Ransacked! & Blue Imperial Leather Soap

LAST NIGHT I helped poor distraught Laundretta move the last of her things OUT of her old room. I say "last of her things"; I mean a couple of tartan washbags' worth... out of about 25 tartan washbags full of Laundretta's copious possessions (indeed t'was mostly laundry, 't'as t'be said..!

Matran being otherwise engaged (and sometimes thoroughly selfish, it has to be said) Laundretta said I was the ONLY person who had helped her move OUT of this double room full of bad memories... and into a SINGLE room where she can at least put some distance between them. They shall not be living as a couple any more. That is the theory, at least...

Because with nary a couple of days' notice, Evilstein has minded himself to knock my room and hers together into one generic supergarret (TWO superbly-double-glazed windows with GENUINE uPVC white frames! And two doors that have been so repeatedly ran at, squashed, bashed in, forced, wheedled, kicked at, carded and otherwise tampered with plus, in Laundretta's case about 25 copies of her keys (front door key included) are floating about the supposedly "lost" property of mysterious London... that in her stupors she has mislaid then had to beg the office for reinstatements... in the end she and Matran thought "get lost" and took to barging the front door open themselves so there it's been, swinging open all hours of night and day. Stingy Evilstein even (and this is monumentally SUPID if you consider the implications) REMOVED the latch from said front door so having lived with said door perpetually "on the latch" so to speak for weeks on end we now had an automatic "slam locked" front door that was more likely lock us out than ever before! And hence more likely yet again to get kicked in! Because that's what happens in vulgar houses with cupboard lock front doors. Evilstein and Butterstein, the two landlords, are in a lot of trouble, apparently for taking literally thousands of pounds off the local council's EMERGENCY HOUSING SECTION in weekly rent yet giving execrable service in return...

Dur! Hey this is what I wanted to tell you.... have you ever wanted to ransack and trash a room? Come on! We surely ALL have... well LAST NIGHT I got my chance. Drawers were pulled out, clothing strewn, cushions flung up high and trainers (that is "sneakers" to all ye Americans) clonking down with them. Chairs upended, table collapsed. Wow. Yeah!

The surly man who turned up this morning to complete the emptying of her room (and I mean emptying down to stripped-of-all-cupboards and wardrobes type of empty... totally stripped... he accused ME of interfering! Whatever gave him that idea!! I said hang on I WAS HERE LAST NIGHT with Laundretta, the ONLY person she had to help her (Matran's flown back away to family situations that's why she's in such a quandry loose canon last straw not knowing what on earth to do...) Yeah this man thought I HAD ransacked the room! I said hang on I WAS HERE HELPING last night and Laundretta was very upset. Eventually she just had to leave most of her stuff and stormed out going utterly BERZERK on the street (that's what she wanted me to tell them. She hates them for being so 2-faced with her...) so I told henchman this how I'd helped and we'd been searching out Matran's middle-aged reading glasses. He gazed at me in baleful disbelief. Then I pointed out that I'd fallen into the profoundest slumber and, because Evilstein has YET AGAIN failed to fix our door, or poor Laundretta's door LITERALLY ANYBODY FROM THE STREET was well able to sneak up, infiltrate her room and do anything there. So all flinging, streaming, strewing and upending ahoy ~ I got away with it!!

Butterstein the ueberlandlord was talking to me all jokey (which made Surly even more so: jealous that I appeared to get on fluently with the boss. Indeed I do in a 0.1 millimetre deep kind of a way. Surlystein doesn't realize how little love is lost between Butterstein (so-named because just like a blob of butter if you slip on this you can do yourself a yukky injury) when I requested I might have until tomorrow morning to clear my old room. This was agreed. And I've spend the day diligently filling the new room with specially selected best stuff. And littering the old room with pooily deselected old stuff. I'm ridding it myself as I could not bear some Evilsteinian henchman a-poking so-on through...

Now I simply MUST go this post has taken an hour longer than it ever meant to (according to their timer I've been on one hour precisely and it feels an hour too long I'm utterly exhausted and literally sleeping on my feet. I have to go but not before thanking you all profusely for the conglomeration of advice yous all gave me... I honestly did feel the need of a 2nd, 3rd... and 26th, 27th, 28th... opinion yesterday... as the Bible declares (in the book of proverbs take a multitude of counsel when in a quandry and you'll be fine)... and fine I am so thank you all very much indeed!

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The Blue Imperial Leather is something Laundretta'd left behind, still wrapped, on her sink. I broke it open today and it smells of lavvy cleaner, quite obnoxious... toilet-ducky, I spose you could rate it... least it's not as bad as that public swimming baths aroma using warmed up bleach tends to give...

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PS No more fighting robos! Why? Because I removed their teabox and every bit of furniture but the wheel. Now they're forced to live together and do so in furrily amusing harmony... three furry gremlin pompoms asleep and licking themselves in a row all day in the corner...

New Room: Laundretta's out!

I'VE GOT A NEW ROOM DOWNSTAIRS! I wish it was up but no such luck; it's down. Never mind. New room ahoy!!

EVILSTEIN, THE OILY LANDLORD'S EVIL HENCHMAN banged on my door when I was faster than lightspeed asleep this morning. He yelled at me, getting my name wrong as ever, "YOU and ALL YOUR THINGS must be OUT by MONDAY. ANYTHING LEFT OVER will be INCINERATE!! It SHALL BE DESTROY!! MONDAY you move to downstairs. We knock your room Laundretta's room together by then. Do not go anywhere before then. Plus you open window evil smell in here." (It was his unwarranted, unasked for, unneeded, totally useless, over charged-for, hated, smelly, floor-cracking and dripping over eggy breakfast. THAT's what made revolting smells all over his yukky carpets...)

So I returned my yellow bucket of old works at the chief exchangery this morning and was heartened to see my own drugs worker on duty there. The one I have now is the best one I think I've ever had EVER. I'm serious. It's not just to do with willing to go the proverbial "extra mile" but to do with a psychical connexion. That kind of thing. That we have. And my former workers never had with me. Female workers, I might add, outnumber male workers 4:1 at the moment, which, I would expect, makes the emotionally constipated male junkieheartdom even more difficulted, complexicated and loath to communicate than ever before...

I told my worker everything that's been going on, bothering me, bothering others and so-n-so, which is a lot. Laundretta's finally had enough with, as she alleges, Tubbystein from downstairs interfering with himself over her sleeping body in the night (well she did insist upon rowing with Matran then slooming on the stairs...)

The council's given her a small new room a couple of miles away in one of my former old Manors. Is it true I have a soft spot for Laundretta and it shows? I thought I came across as mocking her. I DO like Laundretta. Poor girl. She's one of the most emotionally damaged individuals I think I've EVER met in my own short life...

Now I have to quickly finish this post. Bottom line is, I have to get my old stuff out of my old room by Monday a.m., have things polished a-cleared out and all a-new by then... implication being (and I want to ask your advice upon this, please:) do yous all agree with me that I should do what I've always fantasized about yet never had the courage? That is, to take with me only what I really, truly need. To maybe bag up some more things safe and take with. But to leave a good half of my things behind me upstairs...

Please: if you've any feedback, please feed it back ASAP as I need it SOON. I've had a really difficult couple of years. Psycho'd out of my head at start. Staring at walls, rocking. Then THAT COUPLE's appearance and little to my distress they still surely added to it... I had an amazing dream about that last night...

I need to know what to do. I need the courage of your convictions, so if you ARE convinced I should just chuck and go; please tell me. I will gladly do it and move on...

New Song:
Mamas and Papas: Creeque Alley (technicolour tv performance)
Mamas and Papas: "Matt Mix" ~ sound only modernized version...

Over-Emotional (& Squabbly Gremlins)/State Visit

IT'S ALL CHAOS at Gledwood Towers. Laundretta's gran died at the weekend and Matran's been taken away by family troubles of his own. She bought me drinks yesterday. I supped too quickly and was soon drunk. Then I got all emotional too.

My gremlins have gone to their tartan bag as protection from Evilstein the landlord. I thought I was doing them a big favour by adding long clingfilm tubes and other bits and bobs into their realm.

In my exhaustion I fell into a profound slumber for several hours only to be disturbed by a distrought Laundretta phoning and then repeated honks and squeakings from my gremlins' trottery.

The tartan bag is now right in front of me (I'm writing this at the witching hour of the night but posting around 2:30pm) Spherical is cantering away on her wheel; Itchy pinging round and round and in and out of a tube in solitary confinement. Separate accommodation because I have just seen her mercilessly harrassing the others, especially Bashful with this kind of "wrestling bears" posture, and slapping at each other with paws (very girlie)... Obviously something inside her has snapped as perpetual bottom peck in the robo-hammy hierarchy.

I let her back in with the others. Straight away she is disturbing old momma Spherical and instant chaos descended. So it's back to the handbag box for her. (Well that's what I call it. A plastic box that holds about five litres, complete with handbag-style handle. It is vaguely the shape of an oversized fishtank-shaped handbag...) Scrabbling away. Jumping up and up and up again at the light. She can jump approximately 3 inches at best, which from a 2 inch hammy means a grown man jumping NINE FEET!

When I just told her she was "very naughty" she slunk into a nibbled up toilet tube. I don't know what to do. There can be no wars among the trotters. If she carries on being naughty she is going to have to live separately which is robo-misery as they're social creatures. So I don't know. I really don't know. More robo-reportage tomorrow.

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And last but by no means least Britain has the most glamorous state visit for generations this morning. France's President Sarkozy and wife Carla Bruni (Mick Jagger's ex among many many many many MANY others...) are to enjoy a state banquet tonight at Windsor Castle... then tomorrow they have to suffer the rather more dour company of Gorden Brown and his missus at their pokey Downing Street apartment... woo!

Read The Sun's reportage:~
Prince Charles Kisses Carla's Hand here
France's First Lady Carla Furious Over Nude Photo Shock here...
Nicola Sarkozy Promises Boring 1000 Extra French Troops For Afghanistan here...

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Laundretta: Who Upset Her?

POOR LAUNDRETTA*. Throwing a massive tantrum on the stairs at around 4:30 am. Oh yeah, and our front door is swinging open 24-7, too. Probably thanks to her.

I found her half-asleep by the bathroom with vodka bottle and orange juice. Unfortunately my presence seemed to perk her up and when I returned from the shop with my mushrooms, peppers and cyder (fry-up ingredients (didn't fry the cyder though)) she took to tirading the purplest of blue language up the stairs at Matran who, she claimed was "having sex with another girl IN MY BED"!

I don't know what else to say except that as Gattina perceptively observed, my robos living on newspapers as they now do, are indeed the best-read hamsters in London.

*ps following a couple of "no comprendo" comments, perhaps I should point out that LAUNDRETTA is my 28 year-old drinking, crack-smoking working-girl neighbour. The toddler illustration is "symbolic"...

BLOG POST OF THE DAY:
Bimbimbie: Baby Aussie Rainbow Parrots + Morning Kangaroo...

Laundretta: Spin Cycle

LAUNDRETTA'S IN A SPIN AGAIN... I just sat with her for well over an hour at our local pub as her "punters"/customers sloped on by; she pointed them out... waggling her enormous false eyelashes as she chattered on... three stopped to talk. Two of these were noticably jealous (of me) (for what~??)... She told me about her complexicated relationships. I told her as long as you're a "working girl" all your relationships are going to be like that. With no set parameters. No lines firmly drawn. And never knowing truly where you stand. How could you?

Then we walked up the street and she grabbed my arm. And yet another friend of hers accosted her (you should have seen the look on her face: losing patience by the second). He thought I was her customer or something so he was all over her. She did say several of her "friends" have been very kind to her in the past...

I AM IN ROBO-HORROR. Not because of Itchy's starting squabbles but because... remember I called her Itchy because she was so licked wet all the time and I thought she might have mites? Well I saw a picture online of a robo WITH mites. It was tiny, like Itchy. Wet fur, just like Itchy. (Thing is Itchy's skin isn't red or even particularly pink; there are no bald patches... which is why I assumed it was NOT mites...) And this pictured hamster had the arched back, miserable posture of an ill hamster that Itchy most definitely does NOT have. Apart from looking like a tiny Porkshire Terrier (rather than a fat robbie) she is VERY pingy and healthy... So I don't know. I shall have to do further reasearch online...

THIS IS: the robo-website I found the details on ~ http://www.roborovski.net... but you'll need to click on "health" (I think) and scroll down to see "ill Itchy-lookylikey"...

MY ARM has been playing me up. As you may recall, there is a "wound" on it (yes! caused by my needleering...) it blew up, got very sore, got a huge blister, which transformed into a scab... It went all hot, red and puffy round this scab, which got it labelled (by the nurse) as an abscess. Well I didn't really pick at it but did stick a needle right in... which produced nothing more exciting than a few drops of blood. No pus. Even now, as the swelling's going down and the scab loosening (because it's shrinking) where it comes open at the scab's edge at one end it looks a bit white inside with the texture of tastebuds from the mouth... and only the tiniest ooze of pus. I think maybe it's a nonfocal abscess or a tiny cellulitis. I've had cellulitis before. That is an infection of the skin (rather than under the skin, like an abscess)... it can spread really rapidly to cover an entire limb but I've been lucky with antibiotics in the past... and this time, despite no antibiotics, whatever it was stayed localized. It does hurt quite a lot. If it's like this next week then I will go to the doctor's...

VID:
Kraftwerk: The Model

My Vision

LAUNDRETTA INSISTS she has found a dead rat in her room. I don't believe this, but I don't like it. Because talk of rats is liable to mobilize Evilstein to put rodenticide everywhere. And having three baby gremlins (Itchy-Bashful-Spherical) and a furry freight train (Pingpong) under my auspices, I cannot have poisons left lying round my room. If I thought we really did have rats I'd be the first one to go mentalist. Rats eat smaller rodents - and that would especially include tubby Roborovskis who don't bite and, living Hannibal Lecter-style within four walls of glass, have nowhere to run... Not to worry: the proliferation of wild mice in here tells another story. Mice only thrive where rats are absent. And rats are most certainly absent from our midnight-scuttling, all-squeaking, all-shrilling mousery of a house!

FIVE MINUTES til appointed appointment time and here I am in the junkies' waiting room. Full of fellow clients with snivels. Walls choc-full of posters warning us of injections, infections and crack burns. Table strewn with dated magazines. (Shockingly lower class selection: the private clinic I briefly attended had Time magazine, Vanity Fair and Tatler! And, along one wall, shelves upon shelves of "borrow for free but please return and do not sell on" (well it doesn't exactly say that but may as well do: everything's prominently branded in theft-deterring rubber stamp...) Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre... among a 1960s Encyclopedia of Photography, The Piano Teacher, a novel by Elfriede Jelinek and Queen Noor of Jordan's memoirs: Leap of Faith. I purloined the last of these, plus Jane Eyre.

VISION. I'VE GOT SOME of my vision back since the New Year and posting those Not Really Resolutions (that strangely I have since found myself working towards: strange what "no pressure" can do...)

Each new day is a gift and a chance to effect changes. I used to really feel this. Actually, without getting too sobworthy, I finally grasped this fact some years ago in one of the most lost and forlorn times of my entire existence. I wasn't a junkie, and yet in my foolhardy quest for new experience, I had somehow got myself invited back home (to a nasty flat on an infamous estate or "project" as New Yorkers would put it). I had put £5 into a £20 bag, held out my arm and let myself be injected with this £5 hit of heroin in one...

All I remember was remarking how "good" the gear was... and dissolving into a dazzled protracted unconsciousness... surfacing time and again in near-amnesiac fuge to ask where I was. Finally breaking the surface of my dreams to find myself laid out under a clinical striplight. The metal handles of a trolley gleamed on either side of me. "What happened?" I had just asked (a strange snapshot of memory stretching into the shallowest layer of my personal haze). A nurse was telling me, not for the first time I was somehow sure, "You overdosed on heroin. You're in hospital." Bang! Suddenly I was back. And unable to digest these facts... I slipped slightly back into the warm dreams of my oceanic sleep...

There are ODs and there are ODs. I really had OD'd. For despite having been narcan'd to bring me round, I had somehow stayed unconscious or at least in white-out, for fifteen hours or longer: I had been given the heroin injection around midnight. Now it was late afternoon.

When a nurse informed me: "We want to keep you in overnight because we were worried about your breathing," I didn't argue. Merely lay in bed for hours longer. Repeatedly dunking back under warm bath-temperature water... In my alternative state I floated into an infinite haze of poppy-pollen gold. I was floating in the centre of the sun. Glowing yet not burning.

It was a pleasant place to be. The nearest place to "heaven" that drugs had got me thus far, in fact. For days afterwards I just wanted to return to this timeless, placeless place, realized that I couldn't; and cried.

Later on in the evening I got wheeled up to a ward, where, despite all that time spent flat out, I slept like a log all night.

Next day, when showering, I discovered multicoloured sensors stuck all over my torso. The same ones that feed into that machine we all know from Casualty and ER, the one that goes bleep-bleep and tells shocked relatives and associates how dangerously ill you really are.

I told no-one of my experience. Not family. Not friends.

Afterwards I was desperately upset and alone. So upset in fact, that I only wished for the issues this whole nightmare had stirred up to go away. To forget them, totally and utterly, for ever.

What irony: years of craving Death and now it had come so close without my willing it I was falling apart with the trauma of it all!

It was now that I learnt that life is precious. Life really is a gift. Not a chore, not an imposition. That each day is a wonder and a privilege. And that the meaning of life is appreciating the fact.

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OK FOLKS, it's getting late and I've raw chicken fillet, a tub of black bean sauce, a red pepper (sweeter than a green one) and a boil-in-bag sachet of basmati rice (rather unadventurously I'm trying boiled maybe specked with peas if I've still got some...) as well as chili powder, monosodium glutamate ("MSG") and light soy sauce... wish me luck, for "learning to cook just like the Chinese takeaway" starts today. Wahey!!

If you're curious as I was, however, here's a recipe for Chinese egg fried rice.

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Today's music:
The Prodigy: Everybody in the Place
...= my favourite piece of "commercial" rave ..!

Tame Fox and Laundretta Sceeching

I WAS GOING TO WRITE OUT A LONG LONG POST but somehow am not in the frame of mind for posting longlonglongwinded things.

Matran is back on the crack. Laundretta was screaming and yelling at some unearthly hour of the night then stomped off down the stairs to catterwaul and holler on the street last night so I should have known then.

I saw a fox last night! It was literally hand-feeding distance. And I had Jaffa Cakes on me. Of course the necessity of opening the packet scared her off (dunno why but it looked like a she). I threw one down the street and she ran across the road. But the amount of vermin on my street I knew it would not go to waste...

We have pigeons in our pack garden! They sit on a green totally moss covered psychedelically bright tree (well it is under a certain morning light). If I had a camera I'd have photo'd it.

Instead you have to click to see the picture of today. It is Welshcakes with her puppydog Simi ...

Have a pleasant weekend everyone!

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Video:
Doggie Dating

I'm Back!

HAVING SEEMINGLY SPENT MOST OF THE WEEKEND IN BED... sleeping a lot and sweating heavily... I got up at long last this morning stinking to high heaven and had to leave the house like this and bus to Mother Hubbard's house (I got lots of space to read the paper, which was great!) Turned up and even she, who seems to be the most forgiving person, noted I was really dirty. I felt dirty and disgusting. All I wanted to do was change clothes and jump in shower. There IS no shower at mine and even if there was it'd be broken. No plug for the bath still... except haHA! I FOUND one. Turns out the Evil Gnome who lives on the story below me had APPROPRIATED SAID PLUG FOR HIMSELF. In other words STOLEN IT FROM THE REST OF US. But last week he made a fatal wrong move and left it behind after one of his morning splasharounds. Also every morning he does an enormous turd the girth of a flower pot. I can't help querying how such an enormous "log" can pass from such a tiny person (I call him the gnome because he is so small - if he ever gets unemployed he could get a job in Disneyland wearing a red pointy hat and fishing in pools of lucky coins - he has that look down to a T). Anyway he leaves this disgusting enormous turd every morning first thing and NEVER flushes it. Also he has taken to leaving blood by the door ... in precisely the same place ... every day. Matran was right-on when he told me it's nothing to do with the gnome bleeding. It's everything to do with a silly little game he is playing with the rest of us. This Gnome is an objectionable character. If you were locked outside he would never let you in. He has never once let me in on the 2 or 3 occasions I've been locked out; though I'm sure he was in. Neither has he let in Laundretta on the scores and scores of occasions on which SHE's been locked out. But she just breaks in though... then has the cheek to blame local kids for that! I know exactly what was going on (hasn't happened lately) though I've kept this one up my sleeve. I don't want her to know that I know...

Hmmm... I really don't like my housemates as you can probably tell...

The radio has been winding me up. This lilly-livered government of ours, apologizing for being British almost... what has got into them. It was reported at the weekend that Islamic groups have complained at being targeted in anti-terrorism campaigns, implying the terrorism is all based around their religion. Yes I totally agree with them. Far more attention should be paid to the Buddhist terrorists and the Hindu terrorists who have bombed the London tube... know what I mean?

I rearranged my roborovskery as I was bedridden and ill and required entertainment. Every time I got bored I would rock their teahouse and say "Come out you Pink Noses! Come out!" and two or three curious pink noses duly appeared at the chewed out entrance. I took all three out for a ping in the bath the other day. The bath was totally devoid of water, I might add. O! They were so funny, shooting up and down, trying to scrabble up the nontaps end, etc etc... Bashful and Spherical both made loud squeaks of protest when I tried to pick them up... Then they were back in their tank and pinging for ages. Finally when they calmed down I spotted all three sat in a row nibbling the same crust of tomato bread: they looked so entertaining. Then Bashful at the end started scratching. Then Spherical took up scratching too. Poor Baby Itchy had been so intensively groomed by the both of them her "hair" on the head was sopping wet in spikey clumps... like a teenage boy's with hair gel. She looked really funny...

Well I've got clean clothes on and I actually got out of bed today. I know it was only a common cold but it made me feel pretty slaughtered. Maybe this is the old Chronic Fatigue Syndrome traces from years ago...

I've been writing a bit of my memoirs again. Thanks for the comments on those I know I shouldn't think about people laughing at me but I do feel I'm laying myself wide open in writing those. While I've been awfully discreet about other people's lives I've pretty much told everything about mine... which makes me feel kind of weird...

Well it's late. Nearly 8pm and I have to get some pasta and parmezan... cheery-o y'all!

All the best

Gledwood
"Vol 2"...

Videos of the Day
Remembrance/Veterans' Day
Mad World Remembrance: WWI
Sorry these are a day late in a way, but they're still very good and I could not get to a computer yesterday...

Video of the Day 3
King of Spain Tells Venezuela's Chavez to SHUT UP!

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If you want to watch Vivienne Vyle, episode 2, CLICK HERE...

Did anyone like Vivienne Vyle? Nobody mentioned a word about her...

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Chinese Takeaway Curry Sauce Recipe
The secret ingredient is Star Anise, apparently.

Intellectual Hungarian Tomato Bread

AS I SAID YESTERDAY I'm thoroughly bored of Turkish snacks and have been munching my way through the Hungarian baker's menu! My favourite Turkish thing was probably jajeek which is spelled "cacik" and is the mint yogurt garlic cucumber dip; better known as tzatziki... The takeaways do something called lahmacun which is like a pizza wrapped up with salad, only £1 each. The Hungarian baker's do plaited chocolate bread... which sounds ... interesting! I don't know why I'm writing about food, I'm not hungry. I've just nibbled half a (small) loaf of that Mediterranean sundried tomato bread. It's not one of those flatbreads that looks like glorified pizza: this has tomatoes all the way through it, which is really yummy with Lurpak butter, believe me!...

There's very little news today except I'm going more and more off the alcohol. Not quite sure why. Laundretta got drunk and there are cigarette butts sticking out of charred holes in the hall carpet. (She has no respect for this house...) I even thought she had battered the door down last night, but seemingly not; someone must have let her in at the last moment. That woman is always drunkenly losing her keys. And when she has had too much she looks drenched from head to foot, as if she's taken a fully-clothed shower... I wonder what she'll be like in 20 years' time... if she's still around.

My robos have been hiding in an extensive tubery. Because "Baby" Itchy's gone so capybara-giant these days I have repeatedly confused her with Bashful and even big momma fatty Spherical which caused hilarity when I tipped her out of a tube onto my hand. Rather than a calmly rambling baby vole-like creature I got an exploding furry firework hopping and fizzing into a far corner. I told Spherical I was very sorry I thought you were your friend; but she just peered out suspiciously from the tea-box into which she had darted as if to grumble, "that's what they all say, mate".

My video of the day is:
Exhausted Robomother Feeding Young
plus - all new! This one's really entertaining:
Hilarious Itchy Robomother Doing Baby Stuff
plus you get
The Daily Mirror's (highly amateurish) "Showbuzz" Roundup... have fun!!

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Here's a yummy-looking chocolate dessert...

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How come all South East Asian schoolgirls have blogs looking like this one~?!?
http://enchanted--melancholy.blogspot.com

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Here's a really artistic blog:
http://afancifultwist.typepad.com

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Blog feature of the day Ottawa in Canda... wow the parks and buildings are AMAZING...
http://lukigoescanada.blogspot.com

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A special blogoftheday: Inge Mobile Blog http://ingemobiel.blogspot.com

So Britney Spears is Going Mental. So is Laundretta...

SO BRITNEY SPEARS IS GOING MENTAL; Laundretta is throwing pitiful weepy tantrums in the hallway; Burmese monks are protesting the country to the brink of collapse... What is the world coming to..?

Poor Laundretta: she is howling such desolation; ranting out lists of Matran's crimes and inattentions. And it struck me suddenly her problem. How she is so exceedingly immature. Because most people realize by age ten or twelve that the World and most of the people in it will not listen, do not care and never will give a damn about how you feel, what you think or your behaviour. Simple fact of life. But Laundretta somehow never learned this so she thinks her 25 year old self can cry drunkenly on the stairs, burbling the injustices piled against her and that somehow someone listening will effect some kind of change in her favour.

Which of course is not going to happen in a million years. How very sad ...

Did you all click my yesterday's post for your free cyber-copies of the News of the World? Britney's bodyguard reveals all in her post-matrimonial breakdown.

As for Myanmar; the BBC refuse to use that word (even though they slavishly follow nearly every other politically correct language convention from around the world... argument being in brief that they do not recognize the sovereignty of the ruling military "junta" (what on earth IS a junta? sounds like something you might wrap in chapatti following a nice chicken tikka dopiaza!) On what authority the BBC make such decisions I would be absolutely fascinated to find out, but hey ...

I've even had hits from Myanmar (not recently though). It's one country in the world, along with Tibet, I've had a permanent fascination to visit...

On this note I must indeed go as fresh pasta and cheeses (not pustules and diseases) bray my name from Sainsbury's...

My roborovskis had a great squabble this morning. Oh! The squeaking was so entertaining. Imagine two dozen rubber ducks being murdered ...

Righty-ho!

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Video:
Britney Spears "Acting stoned"...

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BLOG POKE OF THE DAY:

"STRANGE DAYS" http://sianikatt.blogspot.com... Victorian London Vampirism etc ... ooooh!

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Video II

Eurythmics' Miracle of Love - Japanese Manga Anime video "Saint Seiya"...

Laundretta Chaos II

CHAOS IN MY HOUSE. Not only is the front door smashed in yet again (Laundretta got locked out drunk), but for the past couple of days she has been staggering up and down the hallways at night in the dark (a little like a drunken human prostitute minotaur) wailing and hollering and yelling accusations at her boyf, Matran.

It all came to a head yesterday when she smashed the back stairs window with a sink plunger... leaving the kind of plunger-shaped hole that you couldn't do if you tried a million times...

Yes chaos rules again.

Evilstein went slightly mad about that and Mat and L's television being left outside their room for two months and claimed we all have to clear up because the council are coming round today. Frankly I don't believe that but hid my robbies and made everything look a bit smart.

I actually went out and purchased some memoirs to use as an inspirational template for mine... and reading through came to the unsurprising conclusion that yes I will have to novelize the entire thing. Ukk.

This means telling your life story as if it was a novel ie with dialogue and descriptions laid out in the traditional format... which is kind of hard to do when it's your own truth... and such dialogue, though it pulls in the focus crystal sharp and close... is inherently untruthful because as we all know it is NOT the exact dialogue from the time.... ho-hum. But you gotta live to convention. Otherwise you end up in prison.

I'm going to mess about on the internet and then will have another go at memoiring later on tonight so wish me luck again... I shall aim to complete two whole pages today! Woo!

***

I think I picked out two TOP tunes today!
1. Sinitta - Cross My Broken Heart... you poor Americans on the far side of the pond... you don't know what you're missing not having charts full of Europop... (And Sinitta IS American by the way!!)

2. Gorillaz - Clint Eastwood. I've no idea whatsoever WHAT Clint Eastwood has to do with this song. But that's the title. Hmmmmmmm......

And my 2 other vids:

3. Paris Hilton and Madonna munching sandwiches in the park...

4. Britney Bitch Revisited...***

Blog recommendation of the day:

The Captain's Blog. From HMS Somerset Royal Navy warship. Or frigate. Or whatever they call it. But it's a big grey metallic ship full of weapons. Designed for going out in times of conflict and kicking "arse"...
(http://www.hms-somerset-co.blogspot.com)

Great Video Debate, Baby Itchy's Long Bedroom, Laundretta Crack Binge, Memoirs Begun etc

THE GREAT VIDEO DEBATE: before I proceed any further let me ask you to answer the following query: should I continue posting videos up top in giant format as they have been? Or should they go in miniature on my sidebar? Or should I give up posting such timewasting trash?? You decide!!

O man what was I going to post today...?

O yeah! I finally started my funky memoirs... a full 800 words (2 pages. big deal) but I wrote it out... now I just gotta complete an entire first chapter. Perhaps Sly and the Family Stone helped me out with trumpeteer Cynthia Robertson's jazzery toodle-doo-ing. Or something.

I had the most horrible protracted drawn out nasty nightmare last night... the type of dream that once you wake up from you cannot explain what the problem was.. except I was being chased by accusers... and as usual had done nothing wrong... and seemed to spend vast amounts of time on rooves and guttering and flying between different building-tops... (as you do...)

My miniature Porkshire Terriers now live in a giant 18 in long bedroom... the original Xmas Maltesers tube is now extended with 2 slotted-in toilet rolls and a third sticking out at an L-shaped angle... They hide in this all day like baby gremlins. And sniff my fingers suspiciously if I dare to venture them in. And run away if I dare touch, poke, attempt to pick up anyone except Baby Itchy. Ho-humm.

Matran and Laundretta seem to be having a giant crack binge. I know this as all sorts of "guests" have been showing up at their door (a sure sign there's drugs in the offing)...

Even though I did post up about their 8am underwear bizarreness lockout when I dealt with them and handed out endless pairs of scissors, knives, plastic travelcards to bust the lock open I never once sneered or refused to was anything less than civil... possibly for this reason they keep giving me big lumps of the stuff (well they did twice which is so unlike them)... but WHY?!?

Righto and here better endeth the present vulgarteering... I have cod in parsley sauce in my bag that is melting beside me... am I the only one sweating like a swine on conkers this afternoon? It has been ROASTING hot for the past two days...

Videos:
Kylie Minogue: Giving You Up
Lilly Allen: LDN

8am Underwear Chaos

I GOT FRANTIC KNOCKING ON MY DOOR AT 7:30 a.m. from Laundretta. Hid robos and opened up only to find her and Matran drest in nothing but underwear... I don't know what they had been doing but they had managed to get locked outside their high security room in this state (why can't my room have such a secure lock?) with seemingly no possibility of getting back in.

Having seen their near-naked bodies I have to say Laundretta is pretty stacked and I can see what her clients book her for. I will give her 8 out of 10. Matran is the same shape as a deflating hot air baloon as he took to tucking into chicken nuggets and other vulgar food when he last gave up crack. I will give him 2.5 out of 10.

Anyway I had a big bag full of clean washing but didn't want pubic lice, gonorrhoea, etc getting into it and so didn't make the offer... they didn't want me hanging outside but kept asking stupid questions like what was the time (I don't know as my mobile phone screen has gone and that was my only timepiece)... eventually Radio 4's thought for the day came on (meaning it was 10 to 8) so I told them this... then the weather, then the news... they needed to know the time so that I could go out find Evilstein and their spare key (o what a scene THAT would have made!)

Laundretta asked for something sharp/etc... I gave her my tomato knife. It was unfortunately covered in dry baked bean juice which she grimaced at as if it was crudsome diarrhoea. Then I found them a pair of scissors. This they used to chizel away the wood on the corner of their Yale-style lock.

Then more banging. Did I have a plastic card. No! I said pointedly as I never keep such valuables in here. (Glad I got that one in...) Eventually I did find an old Oyster card which is something you keep in a wallet or even a pocked and can touch through fabric onto a reader on buses or tube clappergates to get prepaid discount transport throughout London. This was luxuriously bendy and ten minutes later they got in and paid me a bit of crack for my troubles.

Technically I had given up crack but had already squared it with self that if I FOUND any (or someone gave it to me) that was different. I'm still not wasting my money on such rubbish.

Now they have both started speaking to me again. Well I suppose because they had to.

And I psychologically have promised not to laugh at what happened.

Ha-haargh!!

***

**

*

ALL SAINTS VIDEOS OF THE DAY:
1. Black Coffee (their best song)
2. Pure Shores (music from The Beach)
3. Never Ever (="Amazing Grace"... but 9/10 people don't seem to realize that)

***

**

*

ISN'T THE MUSIC BIZ A CRUEL MISTRESS?

Hear this from the Wikipedia's Shaznay Lewis (All Saints') article and bear in mind that with the eclipse of the Spice Girls in the late 90s they were the top-selling girlgroup (and always the coolest) of that decade...

On August 21, 2004 Shaznay married dancer Christian "Storm" Horsfall. Shaznay had her first child, a son named Tyler Xane, in February 2006.

On January 24, 2006 it was announced that All Saints have reformed with a new record contract and will release a new album, Studio 1 on November 13th 2006.[3] She performed with All Saints on live television for the first time since reforming on the UK light entertainment program, Ant & Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway on October 21st 2006. All Saints started their comeback off with a bang as their single Rock Steady went to ~3 in the UK. They quickly followed with their comeback album Studio 1 and things went downhill, the album flopped at a peak of ~40 in the UK and not charting in many other countries. Polydor then decided to take one last chance with All Saints and let them release their second single Chick Fit.The single failed to make the slightest impact not even hitting the top 200. All Saints were then dropped by record label Parlophone. The group say they will remain together and search for a new record company.

Laundretta is Not Mentally Retarted*

*THOUGH SHE IS LIVING WITH MATRAN.

THE COUNCIL MAN HOUSING MANAGER was pokeing about our house this morning, according to Laundretta. She's been spinning me some repeated cock-&-bull story about regular visits from a council officer to sort out her Council Tax situation. I'm afraid, after hearing her vociferously complain about mouse infestation (she has mice - not me! If anything the smell of my Chinese Mouster has been putting them off venturing across my territory) and then launching into her serial gripe which goes: "nobody ever cleans the bathroom except me!" I've told her time and again it's Elvis the Gnome downstairs who diarrhoeas up the side of the toilet and nothing to do with me but as I said, she wants me chucked out of here. Matran, her slimy, sleazy boyfriend is not speaking to me at all. Which is a relief, as I didn't like it when he did speak to me. Too much of slimy, false mannerisms nauseates me.


On our doorstep, where she was kncking back Special Brew, chainsmoking Richmond Superkings and flicking through the Daily Mirror, she feigned sympathy for my housing plight by enquiring solicitously how my housing "transfer" was going.

I'm actually, as far as I know, not having any transfer at all. But I've made out to her that I'm dead keen on this supposedly promised "transfer", as I want her to believe her and Matran's ousting campaign has been working ...

When Matran returned to witness her in dialogue with me he brusquely ordered her UP! and huffed past me into the house, slamming the front door momentously behind them.


I don't know on what grounds Laundretta's claiming her urgent rehousing requirements, as she professes neither to be signed off "sick" by the State, nor to have been put down as "vulnerable" by the Housing. Which means Laundretta, who has set off the fire alarms, headbutted a hole in the back window and did, until a couple of months ago, throw regular fake-weeping tantrums on the staircases (Valium Marilyn revealed that they were faked-up and Valium Marilyn of all people should spot fake tears when she comes across them...) and so on and so on and her staggeringly drunken behaviour. If Laundretta counts as mentally normal then - I'm serious! - there's hope yet for us all!

31C/88F was yesterday's official temperature and it's just as sweltering today.

Phew!

Does anyone know the famous Pensioner Youtuber Peter who posts filmettes of his reminiscences? He goes by the moniker "Geriatric 1927" and his most popular confessionals have accumulated over 2.3 million viewers each ...

Geriatric 1927 is my video star of the day.

Also: have you all seen my Animal Crackers Blog? Give it a mighty great click: I promise you'll love the escapades and entertainments.

Right: that's my Post of the Day over and done with.

Give Geriatric 1927 a click!

Council of the Damned

THE EEJUT COUNCIL MAN HAD THE CHEEK TO "SURPRISE" VISIT at 10:00 this morning then have a go at me for having left things all over the floor as I was clearing up. He told my landlord to throw away the one working light I have (a kind of bedside lampstand only with no shade) as it was a "fire risk". There was a real hilarity moment when he appeared to believe I kept my clothes in the fridge. The fridge and cupboard under the sink have identical-looking doors. But aparently I am not allowed to keep dirty (clothes) washing under the sink. Why? And so what if I did want to keep my clothes in the fridge? What on earth is wrong with that? I know it's a bit weird: but what is wrong with it? Anyway he said blah blah you must remove stuff. Dr Butterstein (the less evil landlord) took Polaroids of the binbags, scattered clothes, dropped newspapers, umbrellas and rugs that were piled up by the door waiting to go - go out in the trash. I don't know what "evidence" this is. It was obviously rubbish waiting to go out. Rubbish has got mixed in with my stuff by my landlord himself when he repainted the room he just bundled all he could find in black bags where it has stayed for months on end. Whenever I open one, of course little bits go flying everywhere. We no longer have a vacuum cleaner as Laundretta kicked it down the stairs in a drunken "episode" some months ago. Also the council man told me to dispose of my rugs. Why should I? I've just put them down where they belong (when he "surprised" me they were blocking the doorway because they'd just been brushed off out the upstairs window. That's what you get for turning up unnanounced.) The council here are so inept I'm astonished the guy could make it here once in one day, let alone the promised twice. Come to think of it I'm meant to be at home waiting on him. But my room is clean to my own satisfaction (considering all factors) and to be honest I feel like sticking two fingers up at the lot of them. "This is serious. You could end up on the street." He keeps saying. I always knew years ago the streets were where I would end up and I've been there before. Sometimes you can read a situation and this one is all conspired against me. E.g. Butterstein had the gall to lie to the council man's face saying he had been to me "every day all week" to tell me what to do. No he hasn't. I've had mixed messages and no message (remember they wouldn't even give me something in writing?) ... and so it goes on. I said very little this morning. When you know you're not being listened to it makes sense to save breath. Righto I'm getting another drink and going back. I will let you know what goes "down" ...

***

Here's 2 comments and my reply to them. They highlight dr evilstein's plotting scheme:-

Evil Spock said...
Evil Spock used to keep clean boxers in ziplock bags in the freezer.

Nothing like putting on cold crisp boxers in the summertime!

19 July 2007 16:15


The Discovering Alcoholic said...
Be careful Gled- as a project manager in the past I often let pictures paint the story I wanted people to see. They are setting you up for the boot.

Turn the tables on them. Take pictures of them when they come again and take notes of the replies they give to your questions. Have a friendly witness if possible.

19 July 2007 16:43


gledwood said...
spock: i was going to mention knickers/undies in freezer fettish but opted out: too much confusion already!

discovering: i know evilstein is manipulating me. council man is v much into v superficial appearances i.e. clean lines etc. evilstein is trying to get me to empty out drawers etc & pile up bags in middle of floor with boxes of books. this will make room look more cluttered and achieve evilstein's purpose - that I am still "scruffy" even after "clearing up" ... i am not taken in by evilstein's scheme at all!!
19 July 2007 17:08

(Evilstein is my landlord repairman. Butterstein is the ultimate bossman. I used to call him Betterstein bc I thought he was "better" than Evilstein. But know I know they're both just as slippery as each other. So Butterstein is the name that will "stick" (if that is not utter mixedmetaphorical contradiction in terms)... so to speak ...

Laundretta Chucked Out Too?

LAUNDRETTA JUST ASKED ME WHETHER OR NOT WE'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO BE STAYING, OR WHETHER WE GO. Because Dr Evilstein telephoned her when she was at her mother's on Friday informing her "out, out, out!" now she says it's not "out out out!" and I'm reassured at least that it's not just me who's somewhat confused about it all. She said "I need to know, as I need to tell Dr Bentos (her worker). I said to her "don't worry about it; if we were all getting chucked out today, I'm sure we'd all know about it."

As the saying goes: NO NEWS is (usually) GOOD NEWS ..!

PS While I was talking to her I said: "How many people use this upstairs bathroom."
Quickly she responded ... "Well three as my boyfriend doesn't officially live here."
"Okay then why do you always blame me for the mess in there?"
Because my room has been so messy, it transpired.
"Well I'm telling you it is not me, it never has been me leaving a disgusting mess in there. It has to be the guy downstairs. The guy whose ceiling you keep stomp-stomp-stomping all over."
That set her off. She "protested far too much" about how her boards are loose, how the sound cannot help but resinate through the roof.
"Have you ever fallen out with him?" I asked.
No. There is no "beef" between them whatsoever, she claims.
"Well don't you want to come down with me right now and confront him? Because it's disgusting what he's doing (pissing all over the toilet seat and just leaving it, etc) and it's quite obviously deliberate."
This she refused (rather strangely if you consider how convinced she's supposed to be that all is down to me).
"Well if you ever want to confront him, come with me and we will speak to him together," I said. (Speak? Yell, more like. He is disgusting.)
So that's what transpired at my house today ...

***

To find out in detail what is going to happen in World War III, click here.

***

Come here for a funky blog: Crib Ceiling

To Go or Not to Go

To go or not to go... that is the question.
The "landlord" (Dr Evilstein) I talk about is technically "chief workman" of the multiproperty franchise they have going across this area. And I am not a tenant, so I have no tenant's rights. I'm merely a "licencee" which means I'm granted licence to stay a night at a time on a 24-hour basis, renewed 21-nightly. So if they want to get rid of me or anyone else they most certainly have the legal right.
The "boss man" who I call Dr Betterstein because he's considerably brighter and more amenable to sense than Dr Evilstein did come and talk to me at some point. All I know is I'm meant to speak to someone on Monday, I think. This is all a bit hazy as my reaction was to hit the drink etc so hard that most of yesterday's recollection lies in tatters. I totally lost it and kept losing my possessions on the street. At one point a working girl I know, who is very nice, came up and knocked on my door with my address book. She'd found it in the phone box from where I'd called the council and knew it was mine from the methadone labels. Nearly all of what who said to whom about what has gone. Of course I know I'm meant to be getting chucked out, but seriously cannot remember the last of it. I do know that something's meant to be happening on Monday, so I'm arranging my stuff to go.

Considering that my ancestors trekked across Europe during an ice-age staving off wooly mammoths with sharpened sticks and shivering in torn animal skins in icy caves all winter I don't see how surviving in modern day London without a fixed address should be a problem. I have done it before. If my old place (a 1000 square foot industrial unit) is still open then I'm going there. 1000 sq foot is half the size of Paris Hilton's Los Angeles apartment and in a way I was happier there than crammed into one room. The downside there was no electricity and it got really expensive on candles; I was spending about £1 a day just on lighting. Also it is freezing cold. So cold that even in may my bedside drink was ice-cold by morning - as if it'd just come out of the fridge. But the cold is supposedly good for you. Did you know the shivering uses up excess calories? And breathing cold air at night works wonders for respiratory conditions - soldiers wounded in World Wars I and II did far better in tents than when transferred to the built-up "posh" hospitals... My old place is, however, running alive with rats. But i don't mind that as much as I mind matran and laundretta. I just hope I can still get back in. Otherwise the girl who came yesterday said she knows a couple of good places (where you do not have to share with others: I'm not living in a crackhouse. I'm too old for all that.)

Well let's see what happens on Monday. I thought I'd be alright ... I can't explain how.

And remember what it says in the Bible: "Consider the lillies of the field. They neither sow nor reap and yet Solomon in all his glory was never arrayed so fine". People pay lip service to those words but if you can't live by them what does that say?

Whatever happens, I will still be able to post as I'm doing so from the cafe at the end of my possibly soon-to-be-old road. So none of the important things will change.

As they say: when you're down, the only way is up....

...so...

Onwards and upwards!

***

PS I'm doing no fewer than three "memes"
Meeyauw's Music Meme
Daniel Thompson (Microtonal Composer Supreme)'s Meme
and
Zhu's Meme (which I kind of tagged myself for. I've not forogtten, Zhu)
so please give me a day or two to comply...
The musical one I'm going to post up on my musical blog but with links given here, as with my Power Ballads theme. If anyone has a power ballad they wanna hear, tell me; I'll post it up!!

Boilered To Death II

THIS POST COMES OUT OF MY RESPONSE TO TODAY'S EARLIER COMMENTS ...

The leaking whatever (what is it? a pipe? or just the gap where the hulking great old boiler was ripped from the wall..?) is below my room and so posing no immediate dampness threat. In fact, because of the peculiar lay-out of the house, nobody is at threat. But having just braved the dank dripping dark hallway (no lights in bathroom or toilet, no lights anywhere down the passageway)... it feels like the bucket has overflowed already. The carpet is sopping. When I return I will change it in the dark... you don't need to be able to see to know where to put it back as obviously you can hear it drip drip dripping down on the right place. NB the bucket is only there bc I put it there. Matran and Laundretta who claim to keep the bathroom so clean never bothered. I called him Matran bc it is a spoonerism of Rat-Man. She is Laundretta bc she is outwardly very clean (has to be for her job) ... but the accumulated nasties have ... well: I don't think she's clean on the inside... let's just say that.

Vincent: they came up and turned off the water at one point. The boiler man, who I heard talking on the phone... I get the impression he's v good but v expensive. I don't understand why they can't fix it. But maybe they would rather let everyone have water and just patch up the damage later..(?)

Something I want to make clear! When I stated that "my head is full of schemes.." I meant schemes for the future (ie ambitions). No I'm not wasting my energy on avenging myself on people like those two. They invite calamity on themselves~ I'll never need to get my hands dirty!! I'll let you in on my first scheme just as soon as I've got it started. I don't like talking things up before doing them too much. I think it dissipates the energy you could better spend on the project itself.

Which, come to think of it, is why I'm against those reality talent shows so much... Contestants being kept in a constrained, restricted environment with limited access to or contact with the outside world. This means that (especially as most of the participants in such shows tend to be between 18 and 25 years old) and emotional over-reliance on the new surroundings and those "inexplicable" outbursts of tears that so many people deride so much. I'm sorry but they're only crying bc they've been living, sleeping, thinking, breathing, doing nothing but that show for many weeks of their lives. An unthinkably glittering prize (like a £1000000 record deal) is dangling at the end of it. Trapped in the moment their entire self-esteem now seems to depend upon staying or going.

The other thing (and this was my original point) I loathe is the way these young people are put through their paces and expected not only to perform well but judged on how much seeming enthusiasm they put in (or: put another way. How much good old BS). Then, when they don't make their instructors' ludicrously high grade they are told they "don't want it enough" ... when they do. It's just bc they're starring in a sliced and spliced TV docu we don't realize quite how tired these people get at times. Anyway my point was (and my advice to self is:)if you have energy for something stop telling the world you want to do it. Do it!

Righto! And my post on today's papers might well have to wait until tomorrow!

Cheerio. As bank managers say to their wives in Worthing, "of" a morning ...

Boilered To Death

I NEARLY GOT RUN OVER BY A PRISON VAN JUST NOW... ok slight exaggeration. It did whizz right in front of my nose tho. I just thought that might be an "arresting" way to commence a post ...

Our house is still all boilered out. I had a wash in a bucket of freezing cold water, just like in Tudor times. Just like every day for the last seemingly six months ... Some tank in the ceiling has sprung a leak. Though it is only drip-dripping through it's filled two entire buckets in about half a day. The plaster's not come down from the ceiling yet (not like last time) so it's not that bad. I'm trying to remember where I was and when the entire ceiling caved in like mushy tea-soaked toast. Ook! It was horrible. It got everywhere! Ukk! Where was that now? Possibly (quite possibly) in my present house. My memory's gone so patchy at times. E.g. I can remember conversations yet cannot recall who with. Which, as you'll imagine, is rather inconvenient...

Laundretta and Matran have been remarkably quiet. People have asked me how/why I put up with them. All I can say is, when they first came on the scene I was in such a state that their objectionable behaviours pretty much went over my head. In one ear; out the other. Whatever. I was gradually emerging from a sitting in the middle of the floor all day and staring into space stage of life and so nothing they did or said could really faze me. As I said yesterday I was well aware of what she'd been saying about me; it was just hearing it with my own ears that offended me so.

I could not sleep properly last night and so wound up sleeping all through much of the day. Then at three o'clock Dr Evilstein, my landlord barged the door in (no lock or catch on my door so it's just swinging open all the time. Has been for months. And people wonder why I don't bother keeping the place nice??!) anyway he said "keep the taps shut" (bc he can't speak proper English: he meant keep 'em turned off.) So I ran a big bucket of water and got up and now I'm saying this....

I don't know what else to say now... my head is full of schemes... I have realized I am too good for this life and have been slumming it for far too long. That's why I don't feel any need to avenge myself on Laundretta for basicaly lying about me (saying I was leaving the most disgusting mess in the bathroom - when I've told her repeatedly who does that). Because I will leave this nasty life behind me. Her and her Ratman will in all probability remain wallowing in it for the rest of their lives. So that's that.

Right I'm off!
See I did update my links as promised.
But they are still not finished. I am just racking my brains for a power ballad of the day...

Vulgarity House

IT'S ALL HAPPENING TODAY AT "CASA VULGARIDAD" (that is now the official name of my London "residence"; we're getting a burnt plaque made up. Laundretta's going to stub out her endless ciggies onto a template I've made. So it should be finished by late this afternoon ...)

OUR BOILER IS NOW fully removed. And lying in the front garden.

AND THEY SAY "A FISH GETS CAUGHT BY OPENING ITS MOUTH ..."
LAUNDRETTA is a bitch! Because I managed to return home, step over the repairman's legs and enter my room without him noticing (I wasn't actually trying to do this, just realized it was what I'd achieved a while later ...) ... she emerged from her room and engaged in slagging me off for half an hour nonstop to this guy who she barely even knows ... all my supposed acts and omissions (some of it was outright libellous) ... she ranted on and on. And me being me, I remained behind my closed door and let her carry on. They say give someone enough rope ... Well she just did. I've always known she slags me off behind my back ~ it's not that that bothers me. It is that she was openly trying to get me thrown out that has me offended. Well don't worry Laundretta. I've kept my mouth shut about you headbutting the back windowpane the third day after you moved in (drunk, of course), I've said nothing about you and your rat of a boyfriend's bashing our front door in repeatedly because you cannot get it together to copy and keep two sets of keys. I said nothing when you practically turned your room into a crackhouse at one point. I can't wait to see her next. I will be even more oblivious-seeming than normal. People like Laundretta make their own downfall so nothing is required of me. But if she does ever fall off a cliff, maybe I won't tread on her fingers but I don't know that I'll be giving her a hand-up either ...

I DO APOLOGIZE. I HAVE BEEN VERY REMISS at visiting anybody's blog of late. I've just been logging on, posting, drifting, logging out. My thoughts are uncollected (apart from here.) Yeah, OK, to put it another way: I've been really antisocial. I promise to try harder next time.... Only please nb "best blogs vi"... I have at least gone some tiny way to updating my links. Anyone who comments tonight I promise to add them (if you're not already there) by tomorrow. How's that for crap old me? Hokey dokey. I've written out part 11 of my own "vulgaridad" ... now I'd better tell it so stay tuned ...

LASTLY: CONTINUING MY POWER-BALLADS THEME,

this is Tina Turner's best-ever track

& it's aptly called

SIMPLY THE BEST

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HERE'S A BLOG RECOMMENDATION of the day:

Valerie's Brilliant Beads Blog - well worth a look if you're into crafts etc...