I apologise for the abrupt ending in my last blog. I suddenly felt apathetic and didn't want to write any more. I curled into a ball and huddled in a corner somewhere.
Enough about that.
Right, I kicked in my automatic Plan B, which works for nearly everything. Find a room, shove everything into a bin bag and out of the way, then put the people in there. New tablecloth, glass dish thing. Wow. Looks like a palace. My middle finger still feels numb. I start to think that this BBQ may just turn out to be bearable. And that's when guests start arriving...
Three girls, Acronym, PhD and Sensible, ring the doorbell and I answer (a traditional response). I do the usual host routine. Do you want a drink? Put your coat here. Keys in the bowl. All that jazz. We sit and small talk and then someone wants to go get some cider. Why they couldn't do that on the way here, I have no idea. This seems to be a very common thing that people do and it wastes so much time. Get a grip, world. More were not arriving for a while, so I decided to walk them to the nearest off-license, dressed as if it were summer (well, a summer that wasn't cold and filled with rain). Met another friend on the way there, Chekhov, who had just been dumped two days before. No chance of her coming, right? Keep reading, true believer.
Sensible buys some blue WKD, we all reminisce when we thought it was strong and head back towards my house. Meet more people on the way, some of the lads. Whey, laddish. Let's go talk about that "ludicrous display" last night. Got there, got the home draught out. Nobody knows how to work it, so it's about 60/40 head to beer ratio. Haha, head. That innuendo kept us occupied for hours on end. More people arrive, more people than I expect. Turns out I invited people whilst drunk. Oh dear. I cook the food, people eat the food. Fun is had. Though I miss most of it, as I am cooking and making sure that my house isn't demolished. Be civilised, you absolute cretins.
Chekhov leaves early after being quiet the whole time. THE EX chases after him. I bet that was a great conversation. You guys can't even decide where each of you are going to be to avoid making things awkward. I wonder how communication broke down. Anyway, everything turns out fine. I perform my stand-up, which is filled with one-liners and a small story about how my Brazilian heritage does not make me good at football. Disturbingly nervous as I'm performing in front my friends. Strange. Maybe I'm not cut-out for it.
People leave and ask if I'm going clubbing after. It's a Wednesday, of course I'm not going clubbing. Fuck off. I get a hug from Sensible, which always stops me cold as if I've just hit puberty. Ach, only a month until I never see her again and someone else takes her place. Life is good.
I start to clean. There is a hot dog bun in a pint glass and Barry White in the background. This was so surreal, I just went to bed.
Christ.
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Saturday, 14 August 2010
The Day I Hosted 04/08/10 (Part 1)
I had a 10 pint home draught, I cannot actually drink that by myself. It is not within me. Therefore, I invited people round for a BBQ to all drink it together. Here is that story and will probably explain why I do not usually host things.
Woke up at 10:30. People were arriving at 12:30. And I had no food for a BBQ. Oh fucking dear. Dressed into my oldest clothes and then ran off to the bus stop with some loose notes and a desire not to make this day a waste for anyone. Got on the bus with my mp3 on, knowing that I had no money left on my Oyster and if I had my music blaring, I cannot hear the driver shouting at me. Absolute intelligence at its finest.
Got off the bus near the Shopping Centre and walked past the charity book shop, saw something I wanted and bought it. A book by Jasper Fforde that I wanted. This put me below budget for the barbecue. Oh, tiddlywinks. I bought meat and drinks AKA Coca Cola. Some woman gave me a look as if to say, "You've never been shopping in your life." And you've never stopped shopping, I see you here every week. Bitch.
Right. Now we get the problem of the TESCO shopping bags, which seem to be made out of incompetent clouds. As soon as I was away from the shop, they ripped. I can't go back now, but I do not know how to carry these items. Suddenly, I saw a familiar face. Now, I think I was obviously in need of help, so I thought this guy might help out a bit. Just carry one Coke bottle, that's all. I got fuck all. Go fuck yourself, mate. Get onto the bus in an awkward position that nearly breaks my wrist and actually makes my middle finger numb for a week. Didn't see the doctor, I'm far too arrogant for that.
Get home. Ow. Set the table and the chairs outside. New tablecloth. Freshly mowed lawn. Perfect.
It starts to rain. At a BBQ. I stand there for five minutes, contemplating life and my very existence. I was going to have a mental breakdown, but I'm far too arrogant for that.
PART 2 COMING SOON
Woke up at 10:30. People were arriving at 12:30. And I had no food for a BBQ. Oh fucking dear. Dressed into my oldest clothes and then ran off to the bus stop with some loose notes and a desire not to make this day a waste for anyone. Got on the bus with my mp3 on, knowing that I had no money left on my Oyster and if I had my music blaring, I cannot hear the driver shouting at me. Absolute intelligence at its finest.
Got off the bus near the Shopping Centre and walked past the charity book shop, saw something I wanted and bought it. A book by Jasper Fforde that I wanted. This put me below budget for the barbecue. Oh, tiddlywinks. I bought meat and drinks AKA Coca Cola. Some woman gave me a look as if to say, "You've never been shopping in your life." And you've never stopped shopping, I see you here every week. Bitch.
Right. Now we get the problem of the TESCO shopping bags, which seem to be made out of incompetent clouds. As soon as I was away from the shop, they ripped. I can't go back now, but I do not know how to carry these items. Suddenly, I saw a familiar face. Now, I think I was obviously in need of help, so I thought this guy might help out a bit. Just carry one Coke bottle, that's all. I got fuck all. Go fuck yourself, mate. Get onto the bus in an awkward position that nearly breaks my wrist and actually makes my middle finger numb for a week. Didn't see the doctor, I'm far too arrogant for that.
Get home. Ow. Set the table and the chairs outside. New tablecloth. Freshly mowed lawn. Perfect.
It starts to rain. At a BBQ. I stand there for five minutes, contemplating life and my very existence. I was going to have a mental breakdown, but I'm far too arrogant for that.
PART 2 COMING SOON
Monday, 9 August 2010
03/08/10 - Obligatory Drinks
Another birthday. Another 18th birthday. Do people not realise that my stamina is limited without forcing myself to be fraternise with people that annoy me? Oh well. Moan over. Let's do some more moaning.
I genuinely thought that this would be fine. It was at a bar reasonably near me, so if it turned out to be drier than the Sahara (heard that metaphor before? Everyone has.), I could easily go home. The bar was also having a student night, so it wouldn't be that expensive. I could probably spend less than a tenner and it would be fine. Some people I hadn't talked to in a while, women people, would be there, so it had potential. However, newly born babies all have the potential to become the next fascist dictator that will shape their country for years to come, but most end up with Job Seekers' Allowance. See where I'm going with this?
Arrived there to find the birthday girl smoking with her sister. Her sister who is only 17 in an 18-and-over bar. My common sense started tingling, I said Happy Birthday and went in to see the rest of the crowd. Before the small talk, I went to the bar and ordered a typical teenager drink (it comes in a pint glass) and was charged over three pounds.
"Isn't it Student Night?"
"Yeah. Still the same prices though."
Oh fucking dear.
Small talk. Somebody was depressed, I found out the next day that she had broken up with ehr boyfriend. And I made jokes about him all night. Oh well. Wasn't a great friendship anyway. Our table was on the "dancefloor" so we had to move, while we eyed up a man who took up a booth all to himself. Why did we care? The booth could fit six at most and there were ten of us. I hang around with the biggest bunch of cretins sometimes. Eventually, people I knew from a few years back came in, people that actually have a decent social life. Made small talk with them for 20 minutes, didn't actually feel like small talk. I wish I was with them. They also brought some talent with them. Some talent. However, I knew I had no chance, so I didn't waste my time. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Now, we get ludicrous. One of the friends invited was 17 and couldn't get in. So we all left.
"This place wasn't 'live' anyway!"
"It's 9:30..." You utter moron
So we went to a place that was supposed to be a club, how the 17-year-olds would get into the club, I do not know. Turned out to not be a club, but a shisha bar that had salsa lessons on the top floor. I nearly used "The Emergency Gun" to put myself out of this torment and misery. Then there was sitting on grass. I went to the off license and bought six bottles of beer, which I drank within 20 minutes. Help me. That is obviously a cry for help. Notice it and make this night ununbearable. Or just bearable.
At this point, we went back to the bar, which was now packed with people, told the 17s to fuck the hell off. And danced for half an hour, before I decided enough was enough. I need to survive this crap.
I left. I had chicken on the way home. Simple pleasures.
I genuinely thought that this would be fine. It was at a bar reasonably near me, so if it turned out to be drier than the Sahara (heard that metaphor before? Everyone has.), I could easily go home. The bar was also having a student night, so it wouldn't be that expensive. I could probably spend less than a tenner and it would be fine. Some people I hadn't talked to in a while, women people, would be there, so it had potential. However, newly born babies all have the potential to become the next fascist dictator that will shape their country for years to come, but most end up with Job Seekers' Allowance. See where I'm going with this?
Arrived there to find the birthday girl smoking with her sister. Her sister who is only 17 in an 18-and-over bar. My common sense started tingling, I said Happy Birthday and went in to see the rest of the crowd. Before the small talk, I went to the bar and ordered a typical teenager drink (it comes in a pint glass) and was charged over three pounds.
"Isn't it Student Night?"
"Yeah. Still the same prices though."
Oh fucking dear.
Small talk. Somebody was depressed, I found out the next day that she had broken up with ehr boyfriend. And I made jokes about him all night. Oh well. Wasn't a great friendship anyway. Our table was on the "dancefloor" so we had to move, while we eyed up a man who took up a booth all to himself. Why did we care? The booth could fit six at most and there were ten of us. I hang around with the biggest bunch of cretins sometimes. Eventually, people I knew from a few years back came in, people that actually have a decent social life. Made small talk with them for 20 minutes, didn't actually feel like small talk. I wish I was with them. They also brought some talent with them. Some talent. However, I knew I had no chance, so I didn't waste my time. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Now, we get ludicrous. One of the friends invited was 17 and couldn't get in. So we all left.
"This place wasn't 'live' anyway!"
"It's 9:30..." You utter moron
So we went to a place that was supposed to be a club, how the 17-year-olds would get into the club, I do not know. Turned out to not be a club, but a shisha bar that had salsa lessons on the top floor. I nearly used "The Emergency Gun" to put myself out of this torment and misery. Then there was sitting on grass. I went to the off license and bought six bottles of beer, which I drank within 20 minutes. Help me. That is obviously a cry for help. Notice it and make this night ununbearable. Or just bearable.
At this point, we went back to the bar, which was now packed with people, told the 17s to fuck the hell off. And danced for half an hour, before I decided enough was enough. I need to survive this crap.
I left. I had chicken on the way home. Simple pleasures.
Friday, 6 August 2010
Emirates Cup 01/08/10
Righto, let's play catch up.
Took the Tube to this game after being interrogated why I was leaving so early. Because I'm hungover, want to get out the house and talk to my friends, that's fucking why. Drunk fucks. The bitter, cold air hit me and I regretted not having a Celtic scarf. This will come up later, no spoilers, but I bought a scarf. For £8.
On the tube, I was asked by an AC Milan fan if I was a Celtic fan. He was obviously a genius detective, as he noticed I was wearing a Celtic top. Deductive skills of a maniac. He asked me if I knew the supporter that slapped Dida in a previous Champions League match. I did not. he was disappointed. Idiot. It's like tourists that seem to think everyone who lives in Britain has met the Queen. She is sort of busy polishing her jewels and whatnot. And polishing the Royal Jewels. Yeah. I went there.
Arrived. Bought scarf. Nearly broke into tears as I completed a life long dream. Met friends at a pub, where a seven year old was collecting glasses and bringing them inside. This made me reasonably mad as I am currently struggling to get a summer job. What is the world's problem? Though he probably has better qualifications than me.
AC Milan v Lyon
Average. Jimmy Briand is an absolute beast.
Arsenal v Celtic
Celtic supporters made me proud today, as they always do. Arsenal supporters are crap, booing us as we were standing up and not involving ourselves in a Mexican wave. Idiocy. We lost 3-2, the score flattered us a little bit, but there was a good comeback.
Later on, we went for a crap pub quiz. Left early. Our mate is not gay and knows nothing about gossip. We get it. Fine. Many things were said over and over, I cracked and started laughing too much. Ergh.
This has been another cringe-worthy post in the Holiblog. Salutations. May catch up and eventually write about my trip to France. Eventful. Set the date.
Took the Tube to this game after being interrogated why I was leaving so early. Because I'm hungover, want to get out the house and talk to my friends, that's fucking why. Drunk fucks. The bitter, cold air hit me and I regretted not having a Celtic scarf. This will come up later, no spoilers, but I bought a scarf. For £8.
On the tube, I was asked by an AC Milan fan if I was a Celtic fan. He was obviously a genius detective, as he noticed I was wearing a Celtic top. Deductive skills of a maniac. He asked me if I knew the supporter that slapped Dida in a previous Champions League match. I did not. he was disappointed. Idiot. It's like tourists that seem to think everyone who lives in Britain has met the Queen. She is sort of busy polishing her jewels and whatnot. And polishing the Royal Jewels. Yeah. I went there.
Arrived. Bought scarf. Nearly broke into tears as I completed a life long dream. Met friends at a pub, where a seven year old was collecting glasses and bringing them inside. This made me reasonably mad as I am currently struggling to get a summer job. What is the world's problem? Though he probably has better qualifications than me.
AC Milan v Lyon
Average. Jimmy Briand is an absolute beast.
Arsenal v Celtic
Celtic supporters made me proud today, as they always do. Arsenal supporters are crap, booing us as we were standing up and not involving ourselves in a Mexican wave. Idiocy. We lost 3-2, the score flattered us a little bit, but there was a good comeback.
Later on, we went for a crap pub quiz. Left early. Our mate is not gay and knows nothing about gossip. We get it. Fine. Many things were said over and over, I cracked and started laughing too much. Ergh.
This has been another cringe-worthy post in the Holiblog. Salutations. May catch up and eventually write about my trip to France. Eventful. Set the date.
Monday, 2 August 2010
26/07-31/07
I have been slacking off on this blog. Unacceptable to the seven people that read it. Don't rely on this blog. Read Will Self or Jeremy Clarkson (both sides of the spectrum there).
Monday
Another 18th to go to. Much vodka was drank, I ended up in a right mess. Kicked a pint glass and ended up with a career ruining bruise on my toe. Had take away chicken, which was also a right mess. Not many details can be remembered here. I should really write things down.
Tuesday
Nothing to report, dear.
Wednesday
Met up with some very nice people. They are nice because they read this blog. Stuff was drank under special offers...this was actually on Monday, I think. Or the party was on Wednesday. Jesus wept.
Much interesting and humourous conversation was had. I enjoyed it greatly, no matter what day it was on.
Thursday/Friday
Could be fuck all, could have been the greatest two days of my life. No clue.
Saturday
Family was having a dinner party, so I naturally felt obliged to make myself scarce and bugger off to some other postcode and drink there.
"When will you be back?"
Never "Eleven."
Went to a friend's workplace for a few drinks. Let's call him Siber. He is not from Siberia. Then carried on to his house, without him as his shift ends far too late, for banter, kebabs and general conversation. Enjoyable and cheap. Like a prostitute from Feltham. Except the night was actually enjoyable.
That's my vague week. Also:
Rush Hour is awful. Accept it.
Monday
Another 18th to go to. Much vodka was drank, I ended up in a right mess. Kicked a pint glass and ended up with a career ruining bruise on my toe. Had take away chicken, which was also a right mess. Not many details can be remembered here. I should really write things down.
Tuesday
Nothing to report, dear.
Wednesday
Met up with some very nice people. They are nice because they read this blog. Stuff was drank under special offers...this was actually on Monday, I think. Or the party was on Wednesday. Jesus wept.
Much interesting and humourous conversation was had. I enjoyed it greatly, no matter what day it was on.
Thursday/Friday
Could be fuck all, could have been the greatest two days of my life. No clue.
Saturday
Family was having a dinner party, so I naturally felt obliged to make myself scarce and bugger off to some other postcode and drink there.
"When will you be back?"
Never "Eleven."
Went to a friend's workplace for a few drinks. Let's call him Siber. He is not from Siberia. Then carried on to his house, without him as his shift ends far too late, for banter, kebabs and general conversation. Enjoyable and cheap. Like a prostitute from Feltham. Except the night was actually enjoyable.
That's my vague week. Also:
- Decided to become a stand up comedian and started writing and sharing jokes. Mixed reviews. I assume I'm funnier in normal conversation, so I need to find a way to bring that into my routine somehow. Answers on a postcard.
- I have just remembered that on Thursday, I saw The Hoosiers, let's call them The Hoosiers, at the iTunes festival. An abundance of children there, who all decided to mosh to "Goodbye, Mr A." Shambles. The support act, Diagram of the Heart, were also much better. So that's something. Look them up on FaceSpace.
- I fell in love with the BBC show, Sherlock. I would write about it in my television blog, but I feel that has more or less died after four posts and I cannot be bothered. Consider yourself lucky.
Rush Hour is awful. Accept it.
Monday, 26 July 2010
The Second Driving Test Attempt 26/07/2010
This time I actually had my driving test. Let's get that tension out of the way quickly and reduce this blog to nothingness. There's no conflict anymore. Good.
Woke up to some Mini Viva song on the alarm clock at 7:20, 40 minutes before I was due to be picked up by my instructor. I got ready and put on some incredibly old and comfortable clothes and walked to the local petrol station to get an overpriced energy drink, obviously, that is more important than eating. Obviously. Walking down my road, I noticed immense traffic. Some may think it's ironic, as my test was cancelled due to traffic and now I may not get there due to traffic. Stop. It isn't ironic, just annoying as fuck. I shouted "WHY?!" like a maniac at which a driver leaned out of his window and said to me "Well, I'm not happy about it either, mate."
That put me in my place really. And I'm not your mate.
Eventually got back home and watched Oliver! for a few minutes, listening to "You Have to Pick a Pocket or Two" several times. Best song in the film. A decision was made, I would get rid of all bodily fluids now and save time later. Not that bodily fluid, I didn't have all the time in the world. As soon as I start, the phone rings and I'm the only one awake. It was bound to be my instructor, Gere, complaining about the traffic. Will anything go well?
Eventually, he drove me through the traffic and we started practicing. Stalled three times and couldn't put the car in gear half the time. This made me happy. Get the mistakes out of the way now. Kill everyone in the car now, nobody has to do the test. There's a good chap.
Eventually (second time I've used eventually, fuck me), we got to the test centre, immediately went to the toilet and took my piss for confidence. Got back for my driving instructor to say, "Do your fly up, I think that's a minor." His stand up DVD come out at the end of time itself. Pre-order it.
Examiner came out and checked my license (both parts), but not my theory pass certificate. Is this your first day on the job, missus? It was a woman. Cue jokes about them not being able to drive. Which they can't. Stereotype? Yeah, your point? Stereotypes don't appear out of nothing. They are true. So shut up. She then checked my eyesight with a license plate in the distance, all fine until a letter came up that could have been W or M. I took my time and then said W. She was fine with that and we walked to car. After a quick glance, I noticed it was an M. This was not going to be a good examiner. A hypocrite at least. Then she asked me to open the bonnet, which I did, and tell her where the oil was and how to check it, which I did. Smooth. We went inside the car and she asked me about the headrest. WHAT?! Who cares about the headrest?
"Where should the headrest be?"
"Behind your head."
"But where?"
"...the back of the head."
"No, not exactly. Adjust it please."
Fuck off "Alright."
This went on for at least a fortnight. And I got a minor, although you should only get a minor if you answer BOTH questions wrong. Complaint if I don't pass.
Started driving and there was a left turn. Nothing in sight, and I LOOKED. Damn hard. There was only a learner car driving at 4mph. This was the gap. I had found THE GAP. I went and there was a slight swerve in my turn. She jumped out of her seat and went for the wheel like a maniac. Or a fascist (?). I quickly started driving as if would get the wheel away from her. She seemed content to just write stuff about me, like a gossip suffering withdrawal symptoms. I could have pulled the wheel out of the car, but that may be a minor. Several turns in a row. What are you playing at?
Three point turn/turn around in the road. Viciously looking at both sides all the time, like a mute who was trying to refuse the sexual advances of a hippo. Minor for lack of observation. Get out of town, you deviant. Had to pull over about seven times as this indecisive woman chose a spot to parallel park or reverse around a corner. When the examiner is more nervous than the examinee, that's a bad sign. And I was sweating buckets. BUCKETS. I think she gained her own tropical climate.
Dual carriageway. Minor for speeding, even though I was changing lanes down a hill and if I had braked to slow down, I would have died. Hey, always stay to the speed limit, kids. Even if you're about to die. I learned that the hard way, by living. So yeah. Roundabouts were fun, I found several of THE GAPS. Awesome.
Parallel parked. She was mute, so I never knew when she wanted me to drive on. Awkward standing still for three minutes. Reverse a little bit.
"Drive on."
I hate you.
Right, after several pedantic little turns, we got back to the office and I got my result. Passed. With 11 minors. Quite inside a pass, but she gave me "the benefit of the doubt". Go away, you're giving me a tumour. Bitch. Extremely harsh marking, by someone with less nerves than Scooby Doo. A pass is a pass. First time pass. Take that.
If you haven't done a first time pass, then you can't drive. Probably a woman too. So fucking there.
I'm going to go live without an ID for 20 days.
No, who the fuck carries their passport around with them?
Woke up to some Mini Viva song on the alarm clock at 7:20, 40 minutes before I was due to be picked up by my instructor. I got ready and put on some incredibly old and comfortable clothes and walked to the local petrol station to get an overpriced energy drink, obviously, that is more important than eating. Obviously. Walking down my road, I noticed immense traffic. Some may think it's ironic, as my test was cancelled due to traffic and now I may not get there due to traffic. Stop. It isn't ironic, just annoying as fuck. I shouted "WHY?!" like a maniac at which a driver leaned out of his window and said to me "Well, I'm not happy about it either, mate."
That put me in my place really. And I'm not your mate.
Eventually got back home and watched Oliver! for a few minutes, listening to "You Have to Pick a Pocket or Two" several times. Best song in the film. A decision was made, I would get rid of all bodily fluids now and save time later. Not that bodily fluid, I didn't have all the time in the world. As soon as I start, the phone rings and I'm the only one awake. It was bound to be my instructor, Gere, complaining about the traffic. Will anything go well?
Eventually, he drove me through the traffic and we started practicing. Stalled three times and couldn't put the car in gear half the time. This made me happy. Get the mistakes out of the way now. Kill everyone in the car now, nobody has to do the test. There's a good chap.
Eventually (second time I've used eventually, fuck me), we got to the test centre, immediately went to the toilet and took my piss for confidence. Got back for my driving instructor to say, "Do your fly up, I think that's a minor." His stand up DVD come out at the end of time itself. Pre-order it.
Examiner came out and checked my license (both parts), but not my theory pass certificate. Is this your first day on the job, missus? It was a woman. Cue jokes about them not being able to drive. Which they can't. Stereotype? Yeah, your point? Stereotypes don't appear out of nothing. They are true. So shut up. She then checked my eyesight with a license plate in the distance, all fine until a letter came up that could have been W or M. I took my time and then said W. She was fine with that and we walked to car. After a quick glance, I noticed it was an M. This was not going to be a good examiner. A hypocrite at least. Then she asked me to open the bonnet, which I did, and tell her where the oil was and how to check it, which I did. Smooth. We went inside the car and she asked me about the headrest. WHAT?! Who cares about the headrest?
"Where should the headrest be?"
"Behind your head."
"But where?"
"...the back of the head."
"No, not exactly. Adjust it please."
Fuck off "Alright."
This went on for at least a fortnight. And I got a minor, although you should only get a minor if you answer BOTH questions wrong. Complaint if I don't pass.
Started driving and there was a left turn. Nothing in sight, and I LOOKED. Damn hard. There was only a learner car driving at 4mph. This was the gap. I had found THE GAP. I went and there was a slight swerve in my turn. She jumped out of her seat and went for the wheel like a maniac. Or a fascist (?). I quickly started driving as if would get the wheel away from her. She seemed content to just write stuff about me, like a gossip suffering withdrawal symptoms. I could have pulled the wheel out of the car, but that may be a minor. Several turns in a row. What are you playing at?
Three point turn/turn around in the road. Viciously looking at both sides all the time, like a mute who was trying to refuse the sexual advances of a hippo. Minor for lack of observation. Get out of town, you deviant. Had to pull over about seven times as this indecisive woman chose a spot to parallel park or reverse around a corner. When the examiner is more nervous than the examinee, that's a bad sign. And I was sweating buckets. BUCKETS. I think she gained her own tropical climate.
Dual carriageway. Minor for speeding, even though I was changing lanes down a hill and if I had braked to slow down, I would have died. Hey, always stay to the speed limit, kids. Even if you're about to die. I learned that the hard way, by living. So yeah. Roundabouts were fun, I found several of THE GAPS. Awesome.
Parallel parked. She was mute, so I never knew when she wanted me to drive on. Awkward standing still for three minutes. Reverse a little bit.
"Drive on."
I hate you.
Right, after several pedantic little turns, we got back to the office and I got my result. Passed. With 11 minors. Quite inside a pass, but she gave me "the benefit of the doubt". Go away, you're giving me a tumour. Bitch. Extremely harsh marking, by someone with less nerves than Scooby Doo. A pass is a pass. First time pass. Take that.
If you haven't done a first time pass, then you can't drive. Probably a woman too. So fucking there.
I'm going to go live without an ID for 20 days.
No, who the fuck carries their passport around with them?
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Driving Test 21/07/2010
Early morning for this. I had to wake up at like eight. Nightmare. Slipped down the stairs. I wondered if I could get out of the test with a slipped disc or detached retina. Probably, but without a refund as the DSA have neither compassion nor a soul.
Went round the track once before the test. The track. I sound like a moron. As if there is one track. Anyway, on this short practice, everything went well, but then again, I think I'm a better driver than everyone else in the county, despite only learning for a year. Banter between me and the driving instructor about football and his trip to China. Why the fuck are you in China? I have a driving test.
We get to the test centre after the strangest parking maneuvre of all time.
"Right, turn all the way around, reverse close to the curb, not too close, don't get close to the car."
Sounded absurd in my head. Probably perfectly normal.
Get inside the centre. Nice adequate chair.
"Do you need the toilet?"
I do, now that you had to mention it. What if the instructor says something about a toilet during the test and I instantly piss? Have I been Pavlovian conditioned? "Yes."
Shit toilet, but quite clean. Get outside. Feeling confident, like everytime I take a piss. IF I CAN PISS, I CAN DO ANYTHING!
Yeah, the test was cancelled. Due to intense traffic. Hmm.
I just drove round your track. There was no traffic, but I suppose that would make a horrible test, as nobody ever drives when there's traffic. There is never traffic. Never. That's in the Highway Code. Also, my test was then organised to Monday morning at 9:07. An incredibly specific time. When there is a rush hour of people going to their desk jobs. What? There's never intense traffic in Rush Hour obviously. Have you never been to work? Or seen that horrible Jackie Chan/guy who isn't Chris Rock film? PLENTY OF CARS.
Update tomorrow. Unless it's cancelled again due to there being roads. Even if it is cancelled, I'll write something. Sigh.
Went round the track once before the test. The track. I sound like a moron. As if there is one track. Anyway, on this short practice, everything went well, but then again, I think I'm a better driver than everyone else in the county, despite only learning for a year. Banter between me and the driving instructor about football and his trip to China. Why the fuck are you in China? I have a driving test.
We get to the test centre after the strangest parking maneuvre of all time.
"Right, turn all the way around, reverse close to the curb, not too close, don't get close to the car."
Sounded absurd in my head. Probably perfectly normal.
Get inside the centre. Nice adequate chair.
"Do you need the toilet?"
I do, now that you had to mention it. What if the instructor says something about a toilet during the test and I instantly piss? Have I been Pavlovian conditioned? "Yes."
Shit toilet, but quite clean. Get outside. Feeling confident, like everytime I take a piss. IF I CAN PISS, I CAN DO ANYTHING!
Yeah, the test was cancelled. Due to intense traffic. Hmm.
I just drove round your track. There was no traffic, but I suppose that would make a horrible test, as nobody ever drives when there's traffic. There is never traffic. Never. That's in the Highway Code. Also, my test was then organised to Monday morning at 9:07. An incredibly specific time. When there is a rush hour of people going to their desk jobs. What? There's never intense traffic in Rush Hour obviously. Have you never been to work? Or seen that horrible Jackie Chan/guy who isn't Chris Rock film? PLENTY OF CARS.
Update tomorrow. Unless it's cancelled again due to there being roads. Even if it is cancelled, I'll write something. Sigh.
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