Out-there Part Deux: Yeti Bar
Well my phone credit ran out today. I have had about five pence since about Wednesday, but it finally ran out this evening, listening to a voice message of someone apparently walking fast. If you sent this message, could you please explain it to me?
I had some important to messages to send to some of my associates, and I thought this would be fine since I get 500 free texts per weekend (7pm Friday to 7am Monday) I could just use these to contact my associates. No such luck. Every message I tried to send failed. Well this was rather annoying as the signal was strong and I technically had credit. So being the big tough man I am, I set forth to give Orange a right good talking to. Or my dad to give Orange a right good talking to. But you know, tomato tomato.
To talk to Orange, you have to pay, presumably so you have to go out of your way to complain to them. Since the credit crisis I (or my dad, but tomato tomato) couldn't moan at them. So I scraped around every nook and underneath every sofa to find enough change to so I could use my parents' credit card to top up my phone at the cash machine down at the local corner shop, Londis. After getting very dusty I managed to find £9.39, but I had left the house with the card before they had counted the coppers (MUAHAHAHA).
Now some of you might be thinking why didn't I just top up the phone by calling the free phone top up service (seems they make the call free when you're giving them money) and not leave the house? Well it was a nice evening and I apparently haven't learned anything from my last after dark adventure. So I donned my coat (off eBay but not the one you've been told about before) and set forth into the night.
I hate dogs, yet they seem to like me. Dogs see me as the ultimate snack treat, they would love to eat me. Forget what Pedigree Chum makes, or any other dog food manufacturer, what they need is to put me in a wrapper and dogs will drag their owners to the shop. You might call it a Yeti Bar. It's a nasty combination which involves said dog to charge at me (fangs out and all) while I stand still staring at it trying to figure out how the hell to get out of the thing's way, but actually found some prankster has put superglue on the soles of my shoes. And this is in the day time. Factor in darkness and my paranoia, and it's one lethal combination. For me at least.
Walking down to Londis I have to travel past numerous hedges which guard drive ways and it's rude to actually look down a drive way staring at some stranger's house, so I can't actually see what's on the drive. It's even worse for drives which have gates at the front of them, it makes me think "what is that gate designed to keep in?". But I can hear things, and this is where the paranoid jumpy part of my brain has an espresso. I'm a generally jumpy person anyway: it is with great shame I say that I was once scared three-quarters to death by my own reflection (any of you thinking "Most people are scared of your reflection too", this is Trevor, and this is Trevor's boot); if I see a cat looking at me, I'll be so startled by it that I'll jump into the road, leading to many many more surprises.
So I'm walking down the road, looking straight ahead to be polite, and some weird sounds start creeping towards me. It doesn't matter what the sound is, be it a rustling rubbish bag or my neighbours' sharpening their scythes, they are all in some way related to a dog which hasn't been fed in three years and isn't tied to anything staked in the ground. This dog which is in every drive way for the entire distance, is out to eat me. I am now walking like the ground is made of hot coals, but not running, I've got to look cool.
Finally Londis is in sight with it's beautiful, brightly illuminated front, I've got something to concentrate on and hopefully automatically filter out all sound.
I stand in the light for a few minutes, basking in its projected safety while I top up my phone to moan. When I'm done I turn to face the outside of the light and realise I've got to do it all again.
Keep your ear muffs on
Nitey nite.
I had some important to messages to send to some of my associates, and I thought this would be fine since I get 500 free texts per weekend (7pm Friday to 7am Monday) I could just use these to contact my associates. No such luck. Every message I tried to send failed. Well this was rather annoying as the signal was strong and I technically had credit. So being the big tough man I am, I set forth to give Orange a right good talking to. Or my dad to give Orange a right good talking to. But you know, tomato tomato.
To talk to Orange, you have to pay, presumably so you have to go out of your way to complain to them. Since the credit crisis I (or my dad, but tomato tomato) couldn't moan at them. So I scraped around every nook and underneath every sofa to find enough change to so I could use my parents' credit card to top up my phone at the cash machine down at the local corner shop, Londis. After getting very dusty I managed to find £9.39, but I had left the house with the card before they had counted the coppers (MUAHAHAHA).
Now some of you might be thinking why didn't I just top up the phone by calling the free phone top up service (seems they make the call free when you're giving them money) and not leave the house? Well it was a nice evening and I apparently haven't learned anything from my last after dark adventure. So I donned my coat (off eBay but not the one you've been told about before) and set forth into the night.
I hate dogs, yet they seem to like me. Dogs see me as the ultimate snack treat, they would love to eat me. Forget what Pedigree Chum makes, or any other dog food manufacturer, what they need is to put me in a wrapper and dogs will drag their owners to the shop. You might call it a Yeti Bar. It's a nasty combination which involves said dog to charge at me (fangs out and all) while I stand still staring at it trying to figure out how the hell to get out of the thing's way, but actually found some prankster has put superglue on the soles of my shoes. And this is in the day time. Factor in darkness and my paranoia, and it's one lethal combination. For me at least.
Walking down to Londis I have to travel past numerous hedges which guard drive ways and it's rude to actually look down a drive way staring at some stranger's house, so I can't actually see what's on the drive. It's even worse for drives which have gates at the front of them, it makes me think "what is that gate designed to keep in?". But I can hear things, and this is where the paranoid jumpy part of my brain has an espresso. I'm a generally jumpy person anyway: it is with great shame I say that I was once scared three-quarters to death by my own reflection (any of you thinking "Most people are scared of your reflection too", this is Trevor, and this is Trevor's boot); if I see a cat looking at me, I'll be so startled by it that I'll jump into the road, leading to many many more surprises.
So I'm walking down the road, looking straight ahead to be polite, and some weird sounds start creeping towards me. It doesn't matter what the sound is, be it a rustling rubbish bag or my neighbours' sharpening their scythes, they are all in some way related to a dog which hasn't been fed in three years and isn't tied to anything staked in the ground. This dog which is in every drive way for the entire distance, is out to eat me. I am now walking like the ground is made of hot coals, but not running, I've got to look cool.
Finally Londis is in sight with it's beautiful, brightly illuminated front, I've got something to concentrate on and hopefully automatically filter out all sound.
I stand in the light for a few minutes, basking in its projected safety while I top up my phone to moan. When I'm done I turn to face the outside of the light and realise I've got to do it all again.
Keep your ear muffs on
Nitey nite.
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