Pynchon

29 minutes until the next "Lost" double bill. I had hoped to be here earlier, but Lorraine got it into her head that she had not spent nearly enough money on Christmas presents yet and so decided to go wild on Amazon with the credit card. I finally managed to cajole her out of the back room by telling her that Rufus Sewell was at the front door singing Christmas carols in a thong.

He wasn't really.

Not much time to write anything of note.

Daisy wanted to know what Maltesers were. Here is a link that I found on Wikipedia. Maltesers are great. Go and order some. There are lots of sites catering for the culinary tastes of the Brit abroad.

Tomorrow I am having a half day off work (mainly to piss off work) and in the evening am going to see the fine tribute band The Complete Stone Roses at the Carling Academy. I saw them a couple of years ago and had a great time. I have high hopes that it will be another good night.

Friday I am off work. Lots of chores to do (posting Birthday and Christmas presents, wrapping, shopping, etc.) and in the afternoon I am meeting up with the mighty Graham; legendary Brother of the mighty Mark.

I will probably not be here tomorrow. Back Friday.

This evening, snuggled up on the settee with two big mugs of tea, a box of Thorntons chocolates and two bags of Maltesers, we watched "Bridget Jones: The Edge Of Reason". I expected to loathe it. Everybody said that I would loathe it. I didn't. I liked it. I even laughed a couple of times (which is always good when watching a comedy). Now, either everybody is wrong about "Bridget Jones: The Edge Of Reason" or I am losing my marbles and any kind of critical faculties with regard to cinema. I cannot even blame Lorraine. I told her that I would like to watch it as I had never seen it before.

One more thing. Is it just me or is Renee Zellwegger a damn sight more foxy and gorgeous when she is overweight than when she is anorexic?

Last thing. Proof that there is a God. Kate Winslet is going nude in her next film, which is called "Little Children". Well, it made me happy to read that...

I refuse to be part of their in-crowd.

I do not believe that it is acceptable to take the piss out of the new girl in our section (her name is Tina Noir) just because she is

1. Not in her 20's.
2. Not blonde. (Her hair is dyed black.)
3. Does not watch the "X-Factor" and/or "I'm A Celebrity, Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here".
4. Not quiet. (She is quite loud.)
5. Not thin.
6. Wears red high heeled shoes.
7. Wears a red thong. (She bent over at one point and accidentally showed a little bit. Very nice, I thought. Lacy.)

I will not accept that the food served in the canteen has to be shit.

I will not criticise my friend Larry Skin (who sits next to me) because he goes home every day on the stroke of 17:30. (He does lots of unpaid work out of hours - more than me - and is very precise and methodical in his work.)

I refuse to allow badly designed, badly written and badly tested software to be sent to any of my customers without making a comment.

Shit software should be the exception and not the Company rule.

And finally...

I saw the Frank Oz version of Ira Levin's "The Stepford Wives" last night. It is a cinematic turd and is inferior in every possible way to the 1975 version of that novel. I am not surprised to hear that when John Cusack walked, due to a family crisis, Nicole Kidman tried to do the same. Awful. Shit.

Bad day. Fuck it.

Ahhh... All done. I like a tidy blog. All spelling mistakes in the last post have been fixed and all links added, where appropriate. Lovely and clean. In order. Beautifully constructed. A work of art.

Don't I just love myself? Lorraine thinks so.

We had a really good day today.

We arose late. It was something like 11am, which is almost unheard of for Lorraine, although I did seem to remember Lorraine getting up early to feed and inject the cat with his insulin, and then her coming back to bed and nearly freezing my bollocks off by getting back into bed and shoving her buttocks into my crotch to get warm. I had a good reason for getting up late. Red wine followed by Guinness and then "The Day Of The Locust" on one of the Sky Cinema channels until 2am. George Best would have been proud of me.

We watched the repeat of the "X-Factor" (Simon voted his own act off!) and then into town. We pottered around the shops and got a lot of Christmas shopping finished, mixed in with hot chocolate breaks at some very fine coffee establishments. Fairly mundane stuff, I suppose, but it seemed like an age since we spent the whole day together. I was having such a good time I decided (Oh! No!) not to go to see a film at the cinema, so no films this weekend. I think that my hands shaking through withdrawal? Er... No they are not.

On the way back we discussed who was going to cook and wash up this evening. I offered to do both in exchange for a tit wank. She said that she would think about it and slapped my leg for discussing such crude nastiness in public.

The pork joint will be ready in half an hour. I then need to do the vegetables. I will be as tidy as I can as I will also be washing up later.

:-) Heh, heh...

So, then. The Prodigy. What was that like? Fucking brilliant, as it happens.

I am one of the Johnny-Come-Lately's who only really became aware of The Prodigy once Keith Flint has christened himself the "Firestarter" and the song hit number 1 in the UK. In the 90's I knew only a little about the dance scene, had never taken 'E' or danced wearing shorts in a field. I regret it. I think I would have loved it, even though I would have been too old for such ridiculous shenanigans even then. I was thinking recently that dance/crossover acts are mostly all that I am booking tickets for lately. Scissor Sisters and Moby over the last year and next year I am going to see Goldfrapp. I wish that Lorraine liked that kind of stuff, but she doesn't, and anyway she would not go to a jump-up-and-down gig.

Anyway, I really enjoyed The Prodigy. Keith was a cartoon, but he has always been a cartoon. He was dressed in what looked like Dune inspired bondage gear and seemed entirely oblivious to the world; talking to himself, pointing ranting and shouting. Liam Howlett was intense and serious and sweating behind a huge bank of keyboards. Maxim Reality wound the audience up tighter than my Mad Aunt Delilah. For me he was the surprise of the night. I never realised that he would be the focus on stage. I always assumed that it would be Keith Flint. Maxim Reality is a very imposing man. Impossibly tall, dreads, half his face painted with white powder. Hell, I was scared and I was miles back from the stage.

And the songs... "Breathe", "Firestarter", "Poison", "Voodoo People", "Smack My Bitch Up", "Out Of Space", "Charly", "Spitfire" (dedicated to George Best), etc. Brilliant. Just brilliant. I danced all night. My legs ache me today. I am an old man.

Half the fun were the things going on in the audience.

1. I saw a girl who turned up for the gig wearing a red, white and blue bikini, furry boots and carrying what looked like cheerleader pom poms. For the benefit of viewers not in the UK I need to point out that it is extremely cold in the UK at the moment. A lot of places have had snow. Bikini and boots is not exactly winter attire. Not that I am complaining, mind. She looked good.
2. I saw a guy in the toilet selling coke (not the drink) and pills (I assume not aspirin). He was getting a lot of business, but none from me. I passed. God knows how he got in the venue, but I was not searched and I was wearing a huge black coat (and my funky pink shirt) with lots of pockets.
3. In the same toilet I saw two guys having a piss in separate sinks because the toilets were busy. (True, there were about 500 blokes in the toilet at the time.) Urgh. Awful. I am a clean guy. I always wash my hands after a piss. Sadly I chose not to wash my hands on this occasion.
4. I was having a boogie, letting my hair down, blowing my funky horn, bustin' some moves when a girl (large, dressed all in black, sexy little glasses and fishnet tights) tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I would "watch out for her" while her Boyfriend got them some drinks. She indicated a bearded monster (he looked like the lead singer of The Magic Numbers) making his way away from us through the crowd. Was it a come on? No, I don't think so. She was just young and thought that I looked like I was not on pills as opposed to everybody else who looked like they were on pills. (Good lord. Do people look at me and think that I am a responsible adult? When people look at me I want them to see Keith Richards, not Cliff Richard!) The girl and I had a dance and after 40 minutes the Boyfriend turned up, looked suspicious and spirited the lady away.
5. I saw a black dude, obviously in his mid 40's, wearing rings that flashed on and off, who danced like Keith in the "No Good (Start The Dance)" video from the moment the support act came on (the Audio Bullys - white rapper and a DJ who was smoking a huge spliff - they were good and got the audience moving) to the moment The Prodigy finished. I don't know where he got his energy from.
6. I looked up and I saw a sea of hands giving respect to the God of Dance. (At this point I had passive smoked an intense amount of spliff residue and was obviously hallucinating.)

When I got home Lorraine was in bed. She had had an early night because she was to get up early this morning to catch the train to London for a day long sqwark with her cousin. I bent over to kiss her and she said that I stank of cigarettes and to keep away from her. I got changed, went downstairs, watched the repeat of "Peep Show" on E4 and went to bed. I groped Lorraine's bottom while she slept and then slept myself.

Great night!

I have been thinking about George Best, who died yesterday. Here is a man who wasted his talent in pursuit of a decadent, playboy lifestyle. A man who was a great footballer, but did not achieve everything that he could have done in football. A man who satisfied his own pleasures to the detriment of his own health and any sense of personal responsibility to himself or his family. A man of whom Tommy Doherty is supposed to have sadly commented, "If only he could have passed a bar the way he could pass a ball".

Or you could say that here was a man who had a great life. Here was a man who (and it pains me to admit it) played for the greatest domestic Football team the UK has ever produced. A man who played and scored for his national team. A man who shagged many fine women. A man who ingested some very fine alcoholic beverages and, possibly, very fine drugs. A man who earned and spent shitloads of money. A man who saw the world. A man who made people smile. A man who had fun.

RIP George Best. I will remember you this evening with a glass of wine.

I am off to pick up Lorraine from the train station. I will correct spellings and/or links later.

In another life I wrote a post (at least one person called it an infamous post) in which I bemoaned the fact that sometimes people insist on posting when there is nothing to post about. I took my own advice over the last couple of days. As there was fuck-all to write about, I wrote fuck-all. (There is a kind of poetry in those last words.)

What did I do instead?

Tuesday night I cooked a healthy meal of Gammon, Egg and Chips and was tricked by Lorraine into watching Eddie Murphy in "Dr. Doolittle". How did Lorraine trick me? Er... She said, "Shall we watch Eddie Murphy in 'Dr. Doolittle'" and I said, "Yeah, OK". Devious cow. What did I think of "Dr. Doolittle"? Let's be frank, here. It is a piece of shit. And I watched it to the end. And I nearly laughed.

Last night, against my better judgement, I did some overtime at work and achieved precisely nothing. When we got home we ordered Chinese takeaway and watched "The Bourne Supremacy" for the upteenth time. I liked "The Bourne Supremacy" a lot when I saw it at the cinema and, for me at least, it gets better and better with every viewing. Paul Greengrass, until a couple of months ago, was going to direct the "Watchmen" movie. From what I have read about it I think that it could have been wonderful. There is a little bit in the current Empire Magazine when they talk about things they would like to see in 2006 and one of them is Paul Greengrass finally making "Watchmen". Apparently he wanted Paddy Considine as Rorschach, which is something I had never heard before and he is the perfect choice, and Joan Allen as Silk Spectre. Perhaps if "V For Vendetta" is a hit, "Watchmen" will finally get greenlit and Paul Greengrass will direct.

And then I watched "Lost". I have said it before and I will say it again. What the fuck?!?! Numbers, bad numbers..? Eh? (No spoilers here, I hope.) I love "Lost". Brilliant series. Essential viewing. Best thing I have watched in ages.

Things are happening at work. It is very mysterious, but I am not going to go into that now. Another time.

Tomorrow night I am off to see The Prodigy at the NIA. Wish me luck. I will be wearing my pink shirt and will be gorgeous and lost to the God of dance.

"I'm a Firestarter"
"Twisted Firestarter..."

Quiet night.

Lorraine cooked. We ate (wild boar and apple sausage's, that we bought from the Festive Gift Fair, potato and swede mash, carrots, mange tout and broccoli). We watched "Emmerdale" (God knows what was going on, because I didn't). I did a bit of ironing. We watched the BBC modern day adaptation of "The Taming Of The Shrew" (kind of brilliant and very funny. It starred Rufus Sewell - who has been the subject of many a Lorraine depraved sexual fantasy - and the wonderful Shirley Henderson). We moved some money around the bank account.

Is that it? Sure is. Time for bed.

I only have 5 minutes! ("xXx" is on at 9pm and we love that film. No excuse, I know, but there it is.)

What did I do today? Lots of Christmas shopping, while Lorraine vanished around town with her sister. I also saw "Stoned" which, sadly, I did not much care for. It was patchy and quite dull and boring, considering the subject matter. Paddy Consindine was very good, though, as Frank Thorogood, the builder who alledgedly killed Brian Jones. Very interesting exercise in doing a film about a Rolling Stone without including any of the Stones own material. Perhaps the Stones refused permission, I don't know.

Oh, yes. Two people left the theatre about half an hour into the film. Normally the sign of an interesting and challenging film, but not today.

I'm gone. Anybody asks, you didn't see me.

As I write this Lorraine and her sister Ellen are in the front bedroom, pissed as farts (2 bottles of red and several bottles of becks!), going through the boxes of their Mother's possessions that have been piled up in our house for the past couple of weeks. There is a lot of laughter and both ladies are very loud. I am expecting the neighbours to come a knocking very soon. I am glad. It could have been sad Salinger family business (Salinger is their family name), but it looks instead that it has become a binding experience for the two of them. Not so long ago I remember a conversation that Lorraine had with her sister on the phone as being incredibly bitter and nasty. It looks like they have gotten past that.

Anyway, I am keeping well out of the way. Never get between two pissed women unless you are pissed yourself. I think my Dad told me that.

It has been a good couple of days. Arse about tit. Wrong way around.

I went to my Mom's late this afternoon. Earlier this week she had attended the hospital for various tests. Very painful, very uncomfortable. She had to have a barium meal and it was not a good expereince. Now it looks like it was all worth it because nothing was found. It is a big relief. My Mom is now planning Bottom Sister's birthday party.

This afternoon I went to see "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" starring Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer. I enjoyed it very much. Brilliant pisstake/mash up of a buddy-buddy action movie crossed with an old style hard boiled, film noir private eye story. Marvellous script by Shane Black ("The Last Boy Scout", "The Long Kiss Goodnight", "Lethal Weapon", etc.) who also directed for the first time. Very sharp, sarcastic, funny and knowing. (Sidebar. This is getting pretty bad. I have liked every film I have seen at the cinema since I restarted the blog. I need to see a stinker pretty soon to get back some perspective. Sidebar.) Go and see it. You will enjoy it. Unless you are a loser, of course.

This morning, with the house to myself (Lorraine having gone off to meet her friend, the lovely Lana Blue - of the famous torquoise eyes - in town), I hoovered and cleaned the entire house. I then picked up some dry cleaning. The memory of those events makes me tremble with excitement.

This morning, after we awoke, I was allowed to grope Lorraine buttocks and to hold one of her tits. However, as we had slept in until way past 9am, she had to rush and there was no time for anything else.

Last night we watched "Love, Actually" on DVD. I really like "Love, Actually". Sue me. I think already it is a modern Christmas classic. Sue me. I then watched exactly 10 minutes or so of the BBC's Children In Need show. The 10 minutes in question? The "Doctor Who" bit. The BBC claim that it was a specially written scene. Funny that. To me it seemed to be the opening scene for the Christmas story due to be broadcast on Christmas Day. That aside, David Tennant looks pretty good to me as the new Doctor.

Yesterday morning we went to the Festive Gift Fair at the NEC with Lorraine's step dad Ian and his (newish) wife Penny. Very nice day. This visit I managed a modicum of discipline in that I did not

1. Sample alcohol at every stall selling alcohol.
2. Sample food at every stall selling food.
3. Spend a huge amount of money on tat.

We bought some presents and found, I think, the perfect present for a fellow Blogger for their birthday. That person will know about it soon enough.

Thursday evening we watched Channel 4's "Rock 'n' Roll Hall Of Fame" inductees show, which made me feel very decrepid and past it. I am old enough to remember a time before Joy Division/New Orer. I am old enough to remember when Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart were in a band called the Tourists, who had a British hit with a cover of Dusty Springfield's "I Only Want To Be With You", and the Eurythmics had not even been thought about. And there they all were. Being inducted as legends...

Time for pipe and slippers? Fuck you.

Very quick post to say that despite the fairly negative entry on Wednesday, we are not breaking up, Lorraine will not be moving out in January and we are still together. In fact the last couple of days have been pretty good.

That aside, I am incredibly tired, and am now going to bed. I seem to be neglecting the blog and other blogs at the moment, and I regret that a lot. I will catch up over the next couple of days.

As things can get better, so they can also turn to shit.

Two things.

One.

Last night Lorraine decided that she wanted to do the online grocery shop. Fine by me as I had things that needed to be done (ironing). I booted up the PC, logged her into the website, reserved a delivery slot (for today, as it happens) and said, "That slot is reserved for 1 hour. You can everything done in an hour, can't you?"

"No problem", she said.

I reiterated what I had just said. "You only have 1 hour. If you don't get it done in an hour you will probably lose the slot and we will have to wait until late in the week or the weekend to get a delivery."

"Fuck off. I know what I'm doing."

OK, then.

Of course, an hour and a half later she hadn't finished. When she had finished, we had lost the delivery slot and will now have to wait until the weekend for the delivery. I tried to be philosophical, said that it "Didn't matter", but I was extremely pissed off. I had suggested to her that a good technique when online shopping would be to go through the previous purchased items list and tick everything that we always buy, as this could be done in 5 minutes, leaving her nearly an hour to choose everything else. It is what I do and, fuck me, it works! But, oh no, Lorraine thought that she would go through every single virtual shopping aisle and choose every single item individually.

Perhaps I find it hard to hide my emotions. It shows in my face. Anyway, Lorraine was extremely pissed off with me, the website and the universe in general. She went to bed fuming before 10pm leaving me to watch "The Ghost Squad" on Channel 4, which I became bored with about 5 minutes after it started. Eventually I watched the 10 minute freeview of Red Hot TV, had a wank and went to bed.

Two.

Lorraine has taken advantage of having the week off (we have builders in to fix the valley, do some re-tiling and replace chimney flashings) to do some decorating. True, she hadn't actually told me that she was going to be doing any decorating. She knows I would have freaked out, worried, fretted, lost hair, moaned and cried. Anyway, Lorraine has done a good job. The living room looks great. Beautiful off white.

On Monday Lorraine had taken down the shelves behind the TV and said that we would not replace them because she didn't like them. Fine by me. I have always hated anything behind or above my precious TV. Lorraine said that we would put up some pictures instead. Er... OK. So long as there was no hammering or drilling or anything similar involved. OK. Sorted.

Today Lorraine announced that she had bought some shelves to put behind the TV and that when Ian, her Step Dad, visits on Friday with his new missus to attend the Festive Gift Fair with us, he would be putting them up. Not good. (If you were to look in a dictionary at the definition of the word "Heavy Handed" you would be presented with a picture of Ian.) I asked her what she was playing at. On Monday she didn't want shelves. She said that she had changed her mind as she wanted somewhere to put her ornaments. I told her that I had not changed my fucking mind and that in my opinion now that the shelves had gone they were going to stay gone.

Argument.

I won't go into details. Suffice to say the question of exactly why we are living together was raised (by her) and she expressed an opinion that in January 2006 that that sad state of affairs might be subject to change.

Perhaps it is my fault? My Mom used to say (still does, actually) that I am unbearable to live with. She said that I am a domineering, moody, awkward, arrogant and inflexible little shit. Obviously she loves me dearly. Not my fault. I am an eldest child, you see. I was spoilt rotten, by my Gran, who instilled in me a sense of my own importance that the reality of life has done nothing to break down.

After the huge leaps forward in the past couple of weeks, it is a shame to report that at this moment I do not feel that I will ever fuck make love to Lorraine ever again.

Relationships. Don't you just love 'em?

I'm off to watch "Lost".

No time. Blah, blah, blah. Too much to do. Blah, blah, blah. Lorraine has had the computer for hours. Blah, blah, blah. Something starting on the TV at 10pm.

Gotta go.

Blah, blah, blah.

Don't you just hate posts like that?

It was a seismic event.

It was a meeting of minds.

It was Lennon meets McCartney.

It was Page meets Plant.

It was Jagger meets Richards.

It was Chilton meets Bell. (Look them up, if you don't know who I am talking about.)

Actually, I take the piss. It was Pynchon meets up with a fellow blogger, finally. Not such a big deal to a lot of people, but a very big deal to me, and as it happened very enjoyable because Mark is one of the good guys. He was in Birmingham for a gig at the Academy last night (Karl Bartos, ex of Kraftwerk) and then work today. One of us suggested meeting up, I cannot remember who, and then suddenly it was on. How the fuck did that happen? Very disturbing.

We met up at New Street Station just after 5pm, checked each other out (I know what he was thinking - this guy looks nothing like George Clooney) and then went up to Broad Street. We then retired to "The Figure Of Eight" for a brew or two (he drank cider, I drank Guinness) before he had to dump his stuff at the hotel (more about that later) and go off to the gig.

First impression. Hmm... Mark is not nearly as angry and as intense as his blog makes out. Nice guy. Laughed a lot. Talked a lot. Hey, I am not being insulting. I talk a lot as well. The conversation was random and all over the place. It was great. I love a good chat/argument/discussion.

Highlights? Some of them. I was very pissed after two Guinness and I am sure that some brain cells may have perished. I am a wuss.

1. James Bond. Being a man of taste and distinction Mark believes that "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" is the best Bond film, but that it has the worst Bond. I would agree with the film, but don't know if I agree with Lazenby as the worst Bond.
2. Music. Mark doesn't dislike the Beatles so much as he dislikes Beatles fans, especially those that believe that popular music started and ended with the Fab Four. No argument there from me. I hope that a better band comes along one day. How depressing to think that the Beatles are the best band that there will ever be. All new bands might as well give up now.
3. Mark has never seen "Lost" or "The X-Factor".
4. Mark does not think that Gordon Brown will ever be Prime Minister, or if he does, he will not be Prime Minister for very long, because Labour will lose the next election.
5. Mark likes his job. He likes the flexibility in the hours, although the traveling can be a drag sometimes.
6. Mark likes Suburban Hen's art very much. Actually, so do I.
7. Mark sympathised deeply with the reasons for the death of my last blog. He thinks he may have written things online that might come back to haunt him in the future.
8. Mark thinks that Swiss Toni and LB are the tallest people in the world. Hey, I am as tall as Tom Cruise! That counts for something, doesn't it?
9. I cannot think of anything else. I was pissed.

At 6:40pm we went in search of Mark's hotel. It was the Premier Lodge behind Old Orleans. We entered. It was quiet. Too quiet. There was nobody behind the desk. The was a sign. The sign said something like "Back in 5 minutes - I am performing routine maintenance around the hotel." Fair enough if it was true, except that it wasn't. 20 minutes later (and this was after Mark had called a number - the head office? - to enquire when exactly he could be let into his hotel room) a guy turned up. He had been in Old Orleans, picking up something to eat. The guy was a magnificently rude and arrogant shit with an attitude problem. Very bad and totally uncalled for. When Mark said, quite rightly, that he had been waiting for 20 minutes the guy said that there was no need to be "sarcastic". Oh, dear... Sirens were going off in my head. A full scale wanker alert, if I was not mistaken.

Checked in, we charged down Broad Street (Mark was late) and I met up briefly with Mark's Brother Graham, who I think wrote the first blog that I ever commented on. Graham checked me out (I could see what he was thinking - this guy looks nothing like Brad Pitt), we exchanged plesantries and agreed to meet up early in December. Graham is a busy guy. He is sorting out his new place at the moment. I hope to attend the house warming party.

...And then I went home. Lorraine had cooked chicken. It was nice chicken. Later, after watching a Bob Marley concert on TV, she let me play with her tits. And then I was allowed to play with the rest of her. We were up late. I was knackered going to work today.

Sunday was a great day.

Nearly forgot, on Sunday afternoon I went to see the movie adaptation of John Le Carre's novel "The Constant Gardener". I thought that it was wonderful and thought provoking. It is a beautiful, passionate, angry and emotive thriller set against the background of western exploitation of Africa. Just brilliant. I have never read the book. I will have to get to that soon. Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz are both excellent and if Rachel Weisz, at the very least, does not get an Oscar nomination next year, I will be very surprised. Highly recommended.

There you are...

I have read all of my regular blogs!

I have commented on my regular blogs (where such comments were warranted)!

I have sent and replied to emails!

Ain't time great! I have to go to work tomorrow (well, I don't have to go to work, but Lorraine feels the need to make the effort and has asked me special, special, nicely, nicely, nice if I will also make the effort), so I need to go very shortly.

Just one piece of news. Finally, after much fretting, worrying and soul searching, I will be breaking my great Blog isolation on Sunday and will be meeting up with a fellow Blogger, in person, for the first time. If that goes well, I have another meet up with another Blogger scheduled for early December and then another meetup with another Blogger for the week after that (although, to be honsest, the last one has been set for months).

Nervous? Fuck yes. I am not a shut in, by any means, but I do not hang out with anybody outside of work, except for Lorraine and my family (and I kind of like it that way), but this is a very new and interesting development. Pushing outside of my comfort zone, and all that. (Oh, fuck, I have sprouted a cliche! What was it Spike Milligan said? "The cliche is the crutch of the broken mind".)

I may be here tomorrow, I may not.

Have a great weekend, people.

It has been a peculiar week. There just doesn't seem to be the time to do everything that I have wanted to do.

This evening I have

1. Sent an email.
2. Did some shopping.
3. Surfed some blogs (and had to skip a few).
4. Commented on some blogs (and, again, had to skip a few).
5. Posted here.

I really have got to impose a bit of discipline or everything is going to slip away. I have no idea what a lot of my friends are up to. I am sorry about that. I am not ignoring you on purpose.

I have got to go. Lorraine wants a cup of tea before the last episode of "Spooks" starts. Did the secret service kill Princess Diana? We are about to find out.

Question and answer time, courtesy of the mighty Ozbhoy.

10 Favourites.

Favourite Colour: Purple.
Favourite Food: Duck Curry, Boiled Rice and Chips. All at the same time.
Favourite Month: September.
Favourite Sport: Football
Favorite Song: "Paperback Writer" by The Beatles.
Favourite Movie: "The Day The Earth Caught Fire".
Favourite Season: Autumn.
Favourite Day Of the week: Saturday.
Favourite Ice Cream Flavour: Strawberry.
Favourite Time of Day: 8pm.

Currents.

Current Mood: Happy
Current Taste: Tea (Assam).
Current Clothes: Joggers and Timberland T-shirt
Current Desktop: Jennifer Connelly (in fetching black bra that is slightly too small for her).
Current Toenail: Er... Cut last Sunday.
Current Time: 8:53pm
Current Surroundings: Back room, junk everywhere.
Current Thoughts: Gotta get a move on because "Lost" starts at 10pm.

Firsts.

First Best Friend: Reggie Bowl. I haven't seen him in 20 years.
First Kiss: My Mom. Actually, it was probably my Gran. I don't think that I have ever kissed my Mom. There is a rumour that my Dad kissed her 7 times, but I cannot confirm it.
First Screen Name: Seawalker.
First Pet: Bobby the Jack Russell.
First Piercing: Never been pierced.
First Crush: Linda Brown. We were both 10. The wanton hussy abandoned me for an experienced lad of 11 that had the latest (at the time) Slade album.
First Album: "A Hard Day's Night" by the Beatles.

7 Lasts.

Last Cigarette: I don't smoke
Last Drink: Bottle of red wine on Saturday night.
Last Car Ride: Last night. We got a lift from Wendy Scot at work.
Last Kiss: Lorraine, in the kitchen this evening.
Last Movie Seen: "We Jam Econo: The Story Of The Minutemen" at the Electric Cinema.
Last Phone Call: From some arsehole customer at work.
Last CD Played: "Capital Gold" compilation of 60's/70's classics.

6 Have You Evers.

Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Guy/Girl Friends: No.
Have You Ever Broken the Law: Yes.
Have You Ever Been Arrested: No.
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: No.
Have You Ever Been on TV: Yes.
Have You Ever Kissed Someone You Didn't Know: No.

5 Things.

Thing You're Wearing: A frown.
Thing You've Done Today: Ignored customer phone calls at work (Ha Ha Ha!)
Thing You Can Hear Right Now: The computer humming.
Thing You Can't Live Without: Money.
Thing You Do When You're Bored: Play on the computer or watch TV.

4 Places you have been today.

On the bus.
At work.
In the street.
At home.

3 People you can tell anything to.

Nobody... Or maybe millions of people on the internet.

2 Choices.

Black or White: White.
Cold or Hot: Cold.

1 Thing you want to do before you die.

Obtain coolness.

What's this? Another set of question and answers! Stolen from handsome Mark .

Name someone with the same birthday as you
Van Morrison, Jerry Allison (drummer in Buddy Holly & the Crickets) and Glenn Tilbrook (of Squeeze).

Where was your first kiss?
I honestly cannot remember?

Have you ever seriously vandalized someone's property?
Not personally, but I have influenced other people to do it on my behalf. Cheers, Bro!

Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?
Does spanking count? If not, no.

Have you ever sang in front of a large group of people?
Oh, yes. People wept openly at my rendition of the Stones "Jumping Jack Flash" at the summer work's do.

What's the first thing you notice about the preferred sex?
Nice answer, personality. Bad answer, tits.

What do you order at Starbucks?
A latte.

What is your biggest mistake?
Having January 2000 to May 2001 off. I didn't even try to look for work. Stupid, fucking bastard.

Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose?
No.

Say something totally random about yourself.
I like to see myself as a maverick but I am really just a loser.

Has anyone ever said you look like a celebrity?
No.

Do you still watch kiddy movies or TV shows?
Hey, a movie is a movie! I make no distinction between adult and kiddy movies.

Did you have braces?
No.

Are you comfortable with your height?
The smallest dogs make the most noise. And I am taller than Napoleon was, so there.

What is the most romantic thing someone has ever done for you?
Loraine moved to Birmingham to be with me.

When do you know it's love?
When you think to yourself, 'what would XXXX think if I did that?' Or is that guilt?

Do you speak any other languages?
Does gibberish count?

Have you ever been to a tanning salon?
No, but my friend Vicky told me all about it and I got an erection imagining her topless being sprayed.

What magazines do you read?
"Q", "Mojo", "Empire", "Sight and Sound", Rolling Stone" sometimes. I am reading something all the time.

Have you ever ridden in a Lima?
Yes, in Las Vegas and San Francisco.

Has anyone you were really close to passed away?
Yes.

Do you watch MTV?
No.

What's something that really annoys you?
Stupidity. Short term objectives.

What's something you really like?
Movies.

Do you like Michael Jackson?
Never met the dude, but I do like some of his records a lot.

Can you dance?
No idea. I go my own way, man...

What's the latest you have ever stayed up?
2 days.

Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance to the emergency room?
No.

Do you read these when someone fills them out?
Absolutely. These are shortcuts into somebody's soul and should be taken seriously.

Here's something I never expected to be writing. I really enjoyed the overtime at work this evening.

No phones, no managers (except Orville Turd who thinks that he manages me and completely fails to realise that it is the other way around), no customers, no idiot programmers or system analysts. Just bliss. I got a ton of work done and got paid over the odds to do it as well. The overtime is all part of the great blitz designed to get us into fighting shape for 2006. Do I even give a tiny shit about that? No, not really. I only did the overtime because Lorraine asked me to and I am glad that I did.

Did I actually say why I decided to take Lorraine on a date on Saturday? No, I don't think that I did. Simply, I just wanted things, for a little while, to be the way that they were when we started to go out together. And they were. A grand gesture was called for. It was the best decision I made for years and, yes it cost money, but so what? Lorraine said today that we should do it again and said that it would be her turn to pay next time. Not going to happen (her paying) but we will do it again. Great night. (You know that. I wrote about it - badly - at length, last night.)

Things are good between us. It's a start.

On Saturday I asked Lorraine if she wanted to go on a date with me. Of course she was immediately suspicious.

"What do you mean a date?", she said.

"You know. A movie, a meal, a club afterwards, if you fancy it. A date."

"What have you done or what are you after?", said she.

"I've not done anything and I'm not after anything, either. OK, forget it. I'm sorry I asked", I said.

"What did you have in mind?", she asked, and I knew that General Pynchon had won the battle.

So Saturday evening we went on a date, but the whole of Saturday was good.

Saturday morning there were chores (hoovering, washing up, dusting, etc.) while Lorraine did some work on the computer. At midday we went out and stopped at Asterias for lunch. In my humble opinion Asterias do the best baguettes in Brum, although ever the Philistine, Lorraine had a cheese and chilli jacket potato. Vileness. It looked awful, but then again, it did contain cheese so that was to be expected.

Next we stopped in Rackhams and looked at furniture. Lorraine had spotted a corner unit last week and was determined to buy it so that she would have something to display the ever growing number of ornaments and photographs and she has been accumulating. It was perfect... but too tall. Shame. It was also nearly 700 quid, so I was not overly upset that she had been denied the purchase of it.

Next we stopped in Beatties and Lorraine tried on every pair of trousers in the shop. They were all unsuitable in her opinion because a) She was too gross , or b) The trousers were too gross. (Lorraine is not gross. Lorraine is a fine looking woman. Would I hang out with a woman that was not a fine looking woman? No, I wouldn't. Ridiculous.)

Next we stopped in Woolworths and Lorraine purchased a couple of faux fur throws to... er... throw over the settee.

Next we wandered around W H Smith, where I successfully resisted the temptation to buy any magazines except the official Alias magazine, and then we went home.

Cup of tea, change of clothes, glass of Frangelico and then out again. Lorraine and I were on a date.

First stop was the Electric Cinema where we saw Atom Egoyan's film "Where The Truth Lies". It starred the extremely underrated trio of Kevin Bacon, Colin Firth and Alison Lohman and I thought that it was very good indeed. But then again, I have never seen a bad Atom Egoyan film and so am biased. Here is the plot outline from IMDB. I couldn't describe it any better myself.

"A female journalist tries to uncover the truth behind the breakup, years earlier, of a celebrated comedy team after the duo found a girl dead in their hotel room. Though both had airtight alibis, and neither was accused, the incident put an end to their act."

It was hardly a first date movie. Extremely sexual and explicit (Atom Egoyan repeatedly cut the movie to try to avoid an NC-17 rating in the States, but failed to do so - I think it is released uncut in the UK) in all sorts of ways (Alice In Wonderland, White Rabbit, hallucinogenics... Hahhhh!) and delving headfirst into the seedy underbelly of showbusiness, I think that it would make a really good double bill with "L. A. Confidential". It shared the same kind corruption under the surface and also had a similar kind of sweeping, string laden soundtrack. Kevin Bacon (shark-like and hyperactive) and Colin Firth (genial, but ever so slightly creepy) were fantastic and Alison Lohman (an innocent? but abused and corrupted) was just wonderful. I have liked Alison Lohman in everything that she has done and this is probably her most adult role.

"Where The Truth Lies" goes on general release in the UK in December (the Electric Cinema had it as a single showing part of their mini festival this weekend). I will probably buy it when it comes out on DVD. Lorraine said that it is the sex scenes that impressed me the most. Not true. It is a really good film and really good films should be celebrated. If I just wanted to buy a film for the sex I would buy porn.

Saturday was only the second ever time I have visited the Electric Cinema since the refurbishment. It is a wonderful place. A little bit pricey, but very cool indeed. As I understand it, the guy who now owns it runs it at a loss (I believe he is something in the music business and can afford it). The Electric Cinema tries to make going to the flicks a special experience. There are sofa seats (we bagged one!) where you can text your drink order to the bar and they would bring it to you (I was not allowed to do this.) There is a hint of decadence and bohemia about the operation. They sell Absinthe in the bar! Lorraine did not let me have any Absinthe. The last time I had Absinthe was at the last Good Food Show. I had several glasses and my tongue stopped working for an hour. We were with friends at the time. I think that Lorraine felt a little showed up. On Saturday I stuck to San Miguel and Lorraine had a double Southern Comfort and Orange Juice. Oooh, ain't we just the wild pair?

I enjoyed it that much I went to the Electric Cinema again on the Sunday, but more about that later.

After the cinema we went to Milano Ristorante Italiano in Ladywell Walk, just outside the Arcadian Centre. Another first. We both enjoyed it immensely. Lovely atmosphere (the tables were just far enough apart from each other so that your conversations were private), good service, great food (huge starters - Fritto Mistro and Insalata Di Mare, huge mains - Filetto Di Manzo Barolo and Bistecca Di Manzo Olive, Capperi e Pomodoro), potent wine (no idea, but it had the word De'nero in the title), nice desserts (again, no idea, but sambucca was in there somewhere and it came to table on fire) and liquor coffees (baileys and quantro (sic)). Very good.

We were very tired when we got out of the restaurant and so we did not bother with the club. Taxi home and bed. To sleep.

Next morning... A little hangover. Not bad. I had some tea, some headache tablets and cooked some eggs. Felt much better. We watched the "X-Factor" repeat (Chenai was kicked out, and quite rightly so. No energy, no life, nothing, boring.) After that I put on all the charm I could muster and asked Lorraine if she wanted to go upstairs and fuck. Turned out that she did and we went upstairs to bed.

10 seconds after that, when I had finished (I am the lover man!), Lorraine kissed me on the cheek and said that I was a tiger. Sarcastic cow. I had a shower and ran Lorraine a bath. I made her a cup of tea and I left her sitting in the bath planning to do dial on to work to do some work.

I wandered around town. I went to see my Mom and my Brother. My Brother said that he might come to see the Prodigy with me at the end of November. Good for him. I think that he also believes that I am going to pay for him. Fuck off. My Brother is growing his hair long. I think that he has finally noticed that he has got a bald spot and is growing his hair to compensate. Male pattern baldness is apparently caused by an overload of testosterone. It explains a lot. We are men...

I went back to the Electric Cinema to see a documentary called "We Jam Econo: The Story Of The Minutemen". The Minutemen were a band I knew only a little bit about. I had heard a handful of tracks (on the John Peel show?) which I liked and remembered a fantastic video that was shown on The Tube around 1985, which impressed me a lot, even though I had no idea what the track was called. For some crazy reason, probably because they were a 3 piece, they reminded me of the Jam. In retrospect they were nothing like the Jam. I remembered a little story in the NME when D. Boon died, but other than that, the Minutemen were a mystery to me. It's a good documentary. The picture that is painted is of a band on the verge of a commercial breakthrough and growing and changing all the time. It is a great shame. A guy on the way out of the cinema was trying to impress his lady by saying that if D. Boon had lived they would probably have become as big as R.E.M. Maybe. Who's to know?

Phew. I am written out.

I am working late tomorrow, so I may not be here until Wednesday. See you later.

There is a girl. Let's call her Vicky Sunshine. I sat next to Vicky at work for a couple of years. I thought she was wonderful. We liked the same music, films, television, etc. She was funny. We laughed a lot and flirted and larked about. She introduced me to Goldfrapp and I introduced her to the Scissor Sisters . I think I loved Vicky, or was it just simple lust during what was a difficult time for Lorraine and me? I don't know. We never bumped genitalia even once. I never "crossed the line", although I wanted to. I never told her how I felt. In my heart of hearts I know that she never felt about me the way that I felt about her. I was her friend, nothing more and nothing less. When she moved to another section within the Company, things started to become very dark for me.

I met Vicky's boyfriend a couple of times at shared work events and social occasions. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Of course I hated the cunt on sight. He was tall, macho, physically imposing and practical (I believe he was a car mechanic). In fact he was everything that I am not. Vicky's boyfriend did not talk much; in fact, I do not think he had an opinion on anything. I don't remember him ever talking to Vicky on any of those occasions. Perhaps he was just shy in company. He never danced with her. She loved to dance.

The rumour at the moment is that Vicky has dumped her boyfriend and is now going out with one of the Director's of the Company; a guy I shall christen Luthor Twat. Luthor Twat is in his late 30's. He is tall, handsome (hell if I was the producer of "Casino Royale" I would have cast him as James Bond, not Daniel Craig), successful and a player of women. He has managed to impregnate at least two ladies in the Company that I know of, had affairs with several others and was sharing the MD's secretary's charms with the MD, until the MD got rid of her.

I am very upset about this. What I would like to do is to take Vicky quietly to one side, take her by the arms, give her a good shake and tell her to "wake up", but I won't. It is none of my business. I just do not want her getting hurt.

We still talk when we run into each other. We bumped into the car park a couple of days ago and we talked about the new Goldfrapp album. She had also been to see the Stereophonics recently, and enjoyed them a lot, but thought that the support act the Dead 60's were shit. Later than night I had a dream about her. It was not a sexual dream. I dreamt that we were living together. I was cooking. We sat down and ate a meal and we talked about, of all things, the series of "Love Soup" that recently finished. And then I woke up. It was suburban bliss.

I am 42 and in a relationship. Vicky is 27 and probably having a great time in her new relationship. I am pathetic.

But I do not want her getting hurt. Sue me.

I have ran out of time.

Later.

What the hell is going on with Blogger, then? Incredibly slow, multiple disconnections, etc. It's enough to make you give up. Let's try and get something written before the whole thing stops working, shall we?

Last night, straight after I got home from work, I went into the bathroom to have a piss. While I was washing my hands I took a good look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I was shocked. I had huge bags under my eyes. The bags were purple and veiney and kind of awful (too much salt, not enough salt?). My skin looked greasy and spotty. My hair... Well, don't get me started on that. I have lost quite a bit of hair on the back of my head and now it looks like the front is going. I am also now going very grey, and it is not a distinguished grey, either.

To be honest, I am frankly disgusted by my physical condition. I am heavier than I have ever been (12 stone 2 pounds last Sunday, 5 years ago I was stable at 11 stone 3 pounds), my belly is a physical thing (and it isn't alcohol because I really do drink very little these days), I am tired all of the time, my legs ache and my fingernails are in bad condition (I have bitten my nails since I was about 5 years old).

Don't you just love the self pity post? I know that I need to do something about the above and I need to do it quick. I mentioned some of this to Lorraine. She said I was under terrible stress and that stress often manifests itself physically. Of course she is right. So, how do I remove the stress. Some of it is work and some of it, sadly, is her.

Yesterday, early evening. I sidled up to Lorraine and asked her if, after watching the last episode of "Love Soup", she would like to go straight to bed to "mess around". She said that she would. Later that evening we did end up in bed, I stroked her thighs and her bottom and then she said that she was too tired and accused me of "always picking the wrong time". I did not take it well. I told her that she needed to see somebody; perhaps a sex therapist. She said to not be ridiculous. I told her that in that case I hoped she would be happy in her "Sexless Old Age" and that she would make a fine "Old Maid".

We went to work in silence today. She went to lunch at a different time to me. We did not even look at each other until about 3:30pm when we had to go into a meeting together. We are talking now, but it is strained. I don't know how this is going to work itself out.

I am going to have a little play with my sidebar.