Get off my cloud

Well, I went to see the lesbian comic who's show I seemed destined to see at the end of a festival that has obviously been quite severely overshadowed by super-hot-girl-friend-frenchmangate and my subsequent arguing with The Lesbian. As I said before usually I would instantly dismiss the idea of such a show (everyone knows women aren't funny) BUT it said it was all about her dealing with crushingly painful relationship mismatches (struck a chord) and her subsequent alcoholism (even bigger chord) and thus I came to the conclusion that it was FATE that I was to see this show. So I did, and it was a disappointingly low turnout so it felt a bit awkward to begin with however she worked it well and everything she was saying seemed to mirror my life almost identically except played out by a lesbian. She even recounted how she’d recently had her car taken away and crushed for having no tax (not that that makes the pain of my motor loss any easier).



Anyway it really did seem to be genuinely talking to me, like some kind of message from the gods, and this probably sounds like I’m high but I’m not. She went through stories of various narcotics (mirroring my experiences), embarrassing alcohol fuelled antics (mirroring mine) and lusting after women who just weren’t interested in her and would break her heart by copping off with other people right under her nose. I genuinely thought I'd had an epiphany. And at the end she explained how she was now tee total and happily in a relationship yadda yadda and how she had turned her life round. Sounds like some motivational god botherer but no, no it was ok, she seemed genuine, in fact she was very funny and absolutely filthy with it. Then before we left she handed us each a helium balloon with a card attached and invited us to write down the name of somebody that we felt resentment towards, someone we were angry with, someone who we should now forgive. My mind turned instantly to the crushing hurt of my now ex beautiful friend who I had treated fairly abhorrently since her doing the dirty on me so on that card, attached to the balloon, which I was to release into the sky to symbolise my forgiveness I wrote down the name of…

The Lesbian.

SCREW the Frenchman shagging ho, cow broke my heart and then rubbed it in. She even brought the French coq round to our flat before she left and I couldn’t even look at her. 



But the point was this show did make me think quite a lot and I ended up feeling better about things than I had been the rest of the week. It actually made me consider that perhaps alcohol and my increasing dependence upon it COULD be to blame for oh so many of my problems. Should I, in fact, be tee total and seek pleasures elsewhere for a truer experience of life?



I then went to a grimey club where they were pounding out 90’s house and garage before catching the bus to the airport where I had a Wetherspoons breakfast at 5am… with a jug of Pimms.



Back in Blighty I then got in an argument with some pompous train twat who was trying to fine me for not having bought a ticket in advance (I don't DO queueing) and despite my protests he was having none of it and insisting I pay him some fine. I lost my rag, told him to fuck himself then jumped the barriers BUT instead of running away I just walked casually away, pumped full of adrenaline, almost waiting for someone to tackle me to the ground for daring to screw the rail company. I was clenching my fists in a half victorious, half I'm going to smash something type affair but to my surprise I was left alone to stroll casually out of the station and into a taxi. Either the mug train wankers were genuinely scared by my blind rage OR they just couldn't be bothered to go after me. Either way I WON so stick it to the man



Passed out as soon as I got home then spent my Sunday getting through two bottles of wine and half a bottle of whisky on the beach in the lovely sunshine. It was again like things weren't all bad and for the first time I've ever seen there was a Jamaican food stand just outside one of the old clubs on the beach so I went and had some delicious jerk pork and they explained they were there for the bodybuilding competition in the club, so I wandered in through the back to find all these ridiculously musclebound men and women just getting changed into tiny thongs and lycra outfits, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I'm afraid it did nothing for me but if I were a bummer it’d be like I’d just walked into heaven (the one in the sky as opposed to the club). So I just went straight to the bar as these oiled up creatures exhibited themselves behind me.



I think despite my not heeding my own epiphany by drinking like an Irish student all weekend I would actually like to knock booze on the head, at least for a while anyway. BUT out of nowhere I have a date with a girl from out of town next weekend and when I asked her what she’d like to do she said “I love a drink, me, so let’s go on a pub crawl”. What is a boy to do? And I've not even got to the fake girlfriend yet, who has also caused me to fail on the not drinking ideal, for the third day running. She is very beautiful, and Irish, and I met her through placing a very odd but charmingly innocent (at least I thought so anyway) ad on Gumtree in the "friends & Dating" section. However that is a WHOLE different kettle of radish entirely and to start that story would only be robbing material from a future post BECAUSE I WILL BLOG MORE. Since qualifying as a journalist I keep telling everybody I'm a writer but I do no more writing now than I ever did, I seriously have to get into the habit of it, even if it is only the continued ramblings of this once loved journal.

Anyway the Gumtree ad and subsequent fake beautiful Irish girlfriend story is quite good so it's kind of leaving me itching to come back and blog some more to boast about this unusual scenario another day. A cliffhanger if you will. Or not. The point is I'm coming back.

x