Super Goth Me

Apparently, this thing called food, crazy little thing called food, is something we're all after. Oops I britneyed again - not for goths it isn't. I get bored so quickly with the concept of eating that I forget to do it entirely. This can be for days at a time. I know I'm not alone in this because when I sent a text msg to T-Meister to ask if he wanted a beer last evening the answer was 'Sorry S, been to a wine tasting and am completely twatted - see you Sunday for the football'. At least he wasn't watching corn movies ;-)

So back to food. Watching Mayo-TV I happened across 'Super Size Me' again - I was/am still astounded by what 'people' eat....No wonder the fookers are so fat. They eat in one go my intake for a week. Mc. Chuffers - my arse! and take your golden arches with you. And yet, in a sadly gothic way, it's what I need (fodder - not a rogering). A big twat without the horrid green smelly things. Corporate sludge. And if they throw in a free toy to eat the shite - hooray, too busy playing to be counting calories.

No, give me tapas any day. I know I don't need a bugger king.

Have to also give a mention to my fave scouse person P (scouser = person from Liverpool, UK). I went searching for him last night as I needed a favour (and no, it wasn't stealing a car). Anyway, I found him in the expected place, in the expected position, doing the expected thing - in the Pub, at the bar, drinking beer. What I wasn't expecting was that he has a new addition to his life - a girlfriend! And, they seem so affectionate toward each other I nearly threw up.

After that, well, and a few beers, things headed south rapidly. I bumped into loads of people I had known in a previous lifetime in the Sprout and suffice to say that when I wobbled out of the Pub at 3am I was sufficiently intoxicated to use the wrong phone (I have 2, one Spanish and one from Mayo-land to call my buddy M (the taxi driver) to take me home). As usual, he dumped any jobs on his roster and came to pick me up pronto. As I carefully climbed into the car, pint of beer still in hand, he just said 'Hello Mr S - where to?'. I said 'home please dude' (no address required - he knows where I live).

Now I'm waiting for the dishwasher to finish what I can't be bothered to do and then I can return the pint glass, as promised, to the rather large South African dude who was kind enough to let me take it (and more specifically, it's contents) home with me last night. Only fair that I clean it first I think.

Oh, and they have a great rule in this Pub - you can only smoke on one side of the line. It's like a line drawn in the sand - but also, in some ways like a red rag to a bull to my childish nature. Stand on the wrong side but hold your cigarillo on the other and then specifically blow smoke into the forbidden zone. 'Take that you whiny little armadillos!'. HA HA - I laugh in the face of danger!

For some bizarre reason I have more money now than when I left for last evenings session.....oh yeah, I remember now. Tip to the unwise - DO NOT play pool for money unless you know how someone can play and whether they are faking being crap for a reason.

Dishwasher suitably completed it's task and so I must return the glass to whence it came. Only polite that I have a beer while I am there I guess.

a luego,
S

ps special mention to my fave hobbit C (ex-barman of one of my fave pubs) who was predictably shit-faced last night. Smoking's bad for you dude ;-) I have total respect for him though as we had an arrangement. When I turned up in the morning and couldn't pick the glass up he used to serve my first pint of beer with a straw in it. When he was shedded I used to be lookout while he slept on the seat beside the bar and woke only if I coughed (a customer had walked in) or slammed my hand on the counter (the owner had arrived).