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Now this.
Every time I'm listening to Goldfrapp or the Velvets or Funkadelic or Kelis or Shostakovich and you come in and say, in a friendly, affable fashion, "Hey, why don't you listen to some decent music for a change?" and then go on to say "I know you're not really into music as much as we are, but see, you want to listen to someone like Steve Vai, he's just an amazing guitarist"...
A little bit of the magic dies. Like this: *paf*
To expand on that: I studied music for 10 years, as in, half my life, and play four instruments. And you know what? While it makes me no better than anyone else, it does make me superior in this instant to white dreadlocked idiots who've been playing guitar for about three years and think there's no skill in rap.
Just saying, like.
And, can we now take down those St Patrick's day flags you've got hanging up everywhere? Because you know what? You know what...I am a little bit Irish, about a quarter, and as the only genuine vaguely Irish person in this house I find the whole St Paddy Guiness Hurray thing, not so much offensive, but just really, really boring and like, the opposite of fun...forced fun, like Top Gear or a group of middle-management men called Keith going out paintballing.
And I really couldn't care less about your cousins in Australia or what they fucking think about the immigrants and aborigines, because get this: just because your cousins live there doesn't make them fucking unarguable founts of knowledge. They are in fact white middle class surf-dicks like you are trying to be. I know this; it is known.
And, you know when you always ask what I've made for my tea, and then when I say, "Oh just pasta" or "Oh I'm just getting a pizza in" you wrinkle up and look all smug? Because you're a fucking precocious foodie? It doesn't fit with the image you're trying to make. Just saying. Sitting there with your "wild" "ethnic" hairstyle whilst milching on about "great food", "great wine" etc etc.
And the Iranian and Polish guys sitting outside the cornershop, you know, the guys who work damn hard and have to learn a horrible mixed up language, and have to learn it to perfection or risk getting no service...you know what? They're not "layabouts", sir sits-on-arse-in-boxer-shorts-snogging-a-bong-all-day. If anything, that's you.
And when we went to see Pirates of the Carribbean, yeah, it was a good night and everything but you know what? My mind fucking fails me as to why you had to hiss "scallies" at the kids sat behind us, who had done nothing wrong all film, just because one of the girl's phones went off. She didn't even fucking answer it turning it off straight away but maybe if someone has a Britney ringtone they just need to be gassed (maybe that's why you started a fucking scene and got spat on).
Yeah, right on. Maybe you read that in your fucking little book of Buddhism that you're always refferring smugly to, you oaf of toads, you poetaster, you of the shite-chipped-ballocks.
Not that I dislike you. All these occurence happen at intervals of about a week, so I'm not pissed off and actually think you're a nice person underneath all the bullshit. I'm just letting off steam. Like this: *paf* |
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