The weekend has caught up with me. I’m not hungover as such, it’s just as if my blood has been replaced by marmite.
Following a foolish and unnecessary, though highly entertaining, visit to the pub Sunday, I returned in time to watch a very poorly conceived documentary on the 9/11 conspiracy, it sort of failed in it’s attempt to undermine the main conspirators claim that the world trade centre buildings were full of bombs, focussing instead on other tish and fipsy, which, it can be argued, it largely resolved. Don’t let me present myself as one of those tools that thinks that everything is the work of nefarious American agencies, for me it a simple case of asking a question and not getting an answer, possibly for very good reasons… I then watched another conspiracy-esque affair on the death of Kurt Cobain, I never thought for a minute he was murdered by Courtney, or any of that shit. What we were treated to was a very sad little tale about a man who, essentially got what he wanted, then realised he didn’t.
I never saw Nirvana, girlfriend issues prevented me from seeing him at Reading (about the only one I’ve missed in 15 odd years). I had tickets for a show in Portsmouth which was cancelled when he got sick in Italy. I was a huge fan of Nirvana way before they became huge and was given Nevermind 3 months before it was released by a mate in the industry. Cobain’s death affected me quite badly at the time.
Sitting here in the office I’m trying to work out the best way of initiating some sort recovery, or even bailing completely. For some reason I put a large bag of onion rings into my rucksack last night, they’re doing nothing to take the edge off my pain; it’s like eating a load of STD’s.
Some cunt has fucked the coffee as well; it’s weaker than a baby’s tinkle, which tit did that? I intend to find out then intimidate them, even if it’s that work experience girl in the corner with a pornstars arse.
Decided to hold out for the bloke that brings the sandwiches, I need a Coke, the sugar, caffeine and fizz will fix me. Jesus, I’ve nearly finished the bag of STD’s, actually it may not be wise to pour a load of coke over them, they might swell in my guts, and I could literally explode.
Cool.
