Pass it Forward

Some things are stuck in your head until you can pass them on. Songs that are on repeat in your skull, resounding and usually awful, often dissipate once you've sung them to someone else (especially if you only know one line or half a verse, those are the nastiest). Stories that haunt you and make it impossible to sleep at night, stories that make you shudder, tremble and sometimes even send you into catatonic shock are immeasurably easier to deal with once you have told someone else. Much like that great video chain letter the Ring. You know what I'm talking about.

Here's a really gross story told to me by a friend. You will probably not be able to relax until you have told someone else. Somehow, it just helps.

Seriously, this is a bit gross. I'm warning you.

So anyway, a friend of a friend of mine (let's call him Mr Tri-Nipple) picked up a boy (let's call him Mr Very Very Sad) at a club one time, and took him home. They were starting to get it on, getting hot and heavy, the shirts were off... you know the drill. Anyhow, Tri-Nipple was having a great time, but he was wondering why VVS kept concentrating so much on a particular part of his chest. It felt fine, but it wasn't his nipple or anything so it was a little weird. But no big deal... until he realised what was happenning, just a moment too late, as the enormous zit exploded into VVS's mouth. Mr Very Very Sad got up, said "I have to get a glass of water," and never returned.

Told you it was gross. Sorry. But at least now I can stop thinking about it myself.

And Goodnight.

Endearing/Irritating

A lot of people think that endearing and irritating are antonyms, never to be accurate adjectives of the same behaviour. Others, who have half a clue, think that there is a fine line between endearing and irritating, which is crossed at one's peril. A small chuckle can be followed quickly by a hearty slap if the line is misjudged.

A little guide:

Badly singing Hey Mickey you're so fine you're so fine you blow my mind hey Mickey to your partner, maybe even switching names for better effect, is endearing. (Of course, it really does depend on delivery here, but I'm assuming you know what you're doing, and can pull it off. If not, don't try it. It's not something I'd ever actually try, but I would try to be endeared (yes it's a word, look it up, ok don't. Just trust me.) if it happened to me.) Singing two lines is endearing and irritating. Singing the whole thing gets you shot.

Of course singing the whole of the I like Pina Coladas... making love in the rain song is acceptable at anytime if only becasue it will demonstrate a remarkable retention of so-bad-they're-good lyrics.

Going on a trip with only the Killers CD, so it turns into the soundtrack of your holiday, is fun. Going on two is fun and irritating. If it happens a third time there will be payment extracted somehow from someone.

Someone ties my shoe laces together while I'm napping, I can laugh along. Someone shaves an eyebrow, I'll laugh, but just watch it. But if anyone ever takes my contraband morphine supply smuggled from the sick room where the cute nurse secretly loves me, and replaces it with jelly crystals, sugar pills from contraceptive packs, and sherbert again, there'll be Mr T. style Trouble, fool. But without the pity.

Anyway, I'm back now, and nearly normal again.

The Lackey is Sick

Or so he's been told. Rather rude I thought, but the power of suggestion duly delivered a slightly sore throat. Being a man, this is self-diagnosed as severe influenza, possibly bird-flu. The Cute Nurse is not in today, which makes me think neither should I be. I hung up when Nurse Battleaxe answered the phone, and sat silently trembling for five minutes, recovering from the less than dulcet strains, like chainsaws scraping down a blackboard.

So obviously, I have to lie on the sign out sheet and run away. I'll be cruising the streets of red light areas, looking for a hooker I can afford to pay to rest my head in her lap and whisper soothing, healing words to me. That always works a treat. Then I'll get drunk and hopefully tomorrow I won't be able to remember I was sick.

Pirate Shirt

I ran out of morphine tablets today, so I rang the Cute Nurse.

"Hello, sick room, the Cute Nurse speaking."
"Hey baby, how's it hanging?"
"Oh it's you. Lackey. How can I help you today, man child?"
"I'll ignore that remark and give you a chance to redeem yourself. I was thinking I might pop down in a bit, and grab some more morphine from the cupboard, just to keep me going you know. It's fine, I'm not addicted, I can stop anytime I like, I just feel like a hit is all. So I was wondering if nurse Battleaxe is around?"
"Why do I need to redeem myself if you already ignored my subtle insult? And no, she's not around, she's not in all day, in fact. Christmas holidays start early for battleaxes."
"Not in all day. Right. I'll be down shortly then... say, that means we'll be alone in the sick room, you me, drugs and a bed. Whaddya say we have a party?"
"I grew out of that mindset in my teens. It's kind of sad in what should be a grown man you know. And I do have a boyfriend you know."
"So you keep saying. But I never see him. I think he’s imaginary. You made him up because you’re scared of the power of your attraction to me, and what you might do if you allow yourself off of this tight leash. And I understand. Sheer animal lust is intimidating. But you don’t need to worry. I’ll be gentle."
"Uh, yeah, that’s it all right. You read my mind."
"Like an open book, baby. Large print, lots of photos."
"But, come to think of it - hmm - what the hell. He’s been pissing me off lately. Come on down, you've been wanting to for a long time, haven’t you? And you’ve been looking so fucked up from all your parties I almost feel sorry for you. What the hell."
"Uh – what?"
"Come on down. Let’s do it."
"Now?"
"Now."
"Berightthere."

…

"HeyImherewhysthedoorlockedletmein."
"Hold on a tick. Let me just hide the good stuff… And… come on in."
"Uh, hi. So. How’s it going."
"Hi Lackey…. What the hell are you wearing?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"That thing you’re wearing. What is it."
"My pirate shirt."
"Well get it out of here. It’s disgusting."
"What? But…"
"Honestly, it’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in this room, and you’ve been in here a lot. Here’s some drugs, please just you and that thing better get out of here, and stay away for God’s sake. It’s hideous!"
"But… No… What about…"
"Oh, you can forget about it. It’s going to take me a long time to block this image out. Yeesh. And my boyfriend just sent me flowers and chocolates. I don’t eat chocolate but it still counts. He’s in the good books for at least a week. What are you doing still here? Ewww, go go go!"
"But… no… don’t… you locked me out!? Damn! One day, Cute Nurse, one day."

The best site on all the interwebs today

and the award goes to... Collision Detection for two consecutive headlines:

Jellyfish Invasion!

and...

Telepresence paintball game lets you shoot chicks in bikinis over the Internet

Thus combining technology, scantily clad women, guns, monsters from the deep, potential apocalypse and the internet into two brilliant stories.

I attempted to beat him by emailing C21Cosmodemonic's R&D area, suggesting we get super-intelligent dolphins, arm them with lasers, release them into the sewage system to swim to the houses of late paying customers and blast their clothes off, and webcast for a small charge until the billing difference is recouped.

They said they'd considered it, but decided the dolphins blowholes would clog too easily, resulting in high turnover, and some people actually leave the toilet seat down. They're currently working on a new breed of dolphin, and behavioural modification technology is getting better every day, so sit tight.

Evil priests are the worst kind of evil II

Evil priests are the worst kind of evil. We know it from the headlines but the anecdotes make it true. There are lessons in life that most people know but some will always need to learn - you don't need to eat ten hash cookies, don't call out the wrong name in bed - but everyone knows the worst kind of evil is evil priests.

Evil priests are the worst kind of evil

I crawled into cosmodemonic today more hungover than a gallows trapdoor and feeling seedier than a non-seedless watermelon. It was a xmas party last night. In case you were wondering. The midgets with the cocaine trays were efficient and prompt, and the elephants did a pleasant acrobatic display, so the night wasn't a total loss. But a confusion of invitations made the outfit I chose a tad inappropriate.

Co-partier: Hey, I think I recognise you. Were you at an orgy themed party last week?
Lackey: I was at a couple. I'm the Lackey.
C: Nice to meet you clothed, Jackie. What's with the get-up?
L: I'm an evil priest.
C: I thought you worked at cosmodemonic?
L: I do, but I came as an evil priest.
C: You know the theme for this party is Pretty in Pink, don't you?
L: It is? I thought the theme was Evil.
C: Nope.
L: Bugger.
...
C: So why an evil priest?
L: Because evil priests are the worst kind of evil.
C: Hmm. That sounds right.
L: It is. I've done studies.
C: Pass the meth pipe?
L: Here you go.

The Lackey's Reverie

I woke up this morning dreaming of candy. She was apparently very pert and needed a spanking. Or so a lucky little Lackette told me in a jealous rage as she threw whatever was in reach at me - stilettos (the knife kind was even sacarier than the shoe kind, but I dodged good) bottles of absinthe and lubricant, pieces of fruit, clothes pegs, scraps of clothing and rope, a copy of Opus Pistorum and a stereo.

As the detritus of last night flew past my ears I had time to reflect on just how cheap and tacky my subconscious can be, and I have to admit I was a little proud. I allowed myself a smile before a vase collected me square on the head. When I came to this time, I was pretty sure I hadn't dreamed at all.

Genius

I'm not always the politest of Lackeys, but even I, if caught having sex in someone else's office, would not think to get indignant and accuse the office owner of sexual harrassment. That's just pure genius, that is.

Or not...

OK, don't worry, I'll survive. I think. One of those Lackey sort of days where nothing is quite as it seems and the world is upside down. It's the inside out bit that bothers me. Gotta lay off the special K.

Anyhow, nearly recovere from the last lot, just in time to find I have four more xmas parties starting in about five minutes, going through the weekend.

Re that last one, turned out the dog belonged to one of the sales guys on 13. Real friendly dog too, still a disconcerting way to come to. The debauchery I can handle, though, it's the activities that get me down, the lame ass give aways and team sports events to kick off the mayhem. I mean strip twister for God's sake!?! Why not just start how we mean to go on, with something raunchy instead of lulling everyone into it with a nice fireside game of strip twister? Those first couple of hours bore the pants on me.

Four parties to go. Let's get down to business.