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motherrrr...

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St Patrick's day massacre

Ok, so this is the story of my St Patrick's day, or "how I thought I was going to behave until the bar gave us half price drinks and I found they had courvoisier"

The first mistake of the night was having a pint of Guinness at 3pm, to start off the ceremonies, I felt obliged to have something Irish, mix this with champagne, wine, beer, rum, cognac, and pretty much everything else in the recipe book (yes, I was drinking a plethora of drinks), soon, drunken Al came out to play, and those of you that have seen me drunk know what chaos that can bring.

The bar we were in was split into several rooms, from classy to trashy to borderline strip club.  We were in the worst of the worst, a mockup of a 60's disco with barely clad women in lycra doing coordinated "dancing", some of which were on roller skates, and with half price booze until 8pm.  I was loving it, but then I made the mistake of leaving our room to go to the gents, and that's where I saw it.  I don't know what inspired me, maybe it was my need to cause disruption, maybe it was the tiresome 60s boogie music, maybe it was the inspiring words of the bathroom attendant screaming "no sanitation, no penetration", but I decided I was going to break into the private party in the VIP room.

i hung around for a bit, not knowing how I was going to do it, there was a constant security guard by the entrance, which was a gap in some curtains about the width of a double door, I was going to need a distraction, and I was too drunk to think of one that wasn't "LOOK, IT'S AN ELEPHANT", but fate was smiling on me, and one of my colleagues staggered in out of nowhere, didn't notice me, but decided to try his luck with chatting up the security woman, and they entered into conversation.  I tried my luck and made it in undetected.  I was now a VIP.  I was just about in the process of helping myself to some of the champagne when I heard my name called.  I ignored it and was about to tuck into some salmon when I heard it again, and again, and again.  I turned round, and my colleague was still stood by the security guard, and she didn't look very happy.  I walked over, and asked what was going on, I was made to leave the area and told I wasn't allowed to go back in (I managed not get kicked out of the whole place by ensuring them I had no idea it was a VIP section and just another room in the bar).  I led him away and asked him why he would bust my chops so badly and he said it was because "she looked so stressed and it just wasn't fair on her" and that other people were going to try and follow me in.  Fuckers.

I went back into the 60s hellhole and decided I needed a lot more booze and fast.  I showed amazement at some woman at the bar next to me, she had one of those hawaiian lei things, in St Patrick's day colours, because nothing says "IRISH" like a green and white hawaiian lei.  I managed to acquire it in ways that I do not know, and staggered off with it proudly around my neck.  I was standing smugly with my new prize when I saw an even better trophy.  There were HIPSTERS in here, and one of them had a massive red and black tartan scarf.  I wanted it and I wanted it now.  My friends were saying I should just snatch it and run off, but even when I'm hammered, I am a gentlemen, and we do not do such things.  I had to bargain for it so I acquired as much useless tat as I could find and went off to win her over.

I spent 10 minutes bargaining with her, I offered the lei, a glowstick wristband that I don't know where I got from, a giant nacho chip, a chunky chip, a rendition of soulja boy's crank dat dance, nothing was working.  I eventually asked what would convince her to part ways with it, and she told me nothing could, because it was given to her by her dead grandad.  Now, this confused me, so I just kind of looked at her awkwardly.  I found myself gazing into her eyes and she started gazing back, she stared at me for a bit then moved slightly closer and I panicked because this was not what I wanted and I only came over for the scarf, which I wasn't going to get, so I said the first thing that came to mind...

"So...is your grandad a zombie then?"

I am one classy motherfucker.

After that I don't remember much but I'm sure it was all downhill, I am also sure I will be reminded of it all in great detail on Monday, as at least 3 people were taking photos and videos of pretty much anything they could see.  We got our photo taken by some professional photographer woman who said she'd put it on facebook but I'm not entirely sure I want to see that. 

My only memory of getting home is being in the taxi, my lei still proudly round my neck, waiting to get home, and the taxi driver woman making a comment about the amount of speedbumps.  I so very nearly threw up on her.

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it's time to move on.

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So, after seeing it a forum thread about it today, I have been reliving some of my childhood by watching bits of "the animals of Farthing Wood" on youtube, but Christ, what is going on with the size of that cement mixer? It's like a small moon of liquidy cement death!

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girlfromthewell:

Dawn of the bread

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This is everything the internet has been leading up to, it is perfection in a website and I'm really not sure what can ever beat it.

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I'm having NEW AGE FUN with a VINTAGE FEEL.

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Animals on the underground.  Genius!

urhajos:

Subway Animals

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I found this in clas ohlsen a while ago and had to take a photo. Every time I look at it, it confuses me a little bit more...

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The pleasures of a journey to the centre of the mind

Today, dear readers, I have a special treat for you, in the fact that last night I had not one, but 2 dreams that I have successfully managed to remember.  I don't know how it normally is for you but with me I hardly ever remember my dreams, and it's only once in a blue moon that I remember one for more than 5 minutes after waking up, and when I do they are always amazingly fucked up, but here we are, with me remembering 2 from one night, so shut up, sit down, be quiet, and let's go.

Dream 1 (takes place sometime between 02:30am and 7am real life time)

I was sat...somewhere, I think my dream identified it as my living room or whatever but it definitely wasn't somewhere I know from real life, my dream self just recognised it as being the living room, if you know what I mean.  I was watching the news on television, which was one of those oldschool beasts of a television with the hilarious "wood" finish, and there was a report on about doughnuts, and how there was a worldwide shortage of them, with currently only 100,000 doughnuts left at that time, and with the number expected to rapidly decrease further.

Shocked by this revelation, I turned off the TV and was about to puzzle over what I could do to stop this tragedy when the prime minister phoned me (I'm not sure if it was David Cameron, again, I just recognised him as the prime minister).  His words were merely "it's time...you know what you need to do" and then he hung up.  Surprisingly I DID know what to do and it involved me taking up the ancient role as "Mr Kipling" and starting up his ancient cake factory to replenish the world's cake supply.  

Unfortunately I didn't get as far as actually doing any of that bit because I was woken up by the milkman, so we'll never find out what glory awaited in the cake factory or if I saved the shortage.  Anyway, I fell asleep again and back into the horrors of my mind, let's keep going:

Dream 2

In this dream I think I was at some kind of houseparty, but there weren't many people there and I didn't know any of them.  It must have been a bit rubbish because as soon as I arrived I went down the hall from the front door and into a downstairs bedroom with like, 3 single beds in, lay down on one and fell asleep.  I didn't dream inside the dream because I don't think my brain has the power to comprehend that, so the next thing I remember is waking up back to the dream, and oh god, this is where it gets weird.

There was a creepy woman sat on the bed watching over me, and she started stroking my arm (I think this was influenced by a crazy woman serving me at pret a manger getting a bit too friendly for my liking yesterday)and then she started saying how much of a pity it is that I self mutilated myself so badly last night and now nobody would ever want me so she'd have to keep me forever.  I was like "what are you even talking about?"  and then I looked down, my arms were both completely slashed into lots of tiny cuts bandaged together, not deep but like, millions of papercuts, and my hands, oh god the hands, you know that little bit of webbing between each finger?  well due to me being some kind of mutation, mine's a little bit bigger than it should be anyway (that's what she said) so I have about 1cm of webbing on each finger.  The crazy dreambitch had like, shoved a pair of scissors between each finger and fucking CHOPPED the webbing.  I freaked out, I amazingly freaked out, it didn't hurt but my god, it was horrifying.  I clenched each hand into a fist, bandaged it up so I didn't have to look at it (and because somehow I thought it would help the healing), shouted about the crazy dreambitch, and left someone performing a citizens arrest on her, while I ran to hospital.

Hospital in my mind was pretty much the A&E waiting room, although much like reality nothing was happening fast, I ended up freaking out again and shouting at one of the nurses how I needed my hands sewed back together, and she told me to calm down and that I needed a blood sample first (?), so I was told to take a seat and someone would be with me shortly.

Well, someone was with me shortly but not for a blood sample, but it was 2 doctors playing a game called "spleen or squid", where they had 2 slabs of flesh on a tray, one of them a real human spleen (I have no idea what a spleen actually looks like but in the dream it was just grey and fleshy, like a lung) and one of them a slice of real squid.  You had to guess which yours was.  I guessed squid, got it wrong, and they slapped me in the face with the spleen, waking me up back into reality, where I frantically checked my hands and was SO relieved to find them normal.

So that concludes our journey into the terrors of my mind, I think this is why I don't dream often, because the severe trauma I induce upon myself.  I do vaguely remember there being a 3rd dream, something about being at work and trying to send an email, and it left me waking up and thinking "oh god, it's time to go live the dream".  Then I realised how horrible a joke that made and hated myself a little bit for saying it.

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hey look at what I went and did!

fspmusic:

Vol. 30 is from @Deegro. I Don’t have much to say about this one, so just sit down, shut up, turn the volume up, and boom, let this collection collectively punch you in the face. Oorah. Get it here

1) AFI - Prelude 12:21 2) Therapy? Screamager 3) New York Dolls - Personality Crisis 4)...

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off we go...

Ok, so I figured that since some people who may stumble (I know what you're thinking here, you're expecting a tumble joke.  I'm not going to cheapen myself for you.  Not this early on into things anyway) upon this here blog might not know me, or if you do might not know what to expect, so I thought I'd take the time to lay down some basics and we can figure the rest out as we go.

My name is Alistair, but you can call me Digga (if you so wish), and I am a 24 year old single dude living in London.  Life is simple for me right now, I go to work in the city, I do computer man things, I get paid, we all celebrate, and the world keeps on turning.  It's not the most exciting thing in the world but hey, it's a career.

I will mostly be using this space for ramblings, musings, stories, anything I think is worth mentioning.  I'm not one of those artistic photography artisty people, so if you happen to see a picture on here, chances are I didn't make it, but I will try to give credit where credit is due.

I like food, I like music, I play the guitar and the banjo, and used to play a variety of instruments, including a trumpet that I still own and sometimes wonder if I should pick up again.  I enjoy video games, yeah, I'm one of those geeks that you hear about.  I enjoy making people laugh and sharing the love, but hey, who doesn't?  Hopefully you'll see something you like on here, or something I think the world needs to see more of, and the world is a slightly less shit place because of it.

If there's anything you want to know, assuming I haven't managed to break everything horribly already (my common sense can be a bit of  a shambles and my ability to break things greatly outweighs it) I have one of those ask me anything boxes which should be on your right, so go for it.

...I feel like I should have some kind of signing off catchphrase á la "Seacrest OUT" but it's 1:40 in the morning and I'm not quite witty enough to think of a good one on the fly.  I'll think of one at some point then madly scramble to retcon all my posts.  

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tumbling along

Ok so, Hello, I have decided to invade this site and bring the standards of internet blogging way down into the scum heap.

At least now I can have some substance to my thoughts and musings, instead of the major roadblock being how to fit the bastarding thing into 140 characters.

I would say "expect great things" but let's just wait and see shall we?

Oorah.