bunnyblog

Parcel got to Chris the morning after I hit the post office. I am sehr impressed. Could do that more often, Allan says it’s efficient.

Benn didn’t bother his arse / forgot / got distracted (they really need to invent a word for that: “to Benn something”) to bring my charger round, so a trip to Edinburger tonight to get a new one. This means I can have chikkins for dinner though, and gives me the chance to get passport photos. Must avoid rubbing nose beforehand.

Got Regina Spektor’s new album, hard disk now officially full. Might pop into Priceless and grab another 300GB if it’s cheap enough. In actual fact, that’s a splendid idea. First track is lovely, rest a bit tame so far, we’ll see.

Clothes still need sorted, but almost all postage done. Still got passport application to do. Then it’s the seedee player and I think I’m pretty much out of chores. Wow.

Not enough explorin’ done. Will need to leave till Sunday now I suppose. That could be fun if I’m still up.

Got the closure. Oh well.

I’ve rediscovered the Pornorphans. Again. Oh my holy Christ how good was the blooming metal scene in 2000? What the fuck happened?

They’re replacing it with a 4000. This may be the best news I’ve ever had.

Andy thinks Veruca Salt are ace as well. No surprise. My fave discovery of ages.

A king’s dinner.

Fiona Apple has just saved the universe with her new album.

I have one Gang of Four song in my entire collection and it got played eight times last night on random. I don’t trust media players whose authors couldn’t even write a decent random function.

anothergoodnight. Woo!

• more birdsong on the way home. odd. Hope it wasn’t because I’ve broken the birdies. Never remember it from before.
• Al’s got a bird! A wee short fat one! How odd! She seems to like me though, and is bringing friends for Friday. Woohoo.
• Gig. Oh. Oh. Oh. Let’s see… Mono is a proper skene pub, but the cider’s good (and free. yars). First band on were utter skene kids, pretty decent at what they did but still a bit embarrassing to watch what with the outfits and the 80s rage and the like. Second lot were just sort of pishy, Robinson style. And then the good bit. John comes on looking old, so does Steven. I’m fine, I’m cool. Al goes “there’s manda”. I deny, I look, I die a death. 12-year-old Britney Spears fan again. No talking this time, thank Christ. DH were fucking excellent, new and old, Dirty Doctor being proper brill, and halfway through the fit barmaid from King Tut’s last night walks by me. Death in Vegas. Best night in ages.
• Friday is now cheesy pop at QMU. I must do well, but tonight I looked fabulous so it can’t be that hard.

So I had three pints of cider. Bite me. I left with more buckage than I went in with.

Gig was ace. Really good.

• Support were McQueen, who are officially the most beautifullest support ever. Girly-metal, that kind of harsh vox that I’m not a great fan of, but dear god the singer (and the guitarist with the boobies) were lovely. Not to mention the barmaid, up to the usual King Tut’s standard and then some. But McQueen were English too.
• I wore £50 dancing shoes to a gig. I moshed. The shoes are fine. I love these shoes. Are shoes going to continue to get better after this? Is that possible?
• MCM were fucking grate. Everything from the mad roadie (fat, ginger, Japanese, dancing) to the reading-off-a-sheet schtick (chan you shpeak japaneshe? We rove you… … Grasgow!) to the playing-all-my-faves-at-the-end to the me-actually-moshing-for-ten-seconds - made me feel like I was considerably younger and fitter. Probably wouldn’t have liked previous gigs anywhere near as much though because I’m definitely in the Dreaded New Fanbase and much prefer actually dancing to the happier stuff: was perfectly content to headbang and mime to the rest (I am actually better than Milkdrop at detection).
• Alright. I’m walking home after the gig, it’s 11pm and I’m whistling the verse to Island in a really loud, clear way that carries for ages. And I’m passing some trees and all of a sudden I heard other whistling.And the birds have woken up, and are singing. Birdsong to accompany me home, at eleven at night. If I’d been drunk I’d have cried. It upsets me that I’ve messed with the birdies’ sleep patterns, but I can’t worry about everything.
• Watched my first episode of Peep Show. How funny? Kaiser Sose Hall was just superb.
• …and no alcohol involved. Woohoo. Still felt like a fruitcake, but that’s due to my “vulnerable” thing. I’ll need to get over that properly soon, because I actually really enjoy taking the plunge and should do it more often (even when I cock up, like tonight. Must keep remembering how timing works). Same again tomorrow, because it’s fun to go out for no money and stuff. Only dilemma is the choice of venue. Must try to get hold of the Cuthbert.

So yeah. Best Tuesday for ages. Wish I’d kept this for the last few years. I can’t even remember any good Tuesdays since, like, The One With The Edinburgh Festival And The German Exchange Student. And I still felt like an arse for much of the night.

This is getting to be regular.

So it’s all Missy’s fault. I’m not in the least surprised - in actual fact this is pretty much the perfect explanation. Not going to think about it too closely, but I do need to console the big monkey. Gonna try and make it up at the weekend, even if I’m missing Dogma (which, dear god, I’d rather not go to on a Friday night when I could theoretically have a night in with some pr0n).

Off to see this lot tonight. Should be A Bit Gude. No hope for girls though. Zero.

I love this song. It’s making me feel better. I need to listen to Gun more often.

Some Beth later I think. Going to tidy the whole place tonight.

The girl who sings Destiny (Sia Furler. prrrrrrr) is the embodiment of human perfection. Jesus would weep. Well worth the sixteen goddamn pounds I paid. (link to mpt’s italics thing here. Wordpress needs wysiwyg.)

Death Disco was three and a half hours of pure, unadulterated shite. Further proof that the only person who is capable of making sound decisions for me is me. And possibly my mummy.

np: Catatonia - Strange Glue