A Room With A View

.....of the freeway.

Living in a hotel sucks. It's not a bad hotel, but it's not great. It's a Best Western which I found out today are all independantly owned and operated. Generally speaking that could be translated into 'some are okay, some are shite'. Happily this one falls under okay. The name however is slightly misleading.

I feel like Alan Partridge. I feel like dismantling things just to pass the time. I miss the missus, the kid and even the dog ( who still has not been forgiven for shitting all over my beanbag). Some of the good points and saving graces of this place are:

• Close proximity to the freeway.
• Close proximity to a shithole Mexican restaraunt.
• Even closer proximity to a curry house (on the fuckin' premises no less - SCORE!!!)
• Close proximity to a liquor store and a fridge in the room in which to store beer.
• A fitness center (as yet unused)
• Free cornflakes in the morning although the label on the dispenser claims they are Kelloggs but they are obviously not.
• Super powerful fans in the bathrooms, needed due to the Indian.

Flicking through the channels I notice that there is no porn channel available. I can imagine how disappointing it would be if I was into that kind of thing. Luckily, if I were into that kind of thing I could buy myself a fine art magazine round at the liquor store while buying my beer, but that isn't me. There is something desperately lonely about buying a 6 pack and a jazzmag at the same time. It really makes a statement about the state of your life. I don't think I could do it, I would have to take a good long look at myself in the mirror if I found myself in that position. No, a sixer and a copy of Womens World is the way to go. Much less guilt....

I have already filled out the comment card they leave in the room. This week's comment, "In no way am I responsible for the stain on the underside of the mattress - it was like that when I got here." Last week's - "It wasn't me who put boogers in the cornflakes."

Christ I'm bored.....

Put Yer Tits Back For The Lads....

There was a time when the NHS was the envy of the world, or so we were told as kids. Things have changed a lot since then, a population explosion of asylum seekers and immigrants, cuts in funding, rises in the cost of health care etc. Nowadays in the UK, if you have the money, you are okay, you can get whatever ails you sorted out relatively quickly and with only minor medical malpractice. If you happen to be a jobless male who suffers from gynecomastia - or manboobs - you are shit out of luck.

Love The Picture Of The Kid

Lee Jardine, aged 23 from Mansfield, Nottinghamshire claims that he has become a prisoner in his own home after suffering from moobs for the last 10 years. He tried to get the NHS to do a breast reduction on the taxpayers coin but they told him to fuck off as it would cost between 5,000 and 9,000 quid.

Mr.Jardine claims that because of his NGT's, he can't get a job and that just to leave the house he has to have several layers of clothes on and a belt tied around his chest.

"People that sort of know me will call me names. You don't know what strangers are thinking when they look at you. I don't know whether they think I have breasts or not." He also added "I got bullied at school but then I stopped going so that solved that."

Bollocks. He could get the cash if he really had too. He's obviously not that shy as he just got 'em out for the local paper, and now they are on the internet. If he was going to do that, he should have had the missus take some pictures of him in her bra and undies, set up a tranny website and charge punters to look at him. He really didn't think this through very well. He would have had the money in no time.

Apparently the NHS told him they would do the op if he lost some weight and got down to 11 1/2 stone. He currently weighs 14 stone and isn't willing to put the work in to meet their demands either, the lazy twat. He says that he doesn't believe them.
His girlfriend, Diane Cassidy aged 19 and mother of their 2 year old son (do the math) is standing by her man and claims to like him for his personality (yeah, his depressed, paranoid personality) and not his looks. "He could be 60 stone and I would still love him. It's not the looks that count" she said. How awkward was their first date? Notice that she refers to his weight, not his having tits.

She also added "I can't go out for a walk or do anything like go for a swim or go to the beach because people come up and say stuff about Lee." Go to the beach? There are no fuckin' beaches in Mansfield love and given that he is out of work and unable to pay for having his tits deflated you can't be affording to go anywhere near a beach anyway, can you? If yer off on a walk and anyone says owt, tell 'em to fuck off. Which is what he should do. Just scream "YEAH....I'VE GOT WOMENS TITS....SO FUCKIN' WHAT? YOU WANT TO LICK 'EM? DO YOU? DO YOU?" at his taunters. It might not give them food for thought and start to question their own sexuality because strictly speaking, they are after all, tits and the natural urge of every man when confronted by a tit is to lick the nipple, is it not?

Personal preference for tits - I'm not fussy, I like 'em all, small and perky or big swinging udders, it matters not unless they are on some ugly fucking bloke like this lad, in which case I will pass.