Mother of Bowling Ball Is In For the Wildest Kicking of His Life

Hot Baby Roy came home last night covered in blood. He'd been round at Gingerella's and it turns out that Mother of Bowling Ball is her housemate. He hit Hot Baby Roy a dig in the mouth for the whole Rock and Roll Stephen thing. Hot Baby Roy can't fight for shit and took a few digs more trying to get the fuck out of there.

He was in a real state, he looked all embarrased about getting beat up in front of Gingerella and he was crying and he seemed all woozy. I asked him for Gingerella's address because because I was going round to kick every shade of shit I could get out of Mother of Bowling Ball. Hot Baby Roy started to cry harder and said "this always happens me when things start to go right."

Then Gingerella called in at the house. She was crying too and said that she'd just had a big fight with Mother of Bowling Ball (not a physical one) and that he was saying all sorts about Hot Baby Roy that just weren't true like him and me were crack heads and that Hot Baby Roy was a pervert when she knows that he's a really sweet guy. I didn't want to tell her that Mother of Bowling Ball had gotten anything even close to correct so I just asked her if she'd tell me where he was so I could go and teach him not to hit my friends.

She said that she doesn't want that. She wants Hot Baby Roy to go to the police because Mother of Bowling Ball is just a thug. I told her that this was a street fight and the cops don't have a say. She pushed on into the house and said she wanted to take Hot Baby Roy to casualty. He was in a wild state but managed not to cry more and she didn't notice he had been crying because he was covered in blood.

She took a face cloth out of the bathroom and tried to hold it over his face to stop the bleeding. Just watching her help Hot Baby Roy made me realise that I'd been really unfair to her. I asked her if she wanted any help. She said no and that she didn't want any more fighting. This thing needed sorting out properly and not in some violent way. She said that she had no time for violence and that Hot Baby Roy had shown he didn't either by not even trying to fight back.

I didn't want to tell her that he didn't fight back out of pacifism but more fear and his own self-knowledge. I didn't want to so I didn't. And I do want to kick fuck out of Mother of Bowling Ball and I'm so fucking going to.

Sitting Sick on the Sofa

Sitting on the sofa with a big violent dog and a television allows you to take a different perspective on things than you normally do.

Today I observed:

T4 tends to pair white boys with ethnic girls for its presenting teams (I'm sure it's just been one big coincidence).

Stacy Slater killed Archie (shock horror!? Who the fuck was Archie?! I haven't watched Eastenders in years) and she makes Battle Cat try to hump the sofa.

The Canadian Bob Sleigh team had a nasty topple at high speed and headbutt the wall incident that they walked away from unharmed.

Curling is a sport for millies and their mothers (judging by the GB team), and for people who want to say "I brush ice for a living."

Early repeats of Friends remind us that 90s fashion only seemed okay because it came after the 80s.

Bottle of Pink Champaigne for My Lonely Travels

Last night I took my bottle of pink champaigne and went down to the Lagan Meadows, I wandered far, farther than I've gone with Battle Cat, out past Drumbeg.

I was lonely drunk, crying sporadically and shouting out insults because I knew no one could hear me, only the occasional bat flew past my face.

Then the bottle emptied and I knew it was a long walk back to Stranmillis for more, I could hear people down the meadows all the way back, people in the distance laughing, or the odd shout between friends, but all the miles I never met anyone. I never met anyone.

Lemon Bonbons and the Secret of New Moon Cinema

I was in work huffing and stuffing my face with lemon bonbons when Little My asked if she could have one because she thought they tasted so nice.

"Ha! No!" I said shoving four into my mouth at once.

"Why are you being nasty?" she said.

"I didn't start it," I said.

"Tuesday Kid, are you annoyed that you didn't get to go and see New Moon with us?"

"No way," I spat, but a tear rolled down my cheek and gave the game away.

"It is that. We'd have invited you but it was a spur of the moment thing, we were all at the pub after work, and you'd hurried home to see your dog, we all said it was a shame that no one had your number. We even had book boy try to use his big brain to work it out but no luck. Please be friends. If you won't be it's just mean."

"I suppose," I said pushing the bag of lemon bonbons towards her.

"Thanks," she said. "We all thought you seemed a bit hurt yesterday so we'd a wee chat, and keep this a secret, but we're all chipping in when we get our first wage packet to get you a skateboard."

I beemed a big smile and said this was class. I always wanted to be a skateboard dude and I couldn't wait.

I gave her another bonbon and told her to pass them round, among the friends.

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.

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.