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Tuesday, 1 June 2004


Topic: Looby

Do Not:
Go to Bellini anymore, it's gotten crap, and the service is awful. Clue to waiters: if you 'lose track' of where the customer is sitting, you're not really paying attention, are you?
Do Not:
Get pissed and lie down in the rain in Soho Square. Your soaking wet jeans aren't going to be funny five hours from now, when you're still trying to get home.
Do Not:
Run into the car park by your house at 4am in your t-shirt and knickers screaming directions into a mobile phone that isn't yours. Not only is it less pretty than your addled drunken mind imagines, but your neighbours hate you now.
Do Not:
Pretend that Urban Outfitters used to be on the King's Road, only now they only just moved it to High St Ken, nobody will believe you at all, and you just look stupid when you cling to the story that you fondly imagine makes your 'U' grade in Geography less apparent.
Do Not:
Buy those jeans you can't afford in FCUK just because they're the first pair of trews in that shop that ever fit you. If you can't afford the jeans, then you certainly can't afford the pink strappy sandals that you will feel could only ever go with them. And five pairs of blue jeans is enough, if all you're going to do is lie down pissed in the rain in Soho Square, surely.
Do Not:
Walk in the countryside on non-maintained woodland without real paths looking for wild deer if you haven't bothered wearing socks today. You're not immune to nettle stings just because you're no longer six, you know, it's not like school bullies or rhubarb crumble.
Do Not:
Get pissed and shout at your ex in public. Just don't, even if it sounds like a really really satisfying idea right now, by 8pm tonight you'll regret it already. Ditto making up lies about her. No joy, vengeance-boy.
Do Not:
Fuck up the next date. You done good not to go home with her already. Don't piss it away.
Do Not:
Go on the internetweb at 6am when you're out of your tree. You're only going to be rude to people and regret it the next morning when you find all the bread is mouldy and there's no solace in the world.
Do Not:
Forget that if it looked ugly in the changing room mirror, it doesn't look any less ugly after six vodkas in Revolution, no matter how foxy you suddenly feel.
Do Not:
Go to Revolution again. Gary Crowley isn't really the DJ.

Best Blo'te of the Day So Far: Die Puny Humans
"A hyperlinked Sparkline would make webpages like superdense, fractal, layered, zoomable resources, and make the top-level of each topic look vital and organic like a terrarium of squirming data.
The next step would be to see Sparklines in the street, not just delivering data, but harvesting it - being it.
Crawling up lamposts as electricity consumption spikes during the ad-break of Coronation Street. Or infesting the wounds of a pigeon flattened by a delivery truck, updating the national epidemiological database and the air pollution record for that borough based upon trace metal readings in the carcass..."

This page graced by sarsparilla at 1:33 PM BST
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Tuesday, 1 June 2004 - 1:41 PM BST

Name: jatb


Tuesday, 1 June 2004 - 2:07 PM BST

Name: Vanessa

But, but, but, "all the bread is mouldy and there's no solace in the world."
Soddit, I'm going to the local greasy spoon for some life giving toast.

Tuesday, 1 June 2004 - 2:53 PM BST

Name: BykerSink
Home Page:

Everyone looks ugly in changing room mirrors. Although I can't work out why they do this to you.

Surely you are more likely to think that the clothes don't fit and are therefore not the best of investments.

Or maybe I am missing something.

Tuesday, 1 June 2004 - 3:12 PM BST

Name: Vanessa

Nah, it's kind of like when you go into a shoe shop, and suddenly realise your shoes look like they died and rotted on your feet, without you even noticing. It's what you look like before you changeinto the expensive new clothes that required more awareness.

Tuesday, 1 June 2004 - 9:03 PM BST

Name: Pete
Home Page:

I find trying on clothes just depresses you when you have to put the cack you came in with back on. At least my old shoes cover the holes in my socks.

Not that I try on clothes that much - blokes aren't meant to shop - a quick in/out covers a lot of male activities.

Tuesday, 1 June 2004 - 11:00 PM BST

Name: Vanessa

Lol - said the proud father. Are you coming to France on Thursday?

Wednesday, 2 June 2004 - 10:16 PM BST

Name: Pete
Home Page:

Ugghh.....I wish. Thursday, I'll be sleeping at unusual hours all day, as is my wont. I'd love to go, just to get a break, but I couldn't leave Jude with both boys just yet - the elder one is a fucking pain^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^Hlivewire and the younger one doesn't know night from day so just crys like a lost lamb even when you've done everything you can think of for him - food, nappy, blanket, comforting, more food...

I'm sure you'll have a great time, have a few beers for me. I'll have quite a few here, it's the only way I can get more than three hours sleep. Are you getting cheap fags over there? Silk Cut Purples mayhaps? :) I'll gladly trade you cash for a stash.

Wednesday, 2 June 2004 - 10:56 PM BST

Name: Vanessa

I'll notify the owner of the stash list, forthwith.

Wasn't there some Victorian remedy, you could try, like, horse tranquiliser in the milk or something?

Wednesday, 2 June 2004 - 11:58 PM BST

Name: Pete
Home Page:

Please notify the stash list owner: 200 Silkies, purple, prego. I'll gladly pay all costs (if you're not caught).

As for victorian stuff, we've been told we can have some new, miracle drug to shut Mark up, should we need to. The midwives version of 'liquid cosh', even better than the previous generation's version.

I'm sticking to the horse tranquiliser. At least I can flog that around the racing folk in Lambourne.

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