For those of you who are inept in Castilian that's Sunday bloody god damn Sunday.

That's what day it is, but only by name as it's gloomy and overcast, cold and windy. This is not your sunny day.

Last night I went to a birthday party of a close friend, Anna West, it was at a Karaoke bar and I proved to the regular clients of the bar, as well as my friends guests that I have the black belt in Karaoke.
I've been wondering though, what psychologists would say about my choice of songs:
Hard To Handle (Otis Redding), Just a Gigolo (Louis Prima), Bad to the Bone (George Thorogood & the Destroyers), Dr Feelgood (Mötley Crüe) and last but not least Everything about you (Ugly Kid Joe).
I guess it infers that I'm an oversexed druggy bad boy with general disapproval of other people. But. I'm not to say, am I?

Oh well.
Sunday is gloomy. That's for sure.

I'm sitting in my apartment and it's so cold. I've got the heat turned up to a similar level as I do during high winter and also an electric oven heating up the place. I'm wearing my loafers and wool cardigan and I'm still bloody freezing.
And I need a smoke!
God damn it.

Well, I ain't got a dime but I've got plenty of debt, so I can't really bother about that at this moment.

All I can say is that I'm bored out of my skull.

Here's Billie Holiday's version of the Hungarian suicide song; Gloomy Sunday.