I finally happened...

After weeks of suspense and nervous worrying, I have finally managed to get ill.

Was surprisingly easy as it turns out. Hardly had to lift a finger and before you knew it I was ankle deep in stale vomit and cold sweat. Say what you want about British winters, at least our viruses are timely and efficient.

Of course this does mean that I'm on medication for the next couple of days, and will no doubt develop a few bed sores as I attempt to watch every zombie DVD I own back-to-back until I feel well enough to make some toast again.

The only thing missing from this dream of existent is a job. Because everyone knows that the only fun in being ill is getting time off work. But like me, you don't have a job then it's just like every other day. Except with more mucus.

Just a thought...

I've just noticed that the Postie is still wearing shorts. It's minus 2 outside!

Put some jeans on man

One of those days

I just saw something which was just truly very special.

I was walking back from the barbers a minute ago when I saw a very distinct car heading passed me. It was a baby pink Ford Ka... with racing stripes! Ok, whatever, I'm not gonna judge.

But what made this car even better was the clearly pissed off middle-aged male driver of this vehicle. But I'm not gonna make jokes about it being his because it was obviously not... mainly because of how he was dressed.

He had obviously realised that he was gonna have to drive the sugar-plum fairy's car today so he made an extra effort to make himself more masculine. In a hope to, I don't know... repel the pre-pubescent estrogen.

So his driving attire became a hard-hat, fluorescent jacket, aviators and a cigarette between his teeth. Now to him, he probably thought he looked tough, brutish and manly. But when you're driving a car that looked like it was found in Hello Kitty's litter tray, you just look like washed up member of the Village People.

2009 + 1

Well, this year is only a day and a half old but to be honest I am feeling better about it all ready.

For the first time in a long time, I woke up in a good mood. Mainly because 6Music were beaming out Red Hot Chili Peppers' 'Around the World'. So picture me in my PJ's, miming the lyrics with a mouthful of Shreddies.

And although I don't like trying to think about why this maybe, I have a theory. I think it's my conscience saying that 2008 was so shit for pretty much the whole world that the only way is up. And that is how I have started to think. Aside from losing a vital organ or impregnating a female, my life is pretty much at rock bottom as far as psychologically goes.

So I think 2009 should be good. Because let's face it, if it's as bad as last year, is there really much point.

2009?

This is one of those nostalgia pieces written through the morning haze of an ill-tempered hangover. Also I'm feeling a bit pretentious, so ignore pretty much everything I say.

It's the first day of yet another year. Oh fucking great! Another start to another meaningless length of time. I'm not really sure I understand the human need to break up everything we need to do in life in accordance with years. Like New Year's Resolutions, a fresh start, that kind of thing. Why the need for a year to start that? Why haven't you already started? Why have you let time pass when you could have started that diet or quit smoking earlier?

The point of new year's eve is literally just an excuse to drink. Hell, I celebrate the beginning of every week with a drink. Not for symbolic reasons, just because its a reason.

So I urge anyone who got this far to do what you want to do now. Putting it off for new year means you probably aren't all that interested in it anyway.

Just treat life as what it is, a chance to do anything you want.