Wednesday, June 08, 2005
I gotta job to do
But that's the easy part
What's really killing me
Is this broken heart
You're hard to leave, tough to go
A heartache's ahead, this I know.
- Billy Ray Cyrus
Well the Lions have won, someone’s giving birth rather noisily on television, and I have a job! Yes – what a remarkably clean baby (I’m half watching Lost). I went for it, really wanted it, and got it, which I’m rather chuffed about. Only problem is I’ll have to pack up Brutus in my old kit bag and follow the well trod path up north, leaving my flat, family and friends here in the wundy sutty. I’ll be sorry to leave Wellington of course, but I’m looking forward to a bit of welcome change. Auckland, fetch me some kippers you old maid, I’ll be up for breakfast shortly.
So what else? Winter’s set in, I’ve got a cold and Paris Hilton has been coming on to me in my dreams. Which is great, but a little odd. Odd in that I don’t find her particularly attractive yet she’s been popping up in my dreams with unnerving regularity. Not particularly attractive, snorts Angry Sci-Fi Fan from Hamilton, pah!. Well it’s true Angry, I like her mischievous demeanour and her dopey grin, but that’s about the sum of it. Put it this way, if I was after such attributes I’d have settled for Wilma a long time ago, even Curious George. But that’s beside the point. I won’t elaborate further other than to say that after a brief courtship we now seem to be something of an item.
I’m really starting to like you Chuck, said Paris on Monday as I made the bed.
Despite myself Paris, I'm starting to feel the same way, I said on Tuesday.
By last night however she pointedly humiliated me in front of her well-heeled friends and our relationship may well have hit the rocks. I’ll let you know, though I fear I’ve broken the spell by spilling my guts in this piece. Time will tell, but for now, where’s that diazepam?
Apologies for the delay in spilling my guts, I just had to put a few things in order. And now that they are, onward ho!
But that's the easy part
What's really killing me
Is this broken heart
You're hard to leave, tough to go
A heartache's ahead, this I know.
- Billy Ray Cyrus
Well the Lions have won, someone’s giving birth rather noisily on television, and I have a job! Yes – what a remarkably clean baby (I’m half watching Lost). I went for it, really wanted it, and got it, which I’m rather chuffed about. Only problem is I’ll have to pack up Brutus in my old kit bag and follow the well trod path up north, leaving my flat, family and friends here in the wundy sutty. I’ll be sorry to leave Wellington of course, but I’m looking forward to a bit of welcome change. Auckland, fetch me some kippers you old maid, I’ll be up for breakfast shortly.
So what else? Winter’s set in, I’ve got a cold and Paris Hilton has been coming on to me in my dreams. Which is great, but a little odd. Odd in that I don’t find her particularly attractive yet she’s been popping up in my dreams with unnerving regularity. Not particularly attractive, snorts Angry Sci-Fi Fan from Hamilton, pah!. Well it’s true Angry, I like her mischievous demeanour and her dopey grin, but that’s about the sum of it. Put it this way, if I was after such attributes I’d have settled for Wilma a long time ago, even Curious George. But that’s beside the point. I won’t elaborate further other than to say that after a brief courtship we now seem to be something of an item.
I’m really starting to like you Chuck, said Paris on Monday as I made the bed.
Despite myself Paris, I'm starting to feel the same way, I said on Tuesday.
By last night however she pointedly humiliated me in front of her well-heeled friends and our relationship may well have hit the rocks. I’ll let you know, though I fear I’ve broken the spell by spilling my guts in this piece. Time will tell, but for now, where’s that diazepam?
Apologies for the delay in spilling my guts, I just had to put a few things in order. And now that they are, onward ho!
