Rudely awakened by the fire alarm at about 5am. (lame). Forgot to put shoes on and the floor was cold and stabby (lamer than your mates uncle who is an Elvis impersonator)

In the afternoon I went to take photos, but was pretty unsuccessful. On my way back i went into a charity shop and found a little book about the works of Salvador Dali, i thought to myself, at £1.75 i gotta get a piece of that. Having waited in a dordling queue of decrepit pensioners i was then told that the minimum spend on debit card was £4. FUCK SAKE BRITISH HEART FOUNDATION. I therefore trekked 546 miles to the nearest cashpoint, withdrew some money and then trekked back again (ALFing* the whole way). I purchased the book and went on my way back home. It is hideously uncomforting, that when strolling through Southampton, you realise Braintree is not an anomoly... there are masses of disgusting, inbred, obese, glutonous, grimey people here too. I (maybe naively) thought that muffin tops and gunts would not be as prolific down here but it seems that the sea monsters must have been copulating with the people of this coast, breeding a multitude of mutant people, each with their own bizzarre look and quite often, smell.

Later in the evening i went to the library to print some stuff and get a book out. On my way back i popped into a grotty pub to quickly have a look at the football they had on.... i then felt slightly intimidated and bought a pint. There was a very drunk man who looked similar to Chris Moyles who slurred out the crappest ramblings to me, but seemed alright. I think he had been made redundant today from what he was saying and he was supposed to meet his dad but he didnt turn up. The best thing he said to me, (after i had asked him where he was from) was "The same place as you." I replied "Ah really? you from Essex?" to which he replied " No, my mums tummy" (with a stupid smirk whilst rubbing his stomach).

There was another bloke in th pub who seemed very strange. He was fairly old, wore a bright red sweater, a rucksack, and would constantly wink and smile. It must have been a twitch or something but he did genuinely seem happy and he was rather amusing to watch. I left the pub and went home. Ate soup.

*ALF - Annoyed Lips Face

thanks readers x

night out

Today i woke up a bit cruddy as i went oot aboot toon with McLean... check his blog.

This was my night out:

Drinks.

1. Numerous amaretto and cokes at flat
2. 1 Sailor Jerry and Coke at Mono
3. 4 Sailor Jerry and cokes at Orange Rooms
4. 1 Bacardi lime and soda at Orange Rooms
5. 1 shot of mel gibsons tooth decay at Orange Rooms
   
6. 1 double vodka and lemonade at Seymours
   
7. 1 double vodka and coke at Seymours
8. 1 shot of acidic blackurrent crap.

Food.

1. Meatball Marinara Subway.

Stupidities.

1. Poked / jabbed fat girl in the butt for a quid, whilst McLean filmed.
2. Filmed McLean do ridiculous wriggling.
3. Gave my sock in and won!!!
   

I have wednesdays off so i shwempt around like an absolute buttock, not doing much and constantly being surprised at how quickly time had passed. Realised about an hour after getting up that i won 4 VIP tickets to see Plastician (dubstep artist) at Orange due to handing my sock into the anouncer quickest. So hopefully that'll be a tolerable event when im drunk... having said that he has one song called 'Japan' that i quite like and a fucking hilarious song featuring 'Skepta' called 'Intensive Snare'. "Are you stupid in the face?" and "Im a bad man, you're a penis, your whole crew smell like faeces" are just two beautiful insights into such lyrical genius commonly found in the grime / dubstep genre.

I went to Asda with Alex in the evening and I was annoyed at the complete lack of stir fry and the audaciously outrageous prices of meat and cheese. Then i got ratty because i forgot to buy salt. There are 10 people living in our flat yet we dont have any salt - not a pinch. LOLZ.

Looking forward to eating bacon tomorrow though.

Good night readers xxxx

Poetic Piss.

Wet Forearm,
You cause no harm,
Yet the reaction is of great alarm.

You wipe your sediment upon my skin,
Ageing doctors,
Cure my wing.

It is you whos outlook is express,
My hotmail is cluttered,
it makes me depressed.

GORMATCH BUST!?!?!!!? frillis-mussmuss.

This poem is about when people wipe their wet hands on your arm and the reaction is 'awh.'

I done it coz he did it.

Hello and welcome to my brand spankingly shit blog...it's not shit. I have never been too interested in creating a blog... but then after reading Rambui's blog i realised they can do a sillys, and are quite entertaining... to me a 'blog' means 'Butt-Log', which is fitting because i will mainly talk shit and literally log certain interesting aspects of my bowel movements.

Anyway, I have had a pretty 'meh' sort of day, although i suppose at points it reached the heavy heights of 'mah.' Having woken up hideously tired and lacking milk,(fuck sake), i went to uni feeling more groggy than sleep deprived cray-fish. Had a lecture about Gilbert & George and then went to get a coffee - BLUNDER! Bought a tall latte and then, hastily realising it needed copius amounts of sugar, i went to place it on a side unit which housed sugar, stirrers, napkins and other coffee orientated niceities. Little did i realise there was a small hole to bin your cups and soiled napkins...plop, there goes my latte straight into the bin without a sip taken. It was irretrievable, no lid on the cup. Luckily they gave me another one...yeh thats what i thought, pricks.

In the afternoon, needing to take photographs for my project, (due in tomorrow) i decided to take photographs of a decrepid and venerial old tramp (no, not Barack Obama). He was happy to be snapped for a small fee, openly admitting he would spend it on beer.... of course i was shocked that such a fine upstanding citizen would want an intoxicating beverage in the early afternoon, but we're all different i suppose! He had a woolen jumper which i actually really liked, and a selection of miscellaneous stains which i didnt like so much. I saw him again on the way back from Uni and he gave me money to go and buy him a can of Tennants Beer. This felt pretty weird, i had switched roles in the age old partnership of teens asking tramps to buy them alcohol for a small fee / portion of the drink. I bought it for him then he hobbled off with his favourite 9% lager.

When i got back to my halls of residency i ate a tasty dinner of reformed lamb steak things, beans which i had stored in a glass in the fridge for some days and some chips that are sliced as if they are a cross sections of testicles. I began writing this blog in the prescence of Rob Mclean (Rambui Blogger) and when explaining my trampy happenings he coined the tramps name. His name is 'Boingy'.

Thanks for reading and look out for more infrequent ramblings of my inconsistent brain.