seek assistance

The gang's all here

Fucking hell. Since moving to blogger beta I also can't "blog this photo" from flickr any more and composing this entry has been a proper pain in the arse. Bah.

Anyway. I use public transport a lot and there are lots of things about my fellow passengers that wind me up. The number one thing that enrages me is people not seeking assistance when a ticket barrier tells them to do so. Number two is people hurrying, running for trains or buses or whatever. In almost all cases there's going to be another one soon, so just fucking wait. Or leave wherever you came from earlier. Just stop fucking hurrying around so much! Third on the list is people who don't read the BIG WORDS on the front of a bus that says where it's going to finish and then get surprised when it doesn't go as far as they were expecting, and fourth is people who ring the bell even though the next stop is the last stop.

I rang the bell on the 243 last night even though the next stop was the last stop. So lame. I blame Alex. I thought I was going out for a beer with him, see. What I didn't realise is that I was going out for a bunch of beers with him, Alix, Rich, Mike, Simon and John. Gah. We were all in the Princess Louise in Holborn, a decent Sam Smiths boozer with great toilets. Spent a lot of time talking about music and gambling, although the earlier part of the evening involved being regaled by Simon -- who didn't look anywhere near as evil as in the photo -- and Mike about their recent trip to the Nuburgring. I SMSed Ed about that 'cos I had it in my mind he'd been there too, turns out he hadn't. Managed to conditionally arrange a pint or three in Salisbury this Sunday though.

Checked mmh and chris's blogs when I got home (takeouts from the Flyer in hand; I'd left the Louise early, which goes some way toward explaining why I don't feel totally fucking awful this morning), and despite promises I was disappointed to see that neither of them had fucking said anything. Grr. Chris was obviously feeling guilty about that after I ranted on IRC at him, because not only did he write something straight away, he bigged me up too, heh.

While I was on IRC chris accused me of being pissed. Actually, of being PI5ED. Granted I was a bit, but at least I'm not (yet/atm) a total fucking disgrace of a pisshead fat-cat twat like he is. As if that trip to London wasn't bad enough, he came out with this on IRC on Monday night:

<chris> MORINNGGGGG
* chris FEELS A BIT DRUNK
<chris> M
<chris> ACTUALLY NOO IM FUCKING PI5ED!
<chris> ER PISDES!
<chris> FUCKER
<chris> -S+de
<chris> -de+se%
<chris> -%SE
<chris> FUNIK IT!
<chris> OH FHSH
<chris> -I!
<chris> FUICKINGMOTHERUCKINGFUCK!
<chris> *gon"*

All this from the man who once SMSed me from Las Vegas:

It's alltuie the honki that does hue vioload, welshe shoo duck! Peter is bent,,. Haggmm err icino, .. Hahoo! Night wei?

Hughes, get a fucking grip! ;-)