Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Ah, another tiring example of a Saturday. I actually spent most of yesterday convinced it was Saturday (I mean Friday, rather than yesterday, because I suppose it was Saturday yesterday given the time I write this) so it’s like my second Saturday in a row.

This morning I slept in again and when I got up, read my copy of “Dork”. Evan Dorkin seems like one pretty depressed guy. I’m not certain that it’s autobiographical, it seems to be at least, but I’m quite enjoying it. There’s an excellent sequence called “Jesus: King of the Messiahs” whereby a Godzilla-sized Jesus rampages through a city.

After I dragged myself out of the warm and comfy bed, Nikki and I went to Tescos and I got potatoes. I later cooked my beef. Unfortunately, as beef often does when I cook it, it tasted a bit bland and certainly not half as nice as it should. There’s an unwritten rule (Actually, all my rules are unwritten. Actually…)

Rule #324 - The Beefeater Clause:
James must attempt, at least once a term, to cook some beef even though he fails horribly to produce anything edible most of the time and it’s actually quite expensive.

Okay. There’s a written rule (#324) that I should attempt to cook beef once a term, despite it being a largely pointless endeavour. It adds a little variety to my otherwise poultry-based diet, and when it does work it’s a rewarding meal indeed, but this time it was pretty mediocre.

As I was finishing my meal, Rachel came over, marking the first appearance of anyone in the house for hours, since Nikki and I were the only inhabitants not otherwise engaged, and they made themselves tarts. To eat, that is, I would never besmirch their no doubt entirely unblemished reputations by suggesting that they made themselves look like tarts. These were entirely the edible kind. After that we went and watched the Fireworks in South Park. The fireworks were in South Park, at least, we were in our Front Garden like the rest of the local wasters unwilling to pay the £5 entrance fee. I can’t say much about fireworks except that they were pretty cool. To my knowledge, no-one can dislike fireworks, kind of like rainbows, there’s just nothing to hate about them. Except maybe that fireworks make noise, if you’re that way inclined.

Tom eventually came back from his socialist newspaper election thing in London and spent the rest of the evening drinking budget vodka from the cap as we all talked. Ian got back too, and joined in the fun by incinerating his pie. I was telling Rachel how I found a lot of the characters in Dorian Grey to be secretly homosexual, and she pointed out to me that it was because they keep flinging themselves onto couches, rather than sitting on them. An accurate assessment.

Later, Ian, Tom and I tried to disturb Nikki and Rachel by showing them goatse.cx and, having not been there for months, I was slightly perturbed to find that the one time I actually wanted to see goatse.cx’s horrible image it had been replaced with a comedy Halloween one. Typical.

Tomorrow the plan is to get up earlyish so that I can go to sleep earlyish so I can get up at a godforsaken hour of the morning and go to networking. Also, I have courseworks to do, and no doubt more things beside. The rest of November holes many activities. Besides all the coursework, I have the Matrix 3, Dave Gorman, The Mars Volta, perhaps Martin Grech, and no doubt more to attend. Red Dwarf and possibly X-Men 2/Hulk DVDs to buy. At least one party to go to. It’s no doubt going to be a comparatively wild ride from now until Christmas, so I should enjoy the sedateness while I can.