Johnny, Johnny, get on with your life!

I went into work for a measly two hours today because I live within walking distance and I was asked to cover for a little bit until someone else could come in. I went out last night and had a terrible night. I left in a foul mood, my sleeve somehow doused in apple Sourz, at around two and told anybody that would listen that the world is full of dicks. Complete fucking assholes. Anyway, I took my bad mood to work with me. Bad moods always make me more observational and critical than normal. You know, where you see a fat man running and you chuckle a little. Or a particularly clumsy bird. A bad haircut. Frozen piss.

There were barely any customers at all today, I think there were only two whilst I was there. Actually, the first person who wasn't staff that came in was the Postman and I think I scared him a little when I said 'GOOD MORNING!' with too much gusto. He handed over a Dominos Pizza leaflet with coupons, addressed to 'The Pizza Lover', which I assumed was me, so I swiped it. Anyway, the customers. The first one was quite unassuming and boring but the second one was a charmer. He looked really fruity and excited and was buying some soap. I'd say he was in his fifties and had probably never had a girlfriend. Or a pet. He had those glasses that make your eyes look huge and terrifying (not in the cute way like Bubbles) and suspect facial hair. I only caught the end of the conversation he was imposing on my colleague that went a little something like "I came in here... and Dracula dropped dead! And Frankenstein!", I couldn't help but laugh a little. He didn't mind, he joined in with a hearty chuckle and tried to involve me in the conversation too, but he was just babbling. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Frankenstein wasn't the name of the monster, but the creator of the monster. Since reading the book and feeling educated, I've tried to start a truth inertia but this guy already had a one-way ticket to Ignorantville, next stop Incorrect Pop Culture References. Whatever. He was happy though, good for him.

On my way home I saw lots of funny things that made me smile, very few of which I can remember. In Holland and Barretts a man in a grey tracksuit was buying some manly protein stuff and partaking in what sounded like an important phonecall. He had little pee pee patches on his tracksuit bottoms though and I felt good knowing that I may not be in good physical condition or have a good job, or any career prospects, but at least I knew how to not piss my pants. I saw lots of frozen sick and piss on the streets, reminding me of Swansea's incredible ability to capture both beauty and crackhead charm in one little thing. I also saw my second favourite member of the Special Brew Crew actually drinking Special Brew, true to form. She either keeps getting smaller or she keeps finding taller and taller men to hang out with. I like her though. I saw a discarded kebab on the wall close to my house. Now I'm no scientist, but I wonder why all the piss and sick froze but the garlic mayonnaise didn't. I'll leave you with that one.