Alan's Blog

Crazy f***ing bitch

2006-08-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

This week I am not happy. You’ll have to excuse the swearing and if it bothers you…go fuck yourself. Julie, crackpot cow that she is, has managed to really fuck me off. THIS is why I don’t get too involved with girls. They’re barking. And not like a forgetful Auntie, more in a Joseph Stalin way. She went all cruise missile on me because her ex-boyfriend thinks she is now living with me. Which she isn’t! Even. And so what? He’s her fucking ex! And from what I heard, he is to cunts what Roger Federer is to tennis. So bollocks.

I didn’t rise to it at the time, which was partly because I didn’t give a shit, but mainly due to the sixteenth of nasty red skunk I’d just consumed. It was only later that it started to gnaw away at my normally serene plateau of not-giving-a-shitness.

In true girly style of course, the poor cow’s mind somehow switched from fury to us a) going on holiday or b) getting a place together. I must have turned white as a sheet because her immediate reaction on telling me was “What?!” I tried to palm her off with a change of subject, then a grope and when they both failed I said “Hmm, well, it’s something to think about isn’t it. Maybe we should go away somewhere…” this being the lesser of two evils, I thought it the safe option. And anyway, saying we’ll do it and actually doing it are two completely different things.

So great, now we’re going on holiday. She’s started to look around and keeps emailing me with subjects like “isn’t this a great offer?” and “oooh this looks amazing”. Holidays with girlfriends are not my thing. I need to think of an escape route fast or I’m as dead as Greedo.

Also, I have just been informed by the television in the front room that my Gillette Mach 3 Power razor – which was, I thought, the top top top end of razors – has been superseded by something called the Fusion. Unbe-cocking-lievable.

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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Ex-crement

2006-08-21T15:15:00.000-07:00

The people in my house are weird. Bar the odd one. We must have had our water tampered with or maybe we got a bad batch of Pringles but most of them seem pretty out of whack right now.

“The Julie Thing” is much as it ever was. She facilitates the emotional discharge I require and in the meantime, keeps my mind off the horror that is my career. Or lack of it. I’ve never worried about it you see, but, maybe it’s living with a bunch of whining whoopsies like that bellend Nick, I’ve started to think, maybe filing insurance documents and knocking one out in the toilets on a Wednesday morning isn’t for me.

Had a chat with Joey. It seems all of them have some kind of crisis they’re “facing up to”. What’s the matter with the tried tested “ignore it, it’ll go away” attitude. It’s worked for centuries and is far less boring to other people.

I mean, it used to be that you could say “how are you?” to someone and they would just say “fine!”. Ask someone that in this house and you’re odds on to get a fucking manifesto on their road to being a more rounded individual. Or some shit.

Joey and me talked about Julie, Claire, and their ex boyfriend. It made me feel pretty uneasy if I’m honest. A bit…unresolved. Obviously I’m in this for the sex, but still.

His phone rang while he was out of the room so I answered it. Except it wasn’t, it was actually Julie’s. And it was her ex Stephen. I may have spoken a little out of turn and enquired who the fuck he was. Hmm. My paranoia about all this is pretty annoying. I made a vow several years ago to avoid all this by treating girls like a farmer does pigs. Treat them well, dine on them, and forget them. I can’t be doing with all these “has she told him about me?” thoughts.

I want more of those “Do Jedi’s masturbate?” thoughts.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Horn Hill

2006-08-14T15:03:00.000-07:00

I was “reprimanded" at work this week for getting in late. Well, I say late. I turned up at midday. That’s pretty late.

I’ve done it before of course but my section supervisor “Commandant Richard” commented in the strongest terms possible “Blimey Alan, did you oversleep?!”

He’s a divine pussy of a boss you see - hence his sarcastic nickname. Unable to have a go at staff, particularly me. I told him I was sorry and I’d stay late (in fact I left early).

It happened twice last week. The second time he saw me again (around 11am) and I pre-empted his clockwatching insipidness and said “Rich mate, I’m really sorry I’m late but my mum’s been on the phone all night cos her new boyfriend Ahmed lives in High Wycombe and she thinks he might get caught up in the whole terror plot thing.” He looked suitably amazed the gullible buffoon. Of course, it was a complete lie.

And why was I late in the first place? Julie.

I’ve been seeing more and more of the little sexpest. I’d say virtually every inch. We’ve enjoyed numerous bouts of sweaty, intense and thoroughly satisfying fucking over the past week. It seems my skills as a great listener are in fact best employed to Julie as a kind of sympathetic, fleshy love microphone. If you know what I mean.

I’m not too sure how it’s been going down with Claire, mind. All that messy business with her ex-boyfriend made me wonder if I was being used as some kind of device to get back into her books somehow (good or bad). I don't want to upset Claire.

Of course my paranoia, deepened when I smoke too much weed, is generally placated when I am laid out on her bed at her gaff in Herne Hill while she rides me like a Derby winner. In other words, what the fuck do I care?! I’m digging her more and more (insert funny aside here).

One slight cause for concern has been the damaging effect it has had on my progress on Pro Evolution 5 on my PS2. I should have finished my 20th season by now but I’ve fallen away and have hardly played it. I can’t help but feel I need to arrange some quality time with the black box of fun soon.

Maybe I’ll chuck a sicky.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Julie scrumptious

2006-08-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

I phoned Julie at the weekend to strike while the iron’s hot and all that. Bingo blammo, she happily agreed to come over and “talk”. Obviously I was merely offering myself as a shoulder to cry on, a, if you will, helping hand at a time of confusion for the poor girl.

We, of course, needed privacy and so we talked in my room.

Some soft lighting, clean sheets, and vodka and tonics later and I had her pinned on all fours panting like a marathon runner, yelping for more. Marvellous fun. She was really game and it was sensational how she managed to convert from moping, troubled waif to cock-crazy pneumatic screw machine. Or something.

Living in a house full of relative strangers has its bonuses. Namely, fucking their friends.

Julie stayed over and I had another crack at her in the morning before she left just to make sure and leave my options open to see her again. Not sure I will, but she’s got a hard body and seems up for some good old fashioned no strings rutting with common types like me.

Selfish, calculated sex is underrated. It may not be the root of a lasting relationship, but what is? That seems to come from fear or coveting someone else’s ass. Cynical? Yes. But try watching your parents tear each other apart some time. That’ll take the shine off your romantic ideals.

Anyway, the rest of my weekend was spent recharging my batteries after my Julie fuckfest and smoking enough weed to kill a small horse. Oh, and considering how I could build a scale model Death Star.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Opportunity knocks

2006-07-30T15:03:00.000-07:00

No contact with my execrable younger brother except a single word text message from him that rhymes with funt.

I presume that means he didn’t get into too much trouble or I’d have got it in the ear from Mum. Maybe I’ll buzz him. The usual way to get him back on side (not that he’s ever truly on side) is to have him over and get him stoned so he can blather on at 78prm about this and that until he gets down to a manageable 33 and passes out.

Claire’s mate Julie came round to see her and apologise about some shit. Claire was out so I let Julie pour her little heart out about getting it on with Claire’s ex. Messy old business as I’ve said before.

However, one man’s dog’s dinner is another man’s slap up nosh and I played the part of Understanding Alan very well. The trick is to listen, nod, use occasional physical contact (arm round shoulder is an obvious but effective device), exaggerated reactions (“Really?!”) to fain interest and then (because I am NOT doing this for my fucking well being thank you very fucking much) swoop in like a TIE-fighter for the kill and GET HER NUMBER! Apparently, according to the fittette Julie I am “a great listener”.

Oh yes. Understanding Alan, meet sly, calculating filthy minded Alan who is aiming a fleshy exocet right at your bits. Patience is the game. I know how to wait. I’ll play that one and see how it unfolds, in the meantime I can easily nourish myself on the pickings I get through work and the pub. I’m only saying (and doing) what everyone else is thinking. Or doing and not admitting to.

Don’t judge me.

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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Little Brother 0 Big Brother 1

2006-07-25T15:07:00.000-07:00

So I have another item to add to my list of things I must NEVER do.

So far, at numbers one and two I have NEVER try and get off with your mate’s Mum at Christmas and NEVER try eating dental floss.

However, in at number three with a bullet is DON’T EVER fight your stupid little cunt younger brother in the frozen food section at Sainsbury’s. EVER.

It doesn’t really matter how it happened. Suffice to say, Michael, my 19 year-old verminesque brother is a lost cause. He is a selfish, ill-mannered, humourless twerp. The row started over nothing as usual, he just says the wrong things at the wrong time all the time. Anything from “your hair looks stupid” to “I kicked a cat the other day and I swear it barked”. He’s a cunt.

I bumped into him in the street and well, I’m not sure exactly how it happened but we ended up scuffling in Sainsbury’s after a shoving match and bad words. He hit me. Not very effectively. So, I did what every older brother should do, and smacked him square in the jaw fracturing my hand. I felt like a proper geezer for a bit until the searing pain in my fist took hold. Anyway, he fell stunned into the frozen food cabinets to the shocked yelps of the chav mummies and when I gathered my senses I saw the mall pigs heading our way.

Sticking vehemently to the code that has been our bond since we could talk, I walked calmly out of the store leaving Michael to fend for his fucking self. Needless to say, he got caught. Twat.

That night, I got pissed with Claire. She bleated on about her ex (not me, I don’t really think I count) and how he say he is a mess without her and keeps sending her texts and blah blah whatever. Nice girl, but she started crying (as they do) and I felt overcome with that awkward feeling like when your Mum talks to her friends about you while you're in the same room. Wasn’t sure where to look.

I’m not a complete bastard though and I do feel for the girl. Relationships can be sticky things. That’s why I stick to a strict diet of wanking and secretaries.

On a lighter note, Joey has bought some of the ugliest shoes I have ever seen. The sort you get on the NHS. Now, I know fashion isn’t everything, but it’s like he went into a shop and said, “give me the ugliest pair of cheese-resembling shoes you have”.

What a nobber.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Alan is away

2006-07-18T04:43:00.000-07:00

I am away on a break. Back midweek. No time to explain.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Damn good shoeing

2006-07-11T00:53:00.000-07:00

This week I have put my flatmate’s shoes on ebay.

Yes it’s childish, perhaps even evil. Certainly though, it’s funny. So, while he runs around blaming Claire (ok so I did file them under the name Ms Could Win), I have in turn been blamed for (OH MY GAWD!) “bringing drugs into the house!” I didn’t realise we lived in a Church youth club. I must seek out the ping pong table. Ironically, what they found wasn’t mine. I’m not EVER stoned enough to leave my shit lying around, so it’s probably Joey’s. Careless fucker.

In other news, the old boy who works in the post room at work was rushed to hospital because (and this may be rumour) his haemorrhoids ruptured. What the FUCK was he doing to do that? We’ve all had our theories at work. If that happened to me I could never see my workmates again through embarrassment let alone return to work. The post room guy though is one of those cunts who loves banging on about shit like that. Like it’s a badge of honour.

Anyway, if this ebay thing works out (i.e. it’s funny, and I don’t get caught) I may expand the operation.

Good smoking. Alan
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

cross dresser in da house

2006-07-02T16:13:00.000-07:00

My usual week was punctuated on Thursday night by a leaving drink. It was for Steve, a nominally interesting geek in IT who was justified in inviting some people along (unlike most IT guys) as he manages to appear human most of the time. He’s left to join what sounded to me like an identical company slightly further away from where he lives in South London. He told me drunkenly, however, that his real ambition is to run a hot air balloon ride business that would allow him to own his own balloon and use it at weekends to float around the skies “taking in the scenery”. I pointed out that he may find weekends his busiest period and therefore not a goer. And when I delved deeper, it transpired he had only ever been up once in a balloon. Being well on the way myself, I said I’d always fancied being a rich ladies’ masseur. And that while I had no experience, I knew girls and had had a massage myself. I also told him that the white rhino isn’t in fact white and is actually called so due to a translation error from Afrikaans. White rhinos are grey. Conversation slam dunk I’m sure you’ll agree. I must remember that.

The evening wasn’t a total loss though, as some outrageously filthy double entendres aimed at Carla the temp may lead me to be able to let rip my one eyed dog of war full pelt into her unspoilt valley and…oh you know. I shall follow that one up anyway. There’ll be no escape for the princess this time…

Meanwhile back at the go-go that is my house, my flatmate Joey is almost definitely at it with Claire. He started banging on about his fucking shoes and saying he thought he may have left them in her room. Now, either he’s putting them in there so he can retrieve them at some point (just before she’s going to bed) and embark on the love talk. Or they’re rutting already and he left them in there. Or, and this is my favourite, he’s going into her room while we’re all out, trying on her sandals and heels and clothes and pants, prancing around, and then forgetting his own shoes.

He got well tetchy when I asked him why they would be in there too. Which adds more fuel to my cross-dressing Joey fire. Also, they don’t really get on, so the whole shagging thing seems far fetched. Him being Lily Savage by day however, I like.

I’m not sure about Joey. I have friends I buy puff from, friends I smoke puff with, work friends, and then my real friends. Only the last category really count. The others can be replaced at any time really. Joey, not sure. He may well fit into categories 1 and 2.

Also, I don’t get his accent. I’m not good with accents. I mean, I recognise something like South African/Bristol/Cockney and maybe a little Welsh.

On a more exciting note, I may try not shaving all next week.

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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Sorted - Finally

2006-06-27T01:00:00.000-07:00

The meal

Finally Joey sorted out some puff.

Things have been ok. Claire is mental about ebay. I don’t see the attraction. Some twat at work told me it’s “about the buzz of bidding”. She’s on it all the time. I fully expect lorry loads of people’s tat arriving each week from now on. “Ooh look at this fantastic 1975 nylon tablecloth I got!” She only breaks to watch Desperate Housewives. It’s not a life really, but it somehow makes me feel warm and cosy to know she’s sadder than I’ll ever be.

Still, every silver lining has a cloud and Nick made us all a thai meal the other night. I find things like this really awkward. I like thai, don’t get me wrong (I didn’t pebble dash the toilet bowl), and I did find Joey’s vomiting and subsequent flight to his room hilarious, I just find Nick about the most annoying person in the world at the moment.

I’ve been in the house two months now and I think I may be watching a man have a mid life crisis. I’m a long way off that myself. I think you need to get to the grown up part of life, take on responsibilities, realise the full horror of routine and the futility of relationships, then BLAM! it’s all about trying to drag back your youth. Thankfully, the responsibility side of things still seems miles away for me.

You might think it’s a tragic or fascinating phenomenon to observe. It’s not. It’s just fucking annoying.

Nick has started wearing jeans. He wears them like a Dad. Like someone who has never worn jeans would wear them. He even wears Dad jeans. Ill-fitting, bad-stitching, meaningless brand name jeans like “Riders” or “Strike” or something. Ones that you buy out of a catalogue.

It actually depresses me. If I could laugh about it, fine. But I can’t. I, along with the rest of them, am playing some key role in Nick’s miserable reality catastrophe.

He goes on these bizarre mumsy activities after dinner, insisting he cleans up like some weirdy beardy house husband you just want to tell to GET A FUCKING JOB AND CLEAR OFF YOU CREEPY BASTARD! I don’t know what it is. Does he want to be popular? Whatever, he won’t get any arguments from me while he keeps cooking and cleaning.

We’ll all come home one night and find him sitting in the front room shaking and crying because his 16 year-old girlfriend doesn’t want to see him any more cos he’s too boring.

Can’t fucking wait.

Anyway, once Dad-Man Nick and ebay Claire went to bed, Joey arrived with the good stuff and got Gina stoned. Prety sure it was them that suggested I got my PS2, so I set it up on the BIG SCREEN.

Bit of a waste of time really as neither wanted to join in and they flaked out like lightweights. But I put a brave face on it and plundered the kingdom of potential-epileptic-fit-land to morning.

Brilliant.

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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

good news?

2006-06-21T15:27:00.000-07:00

Two birds are moving into the house. I think one is Claire, a girl I sort of used to work with and sort of had a thing with. Sort of.

My feeling is that it will provide the house with more food, more cleaning products, and a potential bunk up once in a while if we all get pissed.

I hope they don't mind me smoking spliff.

They can fuck off if they do.

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Nine Rooms - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

work work work sleeeeeeeeep

2006-05-28T23:39:00.000-07:00

This week at work was tough. Most days I only managed half hour lunches which is a chuffing outrage. Friday was good though. I think Friday's are crucial as a window on the weekend.

A way of acclimatising to what should be a relaxing time (except for those perverse individuals who insist on windsurfing or riding about on mountain bikes or - jesus christ - going to the gym).

So, this Friday, following an excellent one hour down the pub with Greg and Sam from accounts; in which we drank three pints, had a pizza and discussed the secretaries and which ones would let you do what to them, I was "forced" to go to the records room to look for a slippery little policy file that some fool wanted in the Glasgow office.

One thing led to another and before i knew it I had slept for two hours on the piles of boxes down there, waking up just in time to wander back to the office at 5:00pm when everyone was leaving! Advantage Alan I say. AND I forgot the policy.

Swallow that corporate Britain. Swallow fucking that.

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Nine Rooms - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

wankend

2006-05-27T02:03:00.000-07:00

I'm sick of wasting my weekends doing fuck all. This weekend I played Godfather on the PlayStation for seven hours straight. I got though about twelve spliffs and by the end of it all i was shattered. In a way I'm Olympian. I defy most "normal thinking people" to maintain that level of dedication and concentration for someting which offers no financial or spiritual awards.

Perversely satisfied, I finished the whole weekend off with a phone call to my Mum and a wank.

They're not in the least connected. Are you meant to talk like this in blogs?

Shit it. I spent the other bits of the weekend wandering around my enormous house eyeing up the rooms and flopping onto beds. Mine room's the best. Though it does smell of socks.

Next weekend I am going to do something different. Leave work on time, maybe go see a movie, go to a club. Time I got my life back from the Evil Professor Wankstation.

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Nine Rooms - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

stupid

2006-05-19T07:54:00.000-07:00

I hate my name. It's stupid. That's maybe the most important thing to note. Or "blog" i guess. Alan's a name for uncles or football managers. I'm neither and so I hate it.

Another fantastic week at work as Alan the Insurance Clerk once again beats big business by not doing quite as much work as he should and masturbating into the filing cabinet in the records room.

Only kidding. Or am I?

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Nine Rooms - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

First post

2006-05-16T06:26:00.000-07:00

Hello.

Not sure how you're meant to start these things. So i won't.