Thursday, 3 June 2010

Don't Happy, Be Worry.

Look, I'm really sorry, OK, but this week has been very nice. I have nothing to complain about. This blog will be (another) waste of yours and my time. What's the point in writing anything if you're not hating everything? Fucking stupid, useless, happy, fun week. It's ruined everything.

Monday night was a complete joy. Andrew Collins and I had another work-in-progress night at the Hen & Chickens. It (really very nearly) sold out and the audience were perfect. Lovely and very supportive. Thanks for coming along. I even did a bit of secret dancing during Andrew's set and the venue managed to spell my name correctly on their blackboard. That is the first time that has ever happened.

Next day Los Quattros Cvnts met up to rehearse. This meant drinking in a pub and shouting. It was lovely. As was last night's show. I mean, really. What the fuck is going on? If everything is going to start being all nice then I'm not going to get out of bed. Come on, brain. Something shit must have happened. This blog is dying to death.

Erm...Dan Mersh spilled my pint last night. No. That's not good enough because he immediately bought me another pint and I had drunk about a third of the first pint so really I did very well out of Dan being a clumsy arse.

Oh, yes. I got caught in the rain on Tuesday. Really got soaked.

God, that's terrible. I mean, I wasn't that soaked. Also, from out of nowhere, a woman came up to me and sheltered me under her umbrella. That was really lovely. I can't complain about someone being kind to me. The selfish bitch never once thought of my blog when she lent a hand. I fucking hope she's dead.

Right. I'm off. There is just nothing to complain about so I'm going to the park to sit in the sun. I'll get much needed stupid Vitamin D and probably having a tediously lovely time.

Mind you, I had two terrible dreams the other night. I dreamt that Jerk was crying and it woke me up so I went downstairs to see if she was OK. I was in that haze where I thought the dream was real. Jerk was just sitting there reading a book and drinking wine so I went straight back to bed and straight to another bad dream. I dreamt that Jeremy Limb was drowning. I was trying to help him but he wouldn't let me. He just kept staring up at me from beneath the water. It freaked the shit out of me.

And that's how low I've sunk. To writing about my dreams like a pretentious, I-wonder-what-that-means? arsehole. Something shit better happen soon.

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