Disentangled

Hahahaha!!!

FUCKERS!!!

Seeya; wouldn't wanna be ya!..

...walked out of the chippy last night. Was gonna get sacked next week anyway, for taking time off that I'd booked, cos their whole system is so fuckin inept. So nothing to lose really, and -

- Brummie twat and Weegie Gnome (they hate me; I hate them) were doing their usual sotto voce bitching about me (sticks and stones, boys, sticks and stones) when suddenly I realised that if I left right that instant, Brummie Twat would be required to stay til close instead of leaving at 7 for a much-needed, long-awaited pissup.

(Petty? Aye. Childish? No doubt. But it made me so very very happy, so how can it be wrong..?

Made my apologies to the only supervisor I can stand, proffering the explanation that if I stayed another second I was going to nut sombebody, and danced merrily off to the pub.

I'll be cool - freed up heaps of time for my real job search and scary forms; got enough cash to cover my ludicrously low rent for a month or so, and will pick up something else if I need to I'm sure.

They think I'm stupid, Brummie Twat and Weegie Gnome. Sometime roundabout half ten last night, while still scraping up the grease and mank of a manically busy night on short staff (instead of chilling with a nice cold beer like me), it may have occurred to them that I'm not.

Smirk...

How can you have an "-ish" amount of chickens?

Piera, 10-04-17

Thought I'd have a wee look, y'know, to see what people actually do. Got a wee bit hooked on the instant messenger thing last night and... well anyway, was scrolling through the soundbites ("Could it b u???"; "Massage therapist seeks patients"; "Gentle Giant from Glasgow") when

"Looking for excrement!"

jumped out at me. Strange people, I thought to myself.

Of course it turned out to be excitement - time I went to bed...

...I did a Good Thing today!!! Maybe that shouldnae be quite so worthy of exclamation, I mean it's not like I never do anything good... s'pose what I mean is, I did a good thing that totally transcended my big fat bruised ego's natural precedence over commonsense, decency and safety, and I'm pretty damn pleased with myself.

Been getting these mystery texts and phone calls from some bloke who wants to shag me this past week. Very flattering/creepy, and though I didn't encourage it per se (more cos it seemed like one of Ex-landlord's juvenile pranks than for any kind of sensible reason), well nosiness is my other Achilles heel and I just haaaaaaaaad to find out who it was.

Found out today - was just as I'd suspected but not quite believed. This guy:
a) is kind of tasty in a strange way
b) has never spoken to me with anything other than poorly-concealed contempt
b) has a girlfriend.

Well of course the ego did a serious series of somersaults at that one, and for a wee second it seemed obvious that I'd shag him just to cement the fact that one more person doesn't hate me (seriously... done it before...) -

- but THEN!!! Then I thought about the few chats I've had with his girlfriend (not my cup of tea, but don't have anything in particular against her)... mind how his name popped up in every single converation no matter what it was about. Mind her smug advice to me, the newly-separated mess, on how to pick up a good man. Thought how she probably does actually love him, and yeah so love's not worked out too well for me but how could I do something that would totally crush a real person, just cos I could?

Ridiculously proud of self for that one. Marched smugly up the street pondering how a few years ago I'd have just done it and bugger the consequences, then been genuinely surprised by the consequences... caught a glimse of my reflection in a shop window, and for some reason didn't look quite as overweight and badly-dressed as usual. Looked quite good in fact. Maybe the jacket; maybe I've been looking in all the wrong places for that elusive "self-esteem" thingy. Hmmmmm. Might just be growing up at last...

Sexy Bloke From The Village is definitely some kind of alkie. Not half as far on as nature and nurture have contrived (through sheer effort of will which I do admire), but getting there nevertheless. He has scary fucked-up dreams after a few days "on the shot", he tells me... the stuff of cold sweats and terrified awakenings, he tells me.

Got a bit silly myself at the weekend. Cider and whisky and cider and Lambert'n'Butler and more cider... inevitably arrived home Sunday night in a taxi in floods of angry drunken tears, swigging from a half-bottle of brandy and cursing snottly. Passed out on my bed and dreamed...

...dreamed that I went to the garage to find that my clothes-airer was missing. Mildly anoying...

...dreamed that a new Damien Rice song was played on the radio and I didn't like it. Slightly disappointing...

...dreamed that my bra had left a few red marks on my chest. A wee tad irritating...

...but NOT disturbing, not in the slightest. Which is good, cos it means that I'm so stable that even at my drunkest and upset-est my dreams are mundane? Or which is bad, because it means that I'm turning into one of Billy Connolly's hated "beige people"?.. can ya not be content without being boring??? Why do fucked-up, irresponsible and possibly dangerous people have that "spark" about them?

Buggered if I know. Off for a fag.

- so we moved house, me and my dodgy knees and a marriage worth of crap. Moved up to the rat sanctuary last night, in a horsebox, with only a minor pickle spillage to annoy us.

Quote of the move (as pickle seeped slowly but surely towards my matress):

"How would you like to sleep in chutney tonight?"

Never usually been asked that before the fourth date -

- must go and feed the ferret. Seeya.