Saturday, 6 November 2010


Just got back from an entirely wasted evening where I spent 90 minutes sitting in a 'posh' pub/bar/eatery waiting for a friend to turn up to her own leaving do. After 2 glasses of wine (which used up my entire £8 budget) I gave up and caught the train home. 90 minutes of travelling later I get back and I'm still annoyed enough that I'm hiding in the kitchen in case I take my bad mood out on a housemate who doesn't deserve it. What a complete and utter waste of my fucking time.

As usual, when in a bad mood I just think of things that made me angry in the past and that might make me angry in the future. It's rather like the anger enjoys the attention and deliberately keeps itself fuelled for longer than necessary. Of course that also means I've been listening to Slipknot and reading pointless vapid shit on the internet rather than winding down and letting it all slide. I even had an apparently unidentifiable melody going through my head on the walk back from the station but realised after a while it was the tune to Enya's "On the way home" which was so apposite I could have laughed. Also, while trying to calm myself down, I couldn't help thinking about the end of a scene in Fight Club: where they'd just 'robbed' a convenience store and sent the clerk packing, Edward Norton opens the gun to see it's not loaded and narrates the line " let that which doesn't matter truly slide..."

And the vapid shit I was reading on the internet? Apart from a quick glimpse at facebook which had me snarling at the number of fucking sheep who were commenting on the x-factor, I also read an msn article about fashion 'gaffs' that men make which women find a turn-off. One of them was that backpacks, although obviously practical, are boring. As if any man worthy of the title is going to choose a bag BECAUSE HE THINKS IT MIGHT ATTRACT WOMEN?!?!?!??!?! Anyone who does that is such a loser he ought to post his nuts back to the creator and live out the remainder of his days tossing salad for money. As I've mentioned to other people when engaged in similar conversations: if I ever meet a woman so utterly superficial that she doesn't like me because of my clothing/apparel, that shallow cunt can go fuck herself.