Wino.

I still have no bloody interent on my laptop, i do think in some sense it is very healthy for me not to because you know ive started noticing the smaller, pleasant things in life such as oxygen and daylight. Rather than driving my self crazyyyyy on facesmuck. Tonight is wineeeeeeeeeeeeee time cus i passed my fitness test with a flying flags n all that, a little friendly competition with a similiar candiate made me run like roadrunner and the little, muscular fitness man was really surpised and happy for me so it made me all chuffed, so then i got drunk when i got home. I'm too far gone to celebrate in another constructive ways like playing cherades or monopoly and smiling at people. Its a good place to be in though cus even if i sink like rick waller in a pool for my specialist interview, im sort of in now for other things. Things are going good boo boo bah bah blah blah humbug hopedy doo, things are going good, ive realised how old ive become when i stated thinking about where i will buy a house and what i will do with it when im all away hahah, then i slapped myself round the face and asked myself why im thinking such mature thoughts instead of playing with plasctecine. Im getting scared soon i require glasses and become responsible and boring. Even my blogs have gotten all boring. I think its the blogs fault actually. Im wrtiting my stupid thoughts in to it that i don't think about them and move on to think about other stuff. This is therapy and a half. I'll let waldorf do the crazyyyy writing, she's got the brain capacity of a 5 year old, and thats not just for now its for life.

Yours happily,

Statler.

Babes and music.

Yeah so i couldn't stick to a blog a day thing im no ghandi. i mean its boring as well sitting here typing, i wish my head could just vomit up this information already in coherent prose for the internet. But as my wish list goes that is very much at the bottom. High in my wish list is for this constant looming to go, you know the sneaky look to see what someones doing on the computer, very annoying. Anwayyyyss, i ordered both wristcutters and the book from amazon aswell as another book by etgar keret which i forget what its called, and "the bus driver who wanted to be God arrived today." It is pretty mental but quite funny, mega easy to read because the stories are so short, but theyre meant to be allegorical so it works. Its good because you don't have to read them in any order and they take a second but they make you laugh, and can be quite saddening in some respects because theyre the little facts of life that you don't want to be true but are, but...funny so you're like ahhh who cares la la la. In fact that sentiment is summed up in this extract.

"As if you'ree not bummed out anyway," Uzi goes, "Look at yourself vegging in front of the TV every morning like a baboon. Get this, Mordy. The fact that nothing happens is a given. But as long as nothing happens at least let it be in a place with babes and some music. Right?"

But today i also read a story about a cash point that grants a wish for an angel to come, but he's a seedy angel and always lies all the time. A village that lies by the gates to hell and every hundred years people are allowed to come up from hell to visit the village, and then this woman falls in love with a visitor from hell. Im just about to read about a uterus that gets displayed in a museum, that one is a bit too fucked up but im sure theres some meaning in it.

Anyway, dunno why i'm on to books all of a sudden but oh wells. Im off to sit outside a bar in the sunny sun sun, and have my fitness test tomozzzzz.

Yours knobeadly.

Statler

The bus driver who wanted to be God.

I have little routine in my life so I am going to instore one and do a volvic challenge-esque..challenge where for every day i am going to write a blog for 2 weeks. Just to give me something to do while i wait for things to proceed. Im gonna do the volvic challenge as well, he looks so happy in the advert and i am a sucker for adverts so im gonna drink my water and if i don't feel better, i will drown him in a sea of volvic from whence he came. I will update you on both because secretly you do care.

My first Monday blog is about this film, I am curiously obsessed with but have never watched. I'm aware this is a silly situation to be in but ive you tubed it extensivley and have searched everywhere for a copy of the DVD in HMV'S across the lands but i cant find it. The only place in on the tinternet but that requires me putting money in my bank and ordering it and waiting for it to come and blah blah. The film is called wristcutters-a love story. I am obsessed with it not just because shannyn sossamon is in it and its an early type of film she starred in like rules of attraction but because it reminds me of the science of sleep, that weird type film that looks comforting.

Here is a trailer and a clip.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uf9dbrjuVwE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2eR_Mbr7Oc

A road trip across purgatory is just a genius plot really isnt it.

I then discovered it was based on a short story called Knollers happy campers, part of a book called the bus driver who thought he was God by Etgar Keret. And now I am obsessed with reading that. He has some good quotes ones that make you go haha..oh ar yeah, a alternate look at the world i do suppose. Three such insights i have found are these.

"There are two kinds of people, those who like to sleep next to the wall, and those who like to sleep next to the people who push them off the bed"

"According to Gur's theory of boredom, everything that happens in the world today is because of boredom: love, war, inventions, fake fireplaces - ninety-five percent of all that is pure boredom."

"It's amazing how people can sound like retards when they're talking to their girlfriend, especially if they really love her a lot. Because when you're just fucking someone you make a point of keeping your cool, but when you're really in love - it can sound pretty repulsive."

I may go and search again in Birmz today, i have no money and really should be spending the savings i have on some jeans i ripped last week but nahhh.

Yours curiously

Statler

I feel sick.

This past week has been quite a busy yet enjoyable one, after thinking hard however i realised that it contained ALOT of alcohol. ThisI did the old not gonna drink as much when i go out, but i didnt realise the lack of hang over would make me drink more often. So today i am in pain. Going out Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday has taken it's toll on my old body. Not a very clever thing when i have a fitness test this week, but for the 3 days ill run and gym it up alllllll day i do suppose then its back to work after having this weekend off. It has been an enjoyable week, I would like to wish Grobins a happy birthday and have some pictures of her coming of 19 year old age. I am also bankrupt. Literally have no money, maybe 5 pounds in my bank account, oo and ten pound i owe the bank of waldorf. It's quite funny when i vowed after that MONSTER hangover never to drink too much. Ah welllllll. Hopefully i can still run the mile and a half in 10 minutes 30, 2 days may have knocked the wind out of me.

Yours soberly

Statler.

Drop dead Kerry.

I feel ive been very philsophically annoying in my blogs recently and there is evidence enough of that in the world as it is. So back to the grind of writing thought blogs that arent so seriously depressing.

Today i went to sophie west's house, this was a last resort. Id rang everyone up including in sheer desperation the person i met at a bus stop and talked weather to once in my life to ask if they would like to do something because cabin fever is setting in after 10 minutes alone nowdays, but this was to no avail. So i rang the westical house and went round.

It was not a pleasant journey. Oh no it wasnt, i walked in to a askew fence, ripped my jeans open and cut my leg OFF. Not quite off but i do have a substantial wound in my leg that i will say happened when i wrestled a tiger in nepal. Then when i got on the bus a fat woman blocked my exit and i tried to squeeze past but it didnt work then she finally turned round and looked at me like i was a puddle of sick on her wedding dress, i do not like it when this happens. This look of disgust, especially when she is the one who is fat and blocking my exit.

When i did get there, sophie was asleep apparently and woke up all moody. But she thawed with time not quite though, this is sophie west she is never happy ha! Then we watched some films. The first one was kids. Kids i enjoyed, the main character telly was a right stroke victim but he sufficed as a protagonist and the gist of this story was everyone got Aids and lots of 10 year olds had sex. The second film was drop dead fred.

After watching drop dead fred i came to the conclusion if i ever become a schitzophrenic, i would like fred to be the friend i create. He is insulting, mischevious, a bad influence yet caring and funny, i warmed to fred very very much. I certainly would not take pills for him to dissapear no matter what happened. If i ended up in jail, who cares, fred would be there with me, if i ended up in the aslyum, who cares fred would be there. I wouldnt even know he wasn't real, i would be a schitzophrenic i wouldnt know anything anyway. Fred is certainly an aspect of my personality, the annoying part sophie said. I just do not undersatnd how they can be so slack to fred when he only has elizabeths best interests in mind.

Here are some quotes that make me warm to fredrick.

Fred: I can't believe we left the party so soon. And there was so much wine to spit around the place.
Elizabeth: I got upset.
Fred: "I got upset." God, you're so stupid. You never leave a party 'til the very very end.
Elizabeth: Oh really?
Fred: Yeah really.
Elizabeth: Well what about Cinderella? Remember what happened with her?
Fred: No I don't remember what happened *with her*. I deliberately forgot all about her. She made me puke. I remember the ugly stepsisters, they were great.


Fred: You see when something's not working right, the best thing to do is tear it apart to make it better.

Fred: I wrote the note. Hahahahaha! Haven't got a husband! Haven't got a husband! Got a stupid hair cut!

Your my hero fred. One day i wish to be someones imaginary friend. What sophie west doesn't know is that actualyl i am her imaginary friend, and for all the insults and the whining..shes the one thats mental.

Yours by meer illusion

Statler

"Oh Marlena, I'm too young."

Dear Blog,

this year i would like,

The internet on my laptop back. It is not much to ask, it seems another such luxury other people have that i struggle to obtain, its the bloody internet for god sake, taking that away aswell is just low. It is vital for me as its where i learn and grow in to the fine specimen i cannot live up to. I would also like it back because this chair smells like lemon and my parents find it exceedingly exciting to loom over and try and catch a glimpse of the sordid affairs i organise. If there anything i dislike more is being loomed upon, it is very rude. If they want to express an interest in to the twirling cogs of my brain then they should ask me, ofcourse they do ask me and i get annoyed and say stop asking me questions.

Im also sick of "borrowing" my neighbours wireless connection, linksy whoever you are im sorry, but I have a life to lead. Im not sorry however if its my next door neighbours though, if it is them i find that funny and will continue to slow down your connection even when i get my own back, that will teach you for constantly watching my every move in the garden. I see you, you know, it is light and you have big faces, they are very hard not to miss.

I would also like some maturity as well please. I have adequate intelligence but nothing to tell me what to do with it. It is very disabling when you can see the right way to go, have all the tools to proceed but the complete retardation not to. It would also help if i knew what it was. I wikepdiad it once and it came up with this. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maturity_(psychological).

It helped me a little but then i realised my immaturity is routed deeper than i thought because i wanted to be mature, and i wanted it now. (It really doesnt help with my progress either as when im currently typing this sentence, my dog actually toppled to the ground because he is too old and senile to co-ordinate his legs instead of reaching down with concern i laughed.)

I then asked the mother ship, well i didn't really have to ask, she was looming and knew straight off what i was going to ask. "It comes with age," "But wikepedia said it came with experience," "At 19 your not meant to be mature, your meant to be sensible," "am i sensible?" "no." This did not help me.

Perhaps it was environmentally ingrained to me that sensible related to boring, to be sensible required wearing glasses. I did not want to become boring as a child or as an adolenscent and now as a semi-sort of adult i still do not want that to happen. Have you heard older people talk, bloody hell its like listening to my own funeral.

I remember listening to someone i worked with once upon a time, and she was really in to this story of a once upon a time drunken antic, like building it up n everything, taking ages blah de blahing n all, "oo so we got all this wine and id had about several glasses, which is quite unlike me..yaddy yarr....n i got sooo drunk you should have seen me, i was sliding down my chair," Her punch line, the epitome of a wild time was that. That is when i had second thoughts about growing up. Id upstaged her 10 fold and i was about 3 decades younger.

Golly gosh i do not know, ive got some serious googling to do. But as our fellow brummies the twang sing "I tell myself i won't do it again, but i know i'll be lieing in my bed my thoughts racing like they always have been."

I will try though. It will happen. Its just this stage im at i reckon, its a very slow to progress stage and im standing here chomping on my bit raring to go, getting all worked up. Its finding the balence aint it waldorf, you know between being a sap and still remaining enthusiastic about life. It's as good old mr green our english teacher once said, that the human character is full of contradictions and hypocrises, this is becoming ever more apparent of myself.

Yours progressivly.
Statler.

"I can't think of anything to say except... I think it's marvelous! HaHaHa!

This blog requires a foreward in order for you to be warned that this is not the usual past experience, a chance to moan or one of Allanah's explosion of the mind, in fact i am bringing this blog down from floating away in to madness and tieing it to a rail like a unwilling balloon, just at least for this one solitary piece.

This could i fear be boring but because i lack the neural power to produce logical sentences, the only way i convey real ideas is by writing them down, or talking non sensically to other retards with the same problem. I have decided that i should have a new 2009 resolution, even if it has been decided a third of the way through the year.


It is a simple enough sentiment is my tri annual resolution, but it appears very hard for me to live up to, a old arch nemesis resolution that has been battled with for 19 years. The resolution is "Don't be an idiot." Normal people seem equipped to be able to do this, but i am very good at being an idiot, if it were a sport i would be champion. Champion idiot. It encompasses a large array of events within a life is this being an idiot in. It just means i physicall can't stop doing things that knobeads do. I suppose it is the flip side of impulsive behavoir or of madness.

"Do not be an idiot," looks quite boring on paper but i am sure there are many bonuses to be had. Numero uno on my agenda is to curve the habitual binge drinking as i am a drink away from kidney explosion and being an alcoholic. My inability not to be a idiot and stop buying drinks is greatly expressed when drunk. This is also when i do most of my idiot work, saying stuff i don't really know anything about, making friends with bad and strange people and offending quite a few others.

The second part of don't being an idiot is to be a bit more healthy, like back in the by gone days of Everest or when i had some spirit and self control. I enjoy being healthy, eating right, excersing n that so i do not quite understand why i have stopped doing it. Now ive realised it is because i am champion idiot. But now with this career path im on it's a must for me to be a person as opposed to this pastey face , lump of skin that has been shuffling drunkenly around.

My third part of "do not be an idiot," is not to get myself any distractions in the form of other people. 2009 is about getting myself in to a good job, having fun with pals, getting healthy, passing my driving tests etc and getting some money to float around with. This is the hardest part of the resolution because i enjoy other people, it is just when they become distractions is it bad for me and distraction point is when it all goes wrong and initial response is to mope around and act of smackable. Distraction point i find myself in quite a lot you see, which is why it is becoming a problem. So to over come this i refuse to go to point of distraction and then invest the energy if it does get forced head first in to that in to my resolition. This is only one option of course. The other is hard drugs until i become a trainspotting-esque vegetable, removing my eyes or brain surgery.

I like the idea of brain surgery as it is the easy option and couldn't possible go wrong. Allanah is going to be my surgeon as we have already purchased the how to of brain surgery from the alternative health section of waterstones and decided the operation date to be that of when i come back from work on the 19th of April. It will be perfomed at eyles hospital so when ive come round from my smack over the head anaesthetic you should come and visit me. I may not remember or like you. The brain is a very complicated organ and the full effects of brain surgery were too serious and boring to research meticuously.

Yours pre operationly

Statler.

In God we trust.

On April 1st, I had a car and by 2nd April the car was dead. I had called the car Wibby, Wibby the grape because its licence place was Wibby and it was purple. I know it’s not a very sexy name or a real name in fact but it just stuck. I liked Wibby and despite his rather feminine colour and pink air fresher, he was a boy, a very camp ageing boy. Perhaps in his hey day he enjoyed sex and the city and rolling his r‘s, but now he’d matured and the years had not been kind to Wibby but still in that little battery of his he had some va va voom.

Naturally me and Wibby fell in love, being my first car and all. A purely platonic kind of love, one girl and her purple, camp car. I gave him some TLC in the form of dashboard wipes, I got the hair out of his heater, bought him some new mats, got rid of the “mums taxi” sign, that he confided in me had embarrassed him for years, and spent hours making him look all nice for the other homosexual cars to check him out with. Unfortunately when Wibby felt at his best in years, Wibby was subject to malpractice when a routine operation went catastrophically wrong. Out poured all Wibby’s gearbox oil and the hole to replace the oil was deep in the chasms of Wibby’s underbelly. Twas weird, the first thing I thought of when I saw that honey coloured life force pouring out of his little shell, was that advert for the car phone warehouse with Moby the mobile and he’s walking along the street or something and he gets run over and everyone’s sad. That’s how I felt about Wibby.

Anyway we got a mechanic out and I soothed him as he saw the fog lights of car heaven and heard the horns of all the other automotives of by gone eras beckoning him. But this mechanic didn’t have the tools to sort Wibby out and we read him his last rights from the Nissan manual, consulted his MOT, all the standard parting precautions for his trip to the afterlife.

I of course was distraught, annoyed as well, very annoyed. I shouldn’t of expected more, it seems to be a gift of mine to have these marvellous things dangled in front of me, and I bat at them like a playful kitten, purring, thinking “ahh this is the life.” Then along comes some spiteful, beast of a dog like in the cartoons and gets the object of my affection and kills it, stamps it into the ground and maliciously laughs. A bit like the routine of how Allanah forces me to do things.

I am Tweety pie and fate is Sylvester or I am Bugs bunny and fate is Elma Fudd, you know the one “I gonna catch me a wabbit,” forever in this dangle, take away, dangle, take away, loop.

Fate doesn’t favour me. Well it does, but because its teasing me. There have been other such things in my life I’ve had to endure that have had a similar outcome but that’s for my therapist Basil.

Well anyway I couldn’t bear to look at Wibby in such a state, leaking everywhere and hearing his metallic moans as various tools tore away at his little 1 litre engine. I went for an unsatisfying run. I ate my unsatisfying dinner. I went to church and asked God how he could take such a pretty, innocent thing away from me and received a unsatisfying and silent answer. I pined and I sulked and I mourned like a widow or a younger, less annoying Bridget Jones. I sang along to “All by myself” and gained 10 pounds.

Our morale had hit rock bottom, we had £1650 insurance with a car that didn’t work anymore, in fact we didn’t even have that. The insurance started the next day. Wibby would have spent a full 24 hours in Hades underworld, he would be luke warm in his grave and then with all excitement the insurance company would inform us that Wibby was now legally allowed to be driven. Oh the pain.

But anyway, I was watching a rather unsatisfying episode of Hollyoaks when I sensed, with the telekinetic powers me and Wibby seemed to share, some kind of stirring within his accelerator, a slight hum of his battery. I leaped out the door towards him and saw his limp lights, dully shining. “WIBBY” I exclaimed. Several painstaking hours of determination and the removal of engine components to save our 4 wheeled hero had come up trumps. He was going to be ok. I mean we were worried, because to repair Wibby and get him a nice new engine would have been more than we paid for poor old Wibz, and that would be money we wouldn’t be able to spend in this times of economic crisis.

Now what is the point of this blog I hear you cry, well there is just one point I will conclude with even though, I suppose there’s several lessons here about forgiveness, jumping to conclusions and tucked away in there is a prime Buddhist teaching not to invest my thoughts in to wanting and attaching to these material objects because they will inevitable bring about dissatisfaction and are an opaque barrier between humans and enlightenment. But they’re pointless as I learnt non of that. What I did learn was that it is 100% proven by divine inspiration and theological analysis in this Easter period, that through his birth, death and resurrection, Wibby is the Jesus of cars.

Your religiously.

Statler.