Mother of Bowling Ball is in for The Wildest Kicking After I Finish Work

Today in work I realised I'm the only one left from when I started. The Punchbowl Girl was fired, Betty Blue is back at Uni, even Kissy Boy has fucked off.

I just sit at my desk and try to pass the time being ruder to rude customers.

Funnily enough today I was on the phone to a particularly rude bastard who I call Mother of Bowling Ball. He didn't recognise my voice and started screaming about how our customer service was crap and how he'd come down to the call centre and bust our skulls. I politely calmed him down and talked him through everything I was going to fix on his account (none of which I did - he's so fucking screwed when his next bill comes in).

At the end of the call he slammed the phone down after making a passing dig about how he'd better not have to call us back. I took out a piece of paper and scribbled down his address. I'll be making a wee visit to him after work just to see if he wants to talk tough then.

Get ready for some kung-fu.

How to Find a Job Quickly

The Punchbowl Girl was round mine last night and no I'm not going into details, other than to say that I had to find a place to hide my spandex collection because I think it's a bit early days for her to find that out. I think spandex isn't so grunge, more 80s hair metal.

                               Spandex - It's about how it feels.

This morning she had a phonecall from the agency saying that she wasn't to go into work today. I had the day off too so I took her into Belfast to cheer her up.

She says she's lucky because she's going to have enough for this month's rent so she'll have a few weeks to find a new job. She says there's an agency she can get some temp bar work with.

I like her attitude, she sounds like one of those people who can graft when they need to. Something I can't/don't do but I admire it in others.

I put my foot in my mouth again

The Punchbowl Girl was in work today (she wasn't in yesterday). She didn't sit beside me. She sat on the other side of the room. I thought I'd better have it out with her.

At break I asked her if I could have a word and me and her went out into the corridor.

"So is there something up?" I asked her.

She shrugged.

"It's just you've been acting distant since last week. What happened to us having sex and fun?"

"I never said we'd stopped it."

"Oh, so is everything okay with us?"

"What do you mean us? I thought you wanted my number so you could ask me out? But you didn't."

"Do you want to go to cheapo Tuesday's at the cinema this evening?"

"Forget it," she said walking away.

At the time I didn't know what I'd done but now reading it back as I type I realised I was an asshole. Anyone any good date suggestions in Belfast? I don't mind splashing the cash, especially because I think she thinks I think she's a cheap date.

Work is Making me a Mutherfucker

I've been all stressed out because of work. Sex with The Punchbowl Girl helps out but I'd like to get back to when I have time off wandering about Belfast having fun and doing the odd bit of shoplifting.

I was talking to Hot Firey Love Lady when her and Hot Baby Roy were sitting downstairs indulging in some pre-pseudo-incest romance food (a nice meal on the sofa watching Jo get evicted from Big Brother to the rest of you).

She was saying that she liked her work and she was being all positive about the mutherfuckers on Big Brother (I haven't really been watching it but I like the graffiti dude). I think the difference in our points of view comes from work. I like drawing a wage but the difference between me and her is that she manages a cafe, so she has a bit of authority but more than that when people come into her cafe they're there to get something they want and generally have a nice time relaxing. When people call the call centre they're calling to scream mutherfucker at me (which they often do).

It's getting so that I think people are at heart wankers, she sees people as nice because when they come into her work they're nice.

Getting Paid for Having Fun

So the results of the poll are in. 68% of you voted for me to use my wee doggy to meet other sexy dog walkers. This is a good plan as the rest all involved some form of danger (potentially life threatening danger).

I was going to implement it this evening. I was even sitting at work thinking about what route me and Battle Cat could take when The Punchbowl Girl came up to me. She had Betty Blue's book on her and was talking all about how she couldn't wait to get started on it. It was gonna be so cool. She was going to go home and stick on some grunge and hit the books, or book.

I chatted with her a wee bit. I was thinking that I should start getting to know her and thinking about her as a person and not just someone I want to shag. When she said to me:

"Don't go back to work straight after break."

She told me to follow her and she led me into the disabled toilets where we humped like Puffing Billy.

We came back to work a whole twenty minutes late but I wasn't bothered about that. It was great to be getting paid for humping. A whole £1.94 (rounding up) but what happened was worth so much more.

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?

Sent Home From Work

Today before work I needed some dutch courage so I downed a whole bottle of fizzy pink champaigne in the bath. It felt great and I marched off to work telling myself that I didn't give two flying monkey's fucks about what happened with Kissy Boy and Betty Blue. I believed it too, until I walked out on the floor and saw the two of them sitting beside each other (or in adjacent booths). They were having a laugh and giggling. They saw me and waved me over, I waved back but I didn't go. I went and sat at the other side of the room from them.

Three phonecalls in I couldn't take it any longer, I could feel the alcohol climbing up my throat. Wee bits of sick in my mouth, I swallowed them down but they just came back up bigger. I started to cry.

I ran down the corridor to the disabled bogs, which were thankfully empty and boked all over the place. I sat on the toilet seat and fell asleep. I only slept about ten minutes but it was enough to make me feel hungover.

I cleaned the place up as best I could and went back to the floor.

My supervisor asked me if I was alright and I mumbled something about not being well enough to come back to work, she was really sympathetic and said I should go home and get better, they'd pay me for the day.

I can't believe how nice she was, in the last call centre I worked in that would have been it over for me.

I walked home wondering if it was a good idea to open that second bottle of pink champaigne in the fridge.

Maybe not.

Positive Thinking For Work

Back in work and I'm fully charged to kick corporate ass, I'm gonna make the deals, bust the ass that needs busted for me to get that promotion I'm gonna drag the company to its knees. It's gonna knee for me.

Or some such balls, All my previous enthusiasm is gone. I spoke to Betty Blue at break and I asked her if she was calling me a stalker. She said no that she was talking about Clarence Pishflap who had went out with Sandcastles and was now stalking The Unicorn Girl. I told her that I hated Clarence Pishflap and that him and that dick Mother of Bowling Ball were going to get kickings if they tried to hit Hot Baby Roy, Betty Blue said that she remembered Hot Baby Roy and she always thought he was a bit creepy too. I told her that Hot Baby Roy had a girlfriend and they were going great and that he nice now and he was very nice to Battle Cat.


"Aw, you're wee dog," she shouted. "How's he doing these days? He was so cute."
"He great, still cute, but bigger now, still not biting people."

She laughed at that, I wanted to say something about Fabian Wildman and how he was a dick for what he did to her, but I couldn't it was too awkward over egg sandwiches.

How to Avoid The Mess That Is Orangefest

That's me off on the first wee holiday to meself that I've had in donkeys (years - yes it's been years - unless you count going to stay with my brother in Larne, which I don't).

I found out that I'd accrued a few days holiday so I'm getting paid for my wee fucking off. It's gonna be great, just a wee jaunt down south to get the Twelfth out of the way. I went last year and to be honest Orangefest was a big nothing.

I thought I should tell you something about work because I don't much. It's a different place from the last call centre. Work is easier but a bit more boring because of it. Even Little My and Kissy Boy who were in the last place seem different, everyone's a little more asleep. Betty Blue just sits in the canteen and reads. She was reading a book today called The Collector I asked her what it's about and she said a friend of an ex-boyfriend. I hope that wasn't a dig at me. Anyone read it? I haven't the balls to google it incase it was an insult, be gentle but tell me. I want to know.

Nick Griffin is a Fat Wanker

We're on the phones now and it's amazing how it all comes so naturally. Mind is numb and days are set to drift pass with occasional "craic" how do people go from these jobs to ones they like? What do I like?

I'm not saying I've gone back to what I was at the end of the last call centre. I just know it's coming off in the distance.

There's a work do tomorrow night and I'm going because Hot Baby Roy has asked me ever so nicely if he can have the downstairs to himself tomorrow night because he wants to cook Gingerella a meal. All the time I've lived with him he's burnt toast and over filled Pot Noodles. I told him to go online and get some recipes and good luck with it.

On my way home from work today I found a piece of paper lying folded on the ground. When I read it it was the following:

C                  D                G
All the guys I lived with at Uni
D                   C
Not one had a bird I'd rate
Em            G
No fucking way

Then there's a bit scribbled out that says:

Do you have a daughter
Do you have a daughter for me.

And a question mark after it. It's not scribbled out though. I think the letters above the sentences are music. Anyone play any instruments?

Drinking in the Morning

Today I had a little walk down memory lane when I sat in the bath with a bottle of pink champaigne getting ready for work. It hit me a lot harder than I remember it doing and I went into my room and boked in the bin. Talk about bad timing. If I'd just needed to do it when I was in the bathroom I could have done it in the bog and flushed it away.

I had to carry the stinking mess downstairs in a carrier bag to chuck it in the bin. I was met by Hot Baby Roy and Battle Cat.
"Where's Gingerella?" I asked.
"I don't think you should be calling her that. She should be called something like Hot Firey Love Lady."
"Maybe," I shrugged. "Where is she?"
"She's away back to her house they're having a meeting with the landlord about Mother of Bowling Ball. Hot Firey Love Lady is going to get him kicked out of the house. None of the other housemates like him so he'll get his mutherfucker."
"You know if you'd give me her address I'd like to go and give him a severe beating for you."
"I want to try it her way first," he said. "You can't always be there for scraps and I'm a lover, not a fighter."

I felt him tick something inside himself off from a very big long list of moments he's wanted to have in his life.

"That's true," I said just to underline it for him.

I hope Gingerella does get Mother of Bowling Ball kicked out then I can fight him on the streets.

Hot Baby Roy made me drink some strong black coffee before I went to work. He said it would sober me up but it didn't. It just left me still drunk and jittery and I was all giggling away to myself about nothing as I walked to work. I'm now sitting in the canteen feeling my guts slowly disolve into chewing gum. My poor bowels.

Starting a New Job

The new job wasn't as big a shock as the last time, or not in the same way. First off Kissy Boy is in my training group and Little My is already on the floor. I'm sure there's more from the last place but the biggest shock for me was that Fabian Wildman's old girlfriend Betty Blue was there too.

We did that awkward thing like neither of us spoke to each other but we didn't give each other dirty looks it was like we were both doing that "if I pretend I don't recognise them they might pretend they don't recognise me". We'll see, if any of her mates that I've bumped into are anything to go by she hates my fucking guts by proxy. It's not fair.

Training is easy peasy and we're not in the business of riping anyone off! Yeow!

I Start Work On Monday!

I got the job. I can't believe how easy and straightforward it all was. I start Monday. There's two weeks training and then we hit the floor. The only problem is I need to wear a shirt and tie, so I'm off for a nice day's shoplifting tomorrow. Touch me!

A Good Job Interview

I went to my job interview today. It was strangely uneventful. The guy interviewing me was pretty nice. He offered me a tea or a coffee at the start and when it turned out the coffee pot was empty he took me up to the canteen to get one.

The call centre seems chilled out enough. He said that they expect you to get your targets but if you're coming close then they don't mind you having a bit of craic with each other.

I've heard this talk before so I'm not swallowing it yet. I will say that I'm not doing outbound sales again so already it seems a better deal.

I'll find out if I have it tomorrow. Cross your fingers please.

Hot Baby Roy is still off at Gingerella's. It gives me space to wear my drag but it can get a bit lonely. Battle Cat is a great listener but a shit conversationalist.

Cross Dressing Cheers Me Up

So Hot Baby Roy is off to Gingerella's (I assume) so they can make a lovely love next there for a few days. They bought some food for their lovers breakfast while I was asleep and when I got up they had a wee note on the fridge saying help myself. I'd have helped myself anyway. Nice stuff, cinnamon and raisin bagels and cream cheese.

Battle Cat was all licking his lips so I gave him one too. Then with the house to myself I pulled on some tights and a leotard and watched crap daytime TV. The Girl That Stole The Eiffel Tower was talking on Facebook about buying velvet leggings. I'd like to know where to buy a velvet catsuit I'd get some serious carpet burn out of that thing. It'd be so worth it.

Then while I was all writhing around my phone went. An agency I registered with ages ago has me lined up for a job interview for tomorrow. It's in a shitty call centre and I remember how bad I got last time I was in one of those places but it's better than being lonely and skint. At least in there I'll meet people I can either have a laugh with or at and it'll get me money for my velvet catsuit.

Back to the Bad Old Dole

I slept all day apart from waking up occasionally to boke or cough up nasty green shit (not so much red so yey). Anyway it finally hit home about an hour ago that I'm going to be back on the dole again and it was no fun before. Being on the dole and working shit jobs are really two sides of the same coin, basically having no money and having shitheads hassle you about bollocks. Is there any way out of the cycle?

Sometimes I think I should just quit Belfast and go live in the countryside and all that but it'd probably end up being like one of those bad movies about how the city fella moves to the country and he thinks the culchie folk are dicks and they think he's the dick but they both end up learning that they each know stuff the other doesn't - bollocks. I'd go back on the crack in no time and end up running bollock naked through the mountains killing fish with a homemade bow and arrow.

That or I could go back to live in Larne but that's where old people go to catch arthritis and throw their marbles in the sea. No that's not for me.

Back on the Dole and Dreams of Cheryl Cole

Sitting shivering at my desk yesterday and coughing so much I had to keep putting customers on hold, London Girl came over and said that I was spending an unacceptable amount of time on calls. I told her all about my cough and she said that she had noticed how much I'd been spitting in the bin and how this was unacceptable too.

I turned to my screen and spat on it a nice big green and red phlegm bomb.

She walked away all startled and Little My said "yer pure fucked naw."

Then a call came through on my phone and I said "You're not getting your money back," and hung up.

I braced myself as I saw Truffle Shuffle and The Huffy Tortoise coming waltzing across the floor with London Girl all startled and teary eyed.

The Huffy Tortoise waved his fingers at me to come here, I waved two fingers back at him to go away.

Then they said that I was to hand over my security pass and leave the building. I repeated my two fingered gesture and Truffle Shuffle grabbed my top.

"I told him if he didn't get his hands off me he'd be getting sued like the fat squaddie mutherfucker that he was."

The trio waltzed away again like a gang of mutherfuckers and five minutes later someone from HR came in and told me that I needed to leave or they'd be sending security to shift me.

I asked her when was I getting this months money and she said that I'd be paid on the normal date.

I stood up and went to make a rousing speech about how call centres are the modern day work factories that killed Victorian children but instead of us losing arms or legs these places took our souls! But I coughed and boked my ring up and slid all across the floor on it before these burly security guards ran into the room and grabbed me and fucked me out of there.

I stood out on the street and shouted that I'd be back with a snooker cue to fuck them up but when I got home I felt relieved that I was no longer in work and fell asleep having a sly wank to Cheryl Cole at the Brits, she'll be back on the market soon after Ashley has been exposed as a cheating scumbag. She wasn't wearing her wedding ring, maybe I could put one there.

How to Make The Tastiest Pancakes

This morning I was coughing up chunks of green stuff. It's all the walking about drunk in the cold, Wino Jo says, he says he's an expert in this stuff. It seems his being back on the drink was a temporary thing as he's not been drunk since that night.

There were streaks of red in the coughed stuff and I'm not sure if it's blood or colouring from the pink champaigne. Either way none of the others in the house seemed too bothered and I just struggled out of bed and made my way to work via the off-licence and custom house square. I'd hoped that some pink champaigne would give me strength to get through the day but I've been sitting shivering in the disabled bogs since I came in.

No fucking pancakes. Book Boy says it's just a commercial holiday and that the marketting ploy that starts every year after Valentines Day is sickening. He was near in tears when he said it but I think that's because he doesn't have a sweetheart or anyone to make him pancakes either.

Captain Cool Bastard Doesn't Live up to his Name

Today it's nice and bright and I'm on late shift so I'm a wee bit happier about everything, I've sent off a load of job applications and though they're for shit jobs I'm sure the change of scenery will be nice, so yeah I'm being all upbeat and possitive and part of that is because I've a new person in my life to look down on:

Captain Cool Bastard.

I think Captain Cool Bastard thought up the Captain Cool part of his name himself. He's been telling stories since I got in at 11. They've all consisted of fights he's won and girls he's fucked. None of them are from Belfast even though he's lived here his whole life (as Book Boy managed to worm out of him). But by all accounts he's fucked more than Cassanova and there's sure to be loads of Captain Cool Bastard Bastards running around Dublin, Drogheda, Dundalk, and anywhere else the Dublin Airport Bus stops at. Captain Cool Bastard says he goes down there once a month at least looking for sex and he always gets it. I sounds seriously more like some sort of rapist confession than anything else but Captain Cool Bastard says it always happens in hot steamy nightclubs like in that Usher song - Love in this Club.

I asked him why he never pulls in Belfast and he says that he likes Exotic foreigners. By this he means Irish Girls.

Fat Mo and Hoors Bastard have already taken a shine to him and the three of them have agreed to go on a rape (sorry pulling) spree at the end of the month.

Three Sisters Who Fell Into The Mountain

I'm wandering about Belfast feeling miserable more and more in my time off, because Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo are huffing with me so it feels like that song that says "it's not my home, it's their home and I'm welcome no more." I think it's by The Smiths.

So I walked down by the city centre and it was all a bit nothing, everyone is all running around feeling cool about not being skint this month. I shouldn't resent them it's just I'm miserable.

I thought that when I got a job things would start to move forward and they haven't. I don't have any friends for work that I hang out with when I'm not working. I spend most of my money sorting out my brother and Hot Baby Roy and the only friend I have that doesn't scrounge off me is Nanny Boo Boo.

Last year when I was going to lots of heavy metal vomit parties was a lot of fun but now no one from that time wants to know me. I remember seeing this troll on a TV show (it was an animation) and the troll was all going on about how he wanted a sweetheart and he asked these girls who came wandering into his cave (the came one by one at different times, but it just so happened they were sisters), the first two said no and so the troll turned them to stone (this may have been a metaphor for what they did to the poor troll's heart) and the last sister said yes, but it was only a trick to fuck the troll up worse. In the end she got her sisters free and the troll turned into a big stone mountain. I know how he feels (metaphorically), still.