Again I think I’m going to start it off by saying I’m incredibly tired and ill. It’s definitely a running theme in my blogs and I wouldn’t be surprised if people could tell when I was at my most tired as the content wears thin (minus yesterday, I just couldn’t think of anything good to say at all!).
Call it a Diary
I had a casting at the BBC Television Centre today. Every time I go there I always feel a sense of importance. Just knowing who has been inside it makes me have an overwhelming feeling of worth (a bit like teabagging an oscar, or something similar of course). I had a pretentious idea that I should walk in and out of the building with a smug (but undeserving) face for the next three hours so passersby thought I was famous. I didn’t though, because I don’t think anyone would see the funny side and well I’d look like a bit of a dick head walking out then a minute later walking back in and repeating (although I am giggling a little bit at the thought because I’m a sad tired ill man). I tend to get really bored waiting for my scenes so I usually create things I should do. It reminds me of a story that Zack Galifianakis told on The Nerdist podcast. While he was in a film called Below, he would have quite a few days off and the production would give him money to spend on food. He was hanging about at night in Trafalgar Square, bored. So he would go to random strangers, trying to pay them 50 quid to look at the moon with him.
Journey back on the train to Euston from White City always has a long winded feeling even though it’s only about six stops. At one point of the journey on this cramped rush hour train, I had a couple in my personal space as they were all up in each others grill, which I could deal with. What I couldn’t deal with is that this particular couple both smelt like piss and sweat. As disturbed as I was, I kind of admired the fact that both of them definitely smelt like it, not just one of them. They were one piss smelling entity.
Turn that Smell Down!
I managed to get pasta at marks and sparks in Euston before rushing to my train. I sat down and looked at my pasta in excitement as I had not eaten for a few hours and it was my opportunity to show this pasta whose boss. As soon as I opened it, some guy standing up walked past me and yelled “turn that smell down!”. I was initially confused and a little scared so I just said “sorry ok will do” as he pressed the button to first class and left. I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, in fact I can’t think of anything clever to say towards it now. It was just so random and I don’t think he really knew what he said, he only knew how he felt, that my pasta was fucking stinky, and it was, there was no denying it. Kind of makes me think that something really must of pissed him off and my pasta tipped him over the edge.
If you know me then you’d know I’m not a huge clubbing fan. So when I find an album with pictures of a local club doing a wet tshirt competition, I was a bit jubilant. As I went through it, I noticed all the girls were drunk and they all were victims of terribly timed photographs (quite a few of them look like they’ve been asked to do there best elephant man being slapped in the face with a wet fish look), also there is a photo of a naked man, within this photograph you can see the floor of where they are doing the wet tshirt competition, is all yellow. Nothing more sexy then drunken women dancing and prancing about in wee. This blog has the most mention of urine in it, which really pisses me off.
Here’s the link of what I’m talking about, I didn’t put the photo up as I don’t want to inflict it on anyone, just click on it and look at the water. But it really does sum up why i don't go clubbing, let alone in Watford.