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I'm absently listening to the telly and finding it strangely amusing. I don't normally. The bird that used to be in Hollyoaks is quite funny, as is the guy from the Royle Family. Katherine Drysdale couldn't be less funny. I went to school with her (s'true folks), and can't quite get past that fact that she's a TALENTLESS BITCH and on telly, while I'm... not. I was on telly though, oh yes... once. I live in the blessed delusion that my own stellar career is just about to start, as soon as I can be bothered and nip down to Wigan Little Theatre (yes, really) and audition for something. They will see my potential, and I will begin my meteoric rise to fame. So it is written (right here, no less), so shall it be. Sweet buggering fuck! I've just realised that the odd Aussie bloke on my telly used to be Tad in Neighbours (possibly still is, I neither know nor care). Hurrah for the London gravy train for crap Aussie soap stars!
I got a phonecall earlier that I think is worth mentioning. It was from my buddy Jon. For the first time in about 5 years he rang me for the sole purpose of finding out what actually happened on Friday night, as his memory was apparently somewhat compromised. This is cool. This means I haven't prematurely become a Thirtysomething, living on my own, with a fair idea of what's likely to be on the telly at any given hour of the day or night. Hurrah. What makes this even better is the fact that I had to tell him I couldn't help. Memory loss, that comforting feature of alcohol abuse that allows the human brain to gloss over the boring bits. Hurrah, again.
Hmmm... Angry Kid looks like Mick Hucknell. Weird.
I've been lj surfing recently and I've found some seriously disturbed people out there. I've also spotted some that I rather like. Some of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soubrette's pals particularly tickled me. I suspect that I would love to immerse myself in Cambridge, in precisely the way that I singularly failed to immerse myself in St. Andrews. Nowadays I suppose the best I could hope for is a nod and a bit of paper from the Open University. *sigh*. Take your chances, people. Heed this embittered rant!
Natalie Imbruglia has developed an English accent. I'd still shag her too. Hurrah.
Right, that's enough weird rambling from me. Except to say that Sir Paul McCartney is on my telly and he looks impressively stoned. He's probably not though. Probably...
I got a phonecall earlier that I think is worth mentioning. It was from my buddy Jon. For the first time in about 5 years he rang me for the sole purpose of finding out what actually happened on Friday night, as his memory was apparently somewhat compromised. This is cool. This means I haven't prematurely become a Thirtysomething, living on my own, with a fair idea of what's likely to be on the telly at any given hour of the day or night. Hurrah. What makes this even better is the fact that I had to tell him I couldn't help. Memory loss, that comforting feature of alcohol abuse that allows the human brain to gloss over the boring bits. Hurrah, again.
Hmmm... Angry Kid looks like Mick Hucknell. Weird.
I've been lj surfing recently and I've found some seriously disturbed people out there. I've also spotted some that I rather like. Some of
soubrette's pals particularly tickled me. I suspect that I would love to immerse myself in Cambridge, in precisely the way that I singularly failed to immerse myself in St. Andrews. Nowadays I suppose the best I could hope for is a nod and a bit of paper from the Open University. *sigh*. Take your chances, people. Heed this embittered rant!Natalie Imbruglia has developed an English accent. I'd still shag her too. Hurrah.
Right, that's enough weird rambling from me. Except to say that Sir Paul McCartney is on my telly and he looks impressively stoned. He's probably not though. Probably...
