Honestly, if there's anything else I can do to threaten you, tell me

Nothing much, except I'm sure I'm having a recurring dream. Either that, or I had two similar dreams in one night. Anyhoo, there's Ray and I, attempting to get into some glitzy nightclub, when from over the other side, a great big godzilla sized monster appears and starts chasing us. For a good while, through the city, up to a village, to a school, then to a green, by where I realise it's a dream and we are finally caught. The surroundings where relatively detailed, though I couldn't exactly remember them (or I'm a poor describer-bloke). Well.

#So join with us in the st-stu-stu-st-st-stu-s-s-st-st-stutterrap#

Staff Party. Relatively fun, with me only staying there for about 3 hours. I played on the Freeplay Dance Dance Revolution arcade for most of the time, some guy got naked, the fairground bigwigs played on DanceDance in front of a relatively large crowd and some girls followed me into the men's toilets. Aaaah. And now I'm very knacker'd.

Fundibble

Some stuff of recent days:
-Ray and I went to Manchester yesterday. It's a great city, although it feels daunting going there since you feel pressured in having to experience everything there. Thank God we ain't been ta Landhan (as they say) for that reason. Bought Ranma 1/2 graphic novel and blatantly copied version of The Matrix: Reloaded (seen it twice in cinema, but the burly brawl rocks 50 times over). Should've bought some pseudo-nu-artsy-exterior books, which looked really interesting.
-On front of our most local newspaper, 'The Southport Visiter' (note the spelling), they are riled with the superb magazine The Idler as some guy has nominated the town as a 'crap town'. Whilst it's not, by far, the worst town in Britain, it's obvious that this shouldn't be taken seriously. It's a front page story, for fuck's sake! They must have been bored or something.
-Whilst there was no-one, again, at the fairground, one of the pretty girls did a french platt in my hair. We had a good laugh; I kept it in for the rest of the work day.

#Talk to the fist 'cause the hand is pissed!#

Blast. I know what's devoid - it's being able to do what I want. I really should move out; my parents have got something for 'expanding my thoughts'. They hate video games, anything to do with learning an instrument or what not. I'd have to get out of this place, but I'd fear that I'd have no money to do what I would want. B'lox. What a conundrum.

BaNg

Look at me! I'm nineteen. But that's about it, for I don't feel different. Maybe because 19 just isn't significant. Of the outstanding presents, which would be contributions towards a driving test...I seemingly cannot be arsed. Other than having to work, I'd somewhat rather spend my days off doing other stuff. Mind, I should learn. It'll just be...better. For somethin'. I still haven't used any effort to contact sum gi with a supposed free piano. Probably gone knowing me. Either that or convincing 'father' to keep a piano in the house.

'I...kill...you!'

Bloody construction workers. Next door neighbours are getting something done to their house (don't know what, but it should involve their garden - it needs a serious trim). Low and behold, upon setting up, they did something. Ray and I get home. We see workers coming from our garden. 'Sorry mate, but we've accidently put a clip through one of your back windows'. Sonnoavabitch. Agreed, our windows are in serious need of replacement, but the gimps put OUR window through. Now it's covered in hardboard. Arse.

'You mean it? Jeremy Beadle?'

Yes, just before it does exactly the same thing but explain over several paragraphs, apparently, the fabled prankster is coming to our very own theme park that is worked in. He's allegedly officially opening 'Abdullah's Dilemma', which is full of optical illusions and a 'haunted' swing. Look at his odd hands. I'm not working on that particular day, though - 11:30 'til 9? Get outta here.

How to predict the world

Or an exam. For someone else. Early Thursday morn, say, 8:30am, advert with Jamie Oliver and his fake friends and house pops up on TV. To which I tell Estelle (sister): 'Y'know all those people are blatantly actors; he'd never seen a black person until he was 17, to which he said (upon seeing) "That man's all brown!" as he lived in the country up 'til then'. And, and, and indeed, on her English Language GCSE exam is a question about Jamie Oliver and his early life being very different to the fake one we see on television nowadays. Ooooooh. 'What an honour!'

Look at me

I was so bored I remembered all the Hiragana alphabet
I was so bored I knew the nature of children's parents
I was so bored I tried my hand at many-a-crossword
I was so bored I learned time via the sun
I was so bored I started reading novels
I was so bored I daydreamed deeply
I was so bored I imagined music
I did not adhere to expectation
But I really did.

'Look outside the house! It's Mark Lawrence!'

I'm probably giving up on this site; either that or I haven't been bothered lately. Anyhoo, today saw the release of 'everything' (quite a lot of DVDs and CDs for the buying, ladies and jellyspoons), which prompted me to buy Futurama and 28 Days Later, regardless of coming out a few weeks ago. Both cock-rockin'. Besides that, work seems to be only full of weirdos on my team. Either than or decent fellow students who are easy to get along with. Quite the contradiction, non? And whilst Ray got Music 3000, time of the plenty is needed to create something infallible. And time is not what I've had. Just boring work, really.