Womble's Infinate Reasons for Grumpiness - Part 1 Moring Doom

Every morning its the same deal. My alarm goes off with the one and only Chris Moyals from Radio 1, trying madly to wake me up. Of cause they aren't just trying to wake me up in the mornings but everyone else around the nation, I'm not that naive. Anyway, as I stated they try and fail to wake me up. Even with my radio on full blast, waking everyone on my street up at 6.30 (they must all listen to Radio 1.) It still seems to have no effect on my subconscious state whatsoever. The only proven working method is for my dad to storm into my room and physically detach me from my bed. The nerve of him. I would rather be forced to read stupid reality magazines, with the usual celebrity bollox, than be forced to get up in the morning. Actually I take that back.

Well after my usual morning wake up call it is time for breakfast. I quickly have to stumble down the stairs for about 7 am (yes it takes me about 30minutes to get out of bed and dressed, but clearly I have some talent in hat department as I usually do this asleep) to be the first to use the toaster before all the settings have been changed by my intrepid father. The consequences of appearing downstairs after my father has made a mess in the kitchen, usually involves; an empty cereal box, liquefied butter and charcoal toast that even Thomas the Tank Engine wouldn't enjoy. Sometimes it does make me wonder whether Thomas actually has toast for breakfast...

Moving on, after this daily mental ordeal, my mission is to synchronize, with my stupid of an aged sister (13), the bathroom usage times with out even giving her a second glance. Usually this is just best guess. On more than one occasion I find the door locked. This is a bad thing. It means I have to wait 45 minutes to brush my teeth and to have the daily "crap before college". What she does in there is anyone's guess, but when this increasingly annoying event happens, it is guaranteed that I will miss the 8 o'clock bus. On the brighter side though, when everything in the morning goes to plan, I can have about a half an hour rest before I have to begin to worry about catching the bus.

Recently though, my peace has been broken. If everything goes to plan and I get my relax time in my room, weird sounds emerge from the room next to mine, my sisters room. It is the most peculiar and irritating noises I've ever heard. It always seems to have an annoying beat to it that wont go away, and an uptight bitch wailing at full volume about uninteresting crap. I am, of cause, talking about the paradox of a name, Lady Ga-Ga and her ppppooooker face. This idiot has ruined two of my most favourite and dear words. Poker and face. I haven't been this disappointed since I found out that Chewbacca had accidentally killed Mark Hamill in a skiing accident. He didn't even rip his arms out for fucks sake!! (DISCLAIMER: I don't not own or in anyway are connected to the rights to slag off Star Wars. And to the Star Wars fans, don't worry, Mark Hamill killed his own career by taking on the role of Luke Skywalker in the first place. Chewbacca can not be held responsible. In fact all the actors careers were killed by those films, that is, apart from Han Solo's. It has been suspected that mass career genocide was George Lucas' original plan with Star Wars (hence the name) and it is just coincidence that it happened in space. This is still to be proven.) But what annoys me most is, rather surprisingly not just Lady Ga-Ga-I'm-A-baby-And-I-Wan

t-Feeding-NOW. It is, and I think you shall agree, what it is blaring from. A phone. I'm sure you will all agree that this is not only shamefully poor to have this act befouled in my own home, but grave robbingly stupid as well.

What I don't get is why would she not play the "music" on her Mp3 player? It is a more than capable device to hold the crap in her head-phones so I don't have to listen to it. And, most of all, it doesn't constantly sound as though Lady Ga-Ga is drowning in the shallow end of a swimming pool. Now I'm all up for the death of the monstrosity that is, as my sister call it, a "singer," but for God sakes if you are going to drown her, Gag her first so she can't moan about it. It's for the greater good people!

So I told her to play the music on her Mp3 player, and surprisingly she listened. But as the title suggests this isn't a happy ending. What I failed to recognise about her Mp3 player (a Samsung that looks remarkably like my phone – the same with any other Samsung product . . . including fridges) has an inbuilt speaker. Yes you guessed it (or not, but it doesn't matter because I'm going to tell you anyway) a louder and more powerful sound system than her pathetic little phone. It also sounds at least 6 ft deeper in the swimming pool than her phone. I don't know what is worse. The Mp3 player sound quality, the fact that I cant rest any more or the shitty music that's keeping me from relaxing in the first place. But what I am sure about is that having all three trivial bollox bullying me into a pulp is my own version of hell. Can it get much worse? Yes, the bus time-table changed.

In case you are wondering what my actually point is, then hold on tight. I wanted you all to know the continuing struggle I have in the mornings. And now you might realise one of the many reasons why I am constantly grumpy in the mornings. I need a God damn break!!