Frank by Name...

I went to see Jim & Maxine’s new flat yesterday which was great. The only flat I’ve ever seen, including my own, that you could walk straight in and live in without having to worry about dodgy paint jobs or questionable wall paper.

The nice visit was only slight skewed by Jim’s infamously grouchy dad, Frank, who asked me why I felt the need to be carrying Baby Mikey. No doubt Frank sees this as woman’s work or something, and as the title says...

I also watched the second series of ‘Spaced’ last night. For a show which I never really thought looked any good it has to be said that it’s one the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Any movie fan would love it for its parodies and homage’s to a wide range of films and Sam Raimi especially.

Shits and Giggles

Michelle and I arrived at Laura and Stoo's yesterday to give her a surprise celebration of her birthday. Stuart had told us to be there at 8:30, which we were, but no one else was.

We had lazily got a taxi to the flat, and when walking to the door I had seen Stoo's head pop out the balcony door but wasn't sure he'd seen us so Michelle rung the buzzer. As soon as she did it she realised that the front door was on the latch. We went inside with the intention of going into the flat only to have Stuart pop out the door and signal for us to wait. As we stood at the door we could hear Laura ask who was at the door and if he'd got it. Stuart replied,

'Oh it probably just people, just, you know having shits and giggles or something.'

To my astonishment Laura seemed to swallow this, the worst excuse I had ever herd in my life, and Stuart soon appeared holding a bin bag.

Laura must have believed that the bin sheds were roughly half a mile away because, in the course of 'taking the bin out', Stoo spoke to us at length and phoned two people who he also spoke to at length and finally returned to the flat

Despite the late comers and Stoo's multiple excuses for going outside, Laura was suitably and pleasantly surprised by everyone's arrival and a good night was had by all.

On a separate note I realised for the first time as I sat between them that Stuarts two best friends are named Mark and Dave. I just thought it was a strange coincidence...

Punch Lock

My paper punch has a lock on it, and I’m wondering what set of circumstances you would want your paper punch to be locked to your paper?

I realise this is my third post of the day but Laura’s off so I’m bored.

Jim, Max and Mikey

On Monday when talking about what was still to come before the end of the year I totally forgot about Jim and Maxine moving into their new flat today and that Maxine’s birthday is tomorrow. Sorry guys I hope you enjoy your first Christmas with the solid and smiling baby Mikey.

Take a look at Mikey as an almost new born on Nigel’s page: - http://countryfeadback.blogspot.com/2004/12/baby-mikey_18.html
http://countryfeadback.blogspot.com/2004/12/baby-mikey.html

Simply Brilliant

After yesterday, when I was crazy busy, I’m back with very little to do so I decide to take a look at Stuart and Laura’s friend Dave’s comic strip journal. Kudos to Dave for his simple but brilliant observations and making me realise the interesting, funny, or just dumb stuff does happen everyday and even the most mundane event can be made interesting. For example, my boss and I are wearing and almost identical shirt and tie much to the amusement of the rest of the office.

Take a gander at his strips www.davidhogg.co.uk/kamikaze/diarystrips to see what I mean for yourself.

Oh and Happy Birthday to Laura. When I told Michelle about she and Stoo’s plans to go ice skating after work she exclaimed ‘In George Square? That’s my dream!’ I think I’d better take her this year (despite the damage that will be done to my arthritic knees and probably my arse which I’ll no doubt end up on).

So this is Christmas...

I am pleased to announce that all Christmas shopping was complete as of yesterday (save for one thing I have to collect), despite my pitiful efforts with Stuart on late night Thursday.

We had Christmas dinner on Saturday. No I’m not a crazy fool, and technically it was ‘pre-Christmas dinner’. My mum and dad are going to my sisters for Christmas and my Mum decided a few weeks ago that since my sister was here this week we’d have ‘Christmas dinner’ together anyway, even if it wasn’t on the day.

It was great to see everyone together but I was a little sad too as this will be the first year that I won’t see any of my family on Christmas day, plus it felt like the day so much that it was a bastard to think about coming to work.

After the meal we went to Laura and Stuarts bright and shiny new flat to take a gander and a drink (and a fried rice after a three course meal… I’m such a fat pie) and a laugh. The flat’s magic and so was the company and the rest of the night (despite disturbing revelations from Stuarts past).

Five days (well four and a half) days to go folks and we’ve still got a birthday and a night out before it not to mention three birthdays on the day! Looks like the years going out on high note folks.

Merry Christmas ya filthy animals!

Oh my goodness, NO.

Michelle and I were in bed last night and I said,

‘I think I’m sexy. Do you think I’m sexy?’

‘Yeah’ she said.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

‘All the time?’

‘Most of the time.’

‘Most of the time?’

‘Yeah, ‘cause sometimes your just like… Oh my goodness, no.’

Now I was understandably a little perturbed by this. She could have said ‘sometimes when your hairs all fuzzy in the morning’ or ‘when your sick your not too sexy’ but she didn’t. My fiancee said,

‘Oh my goodness, no.’

Three Weeks in '98: Toothpaste Fury! Part 3

What was I supposed to do? Yes he's caused havoc, offended several neighbours, attacked people and got the police called out, but he's a mate so what could I do? Titch was coming back in.

About an hour after David had come to plead his case he and Titch appeared at the back door. The house was quiet as most people had fallen asleep, the effects of gallons of alcohol (a mere fraction of the Miller cans that remained uncrushed were used the next day to build a pyramid which was the same height as me) and the excitement of the last few hour having wiped them out, so it was just the three of us in the kitchen. Titch sat on one of the chairs that that had been brought in earlier and I sat across from and I sat across from him with Dave just at his back. We were surrounded by a sea of empty bottles and cans as we sat, I asked Titch if he was okay and he told me 'no' and kicked a bottle that was at his foot. me and Dave shouted at him then and told him to quit it, he told us he was sorry and explained why he was so angry. Dave and I listened to him while at the same time as casually and unobvious and wearily as possible we moved away any bottles and potential missile/weapons that surrounded Titch. When he finished the story he told us Titch said.

"I swear to God, I almost lost it"

David cracked. His face hidden behind Titch's back as he bit his hand to keep from laughing. I however was facing the bear and I knew one small crack in my face would get me mauled.

"I thought you were going to at one point" I said biting my lip, nearly off, and trying not to look at Dave as the tears of laughter ran down his face.

We went to bed soon after, well I did anyway. Dave went home to face a hyper and manic Mair, another friend who had went to sleep over at Dave's and then took a drink of Tia Maria (I'll tell you later), and Titch sat on one of the living room chairs among the fallen soldiers.

He was still there in the morning, though curiously a radius had formed around him, almost like the unconscious bodies of those on the floor had instinctively shifted in the interest of self preservation. Elaine had woke me, she said she had went down stairs already but when she had opened the door, Titch, still asleep, had banged his fist down on the arm and barked something at her. We creped downstairs and gently opened the door. Nothing. We stepped over the our unconcious friends quickly and quietly and -

BANG!

He unconsciously brought his first down again, and we jumped and ran to the kitchen. Not my most manly moment but you have to appreciate the tension. We laughed in the kitchen as I filled Elaine in on what happened when Titch came back when we herd someone walking slowly towards the kitchen. We didn't move, we watched the door fearfully. Had he heard us? Had his sleep somehow recharged his rage? It was Johnny I think. We sighed and explained what happened, Johnny revelled (in a whisper of course) that he had put the Toothpaste on the top.

Titch woke soon after and went straight home. Later on that afternoon Sparkie, Nigel, Kenny and I were sitting up the school talking about the night when he came back We all spoke, no hard feelings, Titch asked us who had put the toothpaste on his top and we told him we didn't know (Johnny revealed it to him one night not too long ago, apparently he was still raging).

"I was so angry last night" said Titch

"Yeah" said Kenny "I heard you almost lost it..."

Three Weeks in '98: Toothpaste Fury! Part 2

I hadn't been there but I know all the details. Slowly and cautiously five boys who were soon to be men shakily wrote a letter each. J-O-B-B-Y. People still marvel at Taylor's 'perfect B'. Apparently the rest of the letters were penned so fearfully that they appeared skewed and rough, but not Taylor's B. When the 'Y' was done the five young men had sighed a breath of relief. Then the girl sat and casually drew stars and swirls on the same pallet and Johnny squirted some toothpaste and half an hour later our good and passed out friend had transformed into… well, let's just say, you wouldn't like him when he's angry.

The first neighbour had come out after about ten minutes of Titch shouting and swearing at my front door. She was a quiet woman who lived with her elderly mother.

"PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP! YOU FUCKING CUNT! FUCK OFF!"

Even Titch's language wasn't that strong. This verbal assault only lasted a few minutes but we all knew what would be coming. The second neighbour came to the back door to check if we were okay and talk tell us how disgraceful she thought the first neighbour had behaved, she also knew what was coming and warned us to calm down our friend before they got here and they arrested him.

Gareth volunteered first and we sent him out like a Christian facing a lion. He did quite well at first, kept his distance didn't shout or make any sudden moves. In fact he actually calmed Titch down. Then he did something I will never understand to this day, Gareth, tall and skinny punched the calmed thick and bulk Titch in the gut. It didn't go down too well. Titch looked momentarily confused and looked down at his stomach and then showed Gareth how a shot in the gut should be done. He folded like a lawn chair and attempted to crawl towards the door and away from Titch's renewed (and frankly justified this time) furry. He begged us 'Let me in he's going to kill me!' but as we saw it he'd made his bed and he could lie in it.

After Gareth had ran, Titch tried to kick down the door to get in. He might have done it if he hadn't been so drunk that he couldn't come close to connecting with the door without falling over. While doing that David's dad had come over to tell him to go home. David's dad is not a guy you would want to have a disagreement with, in fact, you probably don't want to look at him the wrong way either, so it came as quite a surprise to all of us including Ian when Titch told him to piss off. After a moment of explanation Ian had agreed that he too would have been pretty angry and left Titch to his task with a warning about keeping it down a little.

By this time Gareth had come in the back door and he came with me out on the front step. Titch accepted his apology and I told him he should go home. He refused. He wanted the person who had put the tooth paste in his hand and wouldn't go until he had him. We were at a standstill, so Johnny thought it would be a good idea to wave and laugh at Titch from the window. Another berserker rage, Titch made for the door, Garth and I got in a locked it and then heard the nice neighbour tell Titch that the police had been phoned.

This was bad. The neighbours were cool enough not to say anything about Titch to my parents, and my mum didn't speak to the psycho, but if the police got in the house we were all, for want of a better word, fucked.

Titch ran up toward the school and we turned out all the lights and hid in the kitchen. As we sat there quiet and listening in the dark someone asked 'what if they come to the back door?'

They had just drove by and slowed down, much to the relief of us all. When we were sure the police were gone David said he'd go up the school to speak to Titch. Now if you know David then you know this probably wasn't the best idea, the reason being that he was a pretty likely suspect in the pasting. Apparently Titch thought so too and charged at David from the school. Dave didn't run however he just met halfway and stared to talk.

***

Kaine had grown up in Mauritius and had been taught in an American school and so spoke with the accent. He was always relaxed and laid back (probably dew to the copious amounts of gange he smoked). He was pretty tired and getting hung over, it was 4:30am and time for him to go. He phoned a taxi even though he didn't live that far away and when he came out the door to get it Titch ran. David probably would have held him back if he hadn't been laughing so much. Later Kaine told us that after he had sprinted to the car, having been relatively new in town and having a raving maniac getting closer to the car he had just screamed 'DRIVE MAN, JUST DRIVE!'

***

David came back down about half an hour later and told me Titch wanted to come back in. I said okay.

Next: The Aftermath.

Stop That Car!!!!!!

I was late as usual this morning. I had got up and then fallen down and asleep on the couch, Michelle wasn't feeling well and so had turned her alarm off and went back to sleep in the bed at by the time I woke and woke her it was 8:10.

We got dressed and phoned a taxi for half past and as we were running out we saw our new teenage neighbor, fresh from Murray House, jump in the taxi which has just gave us a ring back.

I pointed at the driver, waved my hands no signal 'no' but he drove away! We were furious as we stormed into the flat to phone the company back when we heard our car beep.

Apparently he was round the corner and suddenly relied he was in the wrong place. I couldn't believe it, our new neighbor must think I'm a complete tit.

Three Weeks in '98: Toothpaste Fury! Part 1

As I start to write this I feel a certain amount of pressure, this is by far one of the funniest stories ever told by anyone who witnessed it, so I hope I tell it right.

Titch is a good guy, a good laugh, smart and talented with a guitar (if not his voice). Titch also has a temper which is both equally terrible and legendry. After Johnny had woke me (see the Hyper-Sleep Blog) I had went back to sleep, and yet again I was awakened with a start. A glass smashing is what woke me to be exact, not the gentle smash of a glass dropped but rather the forceful clatter of a glass being smashed that and a guttural roar which came from the bathroom 'FUCK!'.

I shot up and ran out to the hall where I found a guy and a girl who were not a couple when I went to bed, semi clothed and lying under a quilt on the top hall. After my initial intake of this scene I asked them who was in the bathroom. The girl answered, she was one of my best friends and not at all embarrassed about her position in the middle of my top hall. She spoke one word with a look that made me wince; 'Titch'.

I knocked the door and stepped inside to find Titch surrounded by the remains of the smashed glass and staring in the mirror. My eyes were still hazy from the sleep and transition from dark to light so he was more of a silhouette when I came in and asked what happened to the glass.

'Sorry... I smashed it' he said

'Why?' I asked'

Because they drew on my Fucking Face!'

He turned then and I saw the stars and swirls all over his reddened cheeks. What draw my eyes more was the word 'Jobby' which had been penned across his forehead. I told him to calm down and wash his face, which he did. The pen came off so I asked if was okay and whether he had calmed down.

'No' he said ' My top's ruined!'

This confused me as I was sure whoever drew on his face would not draw on the fleece that Titch was referring to. Then I saw it; I giant smear of toothpaste across the chest. I later fond out that the offending paste had been put on his hand with hopes he would rub it on his face.

He started up again so I told him to get out the bathroom and calm down while I cleaned the glass. He stood at the top of the stairs against the wall where my mum's pictures were hung. At one point the guy in the hall with the girl asked if he was okay, he was told to... well I don't want to swear all the way through this. As I was sweeping the remains of the glass I hard something fall and as I turned I saw Titch bat another of the pictures on the wall downstairs. Now the glass was one thing but now he was just breaking things so I was pissed off and showed it by grabbing him a sending him stumbling after the picture he had just thrown down the stairs. He didn't fall though, despite his level of intoxication he stayed on his feet and charged toward the living room where he grabbed the first person he saw. Johnny was the unlucky one to be closest to the door, which later on we discovered was kind of ironic since he had in fact been the culprit behind the toothpaste.

By the time I had ran in there was already a crowd of people attempting to separate Titch from Johnny, we managed to drag him out to the hall and were trying to calm him down again. He had just stopped shouting profanity when Nikki, the girl who had came to check on me earlier and who Titch hated with an inexplicable passion spoke. I can't remember what she said, I don't even think it was that bad, but Titch obviously disagreed. He went berserk, he wanted to kill her I think or at least injure her, he swung out at her even and this is not a guy who would hit a lady. Out of nowhere Gillian, Nikki's bet friend and my mate Sparkie's girlfriend at the time appeared from the stairs clawing like a manic at the man who looked as if he were a scud missile come to life. We then had to separate them which wasn't going well until Sparkie appeared like chauvinism given life and taken human form in his underwear and told Gillian to quit it and dragged her back to the spare room. Meanwhile we had thrown Titch out the front door.

'Go home' I told him.

He didn't.

To be continued...

My Own Worst Enemy

I swear I was so tired when I got up this morning that I thought I was going to vomit. It was ether tiredness or it may have been the ill advised scotch egg I had at three in the morning while waiting for my stupid download.

I got out of bed walked to the livingroom and fell asleep on the couch. I got to work at nine, I start at half eight. Thank god I had ironed that shirt last night.

100%

It's 2:55am download completed.

I'm up in 3 and a half hours. Why do I find that I'm saying that to myself more and more lately...?

Supersonic.

It's quarter to two on Monday morning and I'm waiting on a stupid download to finish. It's been at 99% since before Bullitt finished three quarters of an hour ago. If I wait any longer I'm going to go fucking postal like that Chewin' The Fat guy in advert.

Needless to say that's not what the 'Supersonic' of my title is about. Was at Dings with some friends and acquaintances and two people I never met before to celebrate one the girl's 22nd Birthday. It was a surprise dinner and we were told to be there for half seven though the table wasn't booked for eight. As a group of us sat in the takeaway area we were all vaguely worried that waiting in a room with a glass door might ruin the shock value. It turned out okay however she was surprised, there was good conversation and food, funny jokes and... Kareoke.

As you know I'm not really a guy who likes attention of any kind so there was no singing of my own done, not on my own at least. The song was one of Queen's, I don't know it but I think the title's Supersonic Man?(Stuart can confirm or correct in the comments if he would be so kind), the Singers were Stuart, Scott, Gary, Dillon and myself. Now like I said; I don't know the song too well so I struggled to keep in time with the well versed and constantly ad-libing vocal talents of Stuart and Scott. Dillon, from what I can gather from the look of fear (which mirrored my own I'm sure) was pretty much in the same place that I was.

It was a good laugh though, and one that went down well with the patrons who gave what I'm sure was the nights best cheers. I kind of wondered if I could have had the guts to sing myself at some point. I remember I had a friend Kevin, who we called Steveo (don't ask), who was in a band and sometimes brought his guitar out. One night at his house he was playing the guitar and everyone was singing along. About half way through the song I realized that everyone but me had stopped singing and that they were listening to me.

I sang quite a few times after that, always with the accompaniment of Kev or my other mate Titch's guitar. For some reason the instrument being played gave me the confidence.

Never did anything at all on Saturday, I was quite happily curled up on the couch with Michelle. All weekend after Friday though I've been walking around singing 'don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time...'

Three Weeks in '98: Hyper - Sleep

I keep thinking about a party I had back when I was still in school. My parents were away for 3 weeks and this was the first night of their holiday. There were at least forty of my friends there, not forty people, forty friends and it was the best party any of them have ever had and the start of three weeks of some of, to quote Brian Adams, the best days of my life. It's over 5 years later and people still talk about it and the stories that came from it only get funnier in time.

I'm not about to tell you all about it because I don't have that kind of time but I will from time to time write about some of those stories like I'm just about to.

I had got up at 6am that morning to see my parents away and had been at an Ocean Colour Scene concert the night before so by about midnightish on the night of the party I was pretty tired. Instead of getting everyone to leave I just cleared my room and went to bed for a few hours, I trusted everyone enough and at least three my guests completely to not worry about the house or anything else.

I think about an hour after I was asleep a girl I knew call Nikki came in and gently asked if I was okay and whether I was getting up. I told her not yet and she quietly slipped away. A little later another of my friends came in and lay on the bed, which woke me up. Like Nikki she asked if I was okay and whether i wanted anything. Again I said no and drifted off. More time goes by and I feel someone lying beside me again so I turn to see who it is. It's my mate Johnny. Now I should explain at this point that Johnny is always happy and, more importantly, always hyper. This is how I was woken from my deep and gently broken slumber:-

'ALL RIGHT AMBROSE HOW'S IT GOING? WHAT'S HAPPENING? WHAT'S GOIN' ON?...You sleeping?'

Admittedly, I think this is more of an audio story which is funnier when told, but I was thinking of it so I told it. It's most likely the most low key of the 'Three weeks in '98' stories but i thought it was a good introduction to the over all background of what will soon be a chronicle of those twenty-one days.

Three weeks in '98 will continue in 'Toothpaste Fury'. Coming Soon...

Long Distance Swimming.

While I'm talking about my lack of commitment to doing things I might as well bring this up.

I bought a pair of swimming shorts round about April this year. And I must say they look good. They're neat, they're a nice colour, they never have a crease in them, yep the way they've lay in that drawer for the past eight months they look mighty fine to me.

I said I was going to go every Thursday night, Michelle's at work till late so I've got the time to myself. I wake up Thursday morning, I'm getting ready for work, grabbing a lunch and I think

'I could put my trunks and a towel in a bag and go straight from work'

then an other voice says

'You don't have time to lift those trunks and towel from a
drawer and put them into a readily available bag'.

I call this voice sloth (after the sin, one of the seven deadly not the big monster guy from 'The Goonies').

I finish work, I go home, I think 'I'll just grab my stuff and go.

'Check your email.'

'I checked it in work.'

'Check again, there could be precious useless information you may have missed'

'Well...'

So I check it and the sites I always look at (www.cinescape.com & www.newsarama.com plus other like minded sites) read a few articles, maybe watch a trailer then turn it off.

'I'll be on my way then.'

'Oh look! An X-Box! You haven't played that in a while...'

I'm weak and soft and getting softer by the week (and not just metaphorical, if my stomach grows any larger Michelle may be lost in the cavern that will be my belly button)

I need to find whatever the thing is that makes people do things they really probably can't be arsed doing. Any ideas?

The Longest Story Never Told.

I just realized that I've been writing my comic book scripts for over two years and only have four complete scripts. Only two of which are (possibly) my final drafts.

I love doing it am I'm always randomly thinking of how to work out a scene at any given time but I lack commitment.

I need to work out a solid plan! I need to sit down and write!

Two years four scripts! TWO YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Crisis Averted! ('end of an e-ra?' update)

E-mails were back on the next day! I give gracious prase to the lord of speedy internet connections (Bill Gates).

POP!

My head feels like a big freakin' balloon!

Hold your breath as long as you can. That pressure you feel in your head right before you can't hold it any longer? That's me. All day.

By the way that thing that I didn't know I'd lost? It was down the back of the couch along with a better mood.

End of an e-ra?

As you may or may not know, a friend and I have been e-mailing each other back and forth through out the day for well over a year and over two jobs each.

For this reason alone I have been kept sane rather than slip into the madness that creeps up on me while I mind numbingly wait on guys to get back to me about things.

But now she has a new system for e-mail in work and apparently that system doesn't get along too well with my system and replies are taking roughly an hour and forty minutes (and counting) to get through to me.

I can already feel the insanity rise! Help me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do you know what your future will be?

So far this year there has been quite a few changes to the lives of those around me. Four of my friends have moved out to their own place,one his own, one with his girlfriend and two as a couple. My sister has also moved, not locally like the rest but to England, taking my three year old niece with her to be closer to my brother-in-law who works down there. A friend of mine had a little boy, Michelle and I have a new nephew; Ryan, Michelle was made the assistant manager of her salon and I started a new job (which is pretty much the same as the last).

Big changes? I guess, but I can't help but feel that not much has been happening.

After the excitement of last year (new job, engagement, new flat...) this year seem to have past by without much have changed save for losing a sister and niece (and brother-in-law) to distance and gaining a nephew by future marriage.

On the other hand the thing that stay the same I wouldn't change for all the world. I love Michelle and she loves me, my friends are still the best anyone could ask for and my family, despite my sister leaving, is still close.

I feel like I'm looking for something which I didn't know I'd lost lately. I keep looking at the past and feel my future looks too clear. I'm not sure what that means. Probably that I'm bored and sick and in a bad mood but still...

*Sniff*

I dot duh told! *SNIFF* 'scuse me, I meant to say; 'I've got the cold!'

I was off work yesterday and back today purely because I can't afford to be off sick two and a bit weeks before Christmas. To make it worse I haven't got anything to do so I am peeling bits of plastic off of little white tile which will be used for a pointless board.

So I've not done this for a while, and there's not too much I have to report. A couple of my friends got a new flat and one of them started a new job, but to be honest, since you guys are the only people who read this then you already knew that...

I'm sure something'll happen at some point. I'll post again at that time.

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.