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Sunday, August 13, 2006
10:29 AM Functioning 100%, Perfectly ko Derf There are three main advantages to being in the barcode biz: 1. The chicks LOVE it. For serious. It's like telling a woman you're a spy or a lion-tamer. 2. You can 'see' barcodes, like the way Cypher from The Matrix 'saw' images from garbled green text on his monitor. "There's way too much information to decode bars. You get used to it. I don't even see the code. All I see is Frosties, Daz and Toilet Duck". 3. The Company seem to have made a contractual error where they said once a month they'll transfer money into my bank account. Naturally I should be the one paying them to do this stuff, but I'm not gonna turn it down. This is just a secret between you and me, ok? Well with number 3 in sight, I decided to do the sensible thing and walk around London buying loads of crap on my credit card. Woo! My Vans are on their deathbed at the mo (despite using bathroom sealant to try and repair the holes in the sole) so I decided to buy a pair of Green Flashes and order new Vans.  Satisfied. Can't be wearing them with my old clothes though. That would be like getting a new door for a broken house, or like someone buying new shoes when their other clothes are old. So onto the credit card went new trousers and a couple of long sleeve shirts (I'm really digging this rolled up sleeves thing). All I need to do now is not talk to anybody or smile EVER again, and I can be officially classed as mysterious. The best place to try out my new threads? The swankiest most exclusive bar in London! Unfortunately we didn't go there and ended up going to Trini-y, but they played loads of rock so it was cool de la. Just when we all got settled, I saw my stalker. Yup, that's right, I now have a stalker. Let's refer to her as KLF (her middle name probably doesn't begin with L, but fingers crossed it does). The KLF used to go to my school, and I've bumped into her more times than anyone who was outside the League of Super Friends (I've named it retrospectively, pretty catchy huh?). A couple of weeks ago we went to a local pub. She was there. Last Friday we were in Belushi's in Covent Garden. She was there. Saturday we were in Mean Fiddler. She was there. Last night we skipped London and went local. She was there. Ipso fatso, The KLF is tracking my movements like The Others from Lost. I'm going to have to start driving around roundabouts several times to try and catch her out. It was a great night though. There was a quality playlist, ranging from At the Drive-In, to Libertines, to Stone Roses to jungle. Yup, jungle. Jungle jungle jungle jungle, the word has lost all meaning. Since I was driving, I was on Red Bull and hence didn't get any sleep all night (in bed at 4 and up again at 9, on a SUNDAY!!!!!!). The only reason I had to wake up so early is because Dough Boy and Chuff are trapped in Vienna. Vienna? I have no idea. They went there for a week with Doughie's sisters. Apparently they met two Irish girls (from County Mayo) out there, and Dough got into a 'debate' with them about the IRA. Things got a little heated and, when there was a lull in the converastion, the previously oblivious Chufty pipes up with "County Mayo. Has that got anything to do with mayonnaise?". The hysterics the ensued poured a bucket of cold water of the situation. What a complete legend. He should really be shipped off to sort out that whole Israel/Hezbollah conflict; five minutes of him pottering about between the two sides and the laughter will create world peace. Where was I again? Oh yeah, they're stranded in Austria because of the whole airport thing. I had to look up train timetables and directions and relay them on to him, again it was a bit like being Cypher from The Matrix. Naturally Doughie didn't see it that way. Being the spy thriller fiend that he is, driving from Austria to Paris was a little too remeniscient of The Bourne Identity, and he's probably speeding around in a mini and breaking into embassies at this very moment. So that's why I'm awake now, body trembling as I'm writing due to lack of sleep and caffeine that's probably still in my system. It's quite difficult to type; remember that bit in Short Circuit 2 where Johnny 5 gets mashed up, and he's got to type instructions one-handed to Fred on how to repair him, and he makes loads of spelling mistakes like 'pppprrrrpppppplleee' instead of 'purple'? You know that bit right? Where he's broken? And typing? And afterwards he gets the bad guys to that song 'I Need A Hero'? But his batteries run out, and Ben saves him by using a defibrillator? Anyway, yeah, I feel like that now. Leave a comment ::
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Stalkers are fun!
No pets... Does that mean she's more likely to boil me instead? That's not good, I'm allergic to pain.
Hmmm... I'd maybe think about securing your wheel trims to the wheel with those little plastic things... Stalkers know how we chaps like our cars...
I'm gonna ditch the car and opt for a pair of caterpillar tracks like Johnny 5 has. And a shoulder-mounted laser!
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