Jack Johnson
I can't honestly believe that Mrs L just said that Jack Johnson sounded quite good. She has to be drunk! What a fucking ridiculous statement if ever I heard it! The guy is a gimp, yet the advert on the telly says that (apparently) he is the 21st century Bob Dylan. That's a pretty serious declaration, and utter bollocks to boot. He's not, he isn't, and he's crap. That's all I have to say.
I've been pretty low emotionally due to things. Funerals and things. I haven't felt at all like blogging, and whereas normally I feel bad about neglecting my duty, on this occasion I just don't. Certain things take priority I suppose. It was an emotional weekend, one the like of which I've never experienced. It was good to have everyone close, and to be able to tell everyone that I love them, because I do. But now it's time to move on.
I also suffered terribly due to my godawful hayfever. I FUCKING HATE HAYFEVER. There are no if's or but's where the bastard pollen is concerned, and I was honking away like a bloody elephant on the train to and from Reading, and all the time in between. I probably went through £1.50's worth of Tesco value kitchen roll in three days in a valiant attempt to clear my nasal passages and make life even vaguely bearable. As soon as I returned home it was clear I had to sort out some kind of solution to this ongoing issue. I went to work on Tuesday and couldn't breathe. My job involves talking to people and I was having to blow my nose every ten seconds. It wasn't practical and I wasn't able to pull it off. So I went home sick, went to the doctors, and pleaded my case. Give me something to cease this misery, I begged! So he did. He prescribed me some amazing steroid tablet things, and some mega-antihistamines to help me sleep, and within three hours of taking the first steroid tablet I was already feeling perkier. Fucking ace! It cleared up my sinuses right good and proper! I am saved!!!! So on Tuesday I shall return to order a dose of Brighton's finest hayfever remedy in injection form. Apparently the needle-inserted variety of steroid lasts for three months. Amazing. I'd heard rumours of such a thing, but had dismissed it as pure speculation, or bollocks. But it exists, and I'm gonna have it. Yay! For two days now, I've been watching the poor souls in Boots and Superdrug purchasing their poor man's Clarityn or own brand hayfever remedy and laughing mockingly. The fools don't even realise that there is a solution to their woe! HA! Never again shall I suffer unnecessarily. Never again shall I fear the balmy summer evenings, when I can actually enjoy them. Forevermore I shall be in debt to the lovely Dr Wilson, whoever and wherever he is, for prescribing me the medicine of my dreams. Good man!
I'm into my seventh bottle of Cerveza spanish beer and it's going down a treat. Waitrose own brand. Good shit. I love summer.
Rufus Wainwright is very good.
Mrs L is gonna (with my help) put a tenner on Derek winning Big Brother tomorrow. It's a long shot we know, but he's easily the most entertaining housemate, and Mrs L has always regretted not putting money on Nadia last year at about this stage of the proceedings. He might get voted out, but so what. If he does then it's goodbye to a tenner. If he doesn't we could be looking at a windfall of £400 in two months. COME ON DEREK!!!!!!
In other news, karma strikes again: this bloke learnt the hard way why he shouldn't have bought that Jar Jar Binks figurine. The lord moves in mysterious ways..
And who else saw Tom Cruise getting squirted? I did, and it wasn't funny. His reaction however was hilarious. "You're a jerk!" Genius.
And in Big Blogger we've gotten rid of Peter, Grocerjack, and Mr Hair. It's mellowing down a bit, and all extremely entertaining. I think that if Mike gets voted out we should make him assume the role of Davina. He's got it in him that's for sure.
Right, back to my beer.
I've been pretty low emotionally due to things. Funerals and things. I haven't felt at all like blogging, and whereas normally I feel bad about neglecting my duty, on this occasion I just don't. Certain things take priority I suppose. It was an emotional weekend, one the like of which I've never experienced. It was good to have everyone close, and to be able to tell everyone that I love them, because I do. But now it's time to move on.
I also suffered terribly due to my godawful hayfever. I FUCKING HATE HAYFEVER. There are no if's or but's where the bastard pollen is concerned, and I was honking away like a bloody elephant on the train to and from Reading, and all the time in between. I probably went through £1.50's worth of Tesco value kitchen roll in three days in a valiant attempt to clear my nasal passages and make life even vaguely bearable. As soon as I returned home it was clear I had to sort out some kind of solution to this ongoing issue. I went to work on Tuesday and couldn't breathe. My job involves talking to people and I was having to blow my nose every ten seconds. It wasn't practical and I wasn't able to pull it off. So I went home sick, went to the doctors, and pleaded my case. Give me something to cease this misery, I begged! So he did. He prescribed me some amazing steroid tablet things, and some mega-antihistamines to help me sleep, and within three hours of taking the first steroid tablet I was already feeling perkier. Fucking ace! It cleared up my sinuses right good and proper! I am saved!!!! So on Tuesday I shall return to order a dose of Brighton's finest hayfever remedy in injection form. Apparently the needle-inserted variety of steroid lasts for three months. Amazing. I'd heard rumours of such a thing, but had dismissed it as pure speculation, or bollocks. But it exists, and I'm gonna have it. Yay! For two days now, I've been watching the poor souls in Boots and Superdrug purchasing their poor man's Clarityn or own brand hayfever remedy and laughing mockingly. The fools don't even realise that there is a solution to their woe! HA! Never again shall I suffer unnecessarily. Never again shall I fear the balmy summer evenings, when I can actually enjoy them. Forevermore I shall be in debt to the lovely Dr Wilson, whoever and wherever he is, for prescribing me the medicine of my dreams. Good man!
I'm into my seventh bottle of Cerveza spanish beer and it's going down a treat. Waitrose own brand. Good shit. I love summer.
Rufus Wainwright is very good.
Mrs L is gonna (with my help) put a tenner on Derek winning Big Brother tomorrow. It's a long shot we know, but he's easily the most entertaining housemate, and Mrs L has always regretted not putting money on Nadia last year at about this stage of the proceedings. He might get voted out, but so what. If he does then it's goodbye to a tenner. If he doesn't we could be looking at a windfall of £400 in two months. COME ON DEREK!!!!!!
In other news, karma strikes again: this bloke learnt the hard way why he shouldn't have bought that Jar Jar Binks figurine. The lord moves in mysterious ways..
And who else saw Tom Cruise getting squirted? I did, and it wasn't funny. His reaction however was hilarious. "You're a jerk!" Genius.
And in Big Blogger we've gotten rid of Peter, Grocerjack, and Mr Hair. It's mellowing down a bit, and all extremely entertaining. I think that if Mike gets voted out we should make him assume the role of Davina. He's got it in him that's for sure.
Right, back to my beer.
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