Charlotte Sometimes

She's new in my life.

She's called Charlotte.

I love her.

Te quiero Mariposa y gracias con el corazón sangriento

*runs off to hug Charlotte again*

A Gothic State

Which is completely different from the United States (a place full of fat people with guns) - a Gothic state is a heightened sense of awareness, whilst imbibing liquids of a dubious nature, marvelling at the beauty of everything - oh, and the black thing.

However, I have entered the Gothic State and I didn't need a passport - apparently, 'they' were expecting me.

Ergo, it would appear that:-

Mini-Goth is a genius (and all the girls love him - probably some of the boys too) and is 'taking' stupid exams years earlier than needed. If the result is not an 'A' - I will be seeking furious vengeance.

Mini-Gothess is experiencing problems because her forthright nature creates problems for the idiots on the planet. But, methinks there is an 'arse-kicking' afoot - and she won't be taking the class, she'll be teaching it.

Mrs Ex-Goth remains as mad as a bag of squirrels - but she's not talking to me anyway - 'Hoozah - and pancakes for breakfast'.

Mariposa has come to terms with the fact that European Commission people are full of shit - 'poo' is the same in most languages but, just take the money and run.

In other Gothic news..

Goth has to do 'conference calls' with American Idiots again - it's a green day thing. Looking on the dark side, they are aware that I think that they are monkeys with keyboards but I'm not refraining from calling them twats.

Aside from that - not much news from the Gothic State - I have been (de)moted from dealing with shit to dealing with big shit (but shit comes in a compact fashion).

It could be worse - I could be Chinese and trying to kick the crap out of anyone trying to get to the Olympic doofers.

My Dick Is Bigger Than Yours

A good enough reason not to attend a school reunion I think. Unfortunately though, the time came to face my least significant enemies in the world.

"Fucking hell Goth - is that really you?" shouted a voice from the past
"A distant possibility" I replied, paraphrasing as best I could
"My Dick Is Bigger Than Yours!!!" he yelled

"Oh good" I said, "Nothing really changed then"
"Remember that we called you 'peanut dick' as you would never join us in the showers"
"I recall most things perfectly well thankyou"
"Thing was - you never came in the showers with us..."
"There was problably a reason for that then"
"Yeah", he said swigging another beer "You prefered to be in the library"
"Stupid eh? Full of books and erudition" and I tried to walk away

*small pause in the pointless conversation*

"But, I can still write your name in the snow" he said with bravado
"Well, I'd love to reciprocate but 'Shithead' isn't that complex"

*shit-for-brains looks around*

"Haven't seen 'Billy Big Balls' have you - been dying to take the piss out of him?"
"Be an impressive trick" I replied. "He committed suicide after your little tosser-gang drove him over the edge"

*Another vacant pause*

"Yes - he is dead - and I was at the funeral - unlike you morons. On the bright side, I was intrigued when 'our' Games Teacher got convicted of child pornography."
"Mr 'X' was what?!?!?!"
"One of those weirdos? afraid so, but looking on the bright side, you did make it onto his video collection apparently"

Apparently, the library is a better place to learn than the showers......

Back To Reality

So, having composed myself, in my perfect place - which was nice, and full of dolphins and vampire bats that only fed on hippies, and sunshine, and tostados con tomatos - I returned to the floating turd of Europe.

Am I a happy little Goth? - No, not really.

Granted, my little Gothic portions have a somewhat tanned appearance and I even went shopping for items that I have no use for at all (and could have stole much faster).

BUT

I discovered that, my little Gothess, is being a victim of mindless thuggery. My initial desire - to go there and rip their fucking hearts out - was countermanded by the fact that Mrs Ex-Goth, in her infinite wisdom-less, has decreed that I will not interfere, ever, even if I could fix things faster.

Mini-Goth (the Brad Pitt of Gothic-ness) had a similar issue several years ago. Back then, I was also not allowed to interject or generally show any emotion.

I was so desperate to bring 'furious vengeance' onto the perpetrators - but, I was told I could not. Apparently, the 'system' will deal with them, and spank their bottoms in a jolly hard fashion.

*Deep Breath*

In the meantime, I will remain the "whacks on, whacks off" person and hug some small trees

Gothic Holiday

Being Gothic, I'm not used to these 'holiday' type things. All of that pissing about with postcards and suncream is not really on a Gothic agenda at all. However, due to the fact that I was wound tighter than an 'E'-string on a mandolin, I acquiesced at the prospect of going back to Spain.

So, having braved the parade of idiots at the airport, the moronic tendencies of hire-car people, and the sun, we arrived at the hotel.

Sun, sea and boat rides to see some dolphins (doing what dolphins do - i.e. swimming in the sea) were advertised.

I couldn't avoid the sun - much as I tried but, fortunately, I didn't turn into a pile of dust. I do now look like a Gothic lollipop with white bits exactly where I left them.

I saw the sea - it was big, and wet, and full of water.

I also went on the boat ride, much as I loathe water with a vengeance, and saw dolphins. Were they wild dolphins? I think not - they seemed mildly perturbed but put on a performance at the front of the boat - in an arranged fashion. I stayed at the back.

Returning to the hotel, I tried to resist the temptation to entice the gorgeous Scandinavian receptionist back to the room.

Why? What man could resist a beautiful girl with pert breasts?

Don't know - don't care because I am no man, I'm a Goth and in my bed lies a woman.

Not just any woman - but, in my Gothic opinion, a slice of heaven and the reason I have gone from 'mandolin' to 'cello', briefly passing a 'harpsicord' on the way for Gothic effect.

Te quiero Mariposa - mi media naranja

Faith in God

Well, apparently that's what some idiotic priest from Brazil had. You may notice I phrased that in the past tense. Looking on the bright side, if he does believe in god, he should be talking to him right now.

Why? Because the 'poodle-brained-priest' in his infinite lack of wisdom decided to raise some money by attaching himself to hundreds of helium balloons. Now I don't know if he was pissed on communion wine or something but it's exactly the sort of half-baked idea I come up with I'm pissed.

In itself, it appears to be a plan concocted by Wile E Coyote and in reality, it ended in the same comical fashion.

Thus, Buzz Fuckwit duly got togged up in a silver jump suit, complete with parachute, crash helmet, GPS, a radio and the IQ of a retarded badger.

Once the people on the ground had let go of the ropes, he shot upwards at an alarming pace alledgedly screaming "Jesus Fucking Christ". Meanwhile, the people on the ground applauded merrily at the flying priest and his new prayer.

Several days later he disappeared from the radar and out of communication muttering something about wishing "they'd explained how the bloody GPS thing worked."

The latest news is that popped balloons are washing up along the coast of Brazil, but as yet no sightings of Buzz Fuckwit. Still, I'm sure that if there is a god he's far too busy to be popping balloons for the fun of it - I mean that would be plain silly.

Gypsy Kings

Trust me - this is not going where you think it is ;-)

Having had my choice of concert to attend last time, and choosing Marilyn Manson (live in Paris), it was not my turn this time. Imagine the terror when I found out that it was to be a Symphony Orchestra.

Firstly, I have no issue with classical music but, attending a concert along with 500 or so very old people did not appeal to me in the slightest. I had visions of being stuck in a room full of old people telling me to 'Sssshhhh' at every given moment as they had their hearing aids turned up full blast.

Arriving at the venue did nothing to allay my fears. We got stuck in the equivalent of a sprint race for lavender-scented snails. Looking on the bright side I figured, the Grim Reaper should be working the door selecting people as they hobbled in - "and YOU can stay behind at the end" etc.

Once inside, we took our seats amongst what I could only describe as a PG Tips Tea Party. The Orchestra eventually wandered onto stage and started warming up.

Then they started playing - and bloody hell they were good. Firstly, yes they were playing classical music, but interspersed with Gypsy music given the aid of a 100 piece Orchestra.

The sense of enjoyment they were having at playing was contagious and then, when they started to encourage the audience to clap the beat in participation the room went wild.

Two and a half hours later, after several standing ovations, and three encores. The evening finally came to an end.

If you have to attend only one concert this year, you really should consider seeing The Budapest Gypsy Symphony Orchestra .

To put it quite simply - THEY ROCK