It's quiet here at the moment. The lull before the storm in a teacup - as my old mum used to say. She had some great sayings: the world is your lobster; if it weren't for your dad; don't let me hear that word again.
The Swedish tart stays in her bedroom playing 'Bjork' at full blast. Says it reminds her of her beloved country. I said to her: You silly Swedish tart, Bjork is from Iceland. She swore at me in Spanish. Now what's all that about!
Syd's disappeared again. I'm not worrying though. I've realised that I have more to do with my life than worry about people. Who was it who said that you should go through life with Death sitting on your shoulder. That way you will make the most of it. (Life, not death)
The lesbian has started picking her nose again - at the dinner table. I ask you. I have complained of course, but she says if I don't like it I can eat in the garage. I think I might, at that - when the weather gets a little warmer.
You know, I deserve more out of life that this. I mean all I want is for everybody to be happy - everybody. And yet I seem to attract nothing but aggravation. Where am I going wrong? Can anyone tell me?
Yours in bewilderment
George
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
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1 comment:
Well, I can tell you one place you're going wrong, George: your posting your blogs in the wrong place. You need to manipulate them round so the new ones come at the top. Gave me quite a turn, you did, till I realised what was going on. I thought you'd stopped writing 'cause you'd passed on - especially when her down the Jolly Pervert said she hadn't seen you for three weeks. And then old Gary spread the word about that he'd seen you climbing the girders of the Runcorn-Widnes bridge late one night, as he was crossing on his old motorbike. He said he thought you were about to jump off. Of course, no-one believed that. He's always drunk when he rides that machine anyway. We all laughed; imagine you climbing up there at your age!
I'd tell the Swedish tart to piss off. Photos or no photos.
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