Looking back, I are (Baboon) still humbled, amused and frustrated by the way it all happened - usually all these emotions are felt at the same time - And I do look back from time to time. It was a complete cluster-fuck; an abomination of my mental health. But it's the way my mind operates. It's the reason I drink too much, smoke too much, love prescription-based painkillers when the mood fits and gamble. It's also the reason to put on circa 3 stone whilst aged 17 and left to your own devices and a large family sized chocolate gateaux! I knew it, but they didn't. Allegedly - After knowing me for four years or so.
For those reading this without insight of me at all, I have an addictive personality. I didn't need a Doctor to tell me this - You just kind of know. The way I act and react is so irrational at times that even I did wonder what the Hell I just did... The problem being is once it's done, it's done, and I really couldn't give a fuck for the personal implications. Act and move on. If every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Every decision I made has an equal and opposite "I don't give a fuck" decision. That by itself makes me being myself so... well; comfy. Let's be honest.
For those reading this without insight of me at all, I have an addictive personality. I didn't need a Doctor to tell me this - You just kind of know. The way I act and react is so irrational at times that even I did wonder what the Hell I just did... The problem being is once it's done, it's done, and I really couldn't give a fuck for the personal implications. Act and move on. If every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Every decision I made has an equal and opposite "I don't give a fuck" decision. That by itself makes me being myself so... well; comfy. Let's be honest.
It was a Friday in August... Probably. The year has flew by so quick it could have been mid-January for all I knew. But I owned an item (Most probably a multi speed Squirrel hammer I saw on Amazon) and was flat broke in January so August seems to fit. All that can be remembered is that I wasn't drunk that night and was just so pissed off that if the cat even looked at me the wrong way I'd probably try and sell it to the local takeaway for as much opioid as I could garner.
It started two Mondays before (This isn't really a day, I'll grant you; as my misleading title suggests, but it's always nice to have a little back-story - Like who TV Dramas go back to Ye Olde Worlde to interweave separate stories to make a Human Centipede type amalgamation of naff scripts. This is what I'm doing. I think). In fact it started the prior November when I lent around fifty pounds to go to Bristol for a weekend... It didn't work out right, so I digress...
On the Monday in question, all but five pounds were paid for - I thought - and I'd given Mary twenty pounds for some hooky tobacco some months ago. I'd explained to her boyfriend that I'd like the remainder back as I actually needed some tobacco, and would like to partake in the local services of the merchant up the road (as Off licences obviously weren't invented, and merchants were all the rage in Britain in those days circa 2013). For 12 days, this continued.
And on the Twelfth day of Augustmas the wrath of a cranky git was unleashed, almost by accident and in perhaps the least word-smithed way possible... I said that I'd asked for the money back 3 times (twice verbally, and once via text), and this was now the fourth time.
After various textual rebounds the transcript of events turned me even more into a lethargic Incredible Hulk like texting machine whose English vocabulary turned into that of a pubescent teenager, bereft of any actual provenance (The fact I'm typing like this shows I can talk the talk to a degree - not bad for a kid who screwed up his GCSE's!). There were probably a few "Ugs" and "Hulk Angry" texts there, but at the time it just felt natural. In any case, it transpired that Mary had given the phone to her child and "probably pressed some buttons, and it wasn't her fault".
On the Monday in question, all but five pounds were paid for - I thought - and I'd given Mary twenty pounds for some hooky tobacco some months ago. I'd explained to her boyfriend that I'd like the remainder back as I actually needed some tobacco, and would like to partake in the local services of the merchant up the road (as Off licences obviously weren't invented, and merchants were all the rage in Britain in those days circa 2013). For 12 days, this continued.
And on the Twelfth day of Augustmas the wrath of a cranky git was unleashed, almost by accident and in perhaps the least word-smithed way possible... I said that I'd asked for the money back 3 times (twice verbally, and once via text), and this was now the fourth time.
After various textual rebounds the transcript of events turned me even more into a lethargic Incredible Hulk like texting machine whose English vocabulary turned into that of a pubescent teenager, bereft of any actual provenance (The fact I'm typing like this shows I can talk the talk to a degree - not bad for a kid who screwed up his GCSE's!). There were probably a few "Ugs" and "Hulk Angry" texts there, but at the time it just felt natural. In any case, it transpired that Mary had given the phone to her child and "probably pressed some buttons, and it wasn't her fault".
After admittance that that may be the case, I pointed out the fact of mentioning twice to her boyfriend that I had asked for the remaining money back, minus the amount owed. After much disconcerted messaging, it seemed that we were at loggerheads... I was basically an alcoholic (despite cutting drown my drinking from a Hunter S. Thompson level - to a more serene-abusive level of a binge drinker) who was the black sheep - or so it seemed - who couldn't survive without a drop of drink within a day, and alcohol was the reason for not paying the money back. This was partially true, but when your used to not being asked for money back - no matter what deal is struck - and you were never asked... What do you do? You just ignore it, and wait til they complain... And complain they eventually did...
I'll admit that I was a little taken aback by these remarks, so I hastily sent back along the lines of "If you have a problem with me, why don't you come round here and sort it out?". This, within hindsight is perhaps the worst way of sending a message to someone that obviously has a problem with you. It seemed that something that I said was somehow misconstrued as vaguely aggressive... I'll leave you to decipher that whole last sentence I typed... When all I meant was "Chill, talk it the fuck over - I just want my money, you want yours, we can live in perfect harmony - like ebony and ivory" (but in less racist connotations, if I'm fair).
I'll admit that I was a little taken aback by these remarks, so I hastily sent back along the lines of "If you have a problem with me, why don't you come round here and sort it out?". This, within hindsight is perhaps the worst way of sending a message to someone that obviously has a problem with you. It seemed that something that I said was somehow misconstrued as vaguely aggressive... I'll leave you to decipher that whole last sentence I typed... When all I meant was "Chill, talk it the fuck over - I just want my money, you want yours, we can live in perfect harmony - like ebony and ivory" (but in less racist connotations, if I'm fair).
Suffice to say, it didn't go down well, and I guess with due cause... In fact, it probably went down as well with them as the Rob Ford video about Crack or Pussy... They just went flip mode... I guess... If I was a black american living circa 2000.
A written verbal onslaught ensued, inclusive of her pissed of dismay at my drinking (which had got better, ironically, and still is), smoking (ditto), and my talking to her children in the tone I do (Despite the fact that when drunk, I carried on as the father did; so that's not really my problem). This was compounded by my issuing a statement that their youngest child (who was accused of dismissing my text messages) was 3 or so and was used to sitting (Standing is actually the word) around using a sodding iPhone to play Sonic and watch Garfield, and the eldest at around aged 8 had a PS3 and Xbox 360... In both cases, I erupted. I'm personally for electronic changes and growth, and I'm an ambassador for laziness as such, but when a child's source of educational nourishment is an iPhone... No - just no... As for the elder one... Fair enough, he does play football (soccer in the USA), but those consoles, given internet and voice chat - they are NOT children's toys... Only with parental locks, if you ask me.
Anyway, with time comes great wisdom, and I personally find all of that funny now. I still don't really care, and if I'm honest, Mary probably doesn't either... It was; looking back, a complete waste of time on both of our parts. She was adamant I was in the wrong, and I just sat back basically not giving a stuff, and let go at a time that I finally felt right.
As I say, that side of the family had only known me for a few years, and had caught the worst side of me... and Considered me an Ozzy-type Zombie during this time, transfixed on substances known to man, and seemingly eradicated by the higher echeloned-beings of the world - it;s just a shame that as I drink to maintain my slight sanity, her fella also smoked cannabis - so swings and roundabouts, eh? We could both function, but they couldn't see the irony in it all!
As I say, that side of the family had only known me for a few years, and had caught the worst side of me... and Considered me an Ozzy-type Zombie during this time, transfixed on substances known to man, and seemingly eradicated by the higher echeloned-beings of the world - it;s just a shame that as I drink to maintain my slight sanity, her fella also smoked cannabis - so swings and roundabouts, eh? We could both function, but they couldn't see the irony in it all!
I'm actually laughing at typing this, so maybe I don't care. Their relationship was fun whilst it lasted, and now I'm onto pastures new.
It'd been a good ride...
It'd been a good ride...
