Blind date....

I’m okay now, but when i think of how i used to be, i’m gutted at the changes that i’ve had to endure. I should have got married years ago. i know that, now. It’s the best thing that i’ve ever done and when i did actually get hitched i honestly thought that making good decisions was something i was incapable of doing.
Contestant number one came out and smiled at me like he’d won a prize. He went outside and smoked his treasured cigarette. He came back 5 minutes later and, like a Zombie on steroids, he fumbled his way back to his seat. A journey that should have taken 20 seconds, took about 3 minutes. I swear that his eyes were like a kaleidoscope. All he kept saying was yeah man.

Contestant number two came on. He was so desperate for a fag that he didn’t think it was wrong to go barefooted, wearing just a pair of underpants. It was pouring with rain outside. They asked him to wear some clothes. So he did. He could smoke fags for England. So he did. Scotland too.
Contestant number three had such a bad cough he was compared to the noise an aircraft makes when it is taking off and landing. So realistic are the noises he does he’s looking at signing a recording contract with British Airways in the near future. Birdlife in the area he lives in are putting their lives in peril if they come within spitting distance of him.

i don’t know why, but i used to watch blind date. It was good when it first came on. I thought it was a programme about two blind people who went on a date. That’s why i first watched it. I was disappointed to find out it wasn’t.

It would have been a lot more interesting if everybody was blind. I suppose they’d be bumping into stage props if they were.

I got mentioned this week when someone said how they were like me because they were a reader of good books. “Thats true to some extent”, i said “but the books i read don’t need colouring crayons to read them.” Actually, i didn’t say that because i have trouble with speaking. I thought it instead. When you have to rely on speech to get your point across it’s a pain in the ass because you can never think of the right words to say. Thinking about it means you can chuckle to yourself when he wonders why you are laughing about it.

When you can’t talk properly it feels as if you’re the odd one out. It’s not a nice feeling to have. You soon get used to it, though.