Two Days

2 days of thinking. Storming. Rationalizing. Sketching.

Ideas, ideas, ideas.

2 days. And still nothing.

And what's it for, pray tell? What am I antagonizing over? What have I spent 2 fucking days trying to come up with an ad for?

A shitty little blinky free gift that you'll get when you buy the clients product. A shitty little blinking thing.

And I can't think of an ad for it. Every single idea is unconvincing.

Because I'm not convinced. I've been using the damn thing for 2 days and it's utterly useless.

And I can see the rest of the team working on the mega-important-crazy-timeline accounts, and they're on the ball and tired and stressed as fuck. I volunteered to tidy up all the other tiny jobs we had 'cos I thought it'd be a stroll in the park.

2 days. Perhaps I'm experiencing writers block.

After day 2 (yesterday) I was fucked beyond compare. Fucked, and slightly wracked with the guilt that all I've got to figure out is this shitty little ad whilst everyone else is working on this intensely crazy fucker of a job, and they probably think I'm slacking because I can't come up with one-good-idea. I feel like I've wasted 2 days. I do not like unproductivitiness.

That's not a word, is it?

At least, after all the crap that was yesterday (spending my time in the office eating shitty instant noodles instead of a three course dinner courtesy of my girlfriend) I got to spend some time with my band, Triple 6 Poser, at Eddy's place. The second Ed saw me at the door he asked,

"Bad day?"

"Fuck, yeah," was my reply, "I could do with a shot of whiskey."

"Black label or McGregors?" was Eddy's response.

A couple of shots later I was much more relaxed, playing my guitar amongst the dudes and dudettes, going through the songs and having a laugh. Izuwan brought some Pepsi Ice, a strange blue thing with that extra feature that's become so popular in soft drinks these days: the ice factor.

Pepsi's doing it. 7 Up's doing it. Nestea's doing it. Even fucking Nescafe. It's this added 'thing' they put into the drinks whereby, after you take a gulp, your chest feels like it's gargling mouthwash. Some people like this icy sensation. Some don't.

And some like to experiment. And, as one of the experimentors (ooh, possible band name) I can safely say that Black Label and Pepsi Ice is wrong. It's disturbing to the tongue, your taste buds turn back to you and shout, "what in the name of unholy fuck are you trying to do?!"

We have a name for this cocktail. Henceforth it shall be dubbed, "Ye Blue Shit".

But even with the relaxing times with the band and friends I still had trouble sleeping. And a worse time trying to wake up. And my pants have ripped. At the crotch.

Fuck, I forgot my guitar for rehearsals too, didn't I?

Something extremely nice happening to me today would be a Godsend. I implore everybody out there to clap your hands and shout out 'I believe' so that maybe, just maybe, my very own tinkerbell will wake up from her poisoned slumber and give me a rim-job.

Unless someone else out there would be just as willing.