The Daily Mumble December 2005 Archive
As the semster came to an end, so I had to find a way to release my pent-up stress...
back from the void
Oh yeah baby Tamey boy is back from the wilds of the University Universe. Crikey Oh Riley have I been a busy boy, Sooooooooooo busy that TDM has experienced its longest period out of print to date.
The reasons for this prolonged absence are multiple and varying in degrees of structure. Although this dress has been partly responsible, it can only account for a few percentage points dropped in last week's Japanese speaking exam.
You know, I couldn't get into the dress I wore last Christmas! Have I really put that much weight on? That shouldn't be the case, bearing in mind that my girlfriend and I are still in our honeymoon period, which necessitates a lot of affirming gestures which take up most of the night. Hmm, anyway, er yes, had to hire this dress. 15 quid!! 5 quid more than my last little red number and I didn't even get to keep it! Still, I managed to get a partial refund form the company responsible for getting me in the damn thing, as strictlty speaking, it was my job to wear it.
No, really, it was. It's in my job decription:
Coz you know I really really didn't want to wear it. I really didn't, it's not my scene at all. Despite what they say. And despite all the evidence to the contrary in my online albums.
Mind you, I did quite like the wig, and may continue to wear it when shaving my legs, in order to cover up my bald-patch.
I was thinking about it afterwards though you know, since when have I not minded walking into a room of about 120 smartly-dressed people wearing nothing but a little red plastic dress and a pink wig? If I can do that, I can do ANYTHING! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
I was also thinking, I wonder why my girlfriend went home halfway through the proceedings?
So yeah, despite the "Traditional Christmas Dinner" being nothing but a few stale rolls, a bit of old salami and some slices of gone-off quiche, the annual Japan Society Christmas Party, organised by myself and a great team of Japan soc devotees, was actually a big success. As can be seen here. Bloomin excellent break-dance performance, the Band AXIA gave their first proper live show, Father and Mary Christmas played Bingo and handed out various presents, such as a packet of 12 pairs of shoelaces and 20 lady's handkerchiefs, oh and there was the traditional Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer dance too. I have that on video, and may share it with you one day, if you're nice to me.
Tell you what though, all this Being God business has really taken its toll. I failed TWO end of semester tests last week. Check me out, I've never done that before. My girlfriend has also had to suffer the misery of living with one stressed out Joseph, which, believe me, apart from the bit that begins not long after you've gone to bed, is no fun at all. My epilepsy, which made a comeback earlier this year has not waned, resulting in me having to increase my drug intake.
So yes, accademically, it's been a disastor of a semester, and I am now faced with 5 weeks of revision until all hell breaks loose at the end of January in the form of three exams, which are worth about 12.5% of my overall degree. Say bye bye to the holidays.
SO, I have an action plan to ensure that this does not happen again.
In fact, this year I shall not be buying a single piece of tack from the high street which the recipient probably wouldn't want anyway. No, instead I have decided to buy all of my family and friends a donkey.
Not one each, because that would cost me more than a few week's food allowance, which is what Bob set me back. No, they can all share him.
I also bought my girlfriend half a goat. I know, I'm so romantic. Can't decide which half to give her though.
If you don't particularly like someone, but feel obliged to buy them something, why not get them a camel? They bite, they spit and they stink. And they only cost 95 quid. If they've recently bought a new carpet, you could get them a calf, which would poo all over the pristine shagpile. "But it's for charity" you could say, and they wouldn't be able to argue with you.
eyes eyes everywhere
Ah, it's good to be out of Sheffield.
I've spent the past few days stacking wood, putting up curtain rails and sorting out books with titles that range from Moses, Desert Commander to The Identification of Remains in Owl Pellets. Yes, it'a funny old place, this Welsh Garden Project.
No, they are, really.
Jesus (above above) is another one.
In other news, I'm looking forward to seeing my lady next week. She's off galavanting round the UK at the moment visiting family who are over from Japan. Next week she has the "pleasure" of meeting my family. They've only ever met two of my girlfriends before (both of whom are now ex-girlfriends, incidentally. Not that meeting my family had any part to play in that, hard to believe though that is bearing in mind what a showman my dear father is). I think they met my (one and only) English ex maybe once or twice, a good 8 years ago now, and then my last girlfriend for a couple of days in 2002. So you see, I don't have any particularly bad memories associated with parents-meeting-girlfriend, although I suppose it's never too late to start a collection. Mind you, they've got on with all my sibling's partners in the past. It's only us kids that have issues.
Speaking of kids, or "children" to give them their proper non-American name which deprives them of all sense of dignity, I saw my nephews, Jamie and Eddie, for the first time in about 4 months the other day. As demonstrated here, they are both well-groovy - and have a fetish for eating tableware.
Cheeky monkey that Jamie. Calls me "Joefish". Right little performer he is, just like his grandad.
Well, I'd best do some more work. Won't pass exams by sitting here drivvling on to you.
He's a talented gardener, my dad. Check out this beauty:
Carrot Man, helping me with my revision
Tasted good too. Organic you know. Naturally.
There was rather a lovely sunset tonight...
I say tonight, in actual fact it was only 3.45pm. What's all that about then? I swear the days are shorter than when I was a lad, playing out in the bright early-summer sunshine at 8pm.
Ok, so Christmas itself generally means having a bloody good time at my brother's, drinking (and in past years, smoking) too much. Watching crap TV, eating lots and lots of curry, sleeping; I like it a lot. This year I don't think that there will be so much drinking as I don't seem to be able to handle that very well anymore, and smoking doesn't appeal at all. Christ, I'm nearly 28, it's showing. And I really am going bald. And mum's just burnt the toast downstairs.
[The bulk of this entry has been placed in The Vault due to the sensitive nature of its contents.]
So anyway, Christmas really is a funny affair. All these things going on beneath the surface.
This year however, New Year looks set to be thoroughly enjoyable, as my girllfriend is coming to stay, and for the first time ever all four siblings will be partaking in events from the coupleville side of the fence.
What a good idea that was of mine to drink over half a litre of gin in three hours on Christmas Eve.
Yes, very clever. The effects which probably would have been string enough to cause a giraffe to get stuck in a cat-flap were magnified somewhat by:
My hangover had just about worn off by yesterday morning, that being Boxing Day, 36 hours after the first G&T.
Having said that, it wasn't a proper hangover as I didn't have a headache and I didn't feel sick. I just felt kinda completely insane. And fat. I think watching Supersize Me when I woke up on Christmas morning didn't help.
Mind you, re. the gin, I'm being made to pay for my sins now. My body was so taken up with trying to deal with all that alcohol that a little cold managed to slip in, and on Christmas Day I woke up to find that my tonsils had swollen to the size of a pair of elephant's verruccas, and hurt a lot. The swelling has since subsided, to be replaced by litres and litres of snot that flows forth like a cascading waterfall of lottery balls (the fluid type of ball, you understand) from my raw nostrils. Today was my illest day. Absolutely no energy. Stayed in bed until about 4pm in the end, apart from a spell in a hot bath, oh, and a few minutes on the floor next to my bed when I saw sunlight hit the wall through the trees, window and blind, and wanted to feel it upon my face. This is an ill face by the way, and any resemblance that it may have to a bloody gorgeous hunk is purely coincidental.
This one can be my album cover. Now all I have to do is learn how to play the guitar and sing.
I can just hear David Gray in the background.
Incidentally, although I am only wearing boxer shorts in the above photo, I'm not actually playing with my willy. Rather, I am shielding you from its glory.
I'm quite enjoying having the longest hair that has been seen on any Joseph Tame since 1995. It looks pretty stupid, and it extenuates my being on the verge of going bald, but nontheless, I like it. It keeps me warm and helps me feel rebellious, as well as providing a comfortable home for various bush-loving insects.
Read loads about North Korean identity this morning. I love reading about history, international relations and stuff. Have never been in the slightest bit interested before now, but it's now up there with watching a good film. It's not anywhere near sex yet though, oh no.
The US has labelled North Korea as a 'Rogue State'... but think
Mind's wandering. Needs fencing in. Ah, that's lucky, look what I've just found!
Some barbed wire preventing me from reaching the gate that leads into the field of non-sensical whimsy. Discovered, incidentally, by my camera when we went in search of some meat for Christmas Dinner. Ideally we wanted a nice lamb to roast, but alas, there were none in sight. Instead, we raided the neighbour's garden and slaughtered 2 of her guinea pigs. The picture on the right shows them post-dinner.
The Guinea Pigs were accompanied by a lovely selection of organic roast vegetables, and washed down by some rather expensive champagne. Oh, but the champagne! Thank heavens it had a warning label on it, otherwise imagine the disaster that would have unfolded had I gone ahead with my plan to heat it up...
Did you know that 10% of the UK's annual rubbish is disposed of at Christmas? MP3 players replacing CD Walkmans, old socks making way for brand new Gortex Feety Freinds™. Shocking stuff. In our family, we don't believe in that sort of consummerist rubbish (see my example, above). My brother also fully embraced this view, by giving me a cute, yet practical present.
Yes, that's right, it IS an Artichoke shaped like a mole! I was, of course, delighted, having never been the recipient of such a rare gift before now.
I'm v grateful to me bro and louby for hosting me again over the festive season. I know I've not exactly been the jolliest soul in South Devon. Still, it is very much appreciated. I'm now looking forward to helping my body work its way through this cold, seeing my old housemates in Bristol tomorrow, and then returning to Hereford Friday, ready to welcome my baby on Saturday. hmmmmmmmmm.
Spose I'd best get to bed.
argh argh jimlad skipper ooh arrr shiver me timbers
yes indeed, this morning I awoke with the ability to not hear anything no matter how hard I tried. I am told that this is due to a family of woodlice having crawled into my ears overnight. To combat them, a little while ago I ventured out into the freezing temperatures wrapped tightly in plastic bubblewrap and made my way down to Lloyds Pharmacy, where I purchased some lovely drugs designed to serve eviction notices upon small mammals, and woodlice. AND, as if that wasn't exciting enough I got a free box of anti-viral Kleenex. Now, the question is, am I supporting that evil company that has a habit of cutting down rainforests by accepting a free box of their product? OR, am I, by having a box for free, eating away at their profits? Well, I blow my nose in their general direction in any case, and unlike with my bro's toilet paper the snot does not fly through the instant it hits the surface.
Well I must go to Bristol now. A mere 2 hour journey by car, train, bus, train, bus, foot. Ah, those lovely engineering works.
Wiggedy woo wibbly wong.
A COMPLETE REVIEW OF 2005 CAN BE FOUND IN MY JANUARY 2006 DAILY MUMBLE
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