About 25 minutes ago, a delivery man from Virgin Wines appeared at my door with a package that he said was for me. I gave him a very surprised look, which may have given it away that I was not expecting such a delivery, but was rather pleased with it. I was wondering if some lovely soul had sent me a box of wine as a thank you for general brilliance, or that I had won a prize for something I didn’t know I did. Maybe it was something like stepping on the 2000th paving stone in Haringay or writing my name on a bit of paper in doodle writing had put me into a draw for free wine. The man handed over the electronic signature pad. It was then I noticed the wine was not for me at all but for M.Atkinson, a man who has not lived at this flat for over two years. Ever since buying the flat off of the Atkinsons, we have received letter after letter, package after package, because those lazy bastards haven’t amended their address on everything they’ve subscribed to. My mind was racing. Well more walking, I had just woken up and was not the usual level of sharpness that I display on a daily basis. That sharpness is usually around the level of a blunt 2B pencil. When I have just woken up it is reduced to the level of something very very round and very unsharp. Like an orange. I should have said ‘Yes I am M.Atkinson, bestow me with winely goodness!’ It would have been easy to sign as his name, the man would not have cared. I could have done his signature probably better than he does which is maybe why he hasnt changed his address. Perhaps he’s so embarassed of his terrible signature that he hopes that other people will just take his packages and save him the terrible torment that he writes each S in his name like a tiny penis. I could have saved him that torment and gained myself some boozy grape juice with just a simple movement of an electronic pen. But I didn’t. I told the man M.Atkinson hadn’t lived here for two years. The delivery man looked at me like I was an idiot, and took all the wine away. I walked back into my house with no extra wineage whatsoever. Essentially as I had gained nothing I had lost nothing, but I felt like a loser. Honesty is in no way the best policy. I prefer the ‘return within 14 days’ policy. The latter has never left me feeling like such a chump. I hope that M.Atkinson gets that wine and is forced to drink it all within one hour making himself hugely sick. Thats the least I expect in return.
Fat Tuesday was a bit bloody brilliant last night. Both Richard Herring’s and Pete Firman’s preview were nothing less than excellent. It was a sell out crowd too with a number of the crowd being members of the Twittering community. It still feels odd meeting these people in real life. This could be because they often speak in longer than 140 character sentences. I did not think they were capable of such things, which may be why I often stifle conversation with them. Also if I say something that makes them laugh they don’t immediately say it again with RT in front of it. This is not right at all. They were a lovely bunch though and added to a great crowd. One I hadn’t met before was Steve, who’s username is @finsbury. I started following Steve because I was fiddling with my iPhone and used the nearby search to look up Twitterers near me. As Steve used the name ‘Finsbury’ in his name, I knew he was local so followed him on a whim. I told him this yesterday and he expressed some dismay that I was not following him because of his hilarious wit. He is quite funny, but even if he wasn’t, I am a member of the old school who believe you should support the local area massive. Both Steve and his girlfriend were very nice and I ended up giving them a lift home as they live right near me. I was thinking of offering a lift, but then thought that that might be weird seeing as I have only just met them. Then they, devoid of all etiquette, just asked me for one, which made it all ok. I now know people in my local area which is nice. It has taken my belief that the internet is ruining social activity and thrown it oops upside its own head. I stand corrected, like someone with an artificial spine. Twitter is a hub of social loveliness. A man called Andrew (@dr_whom) is sending me a hat in the post and someone has already offered to buy me wine if I can get Andrew Maxwell on Twitter. Its like if the Matrix met Camberwick Green. I hope we can all meet up, all several million of us and have a village fete at some point. With cakes, and a jumble sale.
Speaking of 2D communities, I downloaded the Sims 3 for my iPhone two nights ago. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking. It was as thought, for a second, I completely forgot about everything else I had to do in the world and decided that I had more than enough time to control the life of another tiny person. My sim is called Randolph, after the one reader of this blog. Randolph’s character traits are to be friendly and funny, but I am spending a rather large amount of time trying to steal a sim called Jack’s wife, Jill and piss Jack off so much that he punches me. I’m sure this isn’t the point of the game, but I keep finding it immensly satisfying watching tiny pixelated Randolph kiss tiny pixelated Jill infront of tiny angry pixelated Jack until a message pops up saying ‘you are now Jack’s enemy’, followed by ‘Jack has made you leave his house.’ Thats right, I steal Jack’s wife from him in his house. I am a fucking legend. Randolph is like the computerized version of Richard Gere in American Gigalo. And Jack is like a stupid dick. At some points I have to make Randolph shower, eat, go to work and go to the loo, but at every opportunity I will head back to do Jill right in front of Jack. I’m hoping their is a secret part of the game where Jack goes mad and shoots me and Jill before shooting himself.
I remember when I used to play the Sims at my friend Ali’s house in the 1st year of uni. We created a character based on Mat (whom I have mentioned in this blog many a time before). Only entering a few character traits, Mat developed very much like the real Mat. He was lazy, didn’t go to work and would never cook but often ate. Then we attempted to get him to cook and on his first attempt his set fire to himself and the kitchen and died. Such is the brilliant nature of computer games, that Death then appeared and the rest of the sims pleaded for Mat’s life. Death said no as his life wasn’t worth saving. Both Ali and myself found this very funny. Mat (the real one) did not, but oddly has since taken up a penchant for cooking. I am scared how much time it takes to play games that control other people’s lives. One day they will invent a Sims game, where all the Sims can just sit and play Sims, occasionally checking Facebook and Twitter and never leaving their house till they wither away. Their Sims game character can be doing the same, as can theirs, creating an endless spiral of lazy, RSI suffering, gaming nerds who all die through malnutrition.
Its our Fat Tuesday special tonight. Its a special because its on a Wednesday. Also because its Andrew Maxwell, who hasn’t been at Fat Tuesday before. It’ll be the first one we’ve ever held on a Wednesday and I am a little worried it will feel like I live in The Compass. I might take a sleeping bag and freak them out. At least they have wine there, so its possibly a good idea.
