Jumping someone else’s train

My neck hurts like a rancid beast.

A line from Snuff Box, but also the truth. I don’t know what I’ve done to it, but every time I try to move it, I get shooting pains up the left hand side of it.

In all honesty, I don’t really know why I’m posting this. Not much has happened, but if you’re a regular reader, you’ll know this is a regular occurence. Let’s do the happenings bit, then we’ll get onto the rants and rambles… if I still have the will.

Last weekend went by in the dull way it usually does. Except on Saturday, I decided to accompany my mother into town to meet up with my auntie. I learned a lot. Such as her fingernails have gone stripey thanks to chemo which we all found very strange but she is quite enjoying them. Also, a bit of family history in the form of distant relative thieves and poachers. 

We went to the cinema after work on Monday, but all that was on was Confessions Of A Shopaholic. We went anyway. I do love a predictable chick-flick… set in America… where the love interest is always English…
The best thing about it was being in the big screen with loads of people. Most of them gasped at the bits they were supposed to gasp at and laughed hard at the bits that were mildly amusing. It must be nice to find films like this exciting.
Anyway, afterwards, Baz filmed me talking ballcrap about technology for one of her art projects because, as she and Jill always claim when I order food in restaurants, I have “a wonderful public speaking voice”. Lies. So yeah, she filmed me. In a car. This part was unpaid.

On Tuesday I got in touch with someone about an archives assistant job. This meant I had to give my National Insurance number and later my post-code. Inevitably, I was asked “Sorry, was that N or M?”
My thoughts went thusly: -”Ha! ‘N or M’! That ca-razy Agatha Christie…”
-”Oh god, what’s the big people alphabet? Alpha… bravo… cat… dog, d’oh!”
-”Shit? What starts with ‘M’? ANY word. Come on, brain, ANY WORD!”
Instead I opted for, “M for… Matches.” I do not know why I said this. I also do not know why I made it plural. I made up for it later though…
Lady: “And is that S for Sierra?”
Me: “No, it’s F for Foxtrot.”
I was proud I remembered Foxtrot.
I am not aiming for a career in tele-sales.

Keri called later on and used the phrase “what a LOVELY day!” and insisted we go for a walk. It wasn’t that lovely a day… I’m glad I made her bring a jacket. So was she about twenty minutes later when it got really cold. We headed into town at about 6pm and went to Slain’s for food, then went to the Music Hall to see Ed Byrne who was on fine form. Very funny. I was relieved that he was as this was my christmas present to Keri.

On Wednesday I went to the quiz for the first time in about a month. Not much to say about the night. It was alright, but I spent most of the time trying to save money and avoiding getting soaked by people insistant on spilling my drinks in Exodus. Cough cough.

Yesterday was possibly the most boring day I’ve experienced in a long time. The highlight of my day was re-watching the entire series of The Modest Adventures of David O’Doherty. Not a disrespect to him; it was, as ever, very enjoyable, it’s just that even that event took place at the computer. I need to get out more.
Someone give me another job please.
Actually, also got a text from Laura yesterday that just said, “My pem tutor thinks you’re hilarious. Haha xx” I was confused, then realised she must be editing her thing she filmed me for. I don’t remember saying anything particularly amusing, but apparently I made some observation about wheels or something and they’d thought that was hilarious. I don’t care. I like being told I’m funny. It’s rare these days, but still always delightful when it happens. Damn ego.

So here we are. I’m having another horrible day. It’s actually okay, it’s just I’m feeling sorry for myself and again, isolated. This isn’t helped that there’s no-one around to talk to and never seems to be. I just need something to do. To spend my time doing. Because if not, I think too much and wind up depressed.
I’ve been taking my mind off of not having any money or anything interesting about my personality by trying to figure out how I can make certain trips. I don’t know how I’m going to do all these things I’ve planned to in the next few months. [Oh, just been listening to that cd of Cure covers and I put it in a playlist with Charlotte Hatherley's first album, so it's just started and I smiled. Mem-o-rieeees.]
I’m going down to Edinburgh on the 13th March to see Lily Allen with Jill in Glasgow on the 14th. But DO’D is doing another Glasgow date on the 13th, so may be going to that too. I’m supposed to be saving though! And this would mean I’d have to go Aberdeen > Edinburgh > Glasgow > Edinburgh > Glasgow > Edinburgh > Aberdeen in the space of about three days. Bloody unrealistic short trips…
My main one is the Berry gig in April. Mainly because I reckon I can make a week of it. Go down on the Tuesday, Berry on the Wednesday, general Londonness Thursday, Friday, Saturday, go see Stevie do the recording of I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue on Sunday and come home on Monday. Plan, right? I just need more money.
That’d be good if that was all I needed, but it’s also really frustrating not knowing what I’ll be up to then, job-wise. If I’m still just doing what I’m doing just now, it’d be easy enough ‘cos I would somehow manage to get time off, but then I’d have hardly any money to get there and stay there and everything.
Then there’s the Morrissey gig in May that I’m getting more and more doubtful about. And no-one’ll buy my ticket if I definitely can’t go ’cos it’s not actually a ticket, just a print off that I’ve to hand over at the venue and they scan.
Ah, trivial things, but they still get me down.

I see pictures of where I want to be and I ache a bit. I just wish I could jump into the future a bit. Not too far, just a few months down the line and see if progress has been made. I don’t mind waiting around, I’d just quite like to know how long I must wait around for. Ideally I’d like to have a couple of thousand in the bank before setting off for the Happy Place, but how long is this going to take? Is anyone ever going to get back to me about jobs? Even to reject me would be fine, but I’m constantly frustrated by the lack of any response at all.

I think I’m getting repetitive now. As per usual. Mr T was on the One Show last night. He re-affirmed his hero status. It was surreal but it was very very funny. I never thought I’d type this next sentence but: DAMN! Mr T DIGS Adrian Chiles!
So I feel I should leave you with this…
Take care, lovely reader.

Gabba Gabba Hey

Oh my god, this blog is taking forever to write. Don’t want to neglect this here page, but have not much to say. Or little motivation.

A couple of us went out for drinks for Stuart leaving the ‘Stones. Water, not Rolling. It was sad oh sad. But as per tradition, he did get to wear my necklace for a bit. We ended up going home earlier than planned, but it meant I had the cheapest night out ever. Good for one with so little money. Me and Pam (HI PAMELA!!! …ahem.) walked to her’s whilst having a good ol’ chat, so that was nice. And gave us a bit of exercise.
I caught a bus from outside her place. Like I say, it was a cheap night.

As touched upon in the last blog, I was due to see the Brand in Glasgow the next day. But I got off the bus, came home and found I’d an email saying he’d cancelled. By this point, it was 1am on the day I was supposed to be travelling to see him so too short notice to get money back for the bus or the Travelodge, so we decided we’d go anyway. Skip to the next day and we eventually get to Glasgow after a bus journey which resulted in me sitting next to a sleeping boy and later, a baby that kept groping my leg. Christ, kid, buy me a drink first. The child’s mother had odd ways of entertaining it. She put music on her phone. Clubland type stuff you usually hear from the back of the bus. Old McDonald it ain’t. The kid seemed to be loving it. Strange. I hope this was a one-off and didn’t signal the definite decline of the music industry. Yes, so, we got there and Keri felt weird. We walked to our Travelodge whilst claiming it was “just another five minutes” to her. You’ve gotta give ‘em hope. So, we managed to convince her she needed food so headed to the restaurant across the road. Not before Laura showed us her mad skillz though…

Oddly, it was easy enough to get a table despite it being Valentine’s day (oh, is it?). Soon we were fed and by now it was dark. We told Keri to go back to the Travelodge (oh, we were in room 101 by the way. Sigh.) and we’d go pick up some booze and some crappy films (I brought my dvd player, forgot any dvds) and some playing cards. We were gone ages. But returned with insanely long straws, some cider and vodka and lemonade to sit in the bath, three dvds (the Break Up, Confetti and Dumb & Dumber if you’re really intrigued) and some Quantum of Solace playing cards. We managed to spend the next few hours watching crappy Saturday night tv and dvds.

The straws proved very handy for comfortable seating positions…

So yeah, basically spent the night how we coulda spent it at home… and for less money. Grr… Ah well, was still nice though. And it was nice to get a lie-in on Sunday too. Aaaah.

AH! One thing (well there’s two really but we’ll get to that) I’ve neglected to mention is Lucifer Box! FINALLY pulled my finger out (…why am I using head-teacher phrases?) and finished all three novels in about a week and am very sad that there are no more. Gatiss is the man. But there are gaps between stories, so plenty of room for more. But since reading, I have concluded I would like a man who wears braces and uses phrases like “What the deuce?!” and occasionally ends sentences with “what.” (“Let’s get slaughtered, what!”)
I did say “By jingo” earlier on without meaning too. My subconscious lives in the olden days.

Second thing. Bad Movie Club happened. I wrote “happened” then remembered the film was ‘the Happening’. My subconscious lives in the olden days and in a world where puns are perfectly acceptable (we can but dream!) and it was very very very funny. Words cannot describe the Happening. Well, they can, but it needs to be seen to be believed. Mark Wahlberg is my new hero. Actually, no, the old woman who gets to say “Why ya eyein’ ma lemon drink..?” wins Best Line and so becomes my hero by default. Well done, lady.

Payday tomorrow. It’s sad that currently it’s all I’m looking for. Someone offer me a job and a flat in London please?

Bleak House/Fun eHouse/Free Book House

D’ya wanna do a bloody blog then?

S’pose.

So I’ve not properly updated since Robin Ince. And apparently the wonderful Pamela has this page bookmarked. Therefore, I’m going to try and mention her as much as I can!

Life appears to have become a circle of getting up, applying for jobs, occasionally popping into town or to Asda, applying for more jobs, eating, going to sleep. Unless it’s a Sunday or a Monday, then work comes into it. It’s so demoralising but ultimately, I’ll get another job and I’ll save up and when this bloody crisis is over, I’ll move to London. I go through spells of being really impatient and wanting to be there as soon as, but I’m not going to be unrealistic. There’s no way I’m finding a job there anytime soon. At the moment I’m okay with this though. It’ll wait for me, I guess…

Aaah, that’s why I stopped posting actual blogs for a bit! I kept banging on about the above. Sorry, dear readers. But get ready for more from the Bleak House, Chateau Innes in a second…

I don’t really think I’ve done anything that interesting in the past few weeks (see above) but it’s been alright. Except on… Thursday I think, when my dear father decided to have a go at me for no real reason. I don’t want to get into it, but he made me feel like shit and basically somehow managed to undo all of the optimism my mother’s been building up inside of me since early October. He did this in twenty minutes. How does he do it? Anyway, from about 12-1am I was convinced I was a worthless prick destined for a life of nothingness and… Aberdeen essentially. I’m trying my hardest not to sound like a whiny 14yr old here, but I thought “If that’s my life, what’s the point?” Dull, dull, dull. Anyway, I decided I wasn’t going to let him get me down and I’d use his lack of tact to my advantage so I started doing some writing into the early hours. It transpires pure fucking rage is quite the catalyst. The next day, I woke up, looked back at the pages I’d written, deemed it shit and haven’t bothered to look at it since. Fail.

Since then I’ve been a bit off with him, treating him as an associate rather than family, but it’s his birthday today so I had to let it wear off slightly. Most disappointing, but I’m shit at holding grudges.

Told you it was bleak. Now onto some light-hearted joviality.
I’ve become rather fond of Twitter of late. It’s a form of stalking not frowned upon in today’s society! Lots of my favourite people seem to be using it and it fills me with little balls of glee (thanks PAM!) when these heroes of mine gush over the site. Stephen Fry sang its praises publicly on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross (as did Wossy himself) and Sir Graham of Linehan’s adoration of it is beautious. It’s nice that something so silly can fill people with such joy, it makes me smile. What made me smile more was Uncle Glinner’s introduction of Bad Film Club. Click that, find out, join in.

I had one of those “Wow… maybe the majority of people aren’t bastards…” days yesterday. I went into town, bought some wellies (yes, I am six…) and the man in the shop was very lovely. This set the tone for the rest of the shopping trip. With my headphones in, despite my iPod battery being drained from the moment I walked out my door, I wandered to Slain’s for lunch, then up to work to buy a book for dad’s birthday. I then rediscovered the library. I managed to pick up one book, one dvd and three cds for £3.50. Kapow! Take that, credit crunch! I wandered down to George Street, charity book shopping. I went into Barnardo’s and started talking to the man behind the counter. He took my details so they could get in touch when books I was looking out for came in. Turns out that he’d applied for the job at the bookshop that I ended up getting a few months ago. Small world. This whole time I was in town, I was waiting for The Linehan to announce the Bad Film Club film to see if I could track down a cheap copy. When the Happening was announced, I got me to HMV and found it onsale for £8 (£6.40 with discount) and figured it was worth it. Then I remembered that I’ll be out at 9pm on Friday for drinks for Stuart leaving the bookshop. Sad times on both accounts. He’s a good one is Stu. (I later got home and found out Phill Jupitus‘ll miss it as well so has proposed a repeat performance at midnight. I may make that one!) Anyway, I went up to pay for it and the guy at the till spotted my 90s bag so started talking about them. I explained they were friends of mine but I’d not heard much of the new album yet. Very nice guy though, apparently loved the first album. Fun times. I meant to pick a birthday card up for dad, but saw my bus across the road, so jumped on it instead. I got him one later on.

And so here we are. Going out for tea tonight in celebration of the father’s birth. I don’t know if I can afford to go to the quiz afterwards, so may limit it to one night out this week. Well… two if you include Saturday. Me, Baz, Big Al and Big Jamie are going to see the Brandyman (I can hear Pam schmoo from here…) in Glasgow, so that should be good.

Uh… what else?
OH! Lily’s new album is genius. Favourites at the moment are ‘Fuck You’ and ‘Who’d Have Known?’.

I swear one day I will be interesting.
Until that day comes, I’ll leave you with this…

Here you’ll find despair and I

Winter Wanderlust

It’s a cold, snowy day and not much of interest has happened to me of late. That’s why the last entry was a ramble and this one will merely be some audio-joy.
I’ve put together 20 tracks that I enjoy listening to whilst walking around outside during winter, with Jack Frost ripping at my face.
Let me know what you think. It’s sort of an odd mix I reckon but here’s hoping it might get you interested in or change your views on certain bands…

1. Brian Wilson – That Lucky Old Sun - 0:57 
2. We Were Promised Jetpacks – Crawling Home - 3:16 
3. Barenaked Ladies – Spider in my Room - 4:04 
4. Jeffrey Lewis – Don’t Let The Record Label Take You Out To Lunch - 2:06 
5. New Order – Run – 4:31
6. Belle and Sebastian – It Could Have Been A Brilliant Career - 2:23 
7. 1990s – Weed - 3:27 
8. Beastie Boys – No Sleep Till Brooklyn - 4:07 
9. The Cramps – Human Fly - 2:17 
10. The Beatles – Back In The U.S.S.R. - 2:43 
11. Ash – Intense Thing - 4:34 
12. The Cribs – You Were Always The One - 2:32 
13. The Cure – Fire In Cairo - 3:23 
14. New York Dolls – Lonely Planet Boy - 4:11 
15. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow - 5:37 
16. The Blood Arm – Do I Have Your Attention? - 3:36 
17. Flying Matchstick Men – Demon Seed - 4:00 
18. Flight of the Conchords - Leggy Blonde (Featuring Rhys Darby) –  2:42
19 Franz Ferdinand – Jeremy Fraser - 3:56 
20. Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers – Abominable Snowman In The Market - 2:29

Get it HERE.

Ho ho ho, Merry winter!

There’s more to life than books you know, but not much more [Part 1]

As much as I love working in a book shop, sometimes I wonder if it’s for the best that I do as not only do I have a tendency to judge books by their covers but also, probably the wiser option, I form an opinion based on their titles. I don’t think too much about titles until I see a really bad one. I’d like to claim that seeing a particularly terrible one ruins my day, but really the smaller version of me controlling my brain rubs her hands with glee.

So, I’m going to start a list of book titles that anger me to sheer joy. I feel this may be constantly updated or various entries on the subject shall be made.
I am aware I’ve said the word ‘titles’ too many times already. Strap yourself in, it’ll come up a few more times.
Any suggestions gratefully received!

‘I Don’t Mean To Be Rude, But…’ by Simon Cowell

HA! Oh, I get it! Because he’s a notoriously rude bastard! Ohh, good one, Simon! Of COURSE you mean to be rude, that’s your job, if you weren’t, you’d just be another dull music big-wig. What a truly witty title.

‘Déjà Dead’ by Kathy Reichs

I can’t put my finger on what’s so awful about this one. Perhaps it feels a little too Garth Marenghi-esque (albeit, not nearly as good). You can imagine Kathy sitting in front of the fire reading an actual line from the actual book, “He turned to look at the body. She wasn’t just dead,” a smug look to make sure we acknowledge how clever she is, “she was déjà dead…”*
I don’t know, I just get irritated by words that don’t have anything to do with each other being thrown together. What does déjà dead mean? Perhaps I should have read it… No! Mustn’t think like that. If it had an intriguing title like ’Predict-a-Death’ or something, I may have been vaguely interested, but ‘Déjà Dead’ makes me want to force Kathy Reichs to ingest it through her eyeballs so nobody can buy it, thus I’d be saving lives.
*May not be actual line from the actual book.

‘N or M?’ Agatha Christie

I can’t help but feel she’s given the big question away here. And if the book’s conclusion can be reached simply by finding out if the answer is “N” or “M”, it sounds like a shit dilemma to be honest… It’s 50/50, innit? 
Unless it’s actually called “Norm?”, like what would happen if there was a powercut in Cheers, shutting off the lights and the revellers weren’t absolutely certain that Norm Peterson had just arrived at the bar or if it was some other guy making a witty beer/laziness/bad health remark, and so would question if it was him rather than exclaiming that it was.

‘Celebrities My Arse!’; ‘Cheers My Arse!’; ‘Football My Arse!’; ‘Reading My Arse!’ by Ricky Tomlinson


I’m not so much opposed to the titles of these, but more the fact that they exist. Oh, Ricky Ricky Ricky… I loved you once… and yes, everyone cashes in on popular television shows and films they’ve starred in now and then and we could have called it a momentary lapse or a blip, but there’s four of them, Ricky, four… and it’s 2009. The Royle Family was excellent, but it’s not really relevant to today…
I do also wonder how true the sub-titles that claim these are the funniest _____ anecdotes I’ll ever read are. It seems a bit coincidental that Ricky Tomlinson tells the best celebrity and drinking anecdotes I’ll ever read… Are they really? Or is it just a way to give a quick description of what’s in the books? Oh, who am I kidding, obviously the man just has a gift.
I’m not angry, Ricky, just disappointed. Go home, Ricky, you’ve had enough…

‘This Is My Life’ by Eamonn Holmes

“Eamonn, this is important, this is your chance to win the hearts of the vast majority of people that think you come across as a twat. If you can come up with a title that’s funny and original, you could turn this around and make everyone fall in love with you like the gigantic teddy bear you are!”
“Really? Oh, okay then, well this is going to require some thought… OH! I’ve got it! How about ’My Life’?”
“That’s good, Eamonn, but it needs something more. A little more sass! An edge, you know, something clever. A play on words or something. Maybe even ‘My Life As A Slightly Below Average TV Personality’!”
“Okay then, how about ‘This Is My Life’?”
“Eamonn, that’s good, but like I say, it needs something else.”
“But I don’t think you get it. Do you remember that show ‘This Is Your Life’?”
“I recall such a programme, yes…”
“Well, if you remember correctly, you’ll know that the host was none other than Eamonn Andrews. Now, his name was Eamonn and my name is Eamonn, but this isn’t your life, This Is MY Life. Get it?”
“Good god… You’re right, Eamonn, that’s genius. Everyone’s going to adore you! I’ll go ring the publishers!”

More to follow. Exactly when, I do not know…