...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

there is a fucking thirty foot sheep made of pinetrees on the headland overlooking the bay. you can see it silhoetted against the skyline from the prom and the summer people coming in on the boat can see it before the rest of the island comes into view.

seriously, guys. i thought we were pretending we werent basically a real life summerisle and then you put up a massive "we're gonna wicker man you" statue...

Douglas carnival starts in ten minutes. Time for shitty parade floats honouring bizarre local businesses. Hopefully I'll be able to get a photo of ChimpBee this year. What does ChimpBee advertise? I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA.

Some dude just asked me if I always dress this wildly when I go out on a Saturday night...

I'm wearing an Adventure Time t-shirt.

So either Finn and Jake have become an in-the-know code for some awful act of sexual depravity, or I just discovered a whole new level of vanilla.

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ARGH. Dudes, I am giving serious brain-thoughts towards going to Liverpool to attend a Derek Landy signing of Last Stand of the Dead Men. The issue is, the most time- and cost-effective way to do it is as a day trip to Liverpool via the Steam Packet, a sweaty, slimy, nausea-inducing puke-bucket of a trip that lasts three hours each way, and feels a lot longer.

Do I actually care about Skulduggery Pleasant enough to subject myself to seasickness and the strange phenomenon where the Manx people on the boat have Scouse accents that are approximately eighty thousand times more nasal and annoying than the voices of actual, in-real-life Scousers?

ARGH. I hate having to think grown-up things.

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Is there a place on the Isle of Man where gouts of steam shoot up from the earth's core and horses and rabbits ride them for fun? I dreamt I flipped my dad's car into a field where that was happening, then went straight to a friends' house for tea, so I need to know where that field is so I can go retrieve the car later on.

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I've been trying to figure out why my bedroom and hallway look so weird - I've just realised that the workmen who fitted the new windows must have hoovered up afterwards. Housekeeping fail.

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I suspect it's coming up on that three-week period every year when I need to start wearing sunscreen. I took a picture of myself chillin' in a glen with some old wooden dude, and I'm so freckley, it looks like the sun deities of every pantheon got together and had a bukkake party on my face.

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So Johnny has stolen my director's cut of Watchmen and tried to indoctrinate Hayley and the Prawn into its wonderment. Hayley is refusing to like any movie where one superhero is a rapist and another one is a ginger. Prawn is offended that the ginger dies in the end, because it's racist or something. Johnny's standard response to anyone talking to him is falling to his knees and going "NOOOOOOOOORRAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHH!" This is why we can't have nice things.

Also, I went into town today to meet up with an old friend from college, and when I was coming back I saw this girl who had made my life an absolute misery in highschool, and she looks like an absolute mess and it made me really happy. I know that makes me super-petty, but I can't bring myself to care.

Although there is likely no good time to ask me if I want to come to an agricultural show, 9am on a rainy Sunday morning as I struggle, bleary-eyed, to load my blood-smeared sheets into the washing machine, has to be one of the worst.

Immediately following it up with twenty minutes of increasingly high-pitched whinging about how "the Island is trying to do indepen-DANT" and "there are lots of young farmers there, they're enthusi-ASTS" is definately going to earn you a poisonous glare and, if it was a more reasonable hour, probably a string of profanity to go with it.

Jesus fucking Christ. I have nothing against other people having enthusiasms, I just don't see why I should have to bear witness to them. I have no doubt that it takes great skill and patience to train a sheepdog to do it's job, but I'm not standing in the rain watching it do an obstacle course. You enjoy what you do? Fantastic. No doubt I'll enjoy eating your delicious livestock at some point, and you will get some portion of what I pay for the meat. In the meantime, though, don't ask me to pay to go into a field and look at them all scrubbed up and beribboned in their pens. It's not going to happen.

Fuckssake. I was actually in an alright mood until that, but now I just want to cry or stab someone. Again.