Tonight Was a Disaster/ Dreams of Spandex are So Very Far Away

So me and The Punchbowl Girl went to this party on Monday night. I was all set to be there acting all cool and saying "this is my girlfriend"/ "have you met my girlfriend"/ "my girlfriend likes that film but I haven't seen it yet" (you get the idea).

On walking in I was surprised to find that I didn't know anyone. It was full of new students at Queens who were out partying for their freshers week. This was great because I could be that guy with a girlfriend (I've had girlfriends before, loads but if you've been following this blog long you'll know I've had a dry run).

Anyway I'm having a good time and The Punchbowl Girl is having a great time and she's telling me this really funny story about getting fired and how she had phoned the work sickline the week before and left a message giving a real sob sob excuse but didn't press the hang up button on her mobile and was dancing around her room singing a song about how she wasn't going to work with a hangover and it was a shit job anyway before she realised it was still recording. Then she left another message saying it was a joke and she'd be in for her shift.

She'd just finished when My Protege walked into the room.

"Tuesday Kid, I haven't seen you in ages, what's the craic?" he said.
I didn't get a chance to answer him before his mate went:

"That's that gay fucker who wears women's swimsuits. He's so gay!"

My Protege elbowed him in the ribs and said, "he's not gay he's a transvestite. What he does in private is his own business."

Then his mate started some rant all about how his da used to wear his mum's clothes and she split up with him because he was a weirdo and he's in jail now.

"You're da's in jail for kicking two blokes fuck in," My Protege said. "That's as macho as you get."

Everyone was staring at me by this stage and probably trying to picture me in the Baywatch outfit. Including The Punchbowl Girl who asked if I did.

I said no and that the only swimsuit I wore was a pair of Speedos. My Protege tried to fix things more by  telling stories about how I'd been a great influence on him and taught him how to be a man. Everyone listening knew fine rightly that the spandex stories were true.

I went to the toilet and thought about how I'm going to find that wee prick down Stranmillis and turn his ass into toast. I went back into the party and told The Punchbowl Girl that I'd a headache and I was going to go home because I've barely drank anything and I'd boked my ring up in the bogs. She knew I was making an excuse but she said she'd text me. She has but I haven't replied yet.

Fuck this.

How Do You Meet Justin Bieber

I told Hot Baby Roy yesterday about my meeting with Clarence Pishflap. He said that Hot Firey Love Lady's met Clarence already and thinks he's a pishflap. He'd been round her house because he knows Mother of Bowling Ball.

I suppose it makes sense because I keep forgetting how everyone in Belfast knows everyone else. The only reason I met Mother of Bowling Ball is because he was at a party with Betty Blue's mates. And Clarence hangs around with The Unicorn Girl, and Betty Blue said he used to go out with Sandcastles.

Hot Baby Roy laughed his hole off when I said this. He said their relationship was little more than a horny girl fed up with frozen cucumbers. He had shagged her a few times and told her he wanted a relationship. Sandcastles couldn't be arsed with his whining so she said yes but then one time Clarence took him round to her house it was awkward as fuck. They barely spoke for over an hour. Then Clarence went to the toilet and she started asking him if he liked her legs. He said that he didn't want to insult her so he said yes. Then she told him that he could rub them if he wanted, and to hang around after Clarence left. Hot Baby Roy thought he was going to get his hole but Clarence had been on the other side of the door listening to the whole thing. He burst in all Hercule Poirot. Aha!

And that's why they're not friends anymore.

I asked him how he met Clarence. He said he'd thrown a party at his a few years ago when he lived with his parents. He invited a load of people he didn't really know because the object of the party was for him to make new buddies. He was having a wild time when the party started swinging but because of all the booze he'd drank he needed to have a big pish. So when he went to drain cyclops in the bog he heard funny noises coming from his parent's room.

He went in and found Clarence rummaging through his mum's underwear drawer. He turned around all startled.

"I'm not wanking," Clarence shouted.

Then they became friends.

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?

No Party for Me, I Still Go and Fuck Myself

I didn't go to work today, not because I'm bad, or I'm depressed but because the Leotard Girls had a party last night and kept me awake all fucking night long? On a Tuesday? My day? It was all to entice Hot Baby Roy into their lair of gyrating spandex. He didn't go for it. He wasn't here. I nearly went round in his place to say I'd do but no I couldn't be arsed. It spilled out into the street in the morning and someone called the cops.

I don't know who did and I don't approve on principle but I'm glad they did. I don't have it in me any more to go wielding baseball bats at tramps.

I called in sick and slept til it was too hot and I was stuck to the bedsheets with my sweat (this is supposed to sound sexy - I've just realised it doesn't).

Songs About "The Smoker"

I bumped into Rock and Roll Stephen on my way to work today. He was talking about how he was trying to start up a band, and it turns out that the Indie Kid on my street is the lead guitarist and song writer. He's writing songs about this character who he calls "The Smoker" and the smoker doesn't do what society expects him to do he just sits there and smokes and thinks, that's where he gets one up on society because he thinks more. Apparently it's heavily implied but never exactly stated if "The Smoker" smokes tobacco, drugs or "something different". He was getting really excited about it, and he said they were going to a party next weekend and it was fancy dress and get this they'd gotten themselves all kitted out so they were going as Pete and Carl. I told them they'd more chance of pulling off Pete and Dud, or just Dud and Dud, but he didn't find this funny. He asked who would want to go as two Dudley Moores? And I told him it was a pun on how a dud is something that doesn't work.

Speaking of which I think they won't look so bad next to Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo doing the Anfield Rap but sure the shitness of some people is often obscured by the shitness of someone else.

Why can't my team win for a change.

A Visit From The Raven Princess Spandex

It seems that talking Battle Cat for a walk on a pish freezing cold night and doing some good deeds along the way have made me sick. I'm lying in bed supping hot whiskey and milky broth.

The Raven Princess spandex was round and even though she wasn't here to see me it made me feel good having a sexy woman in the house while I was sick. Actually, I was a bit annoyed, why didn't she even stick her head upstairs and say hello, or aw sorry you're poorly? Why?

It's not really fair. If I'd have been at that party I'd have kung-fu flipped all the baddies out the window but all Hot Baby Roy has to do is get bitch slapped and he's someone girls sit round thinking about while listening to Mariah Carey. This isn't fair.

She was laughing and giggling away with him downstairs, and then he went up into his room and had a wank. I could hear it jingling.

I'm going to sleep for a bit.

Things better start looking up soon.

My Cool Plans Backfire

Wino Jo was in a terrible state this morning. When I came down the stairs he was sitting shaking and drinking a big mug of black coffee.

"I think I'm back on the drink," he said.

"Why's that?" I said looking into his battered tear stained face.

"I've taken a terrible kicking, I must have been pished as fuck last night. I don't remember a thing."

I felt terrible. The kicking was meant to put him in his place, not make him think he's having blackouts.

It's the The Raven Princess Spandex and Princess Cheetara's party tonight and now I can't bring Wino Jo and I can't leave him alone because he was telling me he was going to go and down a bottle of Joop.

Now I'm going to have to let Hot Baby Roy go on his own and fuck things up for us.

Texas Hold'em Night

Today I'm feeling better, I didn't mind being sick yesterday because it just pissed down all day. I just sat in bed with my lemsips and played poker on facebook . I didn't realise I was so ruthless, I play a hot handed cut throat style. Fast and loose, that's my style. I don't even watch the cards. I just watch the other players. I bet aggressively in an attempt to win big, and if I lose? So what? The next big win is never far away. I'm glad though, sometimes, that it's not real money I'm playing with.

Fabian Wildman was telling me about the one's at the party. Betty Blue is going to bring a few of them over here some night soon and we'll have another party and I can show them that I'm really cool.

He said Betty Blue didn't know who the girl was (the gurl that is). He asked if I was sure I hadn't imagined her. I told him no, and asked how dare he say that about me.

He said that I did used to sit and have conversations with a daemon that wasn't really there. I told him that our daemons are always there and that one in particular has a seat in Stormont and Westminster, but I didn't want to talk about him.

The party wasn't as cool as I'd thought

Turns out after thinking I had rock and rolled all night and been super cool that people at the party are calling me a spide. It's all because I threatened to hit that guy who was drawing on my face. Now here's what happened in detail:

I wake up on the couch,

dickhead is drawing on my face.

I grab him by the front of his shirt and put my fist up close to his face.

I say: "If you're still here when I get back from washing my face, there will be trouble."

I leave to go and wash my face and you know the rest about meeting the cool gurl.

Now Betty Blue told us last night that this is the way it's being told by some of the dicks at the party.

That I punched the guy in the face and chipped his tooth. Then I gave him a chinese burn on the leg and he's been walking with a limp ever since.

What a gang of mutherfuckers.

Betty Blue says that she knows I didn't hit him but that the guy is well liked as a practical joker and often gets into bad situations when pissed and that his mates are very protective of him. Fabian Wildman said to me that it's a shame because he knew I was excited about how cool the party had been but violence is the one thing that lot can't tolerate. They've learned other ways of fucking people over. Do it to each other regularly.

Turns out Hot Baby Roy got on great by using the "Ghost" line:

Namely, he says that Ghost is his favourite movie because he loves the bit where they fanny around with the pottery. Liar.

Battle Cat is Home!!!!!

So I got a wee email this morning from some woman out Stranmillis. I was so excited I nearly pished myself. The title said "I Think I Have Your Dog".

She lived out near the Lagan Meadows and said Battle Cat wondered into her garden last Sunday night and she's had him all week. She said all these lovely things about him in her email and it seems he's been on his best behaviour. Good boy!

She said she saw my gumtree ad. so a big thank you to gumtree for providing such a useful service.

Me and Fabian Wildman were going to go round but he's looking a bit weird because he's been smoking a bit too much crack and not sleeping recently. I didn't want to scare the woman so I just went myself.

It struck me just as I reached the house that maybe it wasn't Battle Cat but some other mutt and I had to pause a wee minute and gather my thoughts. Then I rapt on the door.

This wee old lady, who must have been about seventy came to the door and invited me in. She'd these big glasses which looked like she'd tapped two magnifying glasses together.

She took me through the house out into her garden and there he was, my wee puppy dog all wagging his tail and happy to see me. He jumped up on me and she's been feeding him well because he nearly knocked me flying. I was so happy to see him I started talking to him in that half baby speak that I only do when other people aren't around.

She gave me a cup of tea and some really nice lemon buns with white icing that she said she'd made herself. I offered her some money for all the food she's given Battle Cat but she says she didn't want anything. She said she liked having him and that he'd been good company for her.

I told her I was throwing a party tonight at mine for all the people who helped look for Battle Cat and would she like to come as guest of honour? She said that would be great that she hasn't been to a good party in ages.

So that's it settled. I took Battle Cat home with me, blabbing away to him all the way up the road. Fabian Wildman was nearly in tears when he saw him. It was dead sweet.

So now we've got to prepare for the party. I just realised that Nanny Boo Boo (the oul lady's name) might get a bit freaked out hanging with all the sweaty metallers and Fabian Wildman and his crack pipe, he said he'd have a good smoke before anyone came round and that would do him til they went home. I wish he'd stop it all together but for now I'm just glad to have my puppy back!

Revenge on the Metallers

I still haven't calmed down about not being invited to the house party. So much so that last night I decided I couldn't take it any more. So I broke in next door and spat all over the Sweaty Metallers while they slept. I gave them both the fingers and went downstairs and helped myself to tea and toast that I knew they would want for their breakfast.

Then I went back round to my house and celebrated by sniffing some felt tips. It was in the middle of this that I realised that they didn't wash and probably wouldn't notice I'd spat all over them. So I went back round and wrote "I spat on you" all over their mirrors and "heavy metal is devil music".

That will teach them.

Congratulations Fabian Wildman

Fabian Wildman found out today that he's got the job he applied for, pretty cool. We had a celebratory bottle of Vodka last night and he bought Battle Cat some dog treats. He made me promise not to say the name of the shop on here, so I won't. He also said if anyone works out who he is from this blog he'll let you away with shoplifting (to be honest I think he'll let you away anyway, so go for it).

Betty Blue and Hot Baby Roy came round and we had a right oul knees up. Well done Fabian. I bought him a new Zentai to celebrate, but it was really an excuse to get myself another leotard - leopard skin this time. Yeah!

1 Day Off Crack

I couldn't sleep last night, I think I managed to drift off for twenty minutes here and there but nothing like proper sleep. Anyways I heard Fabian Wildman take Battle Cat for a walk and when he came back he called me down to the kitchen.

"Okay so It's been 24 hours since your last smoke of crack," he said. "So me and Battle Cat have got you a cake for your one day anniversary."

"Thanks," I said, I was a bit overwhelmed because I really wasn't expecting this.

"You see when you've done a week we'll have another, then every month, then so on. You know."

"Aw I already owe you a day, week and month one," I said.

"Never worry," he said. "Let's eat cake."

"Woof!" said Battle Cat.

We were tucking into some cream cake when there was a knock on the door.

Fabian went to answer it. I heard him talking to Fat Rab and Hooka. They sounded angry. They were shouting about the police.

Fabian invited them in.

"There's some people here to see you," he said.

"That wee indie wanker across the street videoed you on his mobile not only pouring milk through our door, but pissing in it too."

I shrugged.

"You'd need to do better than that," Fat Rab said. "Unless you want to wake up some night to some of our occult mates kicking your door in."

"Tuesday Kid here is celebrating giving up crack," Fabian Wildman said. "He did a lot of stuff on crack that he can't remember, so if he can't remember it, everyone else should forget it."

I looked at Hooka but there was nothing soft in the way she looked at me.

"We're going to the fucking police," Fat Rab said all smug. "Then we'll set the lads on you."

"Fine, we'll stab the pair of you," Fabian said.

Hooka gave a wee sound like she was scared, and Fat Rab tried to look like he wasn't scared but it was obvious he hadn't expected Fabian's answer.

"It's okay," Fabian said. "We won't kill you. But we'll stab some of your satanist mates too, especially the Death Owl. I know none of you dicks can fight for fuck."

Fat Rab and Hooka just stood there looking stunned.

"Right now if you've said your piece, fuck off," Fabian said motioning at the door.

"We're gonna party down, they can go fuck themselves," he said taking a bit mouthful of cake.

The Hallowe'en party was balls.

It started well, with lots of slam dancing and drinking beer and everyone having good crack (not the sort I smoke in my pipe, he he). I was getting on well with Hooka and it looked like things were really going my way as we were slow dancing to Evanescence. All of a sudden Fat Rab and The Death Owl came flying in with a big "SURPRISE!" just as I was sticking the lips on Hooka.

They fucking went mental, with her screaming about how I was a sexist "just cause a woman's being nice to you blah blah blah" and Fat Rab screaming about curses and Satan. The Death Owl was wabbing it about in the background like he was doing an incantation.

Turns out the wankers got out on remand and wanted to surprise everyone.

Firstly I'd told The Death Owl to cut that shit out or I'd set more than his toenails on fire. Then I told Fat Rab that I'd met Daemons while smoking crack and wasn't scared of them, so he could do his worst. Then I looked at Hooka. She looked angry but her expression softened and she looked like she might cry. I just shrugged and walked out of the party.

They started it all up again with Rod Stewart's Baby Jane. How apt? I turned to see Hooka and Fat Rab kissing. I went home and burst into tears.