One for the history books
I should mention that on Tuesday I felt like poo and was therefore unusually inactive. Typical that this should be the day that will go down in history for all to view, forever. Just my fucking luck.
But enough with the excuses.
12.01am: Watched the end of Final Destination 3 without so much as blinking. Quite an achievement for me.
12.45am: Photoshop therapy to relieve annoyance caused by The Ginger neighbours' incredulous response to my polite complaint about their 8-hours-a-day barking dogs; this response being a letter of complaint about my cats terrorising their guinea pigs and exacerbating Mrs Ginger's cat allegy by sitting on their plastic garden furniture. How do you respond to THAT?
3.20am: Headwrote varying replies to The Gingers' letter in bed. Slept and dreamt of things that don't bother me when in a wakeful state, but patently do when I'm in slumberland. Bizarre.
8.00am: (Whilst asleep) Automated responses to things.
12.15pm: Awoke to the sound of the television and with the feeling that Fern Britton had been presenting This Morning from the comfort of my chest. Coughed up some nasty looking stuff. Lit a cigarette and put it out after failing to inhale.
13.10pm: Checked my email, deleting pleas from orphaned Ivory Coast potential-multi-millionaires who "felt like emptying themselves to me". And offers of genuine "R0l Ex" watches at discount prices. Splendid.
-Jeremy Kyle Show interlude-
3.15pm: Picked up Daughter Two from school and drove to town to collect Daughter One. Popped into Ottakars en route to buy Daughter One the latest Eoin Colfer book. Was very tempted to buy Best of Jackie Annual for myself, but opted to add it to my Christmas Wishlist instead.
5.10pm: Went to local Sainsburys and purchased the following:
Bag of potatoes
Toulouse sausages
Broccoli and cauliflower
Gravy granules
Aunt Bessies Yorkshire Puddings
Aunt Bessies Roast Potatoes
Chocolate Cake
6.30pm: Made dinner, nipping between the living room and kitchen watching the Eggheads almost lose. Spoke briefly to Bestmate and arranged to go over to her house at 8pm to watch a movie.
7.20pm: Ate dinner (Sausage and mustard mash swimming in gravy) with a small slice of chocky cake for dessert.
7.30pm: Watched Eastenders, whilst thinking how much better Coronation Street is and how I wished it was Wednesday instead. Waited for Ruby's head to explode; it seemed to get fatter by the minute. It didn't happen. God, what a shite programme.
8.00pm: Watched the start of Holby City whilst thinking how depressing it was. Woke to the disturbing sound of Nigel from Eastenders (now a doctor in Holby, but always the dopey Womble lookylikey to me) sobbing uncontrollably.
9.00pm: Phoned Bestmate to say that I wouldn't be round at 8.00pm. Obviously. Explained that I was still coughing up small aliens and that I'd take a rain check. Surfed the net some. Feeling a little nostalgic today, so promised myself a trip to the Museum of Brands, Packaging & Advertising before the month is over.
9.20pm: Watched the end of the Horizon documentary on Isabelle Dinoire, who in 1995* became the first face transplant patient, then at
10.00pm: Switched over to Channel4 for The Madness of Boy George. Fab! Great to see Marc Almond looking so well.
11.00pm: Watched the first two episodes of One Summer, which had arrived via Lovefilm earlier that morning. It seemed terribly dated, and not nearly as fantastic as it was when first screened in 1983.
Gosh, don't you wish you had my life.
*I'm leaving this typo so you can see just how nostaligic I was feeling yesterday. s'easy to lose a decade here and there. It should, of course, read 2005.
But enough with the excuses.
12.01am: Watched the end of Final Destination 3 without so much as blinking. Quite an achievement for me.
12.45am: Photoshop therapy to relieve annoyance caused by The Ginger neighbours' incredulous response to my polite complaint about their 8-hours-a-day barking dogs; this response being a letter of complaint about my cats terrorising their guinea pigs and exacerbating Mrs Ginger's cat allegy by sitting on their plastic garden furniture. How do you respond to THAT?
3.20am: Headwrote varying replies to The Gingers' letter in bed. Slept and dreamt of things that don't bother me when in a wakeful state, but patently do when I'm in slumberland. Bizarre.
8.00am: (Whilst asleep) Automated responses to things.
12.15pm: Awoke to the sound of the television and with the feeling that Fern Britton had been presenting This Morning from the comfort of my chest. Coughed up some nasty looking stuff. Lit a cigarette and put it out after failing to inhale.
13.10pm: Checked my email, deleting pleas from orphaned Ivory Coast potential-multi-millionaires who "felt like emptying themselves to me". And offers of genuine "R0l Ex" watches at discount prices. Splendid.
-Jeremy Kyle Show interlude-
3.15pm: Picked up Daughter Two from school and drove to town to collect Daughter One. Popped into Ottakars en route to buy Daughter One the latest Eoin Colfer book. Was very tempted to buy Best of Jackie Annual for myself, but opted to add it to my Christmas Wishlist instead.
5.10pm: Went to local Sainsburys and purchased the following:
Bag of potatoes
Toulouse sausages
Broccoli and cauliflower
Gravy granules
Aunt Bessies Yorkshire Puddings
Aunt Bessies Roast Potatoes
Chocolate Cake
6.30pm: Made dinner, nipping between the living room and kitchen watching the Eggheads almost lose. Spoke briefly to Bestmate and arranged to go over to her house at 8pm to watch a movie.
7.20pm: Ate dinner (Sausage and mustard mash swimming in gravy) with a small slice of chocky cake for dessert.
7.30pm: Watched Eastenders, whilst thinking how much better Coronation Street is and how I wished it was Wednesday instead. Waited for Ruby's head to explode; it seemed to get fatter by the minute. It didn't happen. God, what a shite programme.
8.00pm: Watched the start of Holby City whilst thinking how depressing it was. Woke to the disturbing sound of Nigel from Eastenders (now a doctor in Holby, but always the dopey Womble lookylikey to me) sobbing uncontrollably.
9.00pm: Phoned Bestmate to say that I wouldn't be round at 8.00pm. Obviously. Explained that I was still coughing up small aliens and that I'd take a rain check. Surfed the net some. Feeling a little nostalgic today, so promised myself a trip to the Museum of Brands, Packaging & Advertising before the month is over.
9.20pm: Watched the end of the Horizon documentary on Isabelle Dinoire, who in 1995* became the first face transplant patient, then at
10.00pm: Switched over to Channel4 for The Madness of Boy George. Fab! Great to see Marc Almond looking so well.
11.00pm: Watched the first two episodes of One Summer, which had arrived via Lovefilm earlier that morning. It seemed terribly dated, and not nearly as fantastic as it was when first screened in 1983.
Gosh, don't you wish you had my life.
*I'm leaving this typo so you can see just how nostaligic I was feeling yesterday. s'easy to lose a decade here and there. It should, of course, read 2005.
posted by Shuffling Chunks at 2:52 pm
4 Comments:
13:10 Its always very disturbing when a total stranger tells you they want to emptying themselves to you!
Quite. They can keep their substantial deposits to themselves, thankyouverymuch. Jeez, they must think I was born yesterday.
Anyway, enough about those fraudsters, I'd better go verify those paypal login details now..
Oooh - you've opened up comments to us non-blogger types!
If is any comfort, my life last night consisted of bemoaning the absence of anything decent on telly, before watching the terrible McKeith woman doing her awful best. Lord. Has it come to this, I ask myself?
Yes, this week I'm targeting the pop-up-blocker types. ;)
Tuesday is THE worst TV day of the week, without question, and I still managed to spend most of the evening plonked in front of the screen.
So right about McKeith.. I can't understand why they are still broadcasting that shit (pun very much intended, sorry). The best thing to come out of it (this one wasn't) is the fabulous Ben Goldacre and his Bad Science blog, forever a thorn in her passage. Go Ben!
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