A pleasant read

My shower drain had been blocked for a while, so over the weekend I Cillit-Banged the Bejeezus out of it. As I was luxuriating (again, not a euphemism) myself today, I realised I was missing something. It took me a while to realise that it was the feeling of scummy water lapping around my feet! Man it felt strange, like my ankles had been abandoned after a long, vaguely comforting relationship.

Radio 2 this morning played a song by somebody called something. But it had a line that went “I can dream about you”, which sounded like the guy had actually been denied permission to touch her, or even approach within 600 yards (a pretty standard ruling, I can tell you). Which makes you think; sometimes a thing can be pervy, and sometimes it is endearing and romantic. Let me give you chowderheads an example to make it clearer. In the movie Striptease (a fantastic storyline, by the way) this senator bloke sends his underling to fetch some lint from the laundromat that Demi Moore had just used for her washing so he can sniff it. And where I was going “Awww shoo shweeet”, apparently that was pervy! Confusing, innit?

History has been made, by the way. What we (I) keep reading about in science fiction books has finally come to be. No, intergalactic spaceships are not being built in lunar orbit, at least not that I’m aware of. But an accused barman made a court appearance by vidlink. Of course, in the books it used to be called something like GlobVid or CommLink or something equally obvious. And it hasn’t made much news because we’re so used to this kind of stuff.

Coldplay’s new song tells us we should never fight our ceilings. I’m sure it’s all well meaning and such, but I really don’t think squabbles with one’s dorsal wall is as much of a social problem as they make it out to be. Atleast not big enough to warrant a song of its own. Maybe a token mention somewhere in a paragraph of a song about social ills in general, but not an entire song. I guess all the real fights like drugs and alcohol have been done to death, so they were looking for something new. And don’t get me wrong; I’m all for exploring new frontiers in songwriting/music and suchlike. It’s just that I can’t honestly remember the last time I felt so cross with my ceiling that it warranted a verbal caution. From Coldplay.

P.S. Apparently it’s your feelings you shouldn’t be fighting. Well Yoo-Hoo for originality Mr Coldplay. It just so happens that at this moment I feel like downloading music for free, thereby cutting into your earnings. Do you still stand by your song??

I am content….for now

My ego satisfactorily stroked, I now delay the inevitable death of this blog to appease my puny worshippers! But do not get lax in your offerings, for I am a wrathful, vengeful god, and demand ritual sacrifice!!!

Back to more mundane happenings: Yesterday on t’ telly I saw a news report (I think it was on Newsnight) about Iraq “War” veterans protesting about the goings-on, supported by some old Vietnam “War” veterans. And I’d like to pledge my full support to these guys for coming out and saying what they did at the cost of being ostracised by the very hierarchical community (the Army, dumbos) that they are part of. It reminded me of, and I will share with you, the time when, as a young child, I used to hate eating any veggies (still do), so I’d take my plate and go sit in front of the telly. I would then proceed to surreptitiously, morsel by morsel, shove the offending veggies down the side of the sofa (Oh come on! We’ve all done it). Of course said veggies would dry up and shrivel, becoming practically so much invisible dust. Eureka, I’ve stumbled onto something here, I thought. However, this process could not go on indefinitely, as the pile of assorted veggies (and occasional inedible meat) started growing considerably faster than the arms stockpile of a Cold War nation (especially considering how much veggie was forced upon poor ole me). Matters soon came to a head. The sofa was identified as the epicentre of the wafting odours. Punishment was swift and long-remembered. And I started resorting to chucking veggies out of windows while strolling around with my dinner plate. Of course, the curry-soaked near-misses resulted in some wondrous patterns on the white outside walls.
Anyhow, the morale of this story is that you can get away with murder, but not all the time, and now it’s time for the soldiers to come out and tell the truth about their “defence of America’s Freedom” (why the capital F??).

Closing this blog down

Have been too busy partaying to keep up this blog. It has become a huge drag on my resources; a millstone around my neck. I feel I am no longer able to satisfy my demanding public, hence I wish to tender my resignation from this public office of great honour conferred upon me by you, my people. I have no desire to continue this blog seeing as I cannot give you my utmost attention and love. I’m sorry, but this blog will be no more. Adios, my friends, and it was good while it lasted, but all good things must come to an end.

Nah, that was just a cry for attention! Where’s all the comments? Nobody seems to even notice/mourn my absence!

You can breathe now

Yes, sorrying for keeping you waiting so long, but the results of my driving theory test are now available to you. Yesterday, I was at the DSA test centre near Picadilly station for about half an hour. In that time I managed to get 35/35 on my questions, and 63/75 on my hazard perception (I deliberately didn’t wanna be too good). I thought twice about posting my score, because I didn’t want to seem like a poser, but what the heck, I am that good!!

Jill, Ioannis, Shasha and I saw “Two for the money” on Sat. SOMEBODY mistook it for “The inside man”, which I was looking forward to. I knew there was a bank robbery involved, so imagine my disappointment when nothing of the sort happened!! I was trying to link the stupid plot to a desperate need for cash, thinking “Okay, so now he goes robs a bank”. Finally, the movie ended.

But highlight of the week had to be the bizarro goings on at Tracy’s Willy’s party. Tracy greeted me with an amorous (=drunk) hug at half-seven, and I knew things were fragile. These guys were so drunk, I’m amazed no untoward incidents flared up (if you discount of course Willy chucking a water balloon at 2 girls in the bus-stop opposite, and the Turkish guy crashing onto the floor, and Blake forcing his way into a poor terrified girls car to kiss her, oh!, and two strangers off the street talking to us and then blazenly trying to break into the downstairs’ neighbours’ flat, claiming they thought it was “The Rampant Lion” pub. What, and you enter that pub through the window??? ) The flat-mates (Blake, Tom, Kev & Willy) had the kitchen table taken outside and were playing beer-pong from 4pm. Basically, two people fill themselves six plastic cups with beer and arrange them in a triangle in front of them at opposite sides of the table lengthwise. Then they take turns chucking a pingpong ball at the other person’s beer. If it falls in, the other person drinks that. Simple yet so unelegant. Marissa played with glasses of G&T, and was not seen for most of the evening. There were empty cans and splashed beer all over the place, mixing with the effluent of people not bothering to go to the bathroom to pee. Adam was there in his role as friendly neighbour, watching these antics with eyebrows constantly raised. I turned up with some Chicken couscous and a litre of whiskey, one of which was sooo delicious we promptly set to work upon it. The couscous we saved for later 😉 The Turkish guy (“I’m from Cyprus”) tried to prove his manhood by downing half a plastic cup of whiskey (pocket change, dahling!) and promptly felt the kick. He was staggering all over the place. Even when he fell on his backside he was still walking, dragging himself around!! Then Jessy & Ioannis turned up with beer, and we promptly steered them into the living room, away from the mayhem. Tom was so stoned (even more so then usual) and I myself was barely keeping it together, so I was grateful that Miss X turned up after she finished work, so I had to limit my extravagances and act gentlemanly. There were no major hangovers the next day, thanks to that timely intervention. Oh, at some point I had to drag Willy off a neighbour’s car, where he “wanted to sleep”.
P.S things are coming back to me now.
1. Oh, almost forgot to say, someone copped off with someone in half-an-hour flat after introduction!
2. There was a large group of chicas who came in at some point (Marissa’s friends) but seeing nobody good looking, left. I, of course, was evidently already snapped up by some lucky person.

Elvish day?

There’s something funny going on today, I see lots of people dressed as elves in green clothing drinking some black, apparently intoxicating, stuff from pint glasses. Anyhow, we should be swinging down to Tracy’s Willy’s place for some drinks, because it’s Friday night, nothing special.

Job hunt’s not going well; at the job centre yesterday, the “helpful” suspicious interrogator looked hard at his keyboard and found me a “job”. I shall describe it to you forthwith:

Business Support Manager
Minimum of 5 years administration experience in public sector. Proven experience of leading and managing a team. Must be Educated (yes, with a capital E) to graduate standard.
£33,110 p.a.

Much as I like the numbers, I told him no inconsequential number of times in no uncertain terms that I was fresh and wet-behind-the-ears out of business school. So he says, “yes yes, apply to that one!” Bloody quota-filling, chair-warming, paper-pushing public sector employees. He wouldn’t last long enough to refill his coffeee or clip on his hands-free headset (what the fuck’s that about, Mr. “Donald Trump”) in private enterprise.

Just finished reading John Steinbeck’s ‘Of mice and men’ as part of my “Naz learns the classics” drive. I just now managed to find a copy of the Beeb’s “Big read” list of April 2003 and intend to read as many as possible, apart from other good ‘uns not mentioned (and avoiding the thick ones (hello Tolstoy!) as long as possible). ‘Of mice and men’ comes in at a respectable No. 52. Even better, it comes in at a very respectable 100 or so pages!!! A really good read, reminded me a bit of Catch 22 in the use of American dialogue, very simple story that somehow engrosses you. Must read.

£208 in phone bills!!

Guess who cost me that?? Phone calls to China, that’s what. Yes, February’s phone bill’s just come in. I choose to blame everyone but me. But that’s not it. Texting cost me £22 (I’m not calling them “squideroonies” anymore, because that’s a cute name, and I’m fuming!). And to top it, I was charged 17.5% ABOVE all this, which was a further £30! I wish I could name this super-cheat company, but I’m afraid of legal repercussions, so let’s just call them company, uh, say,.. Voxaphone or something equally random.

Adrian Mole – Superstar

Sue Townsend’s fake diaries are something. I’m reading “The Wilderness Years” where the hero turns 24. Here is an excerpt from his diary.

Norman Schwarzkopf was on television tonight, pointing a stick at an incomprehensible map. Why he was dressed in army camouflage is a mystery to me:
a) there are no trees in the desert
b) there were no trees in the briefing room
c) he is obviously too important to go anywhere near the enemy; he could go around dressed like Coco the Clown and still not be shot at

Anally retentive persons are so funny.

Den Zhenshini

It was Happy Women’s Day yesterday, although none of the men even batted an eyelid at it. We managed to do the shopping for Miss X’s House Warming PARTAAAY on SATURDAAAY!!! Also remembered that The Russian Speaker’s Society held a get together at a pub next to The Footage which I had planned to pop into after yesterday’s football. But forgot to. I haven’t met any of the folk so far, even though they send emails all the time!

Enchanted life

Yep, that’s what it feels like to be in my shoes! That’s the feeling of being top cat, alpha male. Leader of the pack. Leather seats, mahogany desk. Havana cigars, 18-year-old scotch.

Gareth swung round to pick me up yesterday in time for the Champions League fixtures. We dropped in at Jessy’s to pick her up, but she was cooking something (always eating, that woman) so we went on ahead. Liverpool was on the big screen at The Footage. an eventful but goal-less first half later we were joined by Jessy, then Adam, then Miss X respectively. The pints were a-flowing, the peoples were a-talking and all was well with the world. Liverpool lost, and are out of the Champions League, Arsenal managed to hold Real Madrid and are through. Then headed home to feast on the fine chili con carne I had prepared earlier (in case we decided to go to Lara’s party). Went to sleep trying to watch ‘Mulholland Drive’ (I’ve only seen the lesbian bits) with a full belly and a sigh of contentment.

This is what’s wrong with the world

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