Homeboi's Diary

From a film on TV today (don't know what it's called):

Soldier 1: Anyone know how to work an Elephant?
Soldier 2: I used to go out with a fat woman once. Couldn't make her go either!

Well I'm 24 hours (or thereabouts) into being 27. I learned after being 21-and-a-big-bit that all that happens as you get older is that the days get shorter, you complain about the weather more, things stop working, and some nights a nice cup of coffee sounds better than a double voddie. Don't get me started on Policemen, cos it is true.

Pete's birthday has also just passed. Old fucker!! And for the first time in years I've actually got him a present. It's not much, its a cartoon DVD that I know will make him think of me everytime he watches it. I've not given it to him just yet, a case of too little time to get over to him when he's at home, working odd shifts etc. Not to worry, he'll get it sooner or later.

Mart rang an wished me happy birthday last night. Actually, he sang it down the phone to me. Aww. That was sweet, we had a giggle. I've still to speak with Kyle, we just keep missing each other. Mum woke me up with a text message with a picture of a cake. Her card came on Tuesday. No money in it, but then my lovely TV was my birthday prezzie. And from my manager came a DVD player for my bedroom. I was stunned and shocked. I'd been planning on getting one anyway so it was a really nice thought. I've had to replace the TV in the bedroom though as it didn't have a Scart connector. The cat's pleased about this. Means she can watch her German porn while I'm at work - she spends most of her time in the bedroom anyway.

Ok. Point of this post. Next major event in my life is D-Day and that's also like a birthday. It'll be two years on November 27. We're doing something on the Friday (25th). Might be going to see Faithless in Manchester or it could be something else. Either way, it's a going-out night so I'll want to dress up a bit. Club Barracks is also on at Legends, so we might even end up there. That sounds like a good idea to me.

I've got a big thing about leather and rubber at the moment. Well, more leather, really. I got the leather collar for Mardi Gras and I still love that but I wanted something a little more discrete. Something more like:


Don't ask me why. I don't understand 'fetish', it's just something that I want. I've never been much of a person for jewellery. I've got me (neck) chains and I love them but a collar means something different.

But in searching for the ideal collar I came across this:


One thing to say: I fucking hate Burberry!! I'm so glad no one thought of gettin me one of those. Mite have been a bit difficult to retrieve if you get where I'm going... Made me laugh though.

Just spoken to Kyle and he sang to me as well. Don't give up the day job Babe! We're doing something on Saturday as Mart is working. We like misbehaving, and while yougest is away you know we're gonna play...

The best laid plans of mice and men? Not this weekend. The weekend started on Friday night and was nothing at all like the way it was originally planned to be. The planned trip to a drinkery out of Manchester went out of the window pretty much like Mart's relationship with Jay.

We've known that Jay has some problems for a long while. The most obvious being his addiction to alcohol. We thought we'd kinda got that one under control but we were clearly wrong. When you walk across the path of your boyfriend, less than two metres away, and he's falling about all over the place in the middle of the afternoon and doesn't even see you, its pretty clear that something is wrong. That's what Mart and Chris witnessed on Friday afternoon. I got a phone call saying that they were coming straight over as there was a 'crisis'. Fifteen minutes later Mart and Chris let themselves in.

Now Jay had spent a week planning this night and was asked not to get drunk before we were supposed to be meeting for going out. So you can only imagine how furious Mart was to witness the state of him on Friday. But it doesn't end there.

Seems also that Jay has been a compulsive liar. Hes created a huge web of lies but with one problem: he's forgotten what hes lied about and to who. The web collapsed around him. The fantastic bar managers job he was supposed to have was all a figment of his imagination. We're still trying to work out where the 'wages' he was getting really came from.

Needless to say, Mart has had more than enough. The relationship is over and Mart just doesn't want him around. He doesn't feel able to trust a single word the guy says and what basis is that to build a relationship on? Mart knows he's doing the right thing. Not because he wants to, but because he has to. The situation is forcing changes in Marts character which he doesnt want and wont allow to happen.

So, the three of us went out on Friday night and had a ball. We were supposed to be staying together but I ran in to Ben and James and got persuaded that I really wanted to stay with them that night. I apologised to the Mart and Chris, but they know the situation with me, Ben and James.

James, bless him, was completely paralytic. Ben was speeding. I spent the rest of the evening with them until everyone drifted off and it was time for us to go back to theirs. This time it was James who had to be undressed and put to bed. Ben and I promised that we'd be back in the bedroom in five minutes because we wanted to finish off the drugs, have a cigarette first. Ok, we knew that in less that two minutes James would be fast asleep, so we just stayed in the living room talking, watching something on TV and sharing half a can of lager that we'd acquired from somewhere.

Then it happened. We both started to feel horny. Ben put some porn on and I took my jeans off and climbed under the quilt on the couch. Ben also stripped down just to his underwear and sat on the chair to watch the porn. Under the quilt I discretely removed my jock and tried playing with myself. The speed was doing neither of us any favours!

Ben got up and went to climb behind me on the couch. 'Don't laugh,' he said, his hands covering his crotch, 'I've got acorns!' I just smiled and he climbed in behind me. I put my hands behind me and felt. Ben usually doesnt have anything to be ashamed of but tonight I got the impression we could have a few difficulties. We tried wanking each other but that didn't seem to work. In the end I got Ben to give up on trying to get me hard. We were both horny in the head, so I knew that if I could get Ben up me that would still satisfy me.

I went to work with my mouth on him and little by little we managed to breath some life into the little man. We tried three times, with varying degrees of success, for him to penetrate me. He did fuck me, and we both got breathless, and I know I really enjoyed it. Ben thought he'd not done a good job, and I know we've had better sex with each other, but it really had been that long since Ben had been inside me that it didn't matter. We'd had fun and both agreed that we'd really really missed it with each other.

Ben stayed awake watching TV while I dozed off and eventually fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning Ben was smiling. 'Do you know you smile in your sleep?' he said.

It's no secret that I've got some very deep feelings for the pair of them, both individually and as a couple, and I also feel highly honoured that they invite me into their life in the way they do. It's more than just sex with us. There's a different kind of bond and its not something I can explain. I tried to talk about it with Mart on the Saturday. The fact I walked in with a huge cheesey grin on my face I think made it pretty obvious I'd had a good night. And I only got two hours sleep that morning. I was gonna be knackered later.

Mart had had an equally good time. 'I now know what I've been missing through 2005!' he quipped with a glint in his eye. He and Chris went to Cruz and Mart ended up with a guy. They'd spent virtually all night just staring at each other, so I hear. And there was talk of Chris copping off with a bloke, but I'm kinda sure that was made up! After all, in the race to claim Chris's cherry I know I'm in the lead, somehow I don't think that Kyle is really Chris's type.

I finally met up with Mart about 1pm. He'd come back to mine, and I'd been home, washed up, gone out to get 'a little something'. We exchanged stories and we were both knackered. But the day was to be a busy one. Mart needed to go home to collect a few things, the intention that he'd be staying with me over the weekend. He'd like to stay longer with me but it's virtually impossible for him to get to work on time from mine, a combination of strange working hours and crap public transport links.

We got up to Marts house. Jay was in and was baby sitting for a member of his family. The house was freezing. No gas, no milk, and Jay told Mart that all he had to his name was 50p when asked. Mart's response: you shouldn't have gone out pissing it up against the wall Thursday and Friday should you! There was an atmosphere in the house, you could have cut the air with a knife. I have to admit not feeling comfortable, but I tried my best to be pleasant and to dismiss the situation. Hard work. And being cold, hungry and tired didn't make it any easier. To be honest, Jay looked pretty detached. That's the best way I can describe. Conversation from him was based on mono-syllabic grunts, he couldn't make eye contact with anyone, and if ever his eyes did connect with me there was a compelling sense of fear from him.

I know that he's shit scared of me. I shouted at him a few weeks earlier. He deserved it, he was doing things that were upsetting my baby. And I wont allow that, especially when Mart had already told him that he was out of order. That night we'd had a good night, get back and he ruins it within 5 minutes of arriving home. He knows about what's happened in the past between Mart and I, and I knew he'd suspect that we'd slept together that night. He's already tried using that to bargain against Mart a few times before.

It's about 8pm when we get home. I cook us something to eat. I'd had plans for what to cook during the day, but when it came down to it, it just ended up being pizza - we were too desperate to wait for anything else.

In our travels we'd also acquired some pills. They were the ones that we should have had for Friday, but thanks to Jay's deceptions, even though they were ready for collection we never got them. Mart's verdict: well he fucked it up for us, so we'll enjoy them!

And enjoy them we did. We turned the lights down low, didn't drink that much alcohol - I'd only got 1/3 of a bottle of vodka anyway - and played some of the CDs that Mart had rescued from his. We'd got changed out of last night's clothes just before eating. I know, scruffy buggers, but it was just one of those things. We felt so much better for getting into something more comfortable. I'd gone out in jeans. I only wear jeans at work when I've got meetings or for when I go out. The rest of the time it's trakies all the way.

I came down wearing a sleeveless t-shirt that I'd got for Mardi Gras. I took my t-shirt off. Mart thought that was a good idea and asked whether I'd got anything sleeveless he could borrow. I popped upstairs and looked. I have to remember that Mart is slightly broader in the chest than me. Most of my sleeveless stuff is pretty figure hugging on me, so I know that a lot of it would be too tight on him. I found a red hooded sleeveless top, a real vibrant red with a thick white design on it. It's one that Kyle wants but I wont let him borrow it! It fitted Mart well and he looked so good in it.

As we got more and more out of it the clothes started to come off. I was first, off came the t-shirt. Mart followed suit shortly afterwards. Then I started to get horny. Sooner or later I knew that Mart would also, but that that was only half the reason why my trakies came off! It took a moment for Mart to realise that I was sat next to him stark naked. 'O God!' he exclaimed, double-taking my nakedness. He must have been in his own world just before then. I know that I kept drifting.

A while passed before Mart asked whether he could borrow a pair of shorts. I directed him to the piles of clothes infront of my wardrobe and said that he should find something there. I was comfortable, sat with my legs up, one knee pointing at Mart, absently stroking myself from under my left thigh. I know Mart saw that I'd got a huge bone but he didn't say anything, just a small glint in his eye as he passed me.

He wasn't long upstairs and came down in my black lycra Adidas swimming shorts. He looked stunning in them. 'Very nice!' I rasped as he went by me to sit down again. He chuckled and sat. Now Mart does have a very cute arse, and when he leant over the arm of the couch to change the CD he stuck it up in the air. The lycra held it perfectly. We've spoken about it before, about roles that is, and even though I find Mart so sexy and even though I do top on very very rare occasions when I'm very horny, I could never fuck Mart. We're not even gonna try, for us its something that doesn't seem right. Mart loves to fuck and I love being fucked so what we have works. As he put it one night after he an Jay had had a run of Mart bottoming for him, 'all I wanna do is just fuck some arse!'

I knew sitting up on the couch was going to start to feel uncomfortable sooner or later, so I went upstairs and got the quilt. Brought it down and laid it out on the floor. The lighting was low but it still seemed a bit to bright. I thought about bringing some candles or nightlights in but Mart had a better suggestion: just leave the hall-way light on. Perfect.

A little later we're both still on the couch, both feet on the floor. Quite relaxed. Remember, I'm naked, and even though I not ashamed of showing anyone especially Mart what I've got I still had a hand over me. In the half-light I spotted something moving in the lyrca shorts Mart was wearing. He was horny too. I let him enjoy the lycra for a while, I could see him flexing his cock through the material. I was already hard but felt a twinge as I saw his meat moving.

Mart gets up and lies on the floor. I get a better look at him now. He's still flexing and I know it's nearly time to make a move. A few minutes pass and I get on the floor at the side of him and stroke his cock through the shorts. 'I knew you'd get the hint' he said with a wink in his voice. We chuckled and I cupped his balls and gave them a gently squeeze. We both knew where that was going but there were things to do first. I got Mart out of his shorts and he lay back where he was. I started out by going down on him, he reached over to start gently stroking my cock. I think Mart's a bit unsure about the piercing. He knows I wouldn't lie to him when I say it doesn't hurt but I suppose if its something you're not used to seeing it can be a bit daunting to get so close to a lump of metal in someones manhood.

He spoke about sucking me, but said that he was worried about 'getting tangled' in it. Meaning his tongue piercing and my PA getting caught up together. I was wearing a 17mm ring which is pretty 'figure hugging' so there was little chance of that happening - not enough clearance between flesh and metal. I told him he'd be ok, but he had other ideas. He guided me over him so that I could suck his cock while he ate me out. Boy can that lad eat arse!! You know how some people are good at something and it shows cos they clearly really enjoy it? Well Mart is like that. And when his hands weren't parting my cheeks he was stroking up and down my body. He even played a little with my pierced nip, which is something I can't remember him doing before. Meanwhile, I was downstairs with my toungue covering every part of his crotch. We were both moaning and groaning and really getting into what each other was doing.

Time could have stood still. I don't know how long we were at that. But then it came time for Mart to penetrate me. I lay on my side and Mart came in behind. One leg in the air and he starts banging away at me. Heaven. Mart likes to bang hard, and I love it when he does. The sexual animal really comes out in him. He kissed the back of my neck, he knows that's a weak spot, especially when I've got a cock inside me, and I clamped down on his meat not enough to stall his stroke but just enough to raise a moan out of him.

We changed positions, Mart's favourite I think. Well with me, anyway. I sat astride him and he bangs away from underneath. Mart thought he was about to cum and so pulled out, took off the condom and started to wank. I sat to one side facing him. He wanked, I wanked while he thrust his fingers in and out of my abused hole. I wanted his juices on my body. But try as he might he couldn't get them out. I was still stroking myself, and I had the same problem! He went upstairs to clean up while I stayed downstairs trying to cum. I was still wanking when he came back down. 'Ha ha! I've seen in all now!' he chuckled when he saw me. 'Sorry,' I started, 'I'm still horny and wanna cum.' But it was no use. I thought about putting porn on, but decided that might be a bit unfair if Mart had 'lost the moment'.

We sat for a while in the afterglow. Talking, listening to the music. Lack of sleep from the previous night started to well up in me. So I told Mart that I was gonna go get cleaned up and get into bed. He knew he was welcome to join me up there but instead crashed out in the living room.

We woke up the following day at about 5pm. Mart came upstairs to tell me the time and explained that he'd crashed downstairs. 'And yes, you were smiling in your sleep!'

Gloria
We're mobile again. And loving it. In some ways it feels like starting to drive again. Getting used to driving, trying not to get jumpy at other traffic. Or aggravated. (Now is probably not the time to consider developing road rage!!!)

Like this morning on the way to work. The road goes from a 30 to a 40 speed limit - carries on to me a motorway. And I'm stuck behind this bloody Ford Fiesta insisting on doing 27mph. Maybe its because I wanna see how fast I can make her go, but I wanted to put my foot down, not because I was late for work (I wasn't). I just wanted to. After I'd roughly overtaken them I looked in the rear view mirror. My comment over the radio: 'Oo. You're older than I thought you'd be.' in a very dissapointed tone.

A Voice From The Grave
Got a message on Gaydar from Cam. He's sorry. So very, very sorry. He made it to Manchester for University. One of my big failings is that I just can't stay angry with someone, I break sooner or later. I broke, and asked if he wanted to try being friends again. He agreed.

He invited me over for pizza but I had work to do and declined. We probably will meet, though I'm in no hurry for it to be soon.

Back At The Orrifice...
Was back to work for me on Monday. Went ok, I suppose. Had the 'back to work interview' on the Tuesday. I cried. But it was ok. We've got a plan of action so I know what to do when I'm having difficulties. They had missed me, even though they had done well without me.

Something For The Weekend?
Plans have been arranged for my weekend. We're going out on Friday night, but not in Manchester. I know there's life outside Manchester. We're actually going to where I saw my first naked drag queen. And what's more is that I've got no idea who I'm going to be out with. I'd been given 'orders' to seduce Chris. Which could be interesting. Interesting because he got some weed for me a few weeks back and I went round to his to collect it. We had a couple of joints and then I said I'd better be making a move. He walked me up to the Metrolink station, his own decision. As we were saying good bye there was a tension between us. Sort of like we should have kissed. We didn't. But then I got to thinking about this drop dead fucking gorgeous stud that Chris let onto as we aproached the station. I did ask who he was. 'Just a mate.' Chris said, rather meekly, almost as if there was more he didn't want to get into.

Then Saturday I'm with Mart and Jay meeting some of Jay's family. Not too sure whether I'm gonna be able to cope with that. See how it all goes. After all, home is only 10 minutes away now.

I'm after a definition for the word sleazy, or perhaps more accurately what sexual acts are classed as being 'sleazy'.

Why? Well I get asked (from time to time) about what kind of sleazy things I get up to. Now to me, nothing I get up to fits with the classic definition of 'sleaze' as being dirty, perverted or sick.

I did, however, come across an online Urban Dictionary which was actually no help at all, but funny all the same.

Highlights:-
pudknocker,
mud flap,
poo, and my new favourite
bollock yoghurt.

Complete with a list of the newest words and definitions.

He he. Well finally managed to get up early this morning - made it out of bed for 8.05am - rang the garage and booked Glo in for the MOT.

She failed. But then that was expected. They can't do an emissions test on a faulty exhaust, as the tester said 'the unit can't get enough gas up'. There were other things she failed on too.

So she needs:-
2 new front tyres - with being stood idle, changes in temperature have caused the bottom of the tyres to go flat
2 front brake discs - they've started to corrode so they had problems with the brake efficiency tests
drivers side front shock absorber is leaking - I had a feeling that there was a problem with the shocks, though I thought it was the rear ones!
exhaust middle box - at least its not the whole unit

I've been quoted £259 and it should be ready late Monday. So if I had've been able to get out of bed yesterday I'd have a car later on today. Nevermind. Everything is in hand.

Booked her in early, they said I could wait and so I did. Went outside reception for a smoke and looked into the workshop. I forgot how strange it was to see a car, especially your own car, go up on ramps. And am I the only one who gets jittery about someone else driving your car?

While I was smoking I spotted a very nice young mechanic. Very tasty. About 25, shaved head, tanned skin, dark-blue oil dirty overalls. You know where my mind went! Straight from 'ohmygod my baby's having an internal' to 'hey big boy wanna check my crank shaft'. Yum. Sadly, he wasn't the one seeing to Gloria, but he could check my fluid levels anyday!

They said there was also some corrosion of the brake pipes. Not enough for it to fail the MOT but something else that will need to be attended to at some point. I need to find me a mechanic...

Hugh left a comment about saving money on MOTs by using a Local Government Testing Station. Will consider this in future but can't for the moment as I don't have the complete 'paper trail' to make the car legal on the road. More info about all this here.

Also came across a fascinating load of info about the MOT test itself. That's here. Remember I'm used to reading Tech Manuals at bedtime, so this stuff is really interesting.

Gonna be takin Gloria to the garage tomorrow for her MOT. Not booked in or owt, but just rang the garage and they said to ring tomorrow morning (yea, right!) between 8.30 and 9. So all bein well I should have a fully legal car by weekend. I'm excited about gettin back on the road but not excited about the bill to come.

All the lights are working, and the engine starts and can move the car. I know I shouldn't have, but I did take the car down the street and back the other day. Sounds like a pig, but then so would you if you hadn't been anywhere in 12 months. Yes, got the letter from DVLA yesterday to renew the Off Road Notice or get her Taxed. I want the latter.

Got the replacement Insurance Certificate (I know the original is somewhere but just dont ask) on Saturday. I know where the ownership stuff is. It's just the MOT Certificate to prove that shes safe to be on the road.

Parts of getting her sorted have been a bit Blue Peter, but hey, isn't invention what makes life interesting? She's had a leaky sunroof, well, ok, not so much the sunroof but the drain pipes leak. The owner guide recommends putting plastic down to clear any blockages not metal or wire as a previous owner did. Metal scratches the paint, water gets into the scratch, metal turns to rust. Need I go on? Anyway, two 1 metre lengths of plastic tubing and half a tub of CopyDex should sort that little problem out.

Then sorting out the rear wiper... After replacing the motor and it still not working I found that the contact plate between the body and the boot was out of alignment. So I've 'adjusted' the height of the contact plates with the inside of a toilet roll. Just goes to show that years of '... and here's one we made earlier!' haven't gone to waste.

I can't do anything about the exhaust. And that's needed attention for a while (part of the reason why she sounds so bad) but then no one ever complained about Alison Moyet having a blokes voice. I'm just hoping that it's not the full exhaust, 'cos then it will be mega expensive. The Catalytic Converter (and I know that's the bit that takes the lead out of the unleaded petrol. eh?) lives in the front part which makes that end nearly £200 on its own!

The inside has been cleaned and hoovered. I've even had a go at cleaning up the water damage from the sunroof leak, but might think of getting a new roof lining when it comes time to sell her. Need to clean inside the windows and 12 months of Manchester rain has well an truly left its mark on the outside. Black shit on metallic blue-grey aint appealing. But, surprise surprise, its pissin it down round here today so no chance of a proper clean off. Couple of buckets of water and a nice sponge down will do me nicely.



And 'the wife' after a hard day of (watching me) working on the car...



...trying to pretend that she doesn't know I'm taking her picture.

I was made aware of the following headline yesterday:

'Riding A Bike Can Make You Impotent'

After picking myself up off the floor with laughter, and realising that it really meant bicycle and not town bike I learned more about the topic.

Seems that with heavy prolonged use the front part of a bike saddle places too much pressure on the bit behind your balls causing a drop in circulation.

Women, however, don't have this problem. And Polish (I think) scientists have come up with a solution to make sure that women never suffer from this. Observe their research here. WARNING: Female nudity, but its funny.

Completely unrelated, but you know how we keep being told as drivers that we need to reduce our speed to prevent accidents. Well some more research shows what complete bollocks that is!

Check this out:

We were talking about 'Ice Breakers' at work the other day. You know, the kind of games you play to get people to start getting to know each other.

I remember one from University. The tutor was a right queen! Bless. We didn't. But there was always a certain tension there. But anyway...

The game goes as follows (quite predictable really):

When it's your turn, you start by saying 'I'm your name. I went shopping today and bought such and such an item'
If there are people before you, you have to add 'and persons name went shopping and bought whatever they said they bought.'

It's a combination of distraction and reinforcement in the same mental process.

Well, today I went shopping and bought a car side-light bulb, a 15m mains extension cable, a non-porn (shock!!) DVD, and a pair of trakie bottoms off eBay.

Strangely, the game works better if you only admit to buying one item and if you lie about what you actually bought. ie. 'A Dutch Cap from Wal Mart' beats 'A wet lettcue from Kwik Save' anyday!

In one word: phwooooaaaaaaar!!!!

Now can anyone tell me what the story was about? I was too busy perving and having some very naughty thoughts about Vin Diesel to notice.

Shame I couldn't make them come true even if I wanted to at the moment. Just my luck that he'd be passive like me. Damn, why do I feel like submitting "try and 'top' more" to next years New Year's Resolutions?

I think everyone knows that milk does not make a good mixer with vodka. No, I didn't, but like the pint of milk in the coffee jar a few months back it was a close one. But that is not the point of this entry.

Today I think I saw one of the original models for the variety of female blow-up sex dolls on the market. I gotta say I was scared. Very scared.

I was up at the local precint, just on my way back to catch a bus home after getting a side-light bulb for Gloria. Strangely she looked more petrified of me than I was of her. Let me describe: she was a big girl, very very wide (three of me side-by-side), about the same height as me (5'7"), black and white checked skirt, dark tightly curled hair, bright wide eyes and narrow mouth painted with bright red lipstick (you could say slut-red, but eitherway it didn't go with the skin tone).

She's probably a real nice woman. Despite the way I look (Scallied most of the time) I'm a nice guy and generally harmless. But I still couldn't help giggling all the way back to the bus stop.

You know how sometimes life comes round and bites you hard on the ass, hard? Well tomorrow lands me in dilema time.

Managed to make contact with Kyle tonight. He hadn't forgotten about me going to clinic yesterday, just other things got in the way (including an embarassing private message on Gaydar as a result of mistaken identity). He's operating on the basis that my current condition deserves pay back for the times I've tried to sort him out. So we've agreed to spend some time together at some point tomorrow.

Problem is that late last week I agreed to meet with a guy coming up from London on business. He's slightly over my normal age range but he is as fit as fuck. It's not for anything serious, just a bit of fun before he goes back to his hotel and resumes his business life. We'll probably never meet again, but you never know...

In a depressive state my mind goes completely ka-ka. I can forget things as soon as they crop into my mind or I can have the same thought 20 times in a row and not think anything of it (purely 'cos I've forgotten the previous 19 iterations). And then there's the conversations I have with myself that usually end with '...and what the fuck am I on about?' (I've been told it's ok to talk to myself as long as it's my voice I hear talking to me).

Add into that situation that my sex drive is about as active as a dead donkey and I feel about as horny as a brick. Tomorrow is gonna be fun in one way or another. And I've got probably about an hour and a half between being able to contact Kyle and supposedly meeting London Guy.

Someone's gonna end up unhappy. Just hoping it aint me. It'll be more than tears if it is.

Oh, and by the way. It's only taken four days but I've finally got myself pissed. Yay!! Either my alcohol tolerance has come down temporarily or I've drunk enough to reach critical mass. I'm not saying how much vodka I've drunk but I will say there's a 'three' in it. Somewhere.

Mum was always adamant that my stubborness and determination didn't come from her. And then there's Jay's ideology: if at first you don't succeed, try a triple instead!

Yep, it's that time again. Seems to have come round so quickly since last time.

CD4: 353
VL: 47200

Again, Doctors aren't too concerned. Viral Load is 'as expected', whatever that means and CD4 is between the last two samples. So everything is up apart from me. I'm in a bad way again.

The plane from the dark side touched down sometime in the middle of Saturday. Pete phoned Saturday morning and I was alright then, so I'm at a complete loss to know where this has come from. (Honestly, I know that its nothing to do with him.) I know it's not got anything to do with getting results 'cos I don't feel any better now I've got them. Even though its no secret about how anxious I get in the run up to getting them.

Punched the cat over the weekend. Not her fault, she was just showing concern. I was just, well, angry. And it wasn't just a tap, she flew halfway across the room. I'm not proud of it and got very upset after I'd realised what I'd done. She's still talking to me and I haven't hurt her, amazingly. Fascinating how animals know when something is wrong. Think there's lessons to be learned there.

Even tried getting drunk over the weekend to see whether that would liven me up. Couldn't believe it. Half a litre of vodka and I was still stone cold sober. What's with that? I can't even get meself pissed properly. Maybe it proves that alcohol is not the way to deal with things. All it did was make me even more angry, more ratty, and more irrational.

A line from Little Britain keeps coming into my head: 'what that boy needs is a good cock up his arse'. Please. The way I feel at the moment, the next unsolicited cock that comes anywhere near me best come with a tub of ice so its preseved well enough for when Casualty try and stitch it back on.

I'm having second thoughts about trying to sort the car out. All I want to do is cause distruction. Do I really wanna be the proud owner of a 4-grand paperweight? Again?

Ooooo. Angry young man. Let's try some calming imagery. A squirel investigating my back fence on Sunday:





Ahhhh. Nah. Fuck it. Fetch me a rifle. Target Practice sounds much more fun.