Right, well this is me - rather pointlessly talking to myself as nobody else is expected to read this - rambling on in an attempt to 'find the funny'. Fuck knows whether it will work, but I'm attempting it really to distract myself from spending £18 on an addmitedly rather nice-looking digital dictaphone.
I don't know whether that would be useful for me, as I do hate the sound of my own voice, but in a general 'wanting to be a comedian' sort of way, getting used to hearing it and critiquing it could possibly be very useful. Either that, or it just ends up in the ever-growing pile of Stuff I Don't Really Use.
So let's just get on with it. Let's go on about my week, my feelings, that sort of shit. That's what you mnon-existent fans of mine want. So, the big news this week is the moving on of the ex. I am happy for her, but Jesus it's difficult to get your head around at the start. Plus there's the whole thing that he's a singer in a fucking band. She'd probably have left me for him even if I'd kept her up until now anyway. I don't really feel funny at the moment but I'm going to keep on at it, maybe I'll stumble onto something. Maybe it'll just be like therapy.
So yeah...the ex is moving on and I'm still single. Don't get me wrong, I'm doing alright at the moment. I've slept with a couple of girls since we broke up and have a couple of dates lined up. But it still feels like I've lost. Lost the 'race you to be in a relationship again!' part and lost the chance of getting the girl back. I do realise how ridiculous I am though, even as I've adjusted to her now and I think I'd fare better, we're still not exactly soulmates in my opinion...and, clearly, hers.
So...to focus on the better parts of the week. That sounds like a plan, doesn't it? Well, there was the main highlight, the comedy gig on Saturday night in Sunny Fareham. Mmmm, drink in that architecture and culture! But the Arts Centre (oooh!) was alright, even if I did get a bit fucked off at paying £11 for two pints of becks. Fucking no draught beers. Funny night though...Ed Gamble? I think his name was, was highly amusing and dealt well with the audience. I always like that. Plus he said I had a cool job. How little he knows.
So maybe I should try to remember the things this week that made me laugh. Yes, comedians did that, but regurgitating their material here would be both a) pointless and b) difficult. Yeah come on...unless you've poured over the DVD 27 times to remember at exactly which point the goofy-eared sweaty twat gurns and throws himself to the ground, you won't remember much of a live stand-up show.
So yes, I went to see Finley Quaye. Yeah, that Finley Quaye. Not my idea but it was a fun night, not least because I met a pretty lady who didn't seem to be completely repulsed by me. Novelty-tastic! The funniest thing encountered at this gig, however, was the man who, mid-performance, opted to take a phone call. A foolish mistake, one might think. But no. This man had a plan. He had a simple yet effective tactic which exploited the laws of physics to make this phone call crystal clear and perfectly audible. He crouched. Oh yeah, down to the ground, that's where the quiet is. Fucking moron - it's sound, not heat...it doesn't rise!!
I had this idea about WD40. Yeah that's a way to open a sentence. You know the thing about WD40 is that pretty much whatever the problem you have, a man of a certain age will always...ALWAYS suggest "give some WD a try".
"What's the problem son?"
"Ah it's nothing really Dad, just things have sort of gone a bit stale in the bedroom with Jill."
"Ah no problem, my boy. Get some WD on it, you'll be right as rain in no time. Works wonders, it does."
It's been suggested for every conceivable task the 80s had to offer, plus some new ones. It's apparently a fertiliser, sexual lubricant, water purification device, home-made soda stream, a baldness cure, it makes a creditable rocket fuel, you can use it as a scuba tank, and it repels vampires and Christians.
Oh and I may have some up with a new name for this blog...well, ok maybe a blog with a bit more of a point. I figure there must be well-endowed men out there who would like to share their experiences and help each other through the touch times. There must be tough times. I'm not saying mine is tiny - but it's a grower. If you were hulking around a 13-inch monster all day long you're bound to run into problems, right? Catching it on door handles or just simple back pain. Anyhoo, I figure this blog - or book or whatever. Let's create a brand!...would be...Tripods and Tribulations!
And on that note, goodnight and good fuck
x
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