Cover Story

It was the principal of the thing is what it was.

This morning, laying in bed, I had asked Michelle what she wanted to do today and whether, as we had spoke about she wanted to go to town. She did, which was fine, but the thing was she stole the bed covers. And as you realize, this means war.

All I wanted was a stretch under the warm covers and refused to get up until I did so. Childish? Defiantly. Stubborn? Genetically.

So I lay for a good 10 - 15 minutes refusing to move with only a small blanket, which I had retrieved from the floor, covering me until that too was taken away. Another 10 minutes passed as I lay coverless on the bed in my usual boxers and T-shirt ensemble, satisfied that in the end Michelle will be forced to give back the covers.

However, my opponent was far caftier and merciless than I had first imagined, and soon, after a short tussle, I was completely exposed to the elements of the cold morning; naked.

At this point, a lesser man would have admitted defeat and got up, and I would be lying to say the thought never crossed my mind. But then I had a revelation hit me; the bed had been striped of the covers but not the sheet. The sheet was a stroke of genius, If I do say so myself. With one side attached to the bed and the other cocooning me inside, the sheet was impenetrable. This act left my opponent with only psychological warfare at her disposal ('I'll be really annoyed if you don't get up right now!')

I was immovable but not yet victorious. The gamble was that Michelle, who was now going to leave without me, would leave without giving the covers to me (therefore securing her victory) or that she would see her leaving as an end to our war of wills and throw the covers at me as she marched out the door.

I waited in my cocoon, watching her shadow pass the bedroom door again and again while she was getting ready and nervously saw her putting her coat on and get ready to go. I closed my eyes a waited for the cold sting of failure and the slam of the door but instead was rewarded by the soft and heavy thump of victory, as my covers were released and returned to me.

Happy as I was with victory, my principals did leave me franticly running about to get ready before I missed the train that Michelle had left to catch. Winning a battle of wills is al well and good but if I had missed that train this story would not have ended with the laughter it did.

And so... The Sleepless Night

I mentioned in my first post (The First) that I was having problems working out plot points on my scripts and that the idea would come to me in the next few days round about 1 - 3am.

It was actual closer to 12:30am.

I had just watched Open Range, a great western movie, and had woke Michelle (who had fell asleeep in my favorite place; cuddling into my chest on the couch.) to get her to go to bed and had planned to follow after turning off the lights. However this was not the case.

As I always do after watching a well written film or TV program or reading a good book, I felt inspired. I was confident that I could work out the majority of my plot points and be in bed by about 1ish.

At around 3ish, after having resolved very little and spending more money than I already have this week (at least it was on Christmas gifts) I thought it was time to call it a day... night... morning...whatever. So now I've got roughly three and a half hours of sleep to look forward to as I go into bed. But, it doesn't end there.

See what I didn't mention was that I am at my best in the wee hours of the morning. My constantly buzzing brain won't shut up for a second after the clock hits 1.

It's now closer to 4am because I've fiddled about with my phone and this and that and the other thing too (no not that! Sick bastards!) and I start trying to talk to Michelle, Michelle who is asleep, not a little asleep either, fully Van Winkled. I soon give that up and stant thinking about the last few gifts I've to buy, the possibly lucrative opportunity that is coming up (I can't say) and of course: the bloody scripts.

This morning I'm sitting here with my usual thumb twiddling duties to perform, I've nearly fell asleep twice and because I got out of bed at 7:50am (I start at 8:30) and had no time to get a lunch together, I have a piss poor Muller Rice to give my aching hunger the heave bloody ho!

Still... I might make more progress tonight...

Nine Months Hard labor

No, nobody's pregnant (please god, I hope not.) nine months is the minimum jail sentence for forgery.

I'm stuck as usual with not too much to do but wait for a guy to get back to me about a thing so I thought I'd be productive and make the ID cards that have been sitting half done in my drawer. Thing is they needed signed, and those who had to provide the signatures are rarely in the office if ever. Soooo I thought just to speed things along a little I'd sign them for them. Ever since I was a kidlet I've been quite skilled at replicating other peoples signatures and I figured I'd put my skills to good use.

The guys I forged will probably not be too pleased but, way I see it; they're construction workers, They probably won't even notice and if they do I'll use the old Jedi mind trick: -

Construction Guy: Hey! I didn't sign this!

Me: Yes you did.

Construction Guy: Hmm... maybe i did.

Me: £20 please.

Construction Guy: Hey! We don't get charged for these!

Me: Yes you do...

Letter B

Currently listening to Let It Be by The Beatles on Radio 2. This song used to make me sad because it was written about Paul McCartney's mother Mary who died when he was just a nipper, now however it just reminds me of Sesamie Street and there 'learning letters' song 'Letter B'

Letter B, letter B, letter B, letter B..!

Webbing

So I just got an email from the friendly kids at Amazon to tell me that, among other purchases, the Spider-man 2 I ordered for Michelle's (that's my fiancee... or is it fiance? I can never remember which is for which gender) mum's boyfriends, excuse me fiance's(fiancee?), little boy was on the way, and it got me thinking.

That's an awful lot of sticky white translucent bodily fluid that Spider-guy must shootout to get around New York City, I wonder where it all comes from... No doubt a poor social life and the lack of an internet connection must help.

The First.

So this is the first of my blogs, an idea given to me by Laura (bigasthesky.co.uk) and Stuart (bumblemonkey.co.uk) both of whom will leave blogs so bloggy they will compleatly out blog me.

I'm sitting in work, a new place but with the same job and bosses I've had before, and I'm waiting for a guy to phone me back about a thing. Until the guy phones me about the thing I've not too much I can do. This is a common predicament as my job pretty much relies on phone calls and forms from guys about things to get in touch or back to me. So I'm pretty bored.

Usually I'd try to work on the comic book scripts I work on (for my amusment not for money) but I've been trying o work out a couple of plot points for quite a while now and I'm fed up trying to work it out. As usually the solution to the problem will come to me between 1am and 3am leading to a largly sleepless night and being a grumpy bastard the next day.

So this blog isn't too intresting and I can only appologise and give the best excuse I know: It's my first day.