Crack a can and bust out a blog
It's been a long and stressful day. I had two quite important radio people to meet today. We discussed various things. As a consequence I'm exhausted. It was interesting to meet them and be in a fairly formal position where I was talking about how and why I do what I do for a living. I'm now sat infront of the computer screen with a beer on the go. Does that make me and alcoholic? Drinking on your own is supposed to be a sign. I'm only having one though. But that's how it starts Nicholi. Right, sure, but it's not a problem is it? I mean, I'm just having one beer. Pah, you say that now, but what when you're looking down at a pool of your own vomit wondering if you should drink it in order to get the alcohol back into your system?* What? That's disgusting! Precisely. How long until you disgust yourself with that sort of behaviour? I would never do that. I'd just go get another beer, if I felt the need. You say that now. Yes, yes I do say that now. I say that now because it's true. Dirty.
Taxi drivers are ace.
I've always liked taxi drivers** and if there's one positive about my car being f#cked it's the fact that I'm now forced to get taxis at night. I've not paid my fare once. They're all nice as pie, know who I am and have nothing but good things to say about my old talkshow. What distinguished tonight's ride was that the bloke listened to and liked what I do nowadays as well. That was a bonus. It's been a f#cking drag getting over that phone in show and it's nice to feel that might slowly be happening now. It was almost too successful. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed doing it and I was probably in many ways its biggest fan. I love hearing callers on air. I always have. It just had to end when it did. Also I needed to earn a living afterwards. And Hallam FM needed a late show. What do you do? Try and do a good music show. It just spent a good year in the shadow of that phone in. Hey ho.
I'm amazing! Oh, no I'm not. Ruined.
Myspace are organising a big compettition to find a director who deserves a £1 million pound budget. I've entered one of my films and I think it's f#cking obvious that I'm going to win. Once I get my one million pound budget I'm going to get as many people together as I can and f#ck off to Amsterdam for the weekend. Amazing eh? You are more than welcome to join me when I win all the money.
The film I've entered is here. They're sure to love it. The sl#gs.
* True story. A caller once told me that was the point when she decided to get help for her alcoholism. How hardcore is that? She was a great caller. Genuinely inspiring.
** For proof of this claim check out the following posts: here, an old blog entry, look how short my blog entries used to be! Not surprising really I had no f#cking readers back then. Also here, a place where the obscure blog title drove loads of wacky pervs to this site for a bit. If you only click on one of these links make sure it's this one. It's the infamous taxi driver shirt story. Almost everyone I know uses this story to define my attitude towards sartorial discernment. F#ck me, here's a video I posted of a taxi driver. I've got a problem.