Monday, July 22, 2013

GRAB YOUR CROTCH AND SAY "HEEE! HEEEE!!!"


I've had just about enough of the kids moaning on the internet (he says, moaning on the internet). What's wrong with the back of the panel van? Things were so different in my day. (Hand me my Zimmer frame...) Here's a tip that's going to prove incredibly valuable to your possible growth as a human being. "It's not them. It's you!" Responsibility is not an ugly word. You're the common denominator in all your problems. People don't dislike you because you're different. They dislike you because you're a monumental pain in the arsehole.

Also, I had quite an awesome weekend!

Friday night's football was an exercise in fluid fantasy. No, not that kind. The kind that makes jaded fans believe in the beautiful game again. So much awesome skill on one pitch...

Then it was a race home to dive through a shower and get started with band practice. Well, I don't know what to tell you. You know you're finally doing something worth doing when grown men stand around in a room and grin uncontrollably at each other. That, or something sordid and very illegal. But for now, it's being kept firmly under our hats. Not that any of us wear hats. We're not THAT kind of band.

Saturday was the Big Day. Those of you who know, will know. Party decorations and gazebos were erected. Trays full of sweets were out - no doubt to lure the innocents to NeverNeverLand. Bubbles was even there, but not in the shape of a chimpanzee, rather just a machine. One or two decent attempts at Michael Jackson outfits and a handful of really half-arsed attempts did nothing to dissuade the judges from proclaiming yours truly - resplendent in a Tinkerbell outfit - the ultimate fancy dress winner! Well, unofficially. And if I was the sole judge... Damn it, I was cold! Much later, and with unrestricted access to the punch, I found myself snoozing on a couch. It's a strange ol' feeling being teabagged by a 20 year old girl, but there you have it. The Hot Girlfriend was being flung around the dancefloor by what appeared to be a seasoned skoffel expert, but what turned out on closer inspection to be Prince One El. Apparently the floor was the most popular destination for the evening, with most people making regular visits. I have bruises. But I'm in relatively good shape compared to the poor cake, which got mangled and maimed by a gang of bloodthirsty drunkards. Quite a shame actually. No, really. Needless to say, I spent yesterday recovering and manfully fighting back a refrain of "I'll never drink again!"

And that's all I have for you today, folks! It ain't over 'til Porky Pig sings!

NGDG: People say the Sunday papers are too depressing. Then don't read the property section.

Spread The Love. Heal The World. 

1 comment:

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