| Life |
[05 Feb 2007|11:52pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 depressed |
] |
...is a funny old game, isn't it.
I think I am getting the January blues at last, and we're actually into the start of February.
Maybe my mind was taken off the depression by keeping "busy" at work. Well, at least I had something to focus on; getting up in the morning / afternoon / evening, getting to the station on time etc etc. It was good to see some familiar faces back in the office for another series. It was also quite good not to see some familiar faces returning.
Now the fireworks are over, the smoke has cleared and everything is settling back down to a snail's pace. Just the way I like it, usually, but at the moment, I feel restless, agitated and depressed.
By the end of last year, I had become a big, big drinker. I know I've gone too far, because lately, I can't get pissed on three pints anymore like I used to, it takes more and more. I was actually sitting at the bar, thumbing through a little drug-education pamphlet, and there it was; entry number one - Alcohol.
I took a sip of my ale and read on.
Apparently if you have too much on a regular basis, your tolerance levels go right up, and you can stomach more and more of the stuff. Makes sense, really.
I was at a family funeral recently, where an uncle commented that one of my obese cousins commonly sank 10 pints in a half-hour sitting. 10 pints.
I should keep my diary open to pencil-in another family funeral sometime in the near future.
Things came to an absolute head when, one night, I had ventured down to the bar to watch a game of football, have a couple of cokes and go home. A perfectly reasonable thing to do. In January, they were running a promotion where pints were only 2 pounds until one of the teams scored in the footie. I wasn't particularly tempted, but some people were absolutely getting stuck in like all the pubs in England would be shutting for good at the stroke of twelve.
My mate Graeme, the Australian guy, had been sitting with an old gangster from the Krays-era and the gangster's kid, and they'd been sinking pints all afternoon. He kindly (or drunkenly) bought me a pint from the other end of the bar, which the barmaid presented to me, and said "It's from Baldy."
I didn't want it, but I said thanks and accepted anyways. I mean, it had already been poured and paid for, right?
Graeme comes over, sloshed out of his brain, complaining that he shouldn't have let the gangsters buy him so many drinks. He *told* them he had a date lined up, and he wanted to stay somewhat compos mentis.
He nicked off just after the football to meet this Bolivian girl, whom he had said was "guaranteed sex." Apparently he had suggested a meal and a movie, and she'd said they wouldn't have time for that because they'd be too busy shagging, or some other unlikely thing that maybe happens in your world but not in mine.
I finished off my pint (God, I hate it when you get to the bottom of the pint...why is it that the final dregs always taste absolutely disgusting? In theory, you should be more drunk and therefore less able to taste how appalling it is, but it always makes me screw up my face and shiver like a baby eating a lemon) and looked at my watch.
Just then, Graeme called.
"Fucking bitch CANCELLED on me!!" he wailed.
I dunno about you guys, maybe it's just the twisted bastard in me, but I get a warm, fuzzy feeling inside when a buddy gets jacked out of free, guaranteed sex...even if he *did* just buy me a pint.
I always have visions of him sweating, slurping and slobbering uncontrollably over some unfortunate young foreign woman with very low self esteem, already planning in his head how he will be describing it in intricate detail to his friends and workmates, first thing on Monday morning.
For me, finding a partner is the most difficult thing in the world. I want nothing less than a soulmate, someone I can bond with on every level, someone I can be tender with, someone I can entirely trust with my deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets...
For him, it's like a fishing trip. He just casts his rod out there and hopes he will get a bite. He's either telling you how big they were, or lamenting the ones that got away.
I suppose we find each other equally bemusing. The only trouble occurs when he tries to rope me in to going fishing with him. In nightclubs, I'm like a size-zero model at an all-you-can-eat buffet. There's absolutely no point.
Anyroads, the Bolivian girl, the sure-thing, cancelled on him. He refused to come back to the pub, as he was trying to avoid the Polish girl behind the bar (one of his previous big-game catches)...so I offered to take him to the more sophisticated bar down the road.
We got there, and it was great. Much better than the stinky "Old mans' bar" we had been frequenting for the past year or so.
We're there for a while and we've already struck up a rapport with the suave Dutch barman and some of the locals, and I'm already developing a bit of a fondness for one of the girls behind the bar (I know - when will I learn?)...when in walk a couple of bums from the bar up the road.
Graeme is so pissed he starts talking to them and inviting them over. Turns out, it was cause he wanted to have sex with Becky, the Indian girl who inexplicably hangs out with those two old codgers, despite being about 15 or 20 years younger than them and (even more surprisingly) quite attractive.
He found out that she'd be meeting up with them later that night at another scummy old Irish bar down the road, so he upped sticks with those two old geezers and headed down there, leaving me, already quite sauced by now, at the bar to finish my pint.
I was at that stage of the evening where a pint could quite conceivably last for an hour and twenty minutes, and perhaps this one did. I don't know where the time went, but soon I was getting messages from Graeme on my phone. "I knew you wouldn't be coming down tonight, have a safe trip home."
Well, I should have taken his advice, but I didn't.
Determined to prove him wrong, I headed out of the bar at midnight and made my way down to the grotty old pub down the road.
They were all still there, Graeme and Kev and Mark, and there was little Becky, borrowing someone's barstool to stand on, so she could put her money in the jukebox.
I don't know much of what happened next. Someone put How Soon is Now on, and Kev and I cheered.
Kev is about 40.
I remember having a lengthy debate with Mark about how there is no tomorrow, and you should live for today. Typical, beer-based conversation. Mark is 47, and he was the one trying to argue that we've got to build today for our futures. WHAT fucking future, mate? You're 47! WAKE UP CALL FOR MARK, YOUR LIFE HAS PASSED YOU BY, MATE.
Geez.
All the while I was protesting that we should live for the here-and-now and enjoy every moment, I was becoming increasingly aware that I myself was failing to enjoy every moment. THIS MOMENT in particular, I was having trouble with. You know that point of the evening where you just hit a brick wall and everything that was fun and games one minute becomes shit on a stick the next?
Soon I find myself only with Mark and Becky, and Graeme and Kev have had enough and called it a night. I hate that, when people rope you into doing stuff, then they fuck off and leave you in a place you didn't even want to be in the first place, with cunts you never wanted to know.
I used to have mates that would do that all the time. "Oh Neil, Neil, we have to go to the club tonight, it'll be excellent..."
As soon as you get past the cloakroom, they get that unmistakable whiff of poontang pie and they're off like whippets, never to be seen again for the remainder of the evening. In the meantime, I have to make do with trying to dance on my own and protesting to hoards of cackling dancefloor witches "No, I am NOT gay, now would you kindly fuck off?!!"
Next thing you know, some old bastard is singing songs about the IRA and all that carry on. I sit there and try to manage a smile, whilst actually thinking "Hang on...come Sunday afternoon, I'll be in a bar on the other side of the city, with union flags on the wall, with people singing about killing the likes of you..."
After that is over and done with (and believe me, it took it's time....Becky, the self-professed coconut (brown on the outside, white on the inside...) kept on asking for more and more...I couldn't figure out if she just liked it, or if she felt some kind of kindred spirit with the Irish) we spill out onto the street. It's roughly 3.30am, and Christ knows where all the time went.
Mark tries to convince Becky and I to join him at his place, he says he has a spare bed and a sofa bed for us to crash on, and some snacks and whatnot. Now, me being me, I like to get to my own bed when it's all said and done, unless I am hanging out with someone I really trust (or actually want to stay over with)...so I kind of didn't answer him. He turned his attention to Becky, who was past the point of reason and started wandering off, strafing the Holloway Road in a drunken stupor.
Mark finally had enough, and suggested that I see her home properly because she couldn't even walk straight. He nicked off, and I had to run up the road and get a hold of her to stop her getting killed.
After walking around town with her for about 20 minutes whilst she sobbed and wobbled and made drunken phonecalls to ex's and whathaveyou, I finally managed to escort her up the road to the ladycabs office, where they get women like her a ride home from another lady, to minimise the risk of her being taken advantage of when she is in such a state.
And then she is gone. Everyone is finally gone. There's no-one but me, standing alone in Archway, waiting for an N20 bus at 4 in the morning.
I wasn't happy with people after that. Graeme is such an opportunist. He'll stab you in the back at the drop of a hat. Doesn't even sit with me at the bar anymore, since he's started hanging with the gangsters. They are more his type of people - loud mouthed, drunken braggarts. In a way, I am somewhat relieved.
I spotted Becky in the bar a couple of weeks later. I looked her in the face and she smiled, probably remembering who I was after a while. I still never got a thank-you, but I don't suppose I should even expect one.
Ah well, there you go. Another little peek into my less than spectacular life.
Needless to say, when it comes to pubbing, I'm now on the cokes. For now, and the forseeable.
I do apologise for this, but hey...I couldn't sleep. Now it must be around 6am, and my eyes are just finally beginning to close.
I don't know what I will do today. I'm really depressed right now and pretty much everything seems pointless to some degree. I'm not connecting well with most people anymore, I'm not even really trying to. When opportunities arise for me to do so, I often find myself just wishing the moment would pass, so I can be on my own again.
I was in McDonalds the other day (yeah, I know, it adds to your depression..) and someone came in and slapped the back of my head. What's up with that? Is it just me, or do you guys have "friends" that can't just greet you by saying "hi" or tapping your shoulder or even giving you a surprise hug? I always get slapped or punched or put in some kind of headlock, like I'm the class goof in some kind of American teen movie.
I assumed it was Graeme, but it wasn't, it was Gabriela, the girl I used to like from the bar.
Wow, talk about awkward. On the few dates that we had, things never were that easy to begin with, but this time was even worse. I mean, when you sit down with some girl from Slovakia who likes ludicrous music and field raves and all this wacky shit that you've never heard of, what the hell could you possibly have in common? The only thing we had in common at that point was that we both happened to be in London at the same time. That doesn't help you get very far in conversation.
She made some comment about how I had chosen the worst seat in the house. I thought it was a good seat. Granted, I could see my ugly face reflecting back at me a little bit in the glass, but I like to sit at the window and watch the world go by.
"Vhat time is it?" she asked.
"7.40," I replied.
"Then my break is over," she said.
I was very glad.
"Vould you like a chewing gum?" she asked.
"Yes please."
She opened the chewing gum wrapper, and put one down on the table.
"Thank you," I said, picking it up. "Oh...it's not in there. That's just...the end of the packet."
"You're an idiot," she said, handing me the chewing gum, and getting up to go to work.
Yeah. She's got a point.
Until next time, keep it sociable.
NJ "Chewing Helps Me Concentrate" McLean xxx
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| Boozehound |
[24 Jun 2006|03:13am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 flirty |
] |
Hello babies.
Spent a third of the night dancing with a homosexual.
Another third in the toilet, crying over love lost and spilled milk.
The final third trying to tell a girl that I like her.
Graeme had a date tonight with Jeanne, the girl from St Lucia. She worked in the bar for only 4 days, but still he managed to arrange a couple of dates with her, which was pretty good going.
I texted him around 10.55pm, asking how the date was going. He called me back and said he was coming to the pub to see me.
Eventually we ended up in the club next door for free (perks of being regulars) and Gabriela took our drinks through for us.
Soon enough, Gabi was finished her shift. She pulled a chair up next to me at the bar, and Graeme disappeared altogether. I'm always slightly caught out when this kind of thing happens...I remember visiting London with John years ago, and we were sitting in the pub with Marion when he decided he was going home. I was so naive I was shocked, wondering where the hell he had decided to go. Only later did I realise he wanted her and I to be alone, which was very nice of him.
I should feel jealous towards John nowadays, given the fact that he has a lovely girlfriend who really loves him and will always be with him....but I don't. That guy deserves all the very best. He came to me and he told me, "When you and Marion got together, I was really jealous at first..."
I don't know if he was jealous that I was with a beautiful woman or that I was spending my time with someone other than himself, because we had been like brothers since we were 16 years old.
Nowadays, in his brief moments of doubt, I reassure him that I would give anything to be in his position, and that the grass always seems greener on the other side. I'm sure he must wonder at times what it is like, being a single man in London, home to some of the most attractive women on the face of the globe. I always take the time to assure him that what he has now is something special, and that he must appreciate every minute. He knows this already, of course. Why else would you leave the UK for the Third World, long term ?
What a guy. What a gringo.
Anyhoo, yes. Gabriela finished her shift and fetched a stool to come and sit with me at the bar. My aussie mate disappeared to the other side of the room, where he stood and made "GO FOR IT !" gestures all night.
We chatted for a while, Gabi and I.
I'm not really sure what to say. I am from Scotland, she is from Slovakia. We must have almost nothing at all in common. She must have just heard that I am into her and she decided to give me a chance to state my case.
Soon enough, I am on the dancefloor with a raging homosexual.
Two minutes dancing with him, and he declares "I knew you were gay !! I just knew it !!!"
He tried to encourage me to suckle at his bosom.
I didn't mind, he was quite good looking.
"I'm not gay," I told him. "I like this girl here," and pointed to Gabriela. "My friend, however, is totally gay. Totally."
Soon enough, he moved back on to Graeme.
After a while, Gabriela said she was leaving.
She got her jacket and her bag from behind the bar.
We said our goodbyes, and she left...
...then Stand By Me came on, and suddenly she reappeared on the dancefloor.
As she was leaving for the second time, I finally buckled and called her over.
"Gabriela," I said...."You have the cutest nose."
"Vhat ?" she said, in her Eastern European accent.
"Your nose," I said. "I really like it."
I ran my finger all the way down it. She made a fist at me, like she was falsely annoyed.
Then she smiled and left.
I went home and passed out on the bathroom floor.
NJ "Wake Me Up, Before You Go Go" McLean xxx
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| Girls and Boys |
[19 Jun 2006|12:48am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 nostalgic |
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I was thinking lately : "How come now that there's so much happening in my life, I'm keeping practically no note of it at all in my journal ?"
I guess it all makes sense, really : Lots happening in your life = little time to write about it on the internet.
In other news, I'm becoming pretty tired of being friends with the boyfriends of the women I care about. I seem to have developed this benign role in life where guys know I am nuts about their missus, but it's ok because I am such a complete non-entity that they don't give a fuck, or something.
One of the guys I didn't meet for as long as possible, because I didn't know if I could handle it or not. Eventually I bit the bullet, met the dude and really liked him. I was surprised. I even found myself at parties or whatnot where I felt that no one cared if I lived or died, except for this one fella who would come over and spend some time with me and ask how I was and somehow make me feel quite happy.
The next guy I met without having a clue who he was. I was dating this young model back in Scotland, whom I was taking to dinner one night. She spotted this fella at the cashpoint and grabbed him and gave him a big hug, and the three of us walked down the street together for a while. I assumed it was one of her highschool friends ; she'd always bump into someone as we were eating ice cream and children were spitting on us from the upper floors of the shopping mall, or whathaveyou.
She kissed the guy on the cheek, and he shook my hand and wished us a good night. Only later in the restaurant would the point hit home, when she asked me over the candlelit table "So....what do you think of my boyfriend ? You hate him, right ?"
Tonight I was at the bar with Quintal, my Aussie mate....mate. We watched the Australia vs Brazil game in the World Cup, and part of the France vs South Korea game, until he had to go meet some ladies.
After he left, I pulled up a stool at the bar, and eventually got chatting with Gabriela, my current object of affection. She's a 22 year old Slovakian girl with a big nose and gorgeous baby blue eyes.
So, naturally, I am hooked.
At one point she slapped my back as hard as she could, then grabbed my shoulders and began massaging me. It felt unbelievably good. I'd already had quite a few pints, so I told her so.
Soon thereafter, she took me out into the parking lot.
"I want this fridge," she said, "for my bedroom. Do you have a car ?"
"I don't have a fucking car," I said "and if I did, I'd be in no fit state to drive it tonight, would I ?"
"Then we must call Tahu," she said. "He will come on his motorbike."
Tahu is her boyfriend. He risks his life every day delivering pizzas for Pizza Hut. Gabi wanted the fridge (a pretty cool Smirnoff fridge, btw..) for their bedroom, as apparently there is someone in their flat who keeps on stealing their food ! I agreed to help her and Tahu steal it. Well...it was dumped in the parking lot, obviously no-one wanted it.
Back inside, I helped Gabriela switch off the large tv screen. Each time we passed each other the remote, the physical contact between our hands seemed to linger a second or two more than it usually would.
Or maybe that was me just imagining things.
Eventually Tahu turned up at the bar.
He had just finished a long shift at Pizza Hut, where his life had been threatened once again by children weilding weapons.
Apparently, he had been called out to deliver to a certain address between Kentish Town and Camden, in a towerblock....and when he arrived at the destination, there was nobody home....just a bunch of 10 / 15 young kids, throwing stones at him and trying to steal his bike.
My other friend Graeme, an Australian bloke, had told me earlier in the day : "Gabi told me her boyfriend said she wasn't allowed to talk to me anymore, or for me to send her any texts....and I told her "It's not me he should worry about....it's NEIL !""
Graeme is the one guy in the bar who doesn't fancy / try to chat up Gabriela. He fancies the other Slovakian girl, Malvina.
Well, anyroads, I get talking with Tahu for about an hour and a half and he's buying me drinks and talking all about Gabriela, and I actually ask him "Don't you feel bad about all these guys at the bar trying to talk with your girlfriend ?" ... of course, failing to mention that I am definitely one of them...
Tahu said it's ok, it's part of her job to be nice to the customers, and that he doesn't mind it.
I said that I used to be with a girl who worked in a club and guys would be buying her chocolates and flowers and drinks and whathaveyou, and I never felt jealous at all, because it was all about trust and knowing the other person wouldn't screw you over, and he agreed with that.
Eventually Gabi came over to listen in on our conversation and he started to insult her, saying "Oh my God....did you used to open bottles with that nose ?? Look at that nose you have...."
I've wanted to tell her for months now how much I love her nose, but it's just never been the right time. Any time anything at all is mentioned about noses, I see her wince or edge away or just look awkward about the whole situation.
One time, Graeme said to her "You stop talking to us when your boyfriend turns up....you're just a snob...." and pushed his finger against his nose, turning it up at her....I could tell she couldn't really understand what he was saying, and she just thought he was making fun of her.
Another time he made reference to her telling lies, and that her nose was growing like Pinnochio. I could tell again that she didn't get it, and that she thought he was just taking the mickey out of her.
"Hey...I fell on my nose when I was a child..." she said. "That is why it is this way."
I just wanted to hug her forever and a day.
Why would a boyfriend ever make fun of part of his girl's body ? I don't think I ever did. I know I never would, now.
Maybe I need to lighten up a bit. It all just seems a bit harsh to me.
Imperfection is the new black.
NJ "Nose Best" McLean xxx
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| Video Killed the Radio Star |
[27 May 2006|05:21pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 happy |
] |
Hiya guys.
Here's the pilot episode of my new video travelblog, Balls Out : In London.
Over the piece, I will be making more of these (inbetween my job and flirting with beautiful women, if I can find the time...) vids, which will become more elaborate and well thought-out as time goes on.
This one could have been good, but there were people around, and I am shy.
Here it is, anyways. Enjoy ! I am off to the pub.
NJ "Videotic" McLean xxx
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| The Angel, Gabriella |
[04 May 2006|12:37am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 drunk |
] |
You're starting a new job on Thursday, so what do you do on Wednesday night ?
Thats right. If you're a sensible human being, you have a quiet night, maybe watch a movie, set your alarm and have an early night.
If you're me, you go out.
And you get fucked.
I walked in to the bar around 8pm.
Immediately I spotted Graham, my new drinking buddy.
One word of advice...if you are an antisocial bastard like me, do not make friends with another regular in a bar. It just means that every time you go to the bar, they are gonna be there...and you are gonna have to sit with them whether you like it or not.
I decided to pretend I hadn't seen him.
I went to the other end of the bar, and took a seat.
Gabriella, the gorgeous Slovakian barmaid, immediately said to me "A coke ?"
As she was popping the top of the bottle, she said "Aren't you sitting with your friend tonight ?"
"No..." I replied. "I think he's a bit of a bad influence."
On Sunday, I popped out for two colas in the afternoon, and ended up befriending Graham, an Australian security guy. Turns out we had so much beer that he ended up going home and I ended up falling asleep at the bar. I don't think I actually fell asleep at the bar...I merely cocked my head, closed my tired eyes and smiled blissfully for a minute, until Gabriella shook me and said "Wake up, guy !"
Walked in the bar the next night, and everyone was saying "Hahaha, here he is ! I heard you fell asleep at the bar last night ! You must've only had four pints !"
Bastards.
So anyroads, I decided to go over and see how Graham was doing. Turns out he had spotted me anyways...he said to me "Yeah, I was gonna ask Gabriella to ask you if it was something I said..."
Soon enough, we got to talking about Moses, the old Irish guy we talked to in a drunken haze on Sunday afternoon. Fuck, this guy was a nightmare. He was so well dressed, in a sharp suit, jet white hair, oversized spectacles. I've always liked him, he just looks like such a cartoon character. He started talking to us and things got totally out of hand. Eventually he was going on about how he likes to have a wank before he goes to his hooker for a blowjob, because that makes it last longer.
Bear in mind, this guy is like 60 years old if he's a day.
Somehow, the screen froze on the telly when we were watching the football, and Graham decided he was going home. I told him "The minute you walk out that door, the footie will come back on and it'll be a cool game and you'll have fucked off up the road."
As soon as he walked out the door, Patrick the landlord arrived. He pushed a couple of buttons and yep, the footie came right back on.
Soon enough, it was ten o'clock. Gabriella and I had been kind of talking, and I was quite enjoying it.
Being the social fucktard that I am, I decided the only way I could talk to her with any sort of confidence at all was to start getting leathered on the booze. So I ditched the cokes in favour of the beer.
"Are you sure ??" she asked, with genuine surprise.
Before Sunday, I was known amongst the barstaff as the "shy guy who only drinks coke."
"Yeah, I am sure," I told her. "I'm celebrating your birthday."
She liked that. She was 22 today.
We chatted some more, on and off, for the rest of the evening. She has a really cute nose and a nice smile.
Eventually these two absolutely sozzled Irishmen came in.
The younger of the two started chatting her up right away, kissing her hand and telling her "You are beautiful...are you Polish ?" and inexplicably saying things to her in German.
After further boasts that he was "very rich" and "the gypsy king of Ireland", it was quite clear that she wasn't really interested.
He asked if she had a boyfriend, and she said yes. She let him guess a few nationalities, before saying that her man was from Pakistan.
Immediately I thought it was a ruse, knowing that one of the new barmen is from Pakistan, and she was probably going to use him as a buffer to get rid of the amorous Paddy.
"Must I call him ?" she asked, but the Irishman couldn't understand.
She fed us all Tic-Tacs. By this time, I had half of my own pint left, and a full pint that the Irish fella had bought me left on the bar. The Tic-Tacs were nice and sweet and minty, and after eating those, I had no intention of carrying on with the booze.
"I have no problem with the gays," the Irish guy said, gesturing in my direction. "I don't mind gay people at all !"
Gabriella laughed, as I gestured, admittedly quite camply "I am not gay, man !"
The Irishman then proceeded to ask if Gab would call him a cab, he wanted to go home. She said no repeatedly, until the Pakistani guy popped through from the bar next door. The Paddy asked him if *he* would call the cab, and he too said no, and that the Irishman should do it for himself. The Irish guy then asked if he was Gabby's boyfriend, and he said that yes, he was.
This, along with the Pakistani fella popping his head through the joining doors and shouting "Gab, get me two pints of John Smiths..." in a manner that says "I have known you longer than the 7 days we have both worked here..." got me wondering if she was really telling the truth about the two being an item.
If so, why does she call me "darling" from time to time, and why do we always catch each other looking at one another and why does she touch me and why why why ??
Maybe I'm just so far out of the loop of how *friends* behave towards each other that I am making a lot of things up in my head.
I *do* have an ever-so-slightly overactive imagination (you may have noticed this by now...)
I dunno, I dunno. Graham seems to be seeing the other barmaid, Melina, even though *she* clearly has a boyfriend too (he showed me a text from her on his phone, saying that she was coming to the bar and the meeting with her bf had gone badly...which Graham was happy about, of course...)
I don't know if I want a real relationship with anyone else. I always sit there thinking "This is really good fun..." when I am flirting...It reminds me of when I was 12 years old in highschool; even though I was a tubby little freckle-faced shit, I used to flirt with this gorgeous Jewish girl in my class all the time and she really really liked me...It didn't matter that I looked like crap. We made each other laugh and that was just great for us both. I used to walk home from school, high as a kite, telling my completely disinterested friends "and then I said this...and she said that...and I said this !!! It was fucking amazing !!" as they yawned theatrically.
I have no idea why any of this happens. I look at these women, and I think they are pretty and sweet and everything...but I can't honestly say that I ever see a legitimate future with any of them. To be fair, I don't even want to take them home and have sex with them. Not even in a completely casual manner.
I've been in a sort of casual relationship in the past, and to be honest, it has had no impact on my life whatsoever. Why would you do that, if it takes you no further forward, or no further back ? You just stay exactly where you are, perhaps feeling that maybe another little piece of your soul has gone missing, but a little piece of experience has arrived in it's place.
I'd rather have the elation and the devastation of being in love, a million times over. I want the highest highs and the lowest lows. I want to know I am alive, by feeling the insane sugar-rush of staring into the face of the most perfect human being you've ever seen, or the hellish bad trip of going cold turkey later on. If that comes along, gimme the contract and I'll sign on the dotted line again without hesitation. Just don't give me the prozac-flatline of a life devoid of honest-to-fuck emotion.
I feel, therefor I am.
I told the Irish guy I wasn't gay, just loud enough for Gabriella to hear it, and she laughed.
Paddy then put me in a headlock and kissed me, for reasons best known to himself.
"Goodnight, Gabriella," I said. "I am going home."
"Goodnight," she smiled. "See you tomorrow."
Tomorrow ??
She knows I am that much of an alcoholic / sad bastard already ?
Yep.
I'll see her tomorrow.
NJ "I Drink, Therefor I Post Shite On My LJ" McLean xxx
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| I Want My MP3 |
[03 May 2006|06:54pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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Hi all, hope this finds you in rude health.
I opened the curtains for a while this afternoon, just long enough to notice that my neighbours have finally moved the paddling pool in their back garden. They put that out the day after I moved in here last July, and it's been lying out there ever since.
Nicked over to Barbican last night. Walked out onto the street, plugged in my mp3 player and it said something along the lines of "Unrecognised file type...formatting" and then had a little 3..2..1 countdown !
Then the lights went out. I put it back on, and all my tracks were away. What in the name of John Prescott's lardy, buttery big manboobs does a guy need to do to catch a break around here ?
I'm really glad I spent that half hour selecting a tonne of great tunes to put on it before I left the house...
Today I plugged it in to my laptop and tried to put the tracks back on...but it turned out that somehow, despite the player now being empty...it only had half of the capacity that it used to have !!
I formatted the thing, and luckily it's back to it's old self, ready for my train journey to work tomorrow.
I just heard that Jade Goody agreed to run the London marathon two weeks ago because she didn't know how long a mile was. Jade, flabby slapper and Z-list celeb from a previous series of Big Brother in the UK, famously collapsed during the marathon, and later admitted she had been training for the run by eating curry and drinking lager.
Yes.
Fellow BB slag Chantelle, who has recently announced she'll be marrying tv housemate Preston, slimey wankstain from The Ordinary Boys (more like The Public Schoolboys), was recently asked if she had a date yet for the wedding.
"You can take a date to your wedding ?? Wow !!"
Exactly.
Exactly.
Must head off now to the bar for a few Carling Colds. That's right...starting my training early for next year's marathon.
NJ "Am I Mingin' ?" McLean xxx
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| Triple Filtered for Quality and Taste |
[02 May 2006|05:53pm] |
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mood |
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refreshed |
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Hi guys.
I told a friend of mine today about my new job.
"Oh God, how boring..." she said.
HOW FUCKING BORING ??
Jesus Shitting Biscuits, why are some people so unbelievably rude for no reason whatsoever ?
I was pretty happy about the whole thing, and in four little words I've been knocked off of my cloud quicker that Keith Richards falling on his pickled, wrinkly old arse out of a coconut tree.
Btw, why are The Rolling Stones still alive ? Are they still alive, or have they become alcohol-embalmed zombies, still walking this earth, craving the ever elusive Satisfaction ? If they are still alive, fair play to them. Fuck olive oil, vitamins and bottled water...there's a lot to be said for shitloads of booze, smack, cocaine and the odd Mars Bar with a slight whiff of vagina thrown in for good measure.
So there I was, sitting in the sand, rubbing my head, wondering if she could right...had I just signed myself up for the most boring summer on record ?
I felt a wave of nausea crawling up the beach of my paradise island, reducing my palatial sandcastle to a soggy mound and washing over me in a cold, salty wipeout of shit and seaweed.
The thing is, I hesitated before telling her. I've known for two weeks, but I kept my mouth shut. I *knew* it. I could feel it in my balls that my "big" news would be met with apathy / borderline disapproval. I wanted to keep it to myself, to prolong the period of thinking that it could somehow be an impressive revelation that would raise my own rapidly diminishing stock.
Self-doubt soon dissipated, and was replaced with overbearing cocky-shitiness. I proceeded to rhyme off that I would be fucking filthy rich shortly, what with this coming at the same time as news of other potential projects. Suddenly money is being thrown at me, right, left and centre.
In truth, I don't care about money in the slightest. I just thought I was entitled to play my Cunt card, in retaliation for having my little parade defecated upon so gloriously.
I believe I am a double blank in a global domino effect...or a little something I like to call The Infinitely Trickling Down Human Anilingal Shit-Filter of Ambition and Desire (catchy title, I know. I wrote a 5000 word thesis on this very topic; I just typed up the title and my own name, and it was already coming dangerously close to the word limit).
What the The Infinitely Trickling Down Human Anilingal Shit-Filter of Ambition and Desire (tm) involves is people like me, looking up to A. N. Other, desperately trying to kiss their holy, high and mighty arse as they continually shit shit shit their foul faecal matter into my waiting mouth.
The trick here is that I, blinded by the excess shitty-brown spray from the dirty arse I am so desperate to kiss, can't see that there is someone "below" me too, trying to be nice to me, pursing their lips and puckering up, but ultimately receiving a face full of crap from my own rotten bowels.
The person "above" me is also gloriously unaware of my advances, as they concentrate on planting their lips on the dangling gluteus maximus hanging tantalisingly before them.
I'm sorry, that wasn't meant to come across as some kind of scat-wank fantasy.
I thought it was the best way to describe the behavioural patterns I have noticed in both myself and others around me from time to time.
Admittedly, the only nuggets I munch are chicken ones. I am unaware of any turd-based materials being used in the ingredients of these chicken nuggets, but you never can tell.
Suffice to say, I would never willingly physically devour poo of my own free will. I don't know about any of you guys, but if you do...fair play to you. You must brush your teeth really well because I've never picked up on it.
Basically, if we cut the shit so to speak, I'm just saying that I've been guilty of sucking up to people who are in turn largely unmoved, and are instead focused on sucking up to someone else who is in turn not particularly moved by their advances either. Always there is someone who is trying to be nice to you but it's not always noticed.
Maybe now it's time for everyone in the chain to turn one hundred and eighty degrees and get ready for a brand new flavour.
My job ? Boring ?
You can kiss. My. Ass.
NJ "Talking Shit" McLean xxx
PS. This is nothing to do with you folks who spend time reading my journals and pulling me up when I am being a bellend. I want to clear up any ambiguity at source, this time. ;)
PPS. Keith Richards is making a speedy recovery in hospital. Cunt.
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| Dickhead |
[01 May 2006|12:40am] |
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I went out today to watch one game of football.
I ended up bumping into an Australian and staying in the bar for 10 hours +, plying myself with alcohol.
Turns out the Aussie guy has some sort of "thing" on the go with Melina, the Hungarian barmaid (who is pretty sweet, btw. I flirted with her briefly this afternoon, always knowing that she has a boyfriend and that nothing would come of it...)
Turns out that she isn't as dedicated to her man as I thought.
Am I the last person alive who believes that when you tell someone it's forever, you mean it is forever ?
Since I have come to London, I have not really been myself. So often I have acted in a way thats "just not me". I have lied and cheated my way to prosperity. Tired of trying to be a "good man", instead I have opted for lying and cheating my way up the ladder, being a dirty fucker and doing whatever it takes to get where I want to be.
I don't really feel bad about it.
I tried to be an honest man and a good man. I understand I'm not perfect, and I have never claimed to be so. I just feel I have never had one ounce of respect from trying to be a "good person." I have been a honest worker, a good man, somebody who gives 100%.
In return, I have been shat upon from a glorious height.
Believe me, I have tried. I tried to be a good man, and honest worker who accepted his place in the world. I have tried to be a good friend to people. I am so tired of trying to be the best person I can be, and not once....not once, ever being appreciated.
Is it wrong that I long to be accepted and that I want to feel like I belong and that others like me and appreciate what I do ?
Maybe it is.
The age of the honest man is gone.
The age of the fucking shitmonger has arrived.
Say hello to your new figurehead.
NJ "Neil before Zod" McLean xxx
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| Gratuitous, Shallow, Superficial Post # 347 (b) |
[27 Apr 2006|10:07am] |
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Hi guys.
ITV.com is today reporting :
Keira voted world's sexiest
7.54AM, Thu Apr 27 2006
British starlett Keira Knightley has topped the FHM poll of the world's 100 Sexiest Women.
2006 certainly is the year for the Oscar nominated actress as she beat off stiff competition from other beauties including Angelina Jolie, Scarlett Johansson and Kelly Brook to steal the title.
Nearly two million people voted in the poll which saw Keira catapulted from 18th position last year to the very top proving that today's men really do appreciate looks and style of the traditional English Rose.
Hollywood babes stole a lot of places in the top ten, with Scarlett Johansson coming in at number three and mum-to-be Angelina Jolie at four, just ahead of last year's winner Kelly Brook who came in at five.
As well an Keira and Kelly, doing it for the Brits was Girls Aloud stunner Cheryl Tweedy, who slipped from second position down to sixth and glamour model Keeley Hazel who came in at number two.
FHM editor Ross Brown said: "FHM's 100 Sexiest Women in the World is growing year by year and 2006 has seen more votes than ever.
"Keira Knightley truly deserves to be the winner of our 2006 poll and she's an English Rose like no other."
Britney Spears, who was voted as 2004's sexiest woman in the world was nowhere to be seen in the whole top 100.
Just goes to show you what getting knocked-up will do for your popularity, eh ?
Lets take a look at how the rest of the poll charted out. I have highlighted my own personal faves amongst the list and have awarded them Skrooball Stars - The highest honour available for sexiness and beauty.
1. Keira Knightley 
2. Keeley Hazel
3. Scarlett Johansson
4. Angelina Jolie
5. Kelly Brook
6. Cheryl Tweedy
7. Beyonce Knowles
8. Evangeline Lilly
9. Jessica Alba
10. Jessica Simpson
11. Billie Piper
12. Sienna Miller
13. Lindsay Lohan
14. Rachel Stevens
15. Sarah Harding
16. Jennifer Love Hewitt
17. Halle Berry
18. Jennifer Aniston
19. Fearne Cotton
20. Eva Longoria
21. Mischa Barton
22. Elisha Cuthbert
23. Kate Beckinsale
24. Hayley Parsons
25. Eva Mendes
26. Charlize Theron
27. Kara Tointon
28. Rachel Bilson
29. Tanya Robinson
30. Holly Willoughby
31. Jennifer Ellison
32. Gemma Atkinson
33. Hilary Duff
34. Paris Hilton
35. Lucy Pinder
36. Brittany Murphy
37. Tera Patrick
38. Christina Aguilera
39. Lisa Snowdon
40. Charlotte Church
41. Tara Reid
42. Victoria Silvstedt
43. Jennifer Lopez
44. Maggie Grace
45. Coleen McLoughlin
46. Kate Bosworth
47. Michelle Marsh
48. Natalie Portman
49. Nicole Scherzinger
50. Chantelle Houghton
51. Natalie Pike
52. Jaime Pressly
53. Tina O'Brien
54. Brooke Burke
55. Nadine Coyle
56. Maria Sharapova
57. Nikki Sanderson
58. Charlotte Marshall
59. Jennifer Garner
60. Anna Kournikova
61. Kristen Kreuk
62. Lady Isabella Hervey
63. Holly Valance
64. Natalie Oxley
65. Joss Stone
66. Kimberley Walsh
67. Kayleigh Pearson
68. Sophie Howard
69. Fergie (Black Eyed Peas)
70. Heidi Klum
71. Sarah Michelle Gellar
72. Pamela Anderson
73. Sammy Winward
74. Naomi Watts
75. Kirsty Gallacher
76. Cameron Diaz
77. Roxanne Pallett
78. Myleene Klass
79. Katie Holmes
80. Gisele Bundchen
81. Teri Hatcher
82. Reese Witherspoon
83. Gwen Stefani
84. Nicola Roberts
85. Adele Silva
86. Rebecca Romijn
87. Kate Moss
88. Carmen Electra
89. Rachel McAdams
90. Myfanwy Waring
91. Roxanne McKee
92. Jenna Jameson
93. Jessica Biel
94. Kate Middleton
95. Josie Maran
96. Emma Griffiths
97. Joanna Krupa
98. Denise Van Outen
99. Rosario Dawson
100. Sofia Vergara
NJ "5 Star - Crush on You" McLean xxx
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| Red Teet |
[21 Apr 2006|12:38am] |
| [ |
mood |
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sore |
] |
I had a really sore left nipple on Tuesday. I think I must have dried it too violently in the shower. I was wearing a shirt that day, which felt like sandpaper rubbing up and down it, all day long. It was so irritating.
It's not the first time, either. I remember the first day I moved here, despite myself only bringing two bags of my stuff, I ended up helping my three new flatmates carry all their things out the back of the van and up into the house.
The next morning, in the shower, my teets were really sore. It wasn't until later that I realised what had happened ; the dry cardboard boxes I had been carrying out of the van and up the stairs had been rubbing away at my chest under my thin t-shirt, for hours on end.
I looked down at my left nipple, and, sure enough, it was reddened and lacerated.
I paused for a moment...then cupped my breast, and gave it a little squeeze.
A droplet of blood trickled out, and down my chest.
No, I don't know why I did that either.
That's just the way it happened.
NJ "Strawberry Milk" McLean xxx
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| Wik-id ! |
[11 Apr 2006|02:17pm] |
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mood |
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 cold |
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Got this from  Javi Weas :
Go to wikipedia and look up your birthday (excluding the year). List one death, two births and three neat facts in your journal, including the year.
Events
1863 - The Football Association is formed.
1881 - The Gunfight at the O.K. Corral takes place at Tombstone, Arizona.
1984 - The Terminator is released in theaters nationwide.
Births
1911 - Sorley MacLean, Scottish poet (d. 1996)
1951 - Bootsy Collins, American musician (P Funk)
Deaths
1999 - Hoyt Axton, American musician (b. 1938) ( The dad in Gremlins :\ )
Also, in Fiction :
In the movie Back To The Future, all of the "present" events occur on this date in 1985.
In the movie Death Becomes Her, Helen first drinks the immortality potion on October 26, 1985. Like Back To The Future, this movie was also directed by Robert Zemeckis.
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| Hey... |
[07 Apr 2006|10:55pm] |
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mood |
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 okay |
] |
...how you doing ?
Alright ?
Great !! xx
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| Blue Monday |
[27 Mar 2006|06:55pm] |
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mood |
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blah |
] |
Hi all.
I just woke up and it's 6.30pm.
Gonna listen to the radio for a bit, then get myself freshened up and head down to the pub.
I think my friend Christine may have been sacked. She said a week ago on Saturday that she'd see me that Sunday, but, despite me having been there almost every night since, she hasn't been back. The FA Cup football was spaced out over 4 weeknights, so I popped down for all those games....sometimes I only stayed for 15 minutes upon realisation that she wasn't there and the game was shite.
I know she was supposed to be jetting off to Barcelona with her boyfriend for Easter, but Easter hasn't been yet. Maybe she was just working for an extra few bob for the trip. Sometimes she'd come in, still in her office-clothes from working in the bank.
Instead, in her place, we have new staff in the form of a Brazilian-looking guy (boo) and a Hungarian chick (meh).
Anyways, yes. I'm going to get ready and pop down for a couple of colas.
Speak to you after.
NJ "Cola Bear" McLean xxx
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| A Stab in the Dark |
[17 Mar 2006|09:19pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 confused |
] |
Hi guys.
Went to the training centre today and there was some eastern european woman sitting next to me on the computers.
Man, I fucking hate it when people can't keep thoughts inside their own heads as they happen...you know what I mean ?
This woman started looking through her bags for something...obviously she was having trouble finding it. She started becoming more aggitated and eventually began crushing up bits of paper and throwing them on the ground, and stomping her foot and whimpering.
As if that wasn't enough, then she started fannying about on the computer. Every two minutes, she would say "HMMMM...." or "OOOH" or "OH THATS RIGHT" or "WHERE IS IT??" or "WHY???" or "TEE HEE HEE" or "OH NO !! I NEVER SAVED IT !!"
Jesus Christ, I seriously wished someone would slap the shit out of her. Have some self control, God damn it. If I can contain my unbelievable urge to choke your eyeballs out of your head, you should be able to contain your pathetic little dribble of a thought process and DO NOT VERBALISE IN MY PRESENCE.
Fucking morons.
I was gonna go to the movies after, but I couldn't be arsed waiting 45 minutes for the next showing of The Hills Have Eyes, so I went to Dominos pizza and then walked up the road.
I laughed at the warning on the box : "Hot pizza inside."
Considering I had just been trekking up the road for 15 minutes in an arctic gale, I found that "warning" to be fanciful.
Ended up going for a sleep and waking up when my landlord came to collect this months rent.
He sat in the living room, talking loudly on his mobile phone, telling another tennant "If you're just going to leave whenever you want, then there is no point writing up and signing a contract, is there ?? You can't run a gambling business like that !"
I found that to be a curious analogy.
I put my trousers on and wrote him out a check, and handed it over.
As he left, he said "Bye Neil, thanks for that," and smiled.
"Yeah," I said, and closed my bedroom door.
I always feel bad about it afterwards, the way I am unintentionally rude to him.
At Christmas, when he was leaving he said "Merry Christmas, Neil !" and I just looked at him.
"Merry Christmas!" he said again, with a smile.
"Bye," I said.
He left. Hahah.
Tonight I went down to the local very briefly, to sample the St Patrick's Day atmosphere. I live in a very Irish area, for my sins. I had been invited out for a bit of a do with my friend Larry and his buds, but I really wasn't up to it, because I've been really unwell this week. However, I pulled myself together enough to pop down for one pint.
My mate Christine the barmaid was working. She tried to entice me into having a Guiness...but I was having none of it. I was already playing the game by having a pint of Carling, when all I really wanted was a Coca Cola.
I grabbed a nearby tabloid newspaper and started flicking through. Papers are a godsend when it comes to going out drinking alone. Papers or football on the telly. It takes the attention away from the fact that you are a sad loner.
I happened to browse to the middle page where there was a double-page spread on celebrities whose boobs have fallen out in public.
Of course, the quality of boobage on show was varied.
Janet Jackson (floppy, horrible) was of course there. Sharon Stone (quite nice, but we've seen it all before) was there. Sadie Frost (quite good, big breasts but unrealistically good looking nipples and she was blind drunk) was featured and so was Kiera Knightly (best of the bunch, very small breasted with nice pink nippleage and a good sense of humour : "When I saw that nipple pop out, I thought "At 20 years old, is that all I've got down there ??!"" Haha)
As I was observing the exposed bosoms closely in research for this blog, Christine intervened and said "Neil !! Neil !! Turn to the middle page !! My friend is in the paper today...but it's not a good thing !!"
I was already at the middle pages. Was her friend one of these bare breasted celebs or what ?
She grabbed the paper and flicked through.
"Argh...where is it ?? Look for the story on the serial killer !!"
She went back behind the busy bar, and I found the story.
Apparently some cat in this area had gone schizo. His mum was caught on video having sex with a stand-in teacher when he was like 15, and so nowadays the guy took to donning a hockey mask ala Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th and stabbing folk with machettes.
I think he made three kills, including Christine's friend, a pub landlord from Tottenham.
He tried to slit another guy's throat, but when the victim escaped, the killer yelled "It's not my fault, I'm schizophrenic....sorry !"
Some drunk Irish woman started dancing on the table and I decided enough was enough. I'd had my fix of accidental exposure and gruesome shocks for the day.
See you soon, I hope.
NJ "Do My Boobs Look Big Out Of This ?" McLean xxx
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| Back in Training |
[16 Mar 2006|10:57pm] |
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Down at the training centre, I have to spend 6 hours (pretending I am) looking for jobs.
There are only 12 or so computers, and there can be like 50 people in the centre, looking to use them. You need to book the machines, but you can only book one-hour blocks at a time, ie from 1.30pm - 2.30pm, or 2.30pm - 3.30pm.
I used to pop in and book myself in three times in a row.
One time the other week, I heard some big guy saying to a friend "Yeah...some guy has booked himself in all afternoon...thats just not on !"
So....
Being the fucking evil genius that I am, I hatched a plan.
Armed with a red pen, a black pen and a blue pen, I sign myself in....under three different names.
Today, I booked myself in for an hour, inbetween Alex James (Blur) and Tim Wheeler (Ash).
I love being a cheeky wee bastard. :D
This guy had the right attitude, I feel :
Big kisses to you all.
NJ "Fully Booked" McLean xxx
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| In the Last Twenty Four Hours I Have : |
[23 Feb 2006|04:59am] |
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mood |
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1. Witnessed bigotry towards Catholics.
2. Witnessed racism against the Spanish.
3. Witnessed discrimination against women.
4. Witnessed racism against black people.
5. Witnessed white people standing up against racism towards black people.
6. Been told I am not being served a drink because I didn't bring a glass with me to the bar.
7. Witnessed a couple of wacky goals.
8. Had to withstand loud, out-of-tune sectarian singing for a period of around 70 minutes.
9. Been punched in the face.
10. Been kissed on the face by the same person who just punched me in the face.
11. Felt sorry for the women I have kissed without shaving.
12. Been locked in the pub in the dark.
All in a days work for a footie fan.
Now I'm feeling lonely lying on my bed, in a zip-top with no bottoms on, typing up my Livejournal inbetween designing a website for an insane conspiracy theorist / guru.
NJ "24 Hour Party People" McLean xxx
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| Thoughts and Observations for Saturday, February 16th |
[18 Feb 2006|04:10pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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thoughtful |
] |
1. London is a great place to live.
2. The Eastern European women I meet tend to have cute accents, but they act like they are from a different planet. I think one too many cold winters have affected their brain chemicals, either that, or something gets lost in the translation.
3. Chantelle Houghton, winner of the last UK Celebrity Big Brother, gets far too much media attention for my liking. As far as I can see, she is untalented and not attractive.
4. It's easier to make friends than I thought.
5. Eva Green's mum was pretty hot too, in her day. French women with Algerian mothers...my boat is FLOATING.
6. According to the magazine in my loo, Noel Gallagher's monobrow may be gone, but it still looks like there are two caterpillars living above his eyes.
7. The French (and possibly some other nations) have a curious way of referring to the Taliban leader ; "Oussama ben Laden". Is it "Osama bin Laden", "Usama bin Laden" or "Oussama ben Laden", then ? I think the guy should come out of his cave for five minutes and set the record straight. Or at least write it on a bit of cardboard in his next home movie.
8. Small popcorn is too little, large popcorn is too much. You can't have medium, because everyone else had medium, and the buckets are all finished.
9. The loading time of the human hard-drive can be embarrassing. I spotted Har Mar Superstar walking through Camden Town yesterday in a bright yellow sweatshirt. Recognising him, I looked him in the face for five seconds or so, whilst my brain tried to match the face to the correct person in my memory. He saw me doing this, and he did it too, to me. That must be crap when you're a celebrity, and people look at you like they know you...your own brain tries to recognise them too, but you can't.
10. Chinatown is really cool.
 
NJ "Penny for Your Thoughts" McLean xxx
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| Shaken...Not Stirred. |
[17 Feb 2006|09:33pm] |
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Hi guys.
With today's revelations, it looks like the new James Bond flick (a modern day, serious take on Casino Royale) might not suck quite as much as I had previously imagined...
The new Bond, Daniel Craig, seems like a shitey choice to me. He's blond. Since when did James Bond have fair hair ?
"The hair's blond...dirty blond."
If we're gonna start switching things around after 30 years or so, why don't we just remake Shaft with me, a pale skinned Scottish whiteboy taking over the mantle from Richard Roundtree as the ghetto-blasting, cool-as-fuck black detective John Shaft ? I'm sure it's workable. Ooooh oooh, or, for the inevitable 6-film dvd set of the Star Wars movies, why doesn't George Lucas replace all of Darth Vader's scenes in the trademark black armour and cape...with a bright red outfit instead ?? Or he could put Emperor Palpatine in hot pink legwarmers !! Why not ? Hell, he already made Greedo fire first in the cantina...
Excuse me.
So, yes...the Bond film. It may not be as bad as all that...today I've heard that gorgeous French The Dreamers actess Eva Green has signed on to star as Bond girl Vesper Lynd, which, for my money, reinstates Casino Royale's license to thrill.
To quote 007 himself, upon his first encounter with Pussy Galore..."I must be dreaming."
NJ "Thunderball" McLean xxx
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| Kids of Today |
[02 Feb 2006|06:28pm] |
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mood |
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excited |
] |
Hahah. I'm digging today's top headline.
Modern technology is a wonderful thing.
NJ "Phone Sex" McLean xxx
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