Is that a locust on my arm?
2008-03-04

You know that list you have of things you want to do before you die? Yeah, you better get on it because the world is on its way out. I am going to grow a long beard, go out to Market square and shout scripture at people with a giant “The End is fucking Nigh!” placard around my neck, just watch.

"Keep your crazy kook-talk to yourself, kook" I can hear you say, But let me explain... In the past two weeks I’ve seen Earthquakes, Gales, Floods, Major drama over a Tour of the Undead and a visit from the Antichrist himself.

But seriously, what the fuck is going on?

As I mentioned in my last entry, a 5.9 earthquake rumbled through Nottingham shaking the fuck out of my house and destroying (amongst other things) my cherished cold frame. That was a bit on the scary side, but also a pretty cool thing to check off my “cool shit to live through” list. 5.9 is a nice sized earthquake actually, it’s strong enough that you feel it, but not too strong that you get taken out by a flying plate Oddjob style. I highly recommend the 5.9, it’s a good one. It’s like riding the Crazy Shake at the Goose Fair for 20 seconds for free.

I was feeling like a right hardass after surviving that bad boy. I flipped the big haysoos the bird, “Is that all you got, BEEYOTCH?!” Judging from what has happened since, the answer would be a resounding NO. In fact, I would say he’s trying to smote a brother.

The following weekend I was asked by the LeftLion editors to write a column on The Tales of Robin Hood, a local tourist attraction. Little did I know that it would be one of the most fucked up things I had ever seen and the resulting column would cause such a shitstorm at LeftLion, that it might not even get printed. I’m not going to get into it too much, as the deputy editor is still figuring out whether they can run it or not (even though he called it my best column ever – sigh). If they do print it, it looks like some major edits have to happen so I don’t piss off the advertisers. Not to worry, the original in all its council slating glory will be available to read here on the blog. The shitty thing is that I was going to get the cover, but now that is up in the air as well. Curse my immense talent! (I’ll show the initial cover drawings of my fat melon here if they don’t print it in the paper.)

As if that wasn’t bad enough, we were hit by huge Gales and rain that blew my fucking fence down again. Last time this happened, my Chinese neighbours came out and helped me put it back up, but there was no sign of them this time. In fact, they have been really frosty ever since I gave their kid some lucky money last Chinese New Year. I thought I was just being nice, and I explained to them that my Uncle’s mom (who’s Chinese) used to give me lucky money on my birthday and at Chinese New Year...

They looked at me like I just left a trail of lollipops to my grooming room full of video games and gimp masks.

And people wonder why I’m such a crotchety bastard.

Suffering from post-Earthquake-Writing-shun-Stormy-Chinese-hate syndrome and a COLD, I awoke this morning to a dripping sound in my dining room.

“Is it a small leak?" you ask. Is it, fuck:

I don’t know if you can make out the water spots in the ceiling in this photo, but it is absolutely sopping wet. The more eagle-eyed of you will notice that the water in the pot is yellow. No, that is not pee (thank God for small miracles), it has (in the words of my plumber) “just picked up that colour on its way through the ceiling. The even more eagle-eyed of you will notice the Stephen King Dark Tower books on the shelf. Yes, I read Stephen King, fuck off, they’re good books, I don’t care what any of you say.

(Yes I do, don’t hate me)

This is the bedroom above the dining room containing the offending pipe. Regular blog readers will know that the former owner deserves a running drop kick to the box for her shit DIY skills and once again it bites me in the proverbial ass. First of all, the carpet underlay is glued. to. the. fucking. floorboards. Boy, that sure makes it easy to bring up (hence the shovel).
Secondly, we find out that the floorboard was actually touching the pipe so every time I took a step on it, it put pressure on the pipe. It’s leaking now? What a surprise.

God I hate her.

My wife is currently at a spa celebrating her mother’s 60th birthday. She has no idea that her bedroom is in such a state. She’s calling me tonight, I’m not sure I should tell her... I want her to enjoy her last night at the spa. Should I tell her or wait until tomorrow?

There is some good news that has come from all this, though... I’m sure many of you have guessed what I'm going to say already, but for those who haven't, the leak has caused a major character in the Canuckistani blog to make another appearance...

Yes, it’s my GOTHIC PLUMBER!!

I actually got a photo of him this time and convinced him to do an interview for the paper. Check him out in all his gothic glory:

Despite the photo, he is actually a really nice guy (and a wonderful plumber). I am going out for a beer with him on Saturday night to do the interview. If you don’t hear from me by the following Saturday... just wait longer.

Watch this space.