Hot Baby Roy is out now to see Hot Firey Love Lady. She wants to talk about the weekend and what happened. I hope it works out. Hot Baby Roy feels terrible about it but I'm not sure if it's because she's upset with him or because he had his ass kicked for a second time in front of her.
The Punchbowl Girl has asked me out to a party tonight so I can meet some of her mates. I hope it goes okay. I hope there's not some typical Belfast blast from the past waiting to knee me in the proverbial balls.* I hope that in the words of Leonard Cohen (a favourite of The Punchbowl Girl's) "Tonight will be fine, will be fine, will be fine, will be fine."
*In Belfast everyone knows everyone else so when you meet someone new they always know people you know (and don't want to see anymore) or worse people you've fucked over (or fucked up).
Showing posts with label weekend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weekend. Show all posts
Monday, 20 September 2010
Monday, 16 August 2010
Wandering around the Lagan Meadows catching up on my thoughts
I spend my weekends recharging. It's not unusual to see me take off early on a Saturday morning with Battle Cat and a bottle of pink champaigne. I walk for hours, even in the heat. I'm burnt after the weekend, pure balls.
I thought about calling up The Punchbowl Girl but I just needed to recharge. I think I'm what they call an introvert. A few hours blethering away to Battle Cat makes me feel all gangsta again. I sometimes think he gets what I'm saying. Or at least he knows what some of the words mean in doggy speak.
"Woof," said Battle Cat.
I told him all about the Punchbowl Girl and about Fabian Wildman. Battle Cat let a woof out of him. I think he missed Fabian after he moved out and he was glad to see him the other morning.
Fabian left while I was at work and didn't steal anything (I think he stole a big block of cheese but I'll not quibble about that). He sent me a text asking if I wanted to hang out down Nanny Boo Boo's. I haven't replied, and part of me thinks I should because if he's coming off crack then I feel like I should help him out.
He was saying stuff about Betty Blue but I don't think he's sorted out enough to be trying to get her back, not when she's long ago moved on and is with smooth talking Kissy Boy. She's going back to university soon anyway.
I think I need to move on too.
I thought about calling up The Punchbowl Girl but I just needed to recharge. I think I'm what they call an introvert. A few hours blethering away to Battle Cat makes me feel all gangsta again. I sometimes think he gets what I'm saying. Or at least he knows what some of the words mean in doggy speak.
I told him all about the Punchbowl Girl and about Fabian Wildman. Battle Cat let a woof out of him. I think he missed Fabian after he moved out and he was glad to see him the other morning.
Fabian left while I was at work and didn't steal anything (I think he stole a big block of cheese but I'll not quibble about that). He sent me a text asking if I wanted to hang out down Nanny Boo Boo's. I haven't replied, and part of me thinks I should because if he's coming off crack then I feel like I should help him out.
He was saying stuff about Betty Blue but I don't think he's sorted out enough to be trying to get her back, not when she's long ago moved on and is with smooth talking Kissy Boy. She's going back to university soon anyway.
I think I need to move on too.
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Hot Leotard Muscle Party Time
One of the Leotard Girls came round to the house today, it was the one with the black hair. Hot Baby Roy was out walking Battle Cat. I've seen this pattern before. Fabian Wildman used it go get his feet under the table and I just can't feel bad towards someone who's nice to Battle Cat.
Anyway she asked if we would like to come to a party at their house this weekend. I was very happy but with them being sporty they probably know big beefy muscle men and me and Hot Baby Roy (oh fucking dear) are going to have our work cut out pulling them with the beefy boys in town.
I went upstairs to do some press-ups and found that I could only do five before my arms stopped working, Hot Baby Roy came back to find me lying on the ground sweaty and panting.
He thought I was doing a cool new wank but I told him we need to beef up for the Leotard Girl's party this weekend or we're never going to pull them.
Anyway she asked if we would like to come to a party at their house this weekend. I was very happy but with them being sporty they probably know big beefy muscle men and me and Hot Baby Roy (oh fucking dear) are going to have our work cut out pulling them with the beefy boys in town.
I went upstairs to do some press-ups and found that I could only do five before my arms stopped working, Hot Baby Roy came back to find me lying on the ground sweaty and panting.
He thought I was doing a cool new wank but I told him we need to beef up for the Leotard Girl's party this weekend or we're never going to pull them.
Saturday, 14 February 2009
OG Loc of the Holylands
When Fabian got back yesterday I didn't have the heart to give him the summons. he was taking Betty Blue off for a romantic weekend. I don't know how he was able to afford it but he said that since he's quit crack and not stopped stealing he's got a nice wee packet tucked away.
Once he left I locked Battle Cat in the kitchen and went round to The Death Owl's with a bottle of vodka. I sat outside on the doorstep for hours and drank the bottle. I was going to smash the bottle over his face. One of his neighbours came out and asked me what I wanted. I told him I was going to kick fuck out of The Death Owl when he came home.
He told me I shouldn't mess with The Death Owl because he was a wierdo satanist and at night he could be heard cackling and going over a load of mumbo jumbo.
I told him I was friends with Fabian Wildman who used to live there. He said Fabian was a no good druggy bastard. I told him Fabian was off the crack now and that he wants to get a job.
He said he hadn't a job either but that he had bought decks and he wanted to get lethal on them so he could play at a rave club. He asked me if I wanted to hear him. He took me in and played a mix of beats. I thought he was bollocks. He started doing all this freestyle rap which was arse bisuits.
It was all:
"yo fly homies, I'm so lonely
got me a gun, gonna shoot yer mum,
my shit ain't wack even though I'm not black,
what yo ass think of that?"
I told him he should hire someone else to do the rap but the beats were good.
Then he started into another freestyle just to show I was wrong:
"One day I'll be on top-o-tha-pops
living my dreams cause they don't stop
you'll be smokin crack wit yo druggy mate
and whinnin about how yo life ain't great.
Are you digging my fly rhymes homie?"
I told him he was the greatest rapper I'd ever heard. He told me he couldn't wait for the next election because he voted DUP and was going to do a song to help Sammy Wilson get re-elected. I eyed him suspiciously because if he likes that daemon then he may be in league with The Death Owl. I make my goodbyes and thanked him for his knowledge (see raps) and left. Then I went to the shop and got a permanent marker and wrote OG Loc on his front door. Then I put the empty vodka bottle through The Death Owl's front window and legged it up the fucking road.
Once he left I locked Battle Cat in the kitchen and went round to The Death Owl's with a bottle of vodka. I sat outside on the doorstep for hours and drank the bottle. I was going to smash the bottle over his face. One of his neighbours came out and asked me what I wanted. I told him I was going to kick fuck out of The Death Owl when he came home.
He told me I shouldn't mess with The Death Owl because he was a wierdo satanist and at night he could be heard cackling and going over a load of mumbo jumbo.
I told him I was friends with Fabian Wildman who used to live there. He said Fabian was a no good druggy bastard. I told him Fabian was off the crack now and that he wants to get a job.
He said he hadn't a job either but that he had bought decks and he wanted to get lethal on them so he could play at a rave club. He asked me if I wanted to hear him. He took me in and played a mix of beats. I thought he was bollocks. He started doing all this freestyle rap which was arse bisuits.
It was all:
"yo fly homies, I'm so lonely
got me a gun, gonna shoot yer mum,
my shit ain't wack even though I'm not black,
what yo ass think of that?"
I told him he should hire someone else to do the rap but the beats were good.
Then he started into another freestyle just to show I was wrong:
"One day I'll be on top-o-tha-pops
living my dreams cause they don't stop
you'll be smokin crack wit yo druggy mate
and whinnin about how yo life ain't great.
Are you digging my fly rhymes homie?"
I told him he was the greatest rapper I'd ever heard. He told me he couldn't wait for the next election because he voted DUP and was going to do a song to help Sammy Wilson get re-elected. I eyed him suspiciously because if he likes that daemon then he may be in league with The Death Owl. I make my goodbyes and thanked him for his knowledge (see raps) and left. Then I went to the shop and got a permanent marker and wrote OG Loc on his front door. Then I put the empty vodka bottle through The Death Owl's front window and legged it up the fucking road.
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