Stretch here needing beer and…
My head feels like a bag of crisps, all confused and rattley with a hint of cheese and a dash of onion. Was going to go on a rant about Louis Walsh and illegal downloading, but am just too tired.
Beer, bed and b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bad dreams. Tomorrow will be a shit day, but someone will be there to make it all better, right? Right?
I was thinking about Barney Sumner today and this Bad Lieutenant song immediately came on my iPod, so I considered,
1. Is my iPod fucking with me, like it tends to do?
2. Is it just a random coincidence, no ordering of the universe or fulfillment of Karma?
or 3. Was Barney in the back seat?
The answer was 3. He was in the back seat. Fatso tried to start a band with me, a fight with me and then the car with me in it. All in all, it was fun, but missing lucidity.
Got to work and Barney was too fat to fit in the lift. He ran off screaming. I arrived in work perplexed and relieved.
It’s a lot for a munki to take in. The rest of the day was spent gnawing on my knuckles at the thoughts of where I’ll be in 2050. A 75 year old Stretch Macgibbon will have written an awful lot more meandering yet meaningful magical mlogs and will be laughed at by the hip munkis who will have abandoned computers completely and will write their theses on each other’s fucking eyeballs with Fantastic future-crayons. Manic.
In the words of Lionel Richie to anyone that will listen,
“Hello. Is it me your looking for?”