Fuck George W. Bush (still!)

I'm sitting with a pish hangover after being woken up by my barking dog at 8:00. I took him for a wee walk and fed him and now I can't get back to sleep.

I got a postcard from Rock and Roll Stephen (who's doing quite well for himself in Derry from what I've heard [not just what he says]), it said: Fuck George W Bush. That wasn't the design of it, Rock and Roll Stephen wrote that on it. Some people still hate that guy (Bush, not Rock and Roll Stephen) for what he did.

I think some people leave a legacy behind them that make people want to boke every time someone brings them up in a conversation. Angry people talk a lot about them just because it gives them an excuse to be angry. It must be a horrible feeling.

I didn't read the rest of the postcard. I will later when I'm not so tired any more. I'm going to have some crunchy nut cornflakes and go back to bed.

Not So Happy Birthday Hot Baby Roy

Yesterday was Hot Baby Roy's party. He was so excited and I'd been sitting with my fingers crossed that someone was going to show. I'd managed to get a crisis loan off the dole and I bought him a Mr T keyring and a Hollyoaks Girls calender that had been reduced to 50p because it was half defunct.

Hot Baby Roy was all talking about the presents he was going to get and about how he'd put a note through the leotard girls' letterbox saying they were very welcome but Rock and Roll Stephen wasn't.

I sat watching the clock crossing my fingers so tight I left big purple tracks in them. A few taxis pulled up in the street and I thought it was going to get a bit easier but the people who got out went next door. I couldn't believe the leotard girls were throwing a party on the same night like they were trying to say fuck you to Hot Baby Roy. The longer we sat the more people went next door and no one came near us. Then at about half nine. Hot Baby Roy started to drink the bottle of vodka Nanny Boo Boo sent, and then he started to cry.

"Nobody came," he kept saying. And he started hugging Battle Cat and crying even more. "I want friends," he said.

I felt bad for him. Nobody came, not even just to pop in and say happy birthday. He didn't even get a text. He started to say that he thought moving in with me was going to be the start of him having a social life and that when he started to make friends with the leotard girls he thought maybe he'd get a girlfriend but now it was his birthday he saw that people just were having a laugh at him and he was going to go next door with a baseball bat and show mutherfuckers what time it was.

I tried to talk to him to calm him down, I told him that me and him should go out for the night, that I was his friend and that I wanted him to have a happy birthday.

He was a sorry mess by the time we hit the city. He was plastered and boked a few times on our way there. I don't know how we managed to get in anywhere.

We ended up in Lavery's back bar swinging and dancing like wild apes. No one wanted to kiss or cuddle us and we ended up sitting down for most of the night. I bought Hot Baby Roy a few pints and he fell asleep. I walked about looking for someone to talk to and ended up boking in the bogs for a wee bit. Then when I came back to him he was away. I looked for him and found him sitting talking to another wee ginger girl. She and him had twisted up faces like they were commiserating each other on not having things a bit more like they'd like them.

I left him to it, hoping that he'd pull her. He's still in bed, that or he didn't come home. I'm going for a long walk to ease my hangover.

Touching the Bowl

I've a right fucking hangover after all that cake and wine. My guts feel like chewing gum and my shite's coming out like toothpaste. Fucking harsh. I got some more booze in me to nip the bastard before it starts. My metaller brother sent me a text today. Not an apology, just a "what you been up to with yourself dude" thing.

Anyways, hangovers are weird because I didn't feel so pished last night after I came home but Fabian Wildman says I fed a whole packet of sausages to Battle Cat and tried to get him to run down the street like in cartoons. I do remember doing this but it didn't look as funny as I thought it would have.

Anyway I've got to go for a job interview later so I'm going to have to clean myself up. Wish me luck.