My dad's keeping me out of the way even more the usual until my hair grows back, he says its so I don't put the GUESTS off their breakfasts, as if I was one of those people off of The Spa of Embarrassing Bodies. That's all very well, but he doesn't seem to mind me cooking their bloody breakfasts for them as long as I do it out of sight. I don't know why he doesn't just put a bag over my head and have done. While I was in my coma, Mum got a new job that involves her being out at night a lot, not that she used to put herself out with the GUESTS all that much, but it means I end up having to cook the breakfasts most of the time, and plate them up for dad to take them through into the dining room.
I have decided to be a vegan because one day last week in a box of eggs from the Co-op I found a feather stuck to an egg with a blob of hen shit, and this very graphically brought home to me where eggs come from. Because I am now vegan, this morning I was experimenting with a new way of breaking eggs so that I didn't have to touch them with my hands. I won't go into details because to be honest while it was extrememly effective as a way of cracking eggs, it was pretty shit really, because it broke the yolks of most of them as well, resulting in me using 36 eggs for 9 breakfasts. Would you believe it, after all that one of the picky bloody emmets just ate the whites of her eggs and left both her yolks on her plate.
Thursday, 29 April 2010
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Now everyone report to the dance floor
I will NOT go into the details of why I haven't BLOGGED for some months, suffice it to say that having put me in a very compromising position involving ANOTHER WOMAN, my girlfriend acccuses me of having an INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIP with my Hostage Negotiator, and goes for me with a hammer.
I ask you, my Hostage Negotiator, she is probably 40 and smokes rollups. (So much for the Stockholm Syndrome). Anyway having held me hostage and then gone for me with a hammer, I am definitely not going out with her any more. (My girlfriend that is, well I say girlfriend, NOT ANY MORE, not my Hostage Negotiator.)
I call her that because after all those days I never got to find out her name. All I know her as is MUM, because about three or four days after it all kicked off (I think it might have been Christmas Day, actually) and I was just chilling on the roof and looking out over Godrevy and having a bit of a rest from chucking slates down into the street below, she'd given me her mobile to ring my dad, and it rang and it was one of HER kids ringing her who just said 'Is mum there?' She looked a bit embarrassed when I said 'It's for you' and threw the phone down to her. Anyway she was pretty cool, and we played UNO which is a bit shit with just two people to be honest, especially when one of them's sitting on a roof and the other one's standing in the street, but at least she listened to me. Then she made the mistake of getting me to come back down into my bedroom, and talk to my girlfriend WHO IS WHY I WAS THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. That was when the unfortunate incident with the hammer happened.
To be honest, comas aren't what they're cracked up to be in films either. I saw Eastenders on the telly the other night first time for months, that Jack Branning(can't believe Bradley's dead, shows how dangerous it is to go up on roofs even when your girlfriend ISN'T a psychopath secreting a hammer in her bra), you watch, he's been shot in the head, he was in a coma for about ten minutes, and I bet he'll be up and about in a few weeks, you mark my words.
I think my Hostage Negotiator and I will be friends forever, although she hasn't been round since I got out of hospital. In fact she hasn't been in touch at all, but that's understandable because she said has to keep quiet about her job. Not even her kids know what she does, mind you I don't know what my mum does either (nothing). I thought I seen her in the Co-op the other day, but they say that's part of my illness, like seeing Robbie Williams. I think now when I leave school I would like to be a Hostage Negotiator instead of a postman.
I ask you, my Hostage Negotiator, she is probably 40 and smokes rollups. (So much for the Stockholm Syndrome). Anyway having held me hostage and then gone for me with a hammer, I am definitely not going out with her any more. (My girlfriend that is, well I say girlfriend, NOT ANY MORE, not my Hostage Negotiator.)
I call her that because after all those days I never got to find out her name. All I know her as is MUM, because about three or four days after it all kicked off (I think it might have been Christmas Day, actually) and I was just chilling on the roof and looking out over Godrevy and having a bit of a rest from chucking slates down into the street below, she'd given me her mobile to ring my dad, and it rang and it was one of HER kids ringing her who just said 'Is mum there?' She looked a bit embarrassed when I said 'It's for you' and threw the phone down to her. Anyway she was pretty cool, and we played UNO which is a bit shit with just two people to be honest, especially when one of them's sitting on a roof and the other one's standing in the street, but at least she listened to me. Then she made the mistake of getting me to come back down into my bedroom, and talk to my girlfriend WHO IS WHY I WAS THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. That was when the unfortunate incident with the hammer happened.
To be honest, comas aren't what they're cracked up to be in films either. I saw Eastenders on the telly the other night first time for months, that Jack Branning(can't believe Bradley's dead, shows how dangerous it is to go up on roofs even when your girlfriend ISN'T a psychopath secreting a hammer in her bra), you watch, he's been shot in the head, he was in a coma for about ten minutes, and I bet he'll be up and about in a few weeks, you mark my words.
I think my Hostage Negotiator and I will be friends forever, although she hasn't been round since I got out of hospital. In fact she hasn't been in touch at all, but that's understandable because she said has to keep quiet about her job. Not even her kids know what she does, mind you I don't know what my mum does either (nothing). I thought I seen her in the Co-op the other day, but they say that's part of my illness, like seeing Robbie Williams. I think now when I leave school I would like to be a Hostage Negotiator instead of a postman.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)