A Family Update

My Fruitarian Brother showed up at my house today. I haven't seen any of my brothers in ages.

He was telling me that Wino Jo is getting out of hand. He's still off the booze but telling everyone that they're wrong about everything from what music they listen to to how they see society. I told him that he was being a dick at the end of living here and not letting Hot Baby Roy watch his teen romances.

Then he said that our Hot Shot Banker Brother was fed up trying to make his millions banking and turned to gambling, everyone thought it was a turn for the worse, except he was really good at it and after a few lucky big wins had fucked off to Switzerland rich as fuck. He posted him back pictures of him skiing and in a jacuzzi with lots of girls and a message on the back saying "which one for my wife?"

He said that he was thinking about going vegan (the phase before he goes full on fruitarian) and that our metaller brother was still listening to screaming hot electric heavy metal rock and roll solos on his hifi.

And that was it for the family update. Nice to catch up once in a while.

I asked him if he wanted some pancakes and he sat for a few but I'm sure he barfaramma'd them up in the bogs before he left. Yuk!

He said that it was his birthday next month and he wanted us to have an ethical party at his house. I don't know what an ethical party is but it sounds like the sort of thing to put Wino Jo back on the booze.

Back to Work and Carry On

Since his wildest kicking Hot Baby Roy and Gingerella have been holed up at mine. I'm being nice and keeping out of their way. I get the impression they didn't go to the cops and until I get Gingerella's address Mother of Bowling Ball remains kicking free.

Clarence Pishflap showed up at the door last night saying that he heard Mother of Bowling Ball gave Hot Baby Roy a kicking and now it was his turn. He said that his kicking was going to be even more violence because him and Hot Baby Roy were ex-buddies. I nutted him in the face and told Battle Cat to sick his balls. Clarence Pishflap ran screaming down the street promising revenge. Me and Battle Cat had a good old matey chuckle about it.

Work was strange. Me and Kissy Boy were chatting to Little My in the canteen. She said that Fat Mo and Captain Cool Bastard took the fun out of the last place but now we had the gang back together good time were going to rock and roll. She made it sound like the end of Grease but I remember her licking round those guys when she felt she had to for craic (not crac, I'd hate to see Little My as a crackhead).

Betty Blue sat off in the corner reading a book at lunch. I thought of going over to say hi but for some reason I didn't.

My Year

So I started this blog just after my birthday last year and what a year it's been. I've been sitting back taking stock of everything that's happened.

I started it because I was always going round in circles and getting into the same old crap.

I can say though that in this past year I've given up crack, started looking after a pet, joined and been kicked out of a sweaty heavy metal vomit rock and roll band and met a tonne of new people, some of which are good friends. Not just that but if you look down my side bar you'll see a load of other cool people you should check out.

That said here's a few wee stats about my year.

I've had 3 housemates - Fabian Wildman, Battle Cat and Hot Baby Roy (briefly)
I was going to count the number of fights I was in but I couldn't be arsed, you just need to know I won them all.
I've had sex a few times (not enough) and still have no girlfriend.
I started wearing leotards
I met someone who thinks that unicorns are an extinct species
I've been asked to watch Wild Child 143 times and said no 142.
I vomited in a woman's mouth (and she vomited in mine)
I saved a few people from unjustly getting their balls kicked.
I forged a member of Razorlight's autograph (to stop someone going to the police)
I cried a bit but I laughed a lot
I sniffed a few felt tips
I shoplifted loads
and I may or may not have licked the bowl (some people may wonder though).

I've not had a job but as of yesterday I have now found one and I start my pish call centre training on Monday. Wish me luck!

A Critique of Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging

Hot Baby Roy hasn't been over since we watched Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging he left the DVD for us in case we wanted to view it alone.

I told Fabian Wildman that I thought Hot Baby Roy was a sleaze and that I felt uncomfortable watching that pish movie the other night. Fabian Wildman said that he thought the movie was quite sweet and he'd enjoyed it. I'd just sat through it looking for things to sneer at and that I should have just relaxed and watched it.

I said it was so bad I fell asleep.

He said I should watch it again, like Hot Baby Roy suggested, because he thinks I have more in common with Hot Baby Roy than I probably realise. He said that both me and Hot Baby Roy have been single for a long time so Hot Baby Roy lives vacariously through romance movies and I just sneer at anything that suggests affection because I'm scared of being rejected.

I said this wasn't the case, that I had initiated two sexes this year so far, with two different girls, one of them an American and the other a rock and roll vomit heavy metaller, and neither one had shown even the slightest intention of knocking me back.

He said it hardly made me Joey from Friends but that he wasn't just talking about sex he was talking about connecting with someone. He thinks me and Hot Baby Roy should look for girlfriends instead of lusting after Hermione Granger/ Emma Watson.

I hope he doesn't have a point but I suspect he might have one. I'm going to go and walk Battle Cat and mull it over.

Rock and Roll is Here To Stay

The Sweaty Metallers called round today to ask if I wanted to go to a heavy metal vomit party and I made up some excuse not to go because I was too pissed off, all that screaming and acting cool for nothing. I'd just be nobody at one of those parties. I wouldn't be able to look any of the cool dudes in the eye and I wouldn't be getting any hot metal girls.

Fabian Wildman said I should go, just to say there's no hard feelings and I might meet some people who want to start up a band. I told him that I always felt like a fake in the band and I didn't know how to sing. He shrugged and says it'd beat staying home, so I went.

I walked into the party and asked if anyone wanted to start a band with me and no one said anything. I was relegated to talking to this guy who had nothing to say for himself other than "I have a prince albert" and "my wife didn't leave me, I left her." It was so depressing I went upstairs to see what I could steal.

I was going through a girls make up bag for money when she came upon me, she looked really shocked like she was going to scream the house down.

"Mind if I borrow your lipstick?" I asked.

This changed everything, five minutes later we were plastered in her lipstick and getting it on ontop of loads of coats.

I boked in her mouth and she boked in mine it was so beautiful. Then after it all she said:

"It's great the way you can just cop off with people at these parties and it doesn't mean anything."

Just as I'd my phone out to take her number. I quietly put it back in my pocket and cried silently as she left the room.

One day I'll find what I'm looking for, but last night I couldn't find anything, not even a tenner or a mobile in one person's coat. I must be losing my touch.

I HATE WESTLIFE

I'm feeling better and I've been up and at 'em since yesterday. I went round the sweaty metallers to tell them I was excited about our next jam and about the banshee singing with us. That's when they sat me down and between them (they're hard to tell apart, and they rarely are apart, that's why I always talk about the two of them together) that they also like the banshee and don't know where I fit into the band anymore. I nearly screamed at them, no one screams like I scream, I thought but then I remembered what the banshee sounded like through the walls.

They must have seen the look on my face because they said they hoped we could still be mates and they'd still take me to rock and roll vomit parties. I told them that would be nice but to be honest I don't believe it.

I went to their toilet and pished all over the seat. Then I left, still friends.

Foosted Wotsit Head has More Dreams

Sorry I haven't been blogging so much recently but my life is now a whirl of Heavy Metal Vomit Parties and Electric Rock and Roll Guitar. So much so that I've been neglecting nearly everything except partying down and licking the bowl. It's great. I went to a party in the Four Winds yesterday and there was mudwrestling ladies there. I have been having so much fun that I've forgotten to take Battle Cat for walkie but luckily racist Fabian is doing it. I've forgotten so much that I heard a rapping at my door the other night and answered it to find Foosted Wotsit Head standing outside crying.

He told me that he's having nightmares about a violent encounter with Wino Jo and he's scared he did something to him.

I told him if he has I'd personally see to it that he gets kicked down a flight of stairs. He started to get edgy and twitchy and told me that he could do violent things to me, he said he's the best streetfighter out of the scabby nettle gang. He has a twitchy wee rock and roll step that he uses to sort boyos like me out.

"Oh yeah?" I said. "Well I've got a Heavy Metal step."

Then I booted him through a double glazed window. Then I picked up a flying V guitar and played a smokin' hot electric solo.

I have cool things on my mind

Sorry I haven't posted much this week. I've been lying in bed wanking away about the yankie doodle dandy. It made me think I've got to go and get me a girlfriend, one who makes me feel cool all the time!

I asked Fabian Wildman if he wanted to go to a rock and roll vomit party where I could meet ladies of questionable age and gender.

He told me he wouldn't because you're no one at those parties if you can't play guitar or bongos and don't have a Prince Albert.

I screamed the house down. This just isn't fair. I've wasted all my time smoking crack and feeling lonely and cool while geeks have been up in their bedrooms learning cool tunes or out getting their willies pierced.

The Sweaty Metallers and Mr Spoon came round to ask me to keep it down but I just stood in the hall screaming and balling my eyes out.

One of the Sweaty Metallers gave me a big hug and said I must be a nice guy and that he liked my scream. He said he wants me to sing for his Sweaty Metal band and that we'd never stop having Rock and Roll Vomit Parties.

This is the beginning of cool times!

Accidentally Kelly Street

After sorting stuff out with Indie Kid I started thinking about sorting things out with the rest of the street: Fat Rab and Hooka, that would take a while and is best left alone for now, Mr Spoon, I was going to have to think about that; for all his huffing and puffing and moralising and all that crap he just wants to think he lives somewhere nice where (nomatter what people do in their home) that sort of stuff doesn't happen on the streets.

I know he likes to make weird wines so I went to the veg shop on the Lisburn Road and bought him loads of beetroot and ginger and an aubergine.

I went round his house and knocked his door but no-one answered. It didn't sound like he was in. I went to the shop and bought a notepad and a pen and wrote him a wee note:

"I hope you can make some of your nice wine with this lot. I liked the bottle you gave me last summer Christmas."

Then I left it at his front door in a bag.

I was about to go in the house when I heard this Rolling Stones song playing loudly from the living room:



I looked through the window to see Fabian Wildman slithering about in his zentai giving it his best Jagger moves.

He was shouting: "Betty Blue! Whip my ass! Aren't you hypnotised by my ass!"

I didn't look any more to see her. I decided to leave them to it. Fabian more than deserved the house to him and Betty Blue for the rest of the day. So I went round the back and got Battle Cat and me and him went off to the Lagan Meadows for a nice big long walk.

Indie Wank Boy Gets Fucked in the Mouth Part 2

When I came round this morning I felt awful. I sat in my room and shook for ages.

Fabian Wildman came in and asked was I okay. He says he could hear my bed jingle and it didn't sound like wanking.

I told him about hitting the Razorlight fan.

He asked if I wanted him to go and talk to him and settle things. It was a kind offer but I really need to start sorting some of my own messes out.

He said it was okay because he remembers how I cleaned up his boke when he gave up and that's why he doesn't mind doing the same for me now.

I told him I'd take this one.

I had a shower and went over the road with a wee present for the indie boy.

He opened the door and looked all scared at me.

"I've just come over to say sorry about hitting you last night," I said.

He looked like he wasn't buying it.

"I've a wee present for ye," I said. "Can I come in?"

He opened the door and stood back.

I gave him a bit of paper that said "Johnny Borrell".

"Let me tell you how I got this," I said. "Years ago Johnny Borrell was on crack like me. He went to Donaghadee to help him give it up. I met him when he was there. He was always walking around, wearing sunglasses and playing electric rock and roll guitar. I told him that I thought he was a cool dude. I told him I thought he'd go far and be famous. I asked him for his autograph because when I saw him on tv I wanted to be able to say I was the first person to get his autograph. So he gave it to me. And now I'm giving it to you."

You should have seen the wee indie lad's face light up. It was like I'd just shown him how to levitate because he could have floated by the look on his face.

He offered me a smoke of a spliffy but I told him I was grand as long as we were cool.

He said we were.

I wished him luck and left.