It’s 1.55am as I type this. It is Tuesday and I have to be up for work in a few hours. It is also Halloween. I borrowed the title for this post from Frankie Boyle’s book. He’s quite bitter and glib, just like me. Only funny.
This is my first blog post in what seems like ages as I’ve not had the time. This isn’t quite true – I’ve had lots and lots of time (too much time!) – I just haven’t felt much motivation to do it lately. Also, I’ve been having really bad trouble sleeping recently, so I’ve been trying to stay off of computers in the evenings as they tend to wake me up. Tonight though, I thought I’d give blogging a go to see if that clears my brain and lets me get some kip.
Regular readers will know that I go through these dark moods sometimes (not too often, only about 75% of the time), and I’ve been behaving like a bit of a cunt of late. I am going to try and cut down on the booze during November; partly to save some money and also because it’s been getting out of hand for a few weeks. I’ve been on some proper big benders that I regret. Although I’ve also had some good ones too.
Still, drinking doesn’t really help when I’m in one of these moody phases. To replace my thirst for the demon drink, I’m going to concentrate on growing a moustache for Movember. I chose not to to take part in Stoptober; mainly because I don’t want to quit smoking. Secondly, I think it’s a really bad idea anyay; imagine if everyone did give up – the world would be a very tense hostile place for that month, due to all the withdrawal going on.
It’s not all doom and gloom, mind. Luckily I have Twitter, so I can rant and annoy the 59 followers I have on there. Amazingly, some people from work follow me and I haven’t been sacked yet! The best quote of the week came from my mate Gennaro, who said:
“In the evenings you’re all happy Tweets, razor blades and gin, aren’t you?”
Made me smile. I’ve been an utter cunt him for about 2 months. Maybe it’s something to do with the time of year? I hate it when my birthday gets close – probably because it reminds me that I’m getting old. And my birthdays seem too come round more quickly each year.
A couple of years back, I experimented with a ouija board on Halloween, but I shan’t be doing that this year. They’d only call me a cunt anyway. Unless of course, they were female ghosts. In which case they’d probably ignore me. Either that, or become my friend, but never ever shag me.
The joys of being me, eh?