I’ll sleep when I’m dead…

AKA If I don’t get some fucking sleep soon, I am going to die.

Sleeping patterns are a total bitch, you have one late night and then RAZAP you are shifted into a half life of perpetual half sleep for god knows how long. I haven’t slept for nearly enough hours in the past three days. Seriously, like 5 or something. That isn’t really right is it? I didn’t even have any cans of energy drink today, so that dispells that myth (which is great news, because nothing satiates both my thirst and my need for rampant shakes like Rock Star Energy Drink). I’m hoping if I do the whole no sleep thing for another day I will either snap out of it and sleep like a baby tonight, or just snap completely and go into the street in my boxers and kick a wall over or something.

Besides the above whiny rant and tiredness induced narco-naps this weekend has actually been pretty fun. I saw some bands on Friday which were not my bag at all, the best thing about this was the fact that one of the bands contained some dudes I hadn’t seen since the days when I used to hang out in Chester. They are called Out From Animals now, you might have seen them on telly a few years back, but when I was 16 they were The Wayriders. I remember travelling miles on a bus to see them support Lightyear, I can only assume that was an amazing gig as I remember almost nothing about it other that Tim H asking if the song that was playing was Lightyear when in actuality it was Sex Pistols (John B and I still lol about that to this day, in fact when he comes online I am going to say “Is this Lightyear?” and I can almost guarantee his response will be “lol” or one of it’s derivatives).
I digressed a bit there. Anyway, it was great to see them but because I knew them in their past lives as a ska punk group, I was “That Guy”. I kept shouting at them to play Baby Ruth, which was their big hit about The Goonies, and quoting older lyrics and stuff.  I don’t know if it was the many bottles of Koppaberg I threw down my gullet in a short space of time or if I am just a massive twat but it generally wasn’t very dignified or very cool. I also smoked a million cigarettes and had my lovely flannel lumberjacket (geddit?) stolen. I didn’t care at the time but in the morning I was both furious and fucking ill.

I didn’t do a lot else this weekend, Saturday saw me stay in bed for the whole day feeling sorry for myself and being boring, yet prolific, on twitter. In the evening, I watched Fido which would have been a massive let down if not for my ridiculously low expectations. Needless to say it was rubbish, but I am going to say it anyway. It was rubbish. After that it was late, I debated with myself whether to watch Jaws which I ultimately opted to not do because I didn’t want to fall asleep whilst it was on. So I sat and watched the clock, thinking about what would be happening to Brody, Quint and Hooper if I had put it on. When it got to the time when I should have been hearing Roy Scheider saying “Smile, you son of a bitch” I got a bit angry. The I watched some Eastbound & Down, which was nowhere near as good as I was expecting and eventually dosed off. For two hours.

Sunday was better, Hannah came over and we went for a nice stroll around Towneley where we looked at rotted wood sculptures and the all sorts of random stuff they had in the museum there which included loads of stuffed animals, a mummy, some stuff from various wars, and antique furniture. One thing that struck me in the museum was the prolific use of bums in olde time artings, and that all the statue bums were all pointing towards the windows. So from outside, you get an eyefull of pallid art arse.
Later, we went to a restaurant to eat and it wasn’t very good. We complained but the girl ignored us. We came back to mine with Phish Food and watched Red Mist. It was better than last time I saw it, but still didn’t grab me although the acid funnel scene is a corker. Then I power napped for an hour and a bit, and woke to find Hannah gone.

I’ve rambled a lot, and not really about any specific topic, so that probably means I am boring. I promise my next entry will be more exciting. Just pretend I am Lost, this was a boring one about Sun and her life as a lady, but the next one will have Jack and Sawyer fighting with knives while the island unhooks itself from the ground and flies off into space. Maybe I will write my next blog on Lost. Anyway, catch you next time. Same bat-time, same bat-blog (except there are no bats).

I really am sorry about all of this, I am really fucking tired. Please accept this picture of a three legged bear with its winkle out by way of apology:

About dangerousjamie

I am genre movie watchin', punk rockin', blog updatin' rebel with a heart of gold.
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1 Response to I’ll sleep when I’m dead…

  1. hannahpianna says:

    lavendar oil and hot milk…not mixed together like
    or snuggles and love from me? 😛

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