Nobody puts baby in the corner

I've had the time of my life... 20 years ago... and now it's all a bit tired and washed out.

I was thinking about Dirty Dancing the other, not doing it you understand, the actual film Dirty Dancing. I just don't get it; it's a stupid film, but I know so many people who love it. It just doesn't make any sense to me - for the 1950s or 60s, the music is wrong, the hairdos are wrong, and she - Baby - wears the wrong knickers.

Awakening
Tiredness has consumed me. Having suffered interrupted sleep all week, I have now reached Friday afternoon in a zombified state that has a high probability of getting me involved in another car accident. Yes, another, on top of the one in the car park at work this morning.

Here's a little quiz for you: you're in your car park at work, or any other multistorey car park, or any car park for that matter, you're driving along looking for a space and you see the car in front of you reversing into a space, do you:

a) Wait for them to complete their manoeuvre, or
b) Try to drive in between them and the parking space they are reversing in to?

I fell victim of someone who'd forgotten to take their anti-fucktard pill opting for scenario b. My rear bumper is twatted, their car was undamaged.

"Didn't you see that I was reversing into that parking space?" I asked her.

"I was trying to park", was her plea.

Fuck.

At least it's only plastic. At least nobody was hurt. At least I have a huge overdraft facility to pay for the fucking repair myself since my insurance company says that it'd probably be a joint claim. How it's a joint claim when somebody effectively drove into the back of me, I don't know, but there you go.

So a trip round the motor body repair shops is on the cards as I try to get a quote to have my bumper unsquished/replaced.

What a fucking life.



Weekend workshop
I think I might use the long weekend to perfect my mind control skills. I haven't got any mind control skills as yet, but I'm sure it won't take too long to figure out. I'll start with staring out the dog, sending her signals to start growling or bum-walking. My ethereal thoughts will pierce her tiny brain: "Imagine there's an intruder, Jazz, what do you do, what do you do???" "Your mind and soul are mine, Jaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzz, you cannot resist. You have an itch you just can't scratch. The expensive rug will offer relief. Use it, Jazz, use it!"

Moving on to the difficult Looshkin, who I will compel to walk around miaowing incessantly, using only the power of my mind. "Loooosh-kiiiiin, hear me, you are mine, talk to me Looshkin, tell me your dreams, am I in them? Worship me as the great pouch opener and giver."

My hardest conquest will be Trump: "Trump, you know you want to provide Sniffy with coffee this Saturday morning and every weekend day for the rest of your lives together. Do it Trump, it is your dessssstineeee"

I shall become the greatest controller of minds. Others will be powerless against my will. Nobody will be able to offer resistance.

And when I've got that sorted, I may go to the cinema and perhaps take some photos too.