Another day's disjoined ramblings. I'd switch to LiveJournal, but I kinda like dland and I've paid for a years' Gold account. Ah well.

Fiasco on Saturday night was cool. As before, a bit too right-on-Hackney-hippy for my tastes, but I remain to be tremendously impressed that The Colleague is organised enough to arrange such a popular event. It wasn't quite as filled with crunchy Trustafarians as it was last time - in fact, the audience was pretty "normal".

I was going to try and hang around at the end so I could get a beer with The Colleauge and catch up, but he looked way too busy. We can catch up another time - I've sent him a text to make sure we do :-) So we got an N38 back to Centre Point and walked through the remains of Soho Pride, took in the supremely scummy sights of post-kicking-out-time Soho (wading through gallons of piss and stepping over a depressing number of homeless people), bought the following day's newspaper from a vendor on Piccadilly Circus (always handy for when you just know you won't want to go out for a paper the next morning), and caught an N22 most of the rest of the way home.

On Sunday C was supposed to be seeing a friend from Edinburgh who was in London for the tennis. With depressing familiarity, she cancelled on him at the last minute. So a weekend in which we were expecting not to see each other much turned into a weekend where we saw each other the whole time. Not a bad thing, though - we spent most of Sunday in bed (haven't done that for a while); and after we finally got up around 6pm, we went out to the park and then to the pub.

As we were walking home, going past the "for local people only" rough pub at the edge of my estate (not the one we went to), some fat bald drunk idiot decided to try and start on C. I have no idea what the guy was doing - sort of squaring up to C and mumbling something incomprehensible while trying to make eye contact - or what he wanted, but I suspect the intention was mostly to show off to his mates by taunting the purple-haired, nail-polished, pierced freak. C & I just ignored him and walked past. Trouble is, living on a council estate and looking a bit "different" is probably going to give us grief at some point.

People are idiots. If that guy had started on C, I would have kicked his fucking head in. However, the guy's mates were all sitting outside the pub, and would have beaten the shit out of both of us.

We should probably move somewhere where there are more freaks.

No really, I meant what I said. David Furnish is probably one of the few times Elton John's displayed any sense of taste ;-)

I was really really saddened to hear that the Iranian cojoined twins died in surgery, even after all that effort. Such a shame.

I am scared of the water cooler at work. It has an LCD display on it, which flashes up all these "You want my water!"-type messages, until you actually go up to it and get some water. Then it says "Cheers! Cooler thinking".

Yikes. Whatever happened to water coolers that just, you know, dispensed cool water?