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VISIT THE HIPPY'S NEW SITE: www.northlondonhippy.com Spend some time chilling out with the hippy...He used to be "the most shroomtastic stoner on the internet!" until the UK banned fresh magic mushrooms. He's still "the biggest internet celebrity you've never heard of!" He'll make you laugh, he'll make you think...he'll make you wish you were a hippy too!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Well, here I am, are you ready to party?
Ok, so it’s not really a party, but at least I’m here. I’m puffing on a nice skunky spliff, having just completed the rather tedious task of organising the other blog.
I know, you are sick of hearing about it, but it had to be done. I saved each entry in Word and took a word count. I’m up to 20 chapters, nearly 48,000 words so far. I think 50,000 is about right for a reasonable length novel, so it’s looking good. I’ve only got a handful of chapters left to write and then it is finished. Yippppeeee for the hippy, he usually doesn’t finish anything!
I haven’t had any more news from the agent, but I’m still guardedly optimistic. Whether something comes of it or not, at least I will have finished it. You have no idea what a big deal that will be for me. Even if it only sits on the net, being read by serial wankers, I won’t care. It will be complete and that’s a milestone for this hippy.
I’ve even been thinking ahead and I’ve registered the name of the blog that will be the sequel, if I actually decide to do one. We’ll see.
What’s started out as a bit of a laugh has turned into my own blogged novel. Well fuck me rigid with a frozen halibut and call me an eskimo.
I spent this morning on a little hippy adventure, going to see my new accountant. The meeting itself was quite good, it sounds like he can save me loads of tax money from the period when I was freelance. He also may be able to do some financial voodoo with my writing and I can claim some of my expenses. Now that is very cool, I’m down with tax avoidance!
The real fun was my journey as I got badly lost for ages and ages. I’m about the worst navigator in the world, maps only confuse me. I even had directions printed out from one of those tricky internet map sites, but fuck me, if I wasn’t completely and utterly lost. It took me about an hour and half to go around 6 miles.
Laugh at me if you must, but when it comes to finding my way around, I’m useless. I don’t deny it, I don’t hide it, but what I need to do is compensate for it.
So here’s my plan, I’m going to buy the cheapest GPS system I can find. I’ve seen them in minicabs, they are PDA’s with add-on bits and extra software and they work really well. They display full-colour maps and a soft female voice speaks the directions out loud for you as well. Even an idiot like me couldn’t get lost. Having one would take the stress out of going everywhere!
I could even come visit you at your place. I’d lock your doors now. Better yet, move house!
When I came home, the fun continued. Besides writing a new entry in my secret blog (shut up about it hippy!), I spent a great deal of time dealing with a situation here inside my lair.
I’ve got a mouse or a rat, trapped in the extractor fan that sucks out the farty air from my downstairs loo. No, I am not tripping out, I’ve had no shrooms, and there really is a rodent stuck inside the fan.
At first, I couldn’t figure out what the weird scratching noise in my hallway was. Eventually I twigged it was a creature inside the fan. The fan is actually installed on the wall outside the toilet and I could hear tiny little claws scurrying about inside. Yuck.
After a while, I heard a screeching noise, the little bugger was so frustrated it was crying out. It sounded distressed and it started to upset me. I called my local council to see what they could do to help.
It turns out, fuck all. If you see droppings or evidence of an infestation, they can come and put poison traps down. With cats around, that’s not a good idea and I’ve seen no evidence, I’ve just heard the one rodent.
I know they don’t travel alone, but I’m sure this is the only one trapped inside my fan. The council wouldn’t come pull it out for me.
I thought about trying to free it myself, but I’m a pussy. I didn’t want to catch bubonic plague or anything. I’ve seen the film “Willard”, I know what rats can do!
So next stop was the yellow pages, I let my fingers do the walking. I called a couple of pest control companies that offered an emergency service. This certainly qualified as an emergency, since it did sound like it was very distressed and it couldn’t get out.
After a couple of calls, I found one outfit that said they could have someone here within the hour. Cost, 60 quid. Ok by me, a small price to pay to get rid of the rat.
The man arrived at the appointed time. We could still hear the mouse/rat scampering about inside the fan. He got some rather serious looking heavy leather gloves that stretched up his arms all the way to his elbows, we blocked off as many exits from the hallway as possible and prepared to take the cover off the fan.
He carefully unscrewed the lid, covered it with a bin liner and slowly pulled it off. Nothing jumped out. We checked the bin liner and the lid, again no rodent. He inspected inside the fan with a torch, again no sign of the visiting vermin.
He spent ten minutes poking around, inspecting, looking, checking and there was no sign of the mouse/rat. We stopped hearing him making noise as well, no scurrying, no squeaking, no nothing!
Eventually the guy gave up, he suggested the rodent was frozen with fear or had figured out a way to finally get away. Either way, there wasn’t much more he could. He couldn’t take the fan apart, you’d need an electrician to do that and he suggested that might be the next person to call, if the rat came back.
The coolest thing is he didn’t charge me for his time. Sensible since he didn’t catch the rat, but let’s face it, some people would have charged me anyway.
I thanked him for his time and off he went. Now, how long do you think it took from the time he left to the time I heard my rat friend again?
How’s five minutes sound to you? About right? Yep, 5 minutes. Fuckers!
So I think I’ve still got a mouse or a rat inside my extractor fan. If it really is trapped, it will eventually die, then the real fun can begin. Dead things don’t smell good, do they? Though dead things can’t run away and hide under your bed either.
I expect I’ll be phoning an electrician at some point soon. I’m not looking forward to it. Or I could just adopt it, throw some cheese in the fan and just consider it a new pet. Perhaps not.
So all in all, quite an unnecessarily stressful day. Sigh. Everyday can’t be paradise, no matter how hard I try!
How about some good news then! I’ve discovered another blog that’s got a link to me. The blog belongs to a hot-looking woman called Sugar, who lives in Arizona, USA. She’s got me down under her list of “blogs of note”, which I find quite flattering. She’s also a Howard Stern fan, so you know she must be very cool.
You can check her blog out right HERE. It has lots of pictures, including quite a few of Sugar, but sadly no nudes. It's about time I had some hot looking hippyfans!
I’m sure all my hippyfans are gorgeous, but if you feel the need to prove it, you can always email me your nude photos. If I have a wank to it, I promise not to talk about it here in the blog, it will be my little secret.
And shhhhhh, I’ll let you in on a tiny, little secret. I think I’ve got the perfect date for the next big VOSS. How does Sunday the 6th of March grab you? I’m not ready to confirm it just yet and I might actually go for the following weekend, but it’s a thought. Once I pin it down, expect a full announcement with details on how you can join the fun from the comfort and relative safety of your own homes.
Look, man. I know I’m not putting in the time here, I know the other blog is distracting me from being the hippy. If it wasn’t for the other blog, we’d probably be having the big fuck-off VOSS today, but we’re not.
It doesn’t mean I don’t love each and every one of you, because you know, I do. Don’t you want the hippy to be rich and successful? Think about it, say I had, oh I don’t know, a few million quid in the bank. I’d have so much time to put into this blog, I could just sit here and spout “my special brand of drivel” for 12 hours a day or more, every day.
I could blog my thoughts in real time. Here’s a sample:
“My ass itches, I think I’ll scratch it. I just scratched my ass, it felt good. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Mmmm, I need a spliff. I’ll roll a spliff. I’m rolling a spliff now. Now I’m licking it. Good, it’s licked now. Now I’m lighting it. I’m inhaling now. I’m holding the smoke now. I’m blowing the smoke out my nose and mouth…..”
You get the idea. So you see, if I was wealthy, you could look forward to pages and pages of that sort of excitement! Can you stand it, fuckers?
Hey, how about a hippy mini-contest? The first hippyfan to email me with a workable solution to my rat problem can win the rat. Ok, not that rat, how about you get to share a spliff with me, in a park in central London on a sunny day in April? Now that’s a prize you can’t refuse.
So go on, give it a shot. Anything other than nuclear devices will be considered. And if it works, you could be chilling out this April in a central London park with me and one of my super skunky spliffs. It could be all of your northlondohippy dreams come true at once! All you need to do is tell me how to get rid of the rat.
Simply email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and put “Rid the hippy of the rat contest” in the subject line. If there’s a winner, I’ll let you all know.
If this works, I can tell you right now who the loser will be: One very unlucky rat.