The words contained in this here journal may not make much sense and they may not bear any relation to reality but one thing is for sure, they'll contain the word pasty.
Saturday, November 29, 2003
I had a dream last night. There was a party going on at Jono's house, an enormous gazebo in his back garden full of anyone and everyone he's ever met. There was booze, there were sandwiches, and there was a wheelie chair on the road which caused me much amusement is a rode up and down the hill on it's lovely plump cushion.
And at the party were Wend, Liam and Beck, all sitting around a table by themselves looking rather lost sheepish and left out. And as I walked past them to get a sandwich, barely acknowledging their presence, I was shouted at the by the latter of the three. I gave a glance before just carrying on along my merry way. And on my return journey I just ignored them all over again and trundled off into the house where Jono had stuck himself and his inner circle of comrades.
I don't know exactly why I was giving them the cold shoulder. I'm pretty sure it wasn't a deliberate effort on my part, it's just I wasn't too fussed, it wasn't my responsibility to keep them company apparently. I was far too worried about whether or not I was allowed to eat that KitKat Chunky to concern myself with such a seemingly trivial matter as three rather unhappy chums. What a bar steward.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
I'm snotty and I'm doing work. So why the fuck am I feeling on top of the world? (You'll pardon my use of the word fuck, I believe the circumstances warrant it) Maybe it's the Greenday, maybe it's the curry from last night, but I feel great. Haven't even had snow on the weather yet.
*tries to rub his happy mood onto other people* And no rubbish jokes please.
