And so, the first proper post

We shall begin with a coversation between myself and an aquaintance of mine who, for sake of argument, we shall call Matt.

Now, within the space of about 5 days, Matt entered a relationship, and I had one come crashing down around me like a... I would use that wrecking ball analogy again but you'll all get very bored of it very quickly. So I'll resort to the old phrase of "like a ton of bricks". Actually we'll make that 1o tons of breeze blocks just to up the stakes a bit and get somewhere closer to the truth (not the actual truth as I can't come up with an analogy for that right now, other than "a fucking lot of bricks")

I will give Matt some credibility here and say yes, he was doing his best to cheer me up. However, he failed miserably, slowly burning up as he re-entered the atmosphere that is the cynical bastard side of me, a side that seems to be appearing more than usual at an increasingly alarming rate... But we shall come back to this at a later date, for the story must continue!

And thus, Matt attempted to explain how, maybe, one day, I will find "that ms. perfect". To which replied something along the lines of "maybe" (I was on a dangerously mind warping mix of caffiene, sugar, ibuprofen and lack of sleep - I don't fully remember it). At which point Matt goes off on some happy-go-lucky loved-up crazy weirdass talk about how "you'll never think they will like you, and they do" and how said person "Will make you feel so happy and special". To which ("Hello!" says cynical bastard me) replied "Yeah it does feel like that... And then it slowly dawns on you you're being fucked about with, they don't actually care, and your entire world collapses in on itself, leaving you in a dark, empty room with nothing but the face-shaped mould on the wall to keep you company on the long cold nights". I don't think he appreciated this, but this is simply the truth. The horiffic, dark, cold-as-steel truth, and although you might not believe it, it'll hit you one day like a slap to the face with a great white shark.

And as another of my good friends, who by some bizarre twist of luck/fate/stupidity (delete as appropriate) is also called Matt, put so well "Bitches Fuck Shit Up". Let this be a lesson to you all.

And so we return from the real world to the not-so-real world after that joyous adventure into my evening. Sadly, there is little happening in the not-so-real world, and such we shall ignore its existence for the time being. Instead, have a work-in-progress picture.
And back to the real world we shall now travel in an exciting tale (or not) of my day.

So what happened today you ask? Well, it involved much random travelling, wandering, and general bizarreness. First I adventured to Poole to buy a new month's bus pass for work, which took an excruciating 20 minutes after the printing machine at the bus station decided to conk out just as I reached the desk after queuing behind about 10 elderly people all wishing to go to London on a coach... Which involved having to tell the person behind the desk about their entire life, their reasons for going to London, and demanding to know why it is cheaper to go than last year (this left me incredibly puzzled).
I then ventured to Halfords to book my bike in for a sevice as it is slowly disintergrating and about to implode, and upon arrival I realised I had none of the paperwork and didn't even know what model my bike was (feel free to laugh at my idioticness). So I return home to pick up the paperwork for my bike and return to Halfords, clutching the paperwork like some form of plan for a nuclear bomb. I then discover the bike technician is not there. And will not be there until Wednesday. Where am I wednesday? Bloody sodding work.
I am then informed by a bespectacled teenager, who is unexplainably clean after emerging from a dirt and oil splattered room where bike services take place, in an equally unexplainably odd voice (think mickey mouse combined with Donald Duck. Yes. Like that.), that bike services are only done on weekdays. I am unable to get there during the opening times, so he gives me a phone number and tells me to phone it on Wednesday and ask if I can have my bike specially done on the following Saturday. He then proceeds to attempt to sell me a new bike, a bike plan, and (bizarrely) a hifi system. I politely refused all of these, and exited the store.

I then headed to the bus station to break in my new pass and took a bus to bournemouth to visit Argos, knowing full-well (having researched it the week before) that this branch of Argos is the only place in the entire fucking United Kingdom that happens to have the Wheeljack Transformers Alternators figure in stock. Evidently other people have noticed this too as when I arrived there was only 1 left in stock. And this is where my day gets even more bizarre.
The woman behind the till took the form thingy off me, punched in the number wrong twice, asked how my day was, swore at the machine, entered it correctly and then asked "That's TRANSFORMERS MUSTANG, yes?" as if announcing some world-famous performer to a screaming crowd of fans. To which I simply replied in a dry voice "yes." She then proceded to ask for the £14.99 it would cost me in an equally showmanship way, and returned my change after muttering about there being far too many 5ps and not enough 20ps. I then collected my new purchase from the collection desk, and exited the store, and caught the next bus back to Poole.
I then wandered home, musing over the bizarre woman in Argos and the equally bizarre bus driver who looked like a cross between Russel Brand and Sylvester Stallone, yet sounded like Jonathan Ross (yes, it was that random), before bumping into a few old school friends, waving Hi and simply continuing on my way

So that concludes my not-so-interesting day, and I shall now adventure to Southampton on a train to visit pubs, get drunk, play video games, and generally do nothing constructive with a few friends at southampton uni. Details of the night shall follow if they are deamed viable to appear on these pages.

Fuck that was a long blog. They won't all be this long, I promise.