Of Christmas, Lucky Luke And Birds With Turpentine Up Their A-holes

Watching tv, drinking whiskey, smoking and listening to my friends playing cards in the next room was, oddly enough, the best night I’ve had in a long time. When the movies became unbearably stupid, I went over to the table they were playing and I joined them. We broke it off at around 6 am on Christmas day. Happy Birthday baby Jesus.

It’s Christmas day, 7 am and three dogs, Fletcher, Joe and Larry followed me home from the bus stop. They could be my reindeers only if I was fatter and my beard and hair was white. Only if I was wiser and knew how to spread cheer.

So I fed the strays a couple of slices of ham and one of cheese and came back in. The light brown one, Fletcher, seemed to be the sociable one. The black one Larry, was the leader from what it seemed and the brown-white one, Joe, was part of the group.

I had a cup of coffee and smoked a couple of cigarettes. The festive table is now over. Plates are empty, my stomach’s full from all the food, wine and chocolate cake. You have to taste my uncle’s wine. It’s sweeter than Holy Communion and stronger than Hulk. Jesus’ wine doesn’t stand a chance. Chester had some pork from my plate and he loved it.

The song coming from my speakers sings “we used to get high together instead of getting high alone” and I just finished talking with a good friend of mine whom I haven’t seen for six months or so. We talked about the days we used to go for coffee, get our cups to go, get in the car drive up to a hill where he smoked pot, I drank coffee and chain smoked and talked nonsense for an hour or two. He’s going to be titled Dr. in a couple of years from now. Maybe less.

It’s 4 days after Christmas day now and I still haven’t finished this entry. I was caught up with being lazy, ill and practicing trying to make a musician out of myself. Last gig we had was on the 27th and it went surprisingly well. I got so excited that I abused my free drinks that I had at the bar and spent 40 more euros. Again I got back home at 7 am.

I used to tell my best friend that playing “Jingle Bells Rock” make me feel miserable for some reason but this time the song spread its Christmas cheer all over inside me. Re-reading this last line I want to slap me real hard for being that cheesy but I won’t. Anything goes because it’s Christmas.

That night was amazing. Not many people that we knew showed up but those important few were there. The bar was packed and we had an amazing night. At least I did.

Now the new year is only a couple of days away and once I had forgotten I’m growing older the signs of the time flying faster than a bird with turpentine up its ass swung at me and knocked me down. The video store where a friend of mine and I used to get movies from every now and again for more than 5 years is closing down. I asked the owner and she said recession has nothing to do with it. She’s just retiring.

From that same video store my mother used to get me Lucky Luke video-tapes to watch when I was younger. At that same video store I burst out laughing when I saw a guy handing over 2 action movies, 1 comedy, 1 cartoon and a porn movie stuck in between to rent.

Well time flies dats fer shure and soon 2012 will be smooching my stubbly face every day for 12 months. Just like 2010 did and 2011 after that. My favorite video store will be closed down and I’ll have no grandchildren to say “when I was your age that’s where I used to get movies from.” Who's going to dare and say happy New Year this time? We said it last year and look what happened. Disasters and calamities all over the place. We jinxed it big time. But anyway, even early MAY YOU ALL HAVE A HAPPY AND GOOFY NEW YEAR.

Searching Other Guys' Luggages At The Airport

Hello and hi to whoever reads this. Today I started searching a stranger's bag at the airport by mistake and he...but wait let's take things from the scratch.

No matter how stupid this may sound sometimes I feel like I’ll run out of things to say. Like I won’t be able to write down a simple even honest sentence ever again and I’ll start sucking at what I think I suck less. A knight will come while I’m asleep tie me up and wake me up just to make me watch him having sex with an ugly witch on the next bed. Then chop my head off, take it home and use it as a cocktail pitcher.

Well, when in a situation like this I’m often in the dilemma of either writing down the last thing I have in mind with the hope that this move will trigger more and more thought, or save it cause that’s the last crappy thing I have and will ever think that will be worth of mentioning.

Anyway, a flight for me usually gets weird, awkward and goofy. Either there’s a kid crying or screaming right behind me, or I’m getting to sit on the aisle seat and every time the flight attendants pass me by with their cart, they hit my knee and wake me up like they do it on purpose. OR I fall asleep and wake up every two minutes checking if I drooled and made a fool of myself. BUT not this time.

This time the less predictable happened. No, I didn’t get blown in the toilettes or asked to fly the airplane after it was high-jacked by terrorists and John McClane called me on the radio to land it safely as his wife was in there.

I met a guy who I’d met before during a tram ride in Manchester 7 or 8 months ago. Now, it’s alright for you to think “why the hell you’d strike up conversations on the tram with strangers you weirdo?” and it’s alright for me to answer of course “because that’s what people do.”

I can’t spell the guy's name but he’s Finish. I get to sit next to him as there’s nowhere else for me to sit. I look at him and say “I think we’ve met before”. Hell I was on the aisle seat again, so I thought if I could get to talk with the guy I wouldn’t have a problem waking up every 10 minutes by flight attendants hitting me with their stupid carts.

He used to be in a “fast intelligent rock and roll slash punk band”. He tells me how he formed his first band when he was 12 and then got a record deal when he was 15 playing hardcore punk. He claims it was not that hard to get signed, as hard core punk was on the up back then and there weren’t many hardcore/ punk bands in Finland. “You haven’t listened to faster band than us” that’s what he claims him and his friends used to say. He also says that they managed to get a record deal cause they played like many California hardcore bands. “Like circle-jerks, black flag, you know that kind of stuff.”

The flight attendant interrupts our conversation asking if we’d like anything to drink or eat. I get a blueberry muffin and pretzels. He gets milk and tea and then he continues with his story.

Apparently he got big headed by signing at a young age and it didn’t work out. He keeps telling me stories about touring and sleeping on friends’ floors. Friends and bandmates of his not taking things seriously and just drinking all the time to the extent they weren’t “awake if they didn’t have a drink”. All that by scratching his goatee- which was long- and while I had finished my pretzels.

I didn’t have to talk. The more silent I was the more I think he felt obliged to fill that silence and he kept on talking. He’s a fast talker. With a bit of a stammer.And a weird laugh- he laughs in a high pitched voice while looking at you and then gets completely serious and stares blankly in front of him- But all in all, he’s a nice guy.

At one point I run out of questions and the conversation starts getting boring. I take out one of the magazines I’d bought – in which I read an article about sex addiction and a woman who ruined 2 marriages, cheated on both her ex-husbands repeatedly with her coworkers and had more one night stands that she can remember- and I offer him a magazine from my bag. He says he’s alright and that he has this ability to switch off his mind when he’s bored. 5 minutes later I see him picking up a crappy airline magazine. 2 minutes after that I can see his hand falling slowly. I look at him and he’s falling asleep. He struggles to stay awake. But he gives in and starts snoring.

We arrive in Manchester and I’m waiting for my suitcase when I see one which looked JUST like mine. It’s all wet like all the others but something doesn’t seem right. So, I kneel down and open it. In the top I find two shirts. I hadn’t packed any shirts. I try to find a way to open the main part of the suitcase when a guy probably 19 years old walks over and says “excuse me sir…I think that’s my bag” while my head was stuck in the main space of his bag.

I look up and then at the belt and see my bag. I stand up and say “yeap you’re right” and run and grab my bag. I bet he thought I was just waiting there to pick any bag I found unattended cause I open mine too to make sure that it’s mine.

Well I lied back up when I said nothing awkward or weird happened this time. But it wasn’t that bad.

As you can see, I picked the first option. I just arrived in Preston and settled in in my hotel room. They’re happy that Christmas is around the corner and they show it by playing “Jingle Bells” and other Christmas songs through the halls’ speakers. They even have Christmassy music in the elevator. But, despite the great Christmas spirit they have no wifi. “It’s down since yesterday. We were expecting the technician to come fix it today but he didn’t show up” said the semi-fat receptionist. But turned out she had absolutely no idea what she was talking about because the internet’s working just fine. My phone’s dead. My room’s phone isn’t working as well and they didn’t give me my gravy at KFC. Kernel I've been loyal but your troops betrayed me.

To top that there’s nothing worth watching on the 100+ something channels on the T.V here.

But I have my Christmassy tunes from down the hall, my cigarettes and my laptop. Oh wait no I don’t have my laptop cause I gave it for repair and the guy fucked it up even more so now I have my brother’s laptop. So I have my Christmassy tunes spreading the joy from down the hall and my cigarettes.

Till the next time keep goofing it up and bababooee