Another year and the Christmas rum cake is on its way to Paris . . .

 

 

·         Bloody New Year’s Eve…I am too sloshed to open my eyes and greet the first sunshine of 2004.  Can’t even remember how I got home, who dumped me to bed, who undressed me and if I ever I had sex with anybody/anything/whatever…. Ho-hum, counting jellybeans, sheep, luft balloons, black flags - - - - marbles, pebbles, stones.  ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz.

 

·         Stupid refrigerator’s stuck.  It’s also making weird noises.  The grouchy building superintendent forcibly opened the damn thing and to his stupefaction, he found a fat purple female teletubby hibernating inside. The zoo was informed and soon after, miss teletubby was driven away on a limousine.

 

·         Last night Uncle Sandman lost his patience on Tobias, the grumpy paranoid insomniac who resides across the street. According to the grapevine, the poor bloke, despite multiplying virtual sheep and gulping litres of milk, failed to ensnare the goddess of slumber so uncle thumped his head with an old dictionary.  Tobias believes the book made a remarkable dent on his skull.  So he buys a funny looking hat and goes around the neighborhood preaching about God, the Devil and a guy called Gilroy, whom he claims has the power to freeze time.  I’m starting to be convinced that poor Tobias was indeed abducted by extra terrestrials twenty years ago.

 

·         I’m planning to rob the flower shop tomorrow at noon when the pimply clerk steps out on her lunch break. Going to steal the thick bunch of tulips that I can never afford to buy for myself.  Must not forget to wear gloves, dark glasses. Must remember to exit via the backdoor with my loot and then walk casually back to my apartment.   Simply brimming with excitement.  I’ll be the first flower thief in this boring dying district populated by catatonic humans.

 

·         That goliath of a truck driver who ran over Mrs. Bat’s pet baby alligator is a bleeding communist and a cold-blooded murderer. You should see the man. He’s a Neanderthal wearing baggy trousers. He also wears a hammer and sickle tattoo on his right arm and thinks the Russians are damn fools for embracing capitalism.

 

·         Had to console poor Mrs. Bat over her loss. We buried Maxine (the infant gator) in her flowerbed. We recited incantations and burned candles. Mrs. Bat whispered she has put an evil curse upon the Pet Murderer so it won’t be long before the tentacles of justice grab his filthy throat.

 

·          Maximus Moronus is dating the big and bouncy Miss Clotilde from the eleventh floor, a chirpy canary told me. Just had to laugh at this piece of mundane news. It’s hysterical even. The bloke’s 40 something with an I.Q. equivalent to his age and a testicle missing a twin. She, on the other hand has a murky past. Her former name was George. And George was a badly drawn boy. . . . .

 

·         THE TULIPS ARE DEAD. . . . I threw the rotten things in the dustbin.  Stupid dead tulips. There’s no permanence in this imperfect world.  Only a constant fading of all things beautiful, and a slow degradation of all things wonderful. LIFE SUCKS.

 

·         Mother sent a postcard. She’s somewhere in the Caribbean romancing a Greek could-had been a-tycoon. Hope she doesn’t marry the bloke.  Hope Father sends me a smoke signal to let me know if he’s still breathing oxygen.  Why did God have to be jolly hilarious and bestowed me parents of their kind?

 

·         Sebastian called. He told me I should meet his new girlfriend because she is extremely gorgeous and her father’s unbelievably rich. Hah! I slammed the phone down and injured his ears a bit. Gloating bastard.

 

·         Work’s hell today, as always but Frau Gorgondrina was ultra loathsome the entire day; she amused herself by inflicting ailment of the nerves to the wretched slave-force.  Somebody liberate me from here. Stupid Prince Charming. Where the hell are you? Are you lost? Did your stupid steed die? Need a map?

 

·         Writing a letter to the Pope. Must let him know about my thoughts on cloning sheep and humans. Hope my cherry scented papyrus with silver edgings isn’t too frivolous to his papal taste.

 

·         Think my head’s swelling incredibly. Beginning to think I’m fabulous and amazing. Must stop chewing poppy seeds.

 

·         Drowned again today but the hunk of a lifeguard saved me just in the nick of time. Drunk a lot of brine though and my tongue feels like a preserved meat---geeezzzzzzz.