British and American Sign Language - Who Knew?

Yesterday I was so bored I tried to learn sign language. I went on some tutorials on youtube and learned the weather but I think it's crap when I meet people and they talk about the weather. It means they've fuck all really to talk about.

So I learned the first verse of Candle in the Wind (The Marilyn Monroe version, not Princess Diana). Then I realised it was in american sign language so I thought fuck that. Then I realised that I didn't know any deaf people so even if I did know sign language I'd still have no one to talk to.

Then I remembered that in Bratz one of them had a deaf friend and then I started to wonder why Hot Baby Roy hasn't called round and the times we hung out he must have been here looking for Fabian Wildman instead of me.

Then the door went.

It was some dick selling raffle tickets. I didn't buy one.

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.

Balls Job Interview

So Battle Cat is still missing and no one has seen him. I'm just fucked off and missing him. Fabian Wildman is really subdued too. I was supposed to go for my job interview last friday but I called and postponed it. They let me have it today. It went fucking awful. I went in and they asked if everything was okay now. I said no my dog was still missing and you should have seen the bastards. The oul dick leading the interview, who looked like the Leader of The Draughts Club Convention went:

"Oh, was that why?"

With this fucking look on his face like someone had just told him he could lick his own balls (not the bowl - there's no way he'd ever lick the bowl). So he started with the interview and I was already well pissed off and offended and I just gave the shortest simplest answers except when they asked me why I hadn't worked in a long time and I just said I'd been travelling and made up all this shit about where I'd been and what I'd done, now I know how Amerigo Vespucci felt. But then he'd two continents named after him, so being a lying bastard is the way to go.

I don't give a fuck if I get the job. I really don't. I'm off down the Lagan Meadows again.

I have cool things on my mind

Sorry I haven't posted much this week. I've been lying in bed wanking away about the yankie doodle dandy. It made me think I've got to go and get me a girlfriend, one who makes me feel cool all the time!

I asked Fabian Wildman if he wanted to go to a rock and roll vomit party where I could meet ladies of questionable age and gender.

He told me he wouldn't because you're no one at those parties if you can't play guitar or bongos and don't have a Prince Albert.

I screamed the house down. This just isn't fair. I've wasted all my time smoking crack and feeling lonely and cool while geeks have been up in their bedrooms learning cool tunes or out getting their willies pierced.

The Sweaty Metallers and Mr Spoon came round to ask me to keep it down but I just stood in the hall screaming and balling my eyes out.

One of the Sweaty Metallers gave me a big hug and said I must be a nice guy and that he liked my scream. He said he wants me to sing for his Sweaty Metal band and that we'd never stop having Rock and Roll Vomit Parties.

This is the beginning of cool times!

Happy St. Patrick's day

Last night being St. Patricks there was a party on at the sweaty metallers' house and the whole street was invited except for me and Fabian Wildman. He doesn't really care though because he's fast turning into some low rent Ian Beale. It's bollocks.

I decided not to go round and trash the party so instead I got me a few cans and went down along the Lagan Meadows for a melancholy day. I hadn't gone far when I spotted a torn page lying on the ground.

Dear Diary

Today most totally rocked. I was at a party and all the gang were there. Julie, Peter, Chris, Cathy and Simon. That total bitch Cathy was there and she had been a total bitch about me pissing myself in her dad's taxi when I was drunk, everyone laughed at me and they weren't really talking much. I didn't like it. Chris threw himself down the stairs in an attempt to look cool (as if) and it almost worked until he broke his wrist (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) and he went to causalty in tears. What a wanker? Eh, Peter and Julie had a big fight and Simon started boking all over himself in the middle of it, we all have a good laugh. I called him a fat wanker but nobody laughed. I wanted to go out and make fun of him but Julie started to cry. Peter left the house in a bad mood and I got to give her a big hug.

I wish he was you, she kept saying. The back of my forearm rubbed against her breast.



there it all ended. I wondered who wrote it. Anyways I almost didn't notice a girl sitting beside me on the bench crying.

I asked her what was wrong and she spoke with an American accent. She said she had come here because she wanted to do St Patricks in Ireland, and when she found cheap deals for Belfast she just thought that was the Protestant name for Dublin. She was staying in the International Hostel on the Donegal Road and she thought it looked nice but that there was rioting outside and all these people spitting at her and saying mean stuff about the Pope. I took her in my arms and rocked her gently. Then I took her back to my house for a hot fuck. She left at 5am to get a plane back to the states. After the hot love I gave her I bet she could just fly there herself on the intensity of an orgasm.