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Aug. 10th, 2005 09:16 pmSo, you know that episode of the Simpsons where Homer is watching Twin Peaks at the start and every now and then he laughs and is like, "I have absolutely no idea what's going on"? That's my life today.
First of all I got called in to do an early morning four-hour shift at work. Of course, I need the money to buy Alexander (oh sweet, sweet Colin Farrell, you shall be mine in all your mini-skirt-wearing, eyeliner'd, Jared Leto-snogging glory), so a little overtime is more than welcome, but it did mean my internal clock was wonky for the rest of the day.
So I came home, and the landlord has been 'round to put damp seal on the bathroom walls and ceilings. Awesome, because damp walls are gross, but my bathroom is an ensuite and that meant my afternoon nap was more a case of me getting high off delicious fumes and having weird dreams about robot dogs and that one guy from Battlestar Galactica.
So I went for a walk to clear my head, and there's some kind of parade going on in town with floats and people in costumes and by this point I'm thinking that somebody's poisoned my water supply and that I'm locked up in an asylum because it can't possibly be that the whole world has gone fucking batshit insane, and I figure I might as well go and see the Fantastic Four movie and that just proves that I'm crazy because there's no way in Hell I would go and see that when I'm in my right mind.
Only FF is so goddamn crap that I can't possibly be hallucinating, since my hallucinations are always better scripted and acted and basically a lot less tedious, so I figure maybe I'm just having a bad day and I should cut my losses, remember that at least I did get to see Juliam McMahon on the big screen, even if yet again shit was going down with his pretty face and what is up with that, I ask you, and so I go home.
And there is some little French boy sitting on my doorstep reading a comic book.
I have absolutely no idea what's going on.
First of all I got called in to do an early morning four-hour shift at work. Of course, I need the money to buy Alexander (oh sweet, sweet Colin Farrell, you shall be mine in all your mini-skirt-wearing, eyeliner'd, Jared Leto-snogging glory), so a little overtime is more than welcome, but it did mean my internal clock was wonky for the rest of the day.
So I came home, and the landlord has been 'round to put damp seal on the bathroom walls and ceilings. Awesome, because damp walls are gross, but my bathroom is an ensuite and that meant my afternoon nap was more a case of me getting high off delicious fumes and having weird dreams about robot dogs and that one guy from Battlestar Galactica.
So I went for a walk to clear my head, and there's some kind of parade going on in town with floats and people in costumes and by this point I'm thinking that somebody's poisoned my water supply and that I'm locked up in an asylum because it can't possibly be that the whole world has gone fucking batshit insane, and I figure I might as well go and see the Fantastic Four movie and that just proves that I'm crazy because there's no way in Hell I would go and see that when I'm in my right mind.
Only FF is so goddamn crap that I can't possibly be hallucinating, since my hallucinations are always better scripted and acted and basically a lot less tedious, so I figure maybe I'm just having a bad day and I should cut my losses, remember that at least I did get to see Juliam McMahon on the big screen, even if yet again shit was going down with his pretty face and what is up with that, I ask you, and so I go home.
And there is some little French boy sitting on my doorstep reading a comic book.
I have absolutely no idea what's going on.
