Shit on it – it’s a month since I actually wrote anything proper for this place.

In the absence of anything more interesting to tell you about (other than I got roped into writing for Immerse in Tech by Adam), I’ll give you a little update on what happened with Thingybobs (can’t remember if I told you her name, you know, bar girl from the other post the other week, the one I told when drunk I like her, which I remember, but can’t remember what happened next – TRAUMA).

I pissed her off. This is a girl you do not want to piss off. She could probably take me apart with her bare hands. She’s from Padiham, man. Padiham is the boil on the arse of Burnley. Which is in turn the boil on the arse of east Lancashire. You get the picture. Back at Christmas I had to ask Twitter if it’s still a sign someone likes you if they beat you up after you stop being kids – it is, forever, apparently – she used to leave me covered in bruises after working with her for a few hours in a bar. I am a beaten man. It is hard for me to speak about this, truly it is.

ANYWAY, I pissed her off. There’s this really sweet lad who used to work at the same place with that I’ve always got on with. Nice, but a bit dim. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. He likes her.

She was doing the usual girl thing of either not noticing even though it was completely obvious, or pretending not to for whatever reason it is that girls do that (why do girls do that? GIRLS, write in and explain yourselves).

So I told him. I may have (I did) also told him she doesn’t like him in the same way, which is true, ’cause she told her mate who told me, for reasons I am not aware of. In my defence, if I was in his position, I would want to know and have all the info and not be waiting for something to happen for years and years and years and then it not and yes I have been here and no I don’t want to talk about it. But it was a shitty thing to do and I do feel guilty.

I was being fair to him, obviously, not just trying to clear the path for myself, as that would be horrible. Anyway, he went off in a man huff to have a subtle cry probably and punch a wall, whatever it is men do, and I thought I’d got away with it. And carried on drinking – I had been drinking all day, there’s nothing else to do in Burnley. Even if I was in Manchester, but that’s not the point. Then I went home. To bed. To sleep.

Unfortunately, apparently it all kicked off after I’d fucked off home and obviously it’s all my fault. Which it is, but I hate it when it’s my fault. So I woke up to bollockings via Facebook – I’ll tell you something for free – I’ve had better starts to hangovers.

So that’s where we’re up to. I’m quite impressed with myself actually. Usually I’m good at sabotaging my own relationships, this time I managed to break my own – which wasn’t even in first gear – and someone else’s. Double word score.

I’m going home this weekend so more epic adventures are sure to occur.


(You can go somewhere if you really need to, just make sure you come back. Cheers.)