Days like today you just really, really badly want to give up. Just phone in sick, go the hell back to sleep, curl up warm and snug, close your eyes to the world, shut your senses down and drop like a stone back into sleep.
I got one post behind on the weekend. Making a bad habit, skipping days here and there. On Sunday I picked J-Rab up from the airport after straightening out the flat and told her, ‘Babe, today is about two things.’
‘Is one of them shaving your beard?’ she asked, the cheeky little vixen.
‘No,’ I replied.
‘It looks cool. Scratchy, but cool.’
‘Ok. Today’s about cuddling and sleeping. Those are the only two things on the agenda. Are we cool on that?’
‘Yay!’
For the longest time in my life, I was made to feel guilty because I really, really like sleeping. As a teenager I slept so much it was ridiculous. I also grew about two feet in as many years, so I guess it makes sense that sleeping would be high on my list of priorities.
One of the things I really love about J-Rab is that she appreciates a really good snooze from time to time and so we get on just fine. Some weekends we will literally not get out of bed until 2 in the afternoon. Of course, on days like that it’s not all sleeping, but probably the less said about that crazy, animal side of us the better.
And so we spent Sunday chilling to the max. We watched two movies, The Visitor, which is a very skilfully crafted movie about America’s questionable policy about immigrants and My Super Ex-Girlfriend, which is a load of cow dung.
I didn’t blog. I thought ‘fuck it’ and relaxed instead.
Roll on Monday and I’m back at my desk, post-Whisky Live, doing my best to actually get some work done.
I managed to squeeze out a couple hours graft, but by and large I was enjoying not having my balls busted continuously about Whisky Live this or Whisky Live that.
Last night Peggles came over to get some movies and gave me Anti-Christ (Lars Von Trier’s latest). We watched the opening scene, very hectic stuff, there’s actually a shot of a cock sliding in slow-motion into a pussy.
I was like ‘Hey! You’re not allowed to do that in movies are you?’
I guess you are.
Rad!
-ST
Anti-christ is one pretty hectic film. I watched it in the cinema a few months ago and was left thinking a few things: please can I not ever have a woman who batters my willy beyond repair and then proceeds to masturbate me whilst I’m unconscious. I would also like her not to bolt a heavy car engine part to my leg to prevent me escaping. It would also be really nice if she didn’t cut off her clitoris in an act of shame of being a woman.
Is that too much to ask?
The visual effects were pretty cool though.
Back to work!
Awesome.
Now that I know all the fucked up bits in the movie, I can just fast forward to them and not waste time with any preamble.
God. Damnit.
-ST