Who is She?

Today in work I was in the canteen stuffing my face with bags of crisps. I'm putting on weight in this job. It's all the sitting at a desk bored and talking to people on the phone who don't want to talk to me but have to. I think my targets are down, I spend too long on the phone and I'm not speaking to enough people.

While I was sitting there this girl came up to me and asked me if I remembered her from a party we were at last year. I stared for ages and I could tell she wanted me to remember her. I said yes, hoping that I could work out who she was as we went along. She said that she was twenty now, and she'd be turning twenty one later in the year.

She had a miserable look on her face, and I noticed she'd self harm marks on her arms. I think it must be shit to have scars on your arms and shit from self harm. I knew a girl at school who had a huge (and strange) crush on BA Baracus and scored his name into her arms with scissors. Now when she gets a tan she looks like a walking advert for the A-Team. I saw her a few years ago and she told me that it was pure shit because she didn't even fancy BA anymore.

I said to the girl that she should invite me to her birthday because it was about time we were at another cool party together. She started to cry and said she knew I didn't remember.

That's all I need, crap targets, off sick, making people cry. They'll fire my ass for sure. Who was she?

Pete Doherty Plays Belfast!!

The Indie Kid across the street threw a party last night. A kind of 'let's get the parties started' thing but later he told me (when totally pished and close to tears) that it had all been about getting some of the fine pussy across the street. She didn't show up but there was a motley cast of indie rock and rollers from around Belfast.

Rock and Roll Stephen was there, meaning business, wearing the tightest pair of women's jeans and the tightest perm and his mothers handbag. He'd a wee silver case full of rollies.

I told him he looked like he meant business and he said: "From now on things are going to be full on, with relationships and studying."

I winced and told him that I once met Johnny Borrell in Donaghadee (a lie but the Indie Kid will back me up because he thinks it's true).

For some reason Sexy Carlos was there and he was walking around bare chested with the words "Who do I trust? I trust me!" scrawled across his chest in red lipstick. A thing Rock and Roll Stephen told me he'd stolen from the Manic Street Preachers, I thought it was Scarface.

I got talking to this girl at the punch bowl who told me that she was going to comit suicide when she turned twenty one. I asked her what age she was and she said nineteen. I told her that she should extend it to twenty five because after school and uni there's a lot of fun to be had lying around on the dole playing computer games and smoking crack (if that's your thing, it's not mine any more).

She told me that what I'd just said was profound. I smiled like a dog who's just realised it can lick it's own balls. I pretty much talked to her the rest of the night giving out half-wisdoms which she pretty much lapped up like a cat who'd been left out a bowl of milk by people who aren't it's owners.

Rock and Roll Stephen nearly spoiled it by bringing out a guitar and shouting:

"Who says Pete Doherty can't come to Belfast. Rock and Roll Stephen brings Pete Doherty right here!"

Then he started playing some Pete Doherty but no one really listened. I was glad when he fucked off home in tears.

Art School Confidential

The party was a strange affair. Hot Baby Roy was on his best behaviour and have even had a wash (not just himself, his clothes!).
I don't know much about art beyond a few chats with Betty Blue, and even then I only know some weird facts (they're the only ones that stick in my head).

My nerves got the better of me and I got fairly pished early on. Some guy sat talking to me about how he wanted his house covered in Mother of Bowling Ball just like his electric rock and roll grunge guitar. And how he doesn't like that his girlfriend likes to hang out with asshole graffiti guys down at Pilot St. I told him that graffiti was cooler than mother of bowling ball any day of the fucking week. Then I went to the toilet and boked all over the show. Nasty as fuck. I fell asleep hugging the bowl.

I woke up at about midnight with someone banging at the door telling me that they needed to pish. I told them to find a beer can. They shouted back.

"I can't, I'm a gurl."

In one of those shit American accents people over here pick up watching shite like Gilmore Girls and Party of Five.

I wondered out of the bathroom and found a sofa to sleep on. I woke up to find this guy putting make up on my face. I told him if he was still here when I came back from washing my face he was in a lot of trouble.

As it was, the girl who wanted a pish had fallen asleep too, (she must have been hugging the bowl too). She came out looking dazed. As it turned out she loved the make up and said (this is verbatim):

"I like to go a little trans-gender too sometimes."

Then I stuck the lips on her. Rock on.

It was a fucking great party.