this.

What do I want now? Am I going into a retreat yet again? Then what? I am going nowhere. And what??

It fucking hurts, and I am tired. Come on, take me, prove it to yourself that you can fucking take me. I am going to bark at your face and you will not move a nudge and then I will collapse to the ground you walk on, worship the back of your foot if that's what you want, I am that tired.

I hate them.

Really? How??

I forgot Bobbie's birthday, for the first time in, I don't know, 13 years? Subsequently I forgot that SOB's birthday, which, I think is a very, VERY good thing. I am ready to face up a new phase, yo.

Um, but how could I forget my beloved Robert Downey Jr.'s birthday? and be reminded of it by bloody People magazine? Where is my love? My undying love for the one and only?

Happy Birthday Bobbie, I still love you so very much, even though you are now this super hero, looking hunky and, most of all, sober and happily married.

Always on the Bright Side

If you know me, you know how antagonistic and annoying I can be when it comes to my life in general. But, as much negativity and bitchness I hold in me, I do have a knack for being really, really positive when needed to be. If a person before me was a bit blue, then I can put all my skills to make them at least hit some chirpy note by the end of conversation with me, and I never have failed to do that yet.

One time I was in my local gay bar, and was puffing outside with some youngish gay man. We've never met or spoke before, and we were both little tipsy, and he was a bit down, which, I suspected was what he did when he was drunk. This guy was complaining how he cannot remember his mother who died while giving birth to him. He was explaining that his family and relatives keep telling him how wonderful his mother was, and it was getting to his head as he had no idea what this woman was like.

"Do you ever feel guilty for being born?"
"No, no, but I just wish I knew my mother. I don't know what these people are talking about."

On he went. I guess his family was saying nice things about his mother to compensate his loss, and that was not working on him.

"Well, think it like this. Your mother probably died the happiest person on this face of the planet, because she succeeded to give birth to you. She got to be your mother, and that's something special. That should be enough for you to appreciate your mother's life."

said I. The guy turned around looking into my eyes with astonishment.

"Oh, my, god. Nobody put it like that before. Oh, my, god."

Then he started to cry. At that point I was shitting myself, I just made a grown-up guy cry, ohh, shit.

"Hey, are you OK, man?"
"Yeah, yeah, I am. It's just so deep. I was deeply touched. Perhaps too deeply."

That, coming from a gay man, was a bit disturbing.
So here we go. I got a talent. It's a mystery how I can never apply that on myself. Seriously a true mystery.

Antiquing

I love antiques. It's wired how all these junks look so gloriously unique in places like antique shops and market. I must train my eyes well to avoid true junks and get something interesting, but at the moment am just enjoying my struggle to dodge craps in antique-y battle field.

It's almost my mum's birthday, and it's a good excuse to splash the money I don't have, on something I shouldn't need. Got up this morning at 4.50am, and I set off to Kempton Park.

I wanted to find a few things, one / two of which were for my mother, and the rest was for me but I knew I wouldn't find them, as eBay would be more likely place to have them for half the price they'd bare in Kempton.

So I got myself a couple of demitasse cups by Alka. My mum would like them enough, that's alright then.

Then I walked through crowds looking for porceline wash basins. Well, there was nothing I could afford there anyway. Then I stumbled upon a pile of tiles. They were genuine Art Deco tiles, some of which was broken, but had sets that consist patterns like a long stemmed plant.
"How much are they?"
"20 quid."
"Each?" (Well, that's how much they'd cost in eBay.)
"Oh, no, the whole lot." (There were about 11 of them.)

Are you freakin' kidding me, 20 for them all??

They were beautiful. They worth well over 200 quid, but priced 20, I can buy them!! But what the heck am I going to do with them, use them as place mats?

Then this Asian guy who overheard us just nipped through between us with an apple core in his hand. Seller looked at me,
"They are all his,"
I gestured. He got them all in a whim.

Man, that's a darn good deal, I wished I had some wall I can use them on. They were a perfect example of Art Deco interior materials. And it was the first moment I considered myself to be a novice antique buff. Hey I know something that's completely useless to day-to-day life but is so precious to some of us. I am getting to be the king of geek, very soon, just you wait.

PAO.

Holy Mother of

This girl walked into my pub and I was thinking how 2 people can look the same way, this one looked like the girl I had crush on in my college. She was so beautiful, and I thought she looked so special. Now this girl in front of me had very similar face, and I guess this type of face can be found on many people.

Well, she actually looked very much like her, but there was no recognition in her reaction when she saw me so it couldn't be her. Besides what would she be doing here, it's 15 miles away from our college town, in the middle of nowhere.

Tonight, the same girl walked in with a guy. I thought pretty much the same. This girl I knew back in college had the purest name, like, let's say, "Clear Rivers" or something. Cannot say her real name here, but she was this very, very pretty girl with very, very virginal name. She was decent acting girl and not at all slutty. Then she hooked up with a guy called James while we were on a school trip to South Italy, while James's room mates were still in their room. We all heard from poor Nick who had to sleep in the next bed while they were at it like a couple of rabbits. And it was supposed to be a holiday romance as James had a girlfriend of 5 years, but it was very obvious that they carried on after the trip.

Then it was my turn to take their orders, so I went up to them. The guy ordered first, then casually said,
"Clear, how about you?"
I held my pen and the pad and said,
"You are Clear?"
She nodded.
"Clear Rivers?"

I would not be able to stay in the pub if I were her. It is too embarrassing. I would DIE if my past haunt me down 15 miles away from my town in the middle of nowhere.

Then again, that's probably why I never do anything that I'd regret. Ha-ha. Cheers, Clear.

Things in My Head

I should not drink any more whiskey.
I pick wrong people.
Wrong people love me and love ruining me.
Yes, I hate them.
And, hell yeah, I hate M. Monroe. (NOT Marilyn.)
M. Monroe deserves to die.
My car runs weird now after P3 servicing.
I can foresee me getting arrested at Dover.
Should I still go to Dover?
This chianti is fab, and it's only 2.99 a bottle.
I want to be HP's groupie.
I honestly don't remember txting Mur last night.
I fucking miss my neighbour and that's wrong in so many levels.
My thighs are getting out of control.
What a waste to do this all for no action, I am Jack's wasted Hedwig.
Well, at least I look rather good for a change.
Moisturize, moisturize, as Keith and Ms. Vida Boheme said.
I need to go out, someone take me out, am begging.
I am sorry for Cameron's loss, hate when little people die.
Can't wait for the Great British Duck Race on 6/9/2009, I will make donations to kids in suffering.
I want to sleep covered in bath ducks.
Someone get me a roll of film and a rangefinder.
No regret, ever, not even you.
Enjoy the life, you only live twice.

Every Week

I love doing surveys. I love the fact that I am lucky enough to be picked now and then to do product tests, where I go and eat stuff and tick how much I liked / disliked it, in the scale of 1 - 10, then finally march out the room with other testers so we get paid.

 

A few months ago, I saw this news informing that some scientist gathered up enough evidences that people who watch romantic comedies tend to have unrealistic idealism towards relationships. Whether it is true or not was irrelevant to myself as my idealism towards romance is so twisted it couldn't possibly come from any romantic "comedy". But what caught my attention was that the same research team is running additional surveys and anyone is welcome to take part, and by taking part you may win some big cash.

 

So I went to the website and signed up. It asks how many hours each week you spent watching TV, in which category, then asks how many hours you have spent watching films in different genres. Then it asks how satisfied you are with your life and yourself, then finally asks if you are in a relationship and how satisfied you are in it.

 

I have been answering these same questions for weeks now;

Sometimes I think I am useless, scale 1 - 10

Sometimes my life seems empty, scale 1 - 10

If I can do over my life I would, scale 1 - 10

 

Every week I tell that I am useless, every week I tell I am not psyched to be living, every week my life is hollow but full of bitterness. Every week these questions tell me that I should get up and turn around, do something. Every week I am re-grazing, in my thoughts on my choice of career, partners and the way I sculpt myself to be the person I want to be, and the answers to them all is that steps I am taking are way too small.

 

My life is about having no expectation, so I don't get disappointed. This approach to life is making me lazy. I stay low, sit tight and tend not to move. Apparently, it's time I need to roll out and jump to something. I need to do this, not by someone kicking me off to roll off. I need to be animate and start rolling, every week. 

Like I Always Said

The new year means the new beginning. My winter sucked, not being helped by this bloody weather - it is very much like living in an ice cube, it's been, without any heat on till 1/1/2009 - and the year was starting out as usual; without me knowing it.

 

Things have been not too bad, actually. The whole thing was touch and go, but all in all balanced out while positive was negated by some incidents and negatives were lightened up by some stuff. The opening of the year was just a chaotic unknown to me.

 

I now have heard from my herald about this year, and it looks somewhat exciting AND rocky.

 

So far I've already learned and was assured that everyone I touch turns into a frog, or caca, as Miss Rodriguez says. There is no good person in this world as far as myself is involved.

 

And this year is going to be tough, work-wise. Not a nice thing to pre-know.

 

Today I've found out that the last batch I did at the end of last year resulted badly, because I've screwed up. Not only I did something that shouldn't have done, I have tactfully aggravated the wrong person; i.e. my bitch boss. I am Jack's deflated party balloon.

 

I think I am going to become some cat that drags in rotten things, just to stink up the life. Might as well enjoy what discovery the feline me would make next. Why don't I just enjoy this deteriorating ride of 2009. Stay tuned, as Mr. Firestein always says.