Area 136

Thanks.

x

Sarah is freshly scrubbed and hair washed and sat next to me doing impressions of Talula in Dr Who next to me on the sofa, and ships is about to dish up din dins.

Queene Mab is on the other pc and I think I am ready for bloscars.

Anything I miss will be due to putting sarah to bed or stuffing food in my face.

Sorted.

1. Have you ever successfully played a prank on anyone?
Loads. Messing with peoples phones and desks at work, the old broom on the back of the toilet door trick, the rather cruel "imaginary person" joke on someone suffering from bouts of memory loss after an illness and lets not forget the woderful matchbox/penis trick. I have just realised I am a total c*nt.

2. Has anyone ever successfully played a prank on you?
Probably. But I can't remember.

3. Do you think they moon landings were faked?
Oh fuck off were they.

4. What the best April Fools day prank you've heard of?
The fact that April fools day was only created in the 40's as a moral booster for the public. It was Winston Churchills idea.

5. Complete this sentence: "Fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice..."

And I will divorce you.

So it is, this very day – the boy from Brazils last day as a barman in Mollys.

Why?

Well he basically cannot stand to work for the guy that runs it. He says he has been called “Lazy” and “Stupid” in front of his friends by the Boss fella.

Well I know a few things about the Boss of Mollys:

He does not suffer fools at all, never mind gladly.

He does not expect to ask a member of the staff to do something twice.

He has no time for timewasters or bull shitters.

He may be a hard and cold looking bastard, but he appreciates good workers.

So there are obviously two sides to all of this, and frankly it is not my problem. Someone else will be there three days of the week serving drinks and that is fine by me.

So the boy was saying how he has no money and no job lined up to go to in another bar despite trying to find one, but he cannot work in Mollys any more. I sympathise, well obviously – this person is between me an the alcomahol, what else am I gonna do.

But when I go and say my goodbyes, after the shaky hand thing and wishing him well in the future, I reminded him of something:

“Hey, remember a couple of weeks ago when it was all cold and wet outside?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well you were saying how nice it would be to be in Brazil and how much you wanted to go home?”

“Oh yeah”

“Well there you go. Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it”

"Physiological Warfare" - rather a long word to be associated with my blog.

"How to become a Pirate" fair enough. Some of us are born to it though.

"Teeen" - dyslexic pervert alert! (and for once it is not me)

"Shit Ucking" - Now hang on there!

"Home made Turkish tube 136 movies" - I find this one most worrying of all....I really dread to think what they wanted to find.

It is bloody annoying.

I have loads of stuff that I could blog about but am scared to, you know - the old "jinx" thing. Say something out loud too often too soon and you mess it up.

So I am in a sort of "Elephant in the room" situation. All I can think of is the thing I don't want to talk about, so I am fecked for stuff to blog.

So, flying birdseed aside - my brain is empty.

I remember really wanting to go somewhere when I was a kid, and every time it looked like we might be able to go I would tell all my friends and get excited, then it would fall through. So sometimes I think it is better to stay quiet.

So I just thought I would ask, do any of you have a "superstition" like that?

Fed up of people at work or uni nicking you sammiches?

Well a man in America (where eating is I believe an Olympic sport) has invented a sammich bag to help.

It is of the clear plastic seal up variety, but has a photo of patches of mould printed on it. Put your fresh sammich in the bag and hey presto! Instant “Urgh gross, I’m not eating that!”

Mind you, eventually you would have to leave a genuine mouldy sammich in the fridge just to keep them guessing but still, a good idea I think.

And speaking of “Brilliant” inventions, My I-pod had forgotten what the word “Shuffle” means. A-bloody-gain!

Friday night approaches.

Do I have another back pack full of CD's to put on to I-tunes after Sarah is in bed at Rancho Collapso - check.

So I can spend tomorrow night getting slightly merry as Sarah sleeps and put the CD's in to I-Tunes and chat with Ships and QueeneMab.

Should be a nice quiet evening.

Hang on.......

Something is nagging away at the back of what I laughingly call my brain.

OH YEAH!

Tis Bloscars night tomorrow!

Right, plans changed.

Must make sure that there are snacks and drinkies to hand and a supply of tissues to mop up the tears induced by my inevitable defeat in all categories I am nominated for and plenty of wine to drown my sorrows in. A pre written "Congratulations, the best blogger one" message drafted and saved and mobile phone fully charged to text the bastards that beat me all manner of threats and sulkiness.

See you there maybe.

Or I may go hide under a cushion on the sofa with Cleo and pretend it is all not happening.

There is a “fact” bandied about by those who like to bandy about such things, that states that there is more computing power in your average modern car than NASA had at their disposal to send a man to the moon.

If you are driving a 30 year old Citroen 2CV you may wish to debate this, but I would refer you to the word “modern” in the above paragraph.

So if that is true, most of us must have enough computing power at our fingertips at work to start calculating exactly how much wood would a Woodchuck chuck if a Woodchuck could chuck wood on the surface of Mars.

It stands to reason.

But I will be left out of this exciting area of research.

I doubt if this PC here at Weird Inc would manage to run a calculation to work out exactly how many blue beans make five without freezing and telling me that my “virtual memory is a bit shit, actually”.

And that is why this is my first and probably last post from work today.

Mai cumputur haz the dumz.

It is NOT because I can no longer think of anything at all to blog about.

Glad we sorted that one out.

Late last year I, and a load of other people got that cold thing that seemed to include a cough that would make you just hack till you nearly puked.

Charming image I know but it is not something I suffered from alone.

Since then, every bloody time I get a cold - like now - I get a minor dose of the awful "cant stop till you are inside out" coughing.

Had a couple this evening.

In fact I nearly threw up in the washing up bowl while doing the washing up!

Thankfully the thought of having to do it all over again stopped me...

So that is me, a picture of health.

Think I need some medicine.

Wonder if I can still spin the top of a whisky bottle with one thumb....

A new Thin Lizzy Live album is either out or about to come out, recorded back on the "Live and Dangerous" Tour featuring the classic line up.

I am listening to a track from it now and it sounds every bit as good as the Live and Dangerous album. But this album was recorded for an american radio show and is guaranteed free of overdubs and doctoring.

I think I know what I am asking Sarah to get me for my Birthday then...

Birdseeeeedbirdseedbirdseed….

Allovadashop.

Cuntityfuckwank EEEEEEEEEP!

Scared and headless chickened.

But in a sort of good way.

Hyper?

Me?

Why do you ask?

more animals

But this confuses me.

The big Zavvi shop just down from where I work has finally closed it’s doors.

Zavvi have gone bust and the store is now shuttered and quiet. It used to be the Virgin Megastore but Mr Virgin sold them the CD selling business but not the Virgin name.

Hence the Zavvi branding and whatever.

But obviously (or not) selling CD’s DVD’s, Computer games and stuff was not profitable enough.

But a sign I noticed in the window of the empty store the other day confuses me.

An official looking logo bearing A4 bit of card saying;

“Coming soon – Virgin Megastore”

Eh?

To borrow a quote from a much missed blogger.

Eeeeep.

send me good thoughts people.

Six names you go by
- Nick
- Umcas
- Cap'n
- Bastard
- Shhh here he is.
- the person not to be spoken to anymore

Three things you are wearing right now
- A worried frown
- Black clumpy boots
- Black fatigue trousers.

Two things you want very badly at the moment
- More money offered on the house
- An explanation as to why no contact for five months.

Two things you did last night
- Drank
- Cuddled

Three favourite beverages
- Coffee
- Single malt whisky
- Camp Davids.

Two things you ate today
- Cheese
- Onion

Two people you last talked to on the phone
- Fiona
- Jo

Two things you are going to do tomorrow
- Dread coming in here.
- Feel tired due to lack of sleep brough on by nerves

Two things you are not good at
- Adult stuff
- Keeping friends

I am at this very moment - going mental. Things are happening and having my job suddenly start getting busy is not helping. Everything has to happen at the same time.

I think it is good stuff though, just scary.

Stay tuned and in the mean while do this meme to distract yourselves.

So in other news.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccck!

I have just had a email that asks me to explain a problem that I pointed out with one of our "projects" to someone in another unit.

It was one of these long business type emails with a chain of replies at the bottom, earliest one last if you know what I mean.

Somewhere in the chain is an email from the person I am now supposed to contact, to the person that is asking me to contact her and explain the problem (try to keep up)

The thing is the problem is explained, by me, in the email at the bottom of the chain.

If both the people had bothered to read it all, they would know what I am talking about.

Office life is still, officially - Rubbish.

I don't know why they have to have the display cabinet that the rolls sit in so cold. Odd canteen people, maybe they think we like ice crystals in the onion of our cheese and onion rolls. Not good on the teeth first thing in the morning.

The killer coughing fits are back with this cold. Felt like I was gonna hurl on the train when one kicked in. So stylish and sauve...

Pancake day, and for the first time in years I won't be making them for Sarah as I am not at the house tonight. Mummuy will have to manage.

Is it not the bloscars this week? I hope everyone has voted (for me)

I was considering how to mop up the last minute votes...maybe if I promise to do my thankyou speach (if I win anything) naked?

Probably not a good way to get votes.

Wonder what this working day will bring. I have phonecalls to make - urgh. Hate using the phone for work related stuff. Much rather send an email as it is easier to look like you have a vague hint of an iota of a clue as to what you are actually doing. On a phone it is not as easy to hide your lack of knowledge.

Oh well - Coffee time. Second one of the day.

Hope it all goes well out there for all of you.

You take on a new role at work, are instructed how to do it and say "Yeah, no problems mate - bring on the work"

And the first bloody thing you are asked to do is a different type of job but one that does fall under your new area of "expertise" and NO ONE tells you what to do, or mentioned that you may have to do it, and instead offering any guidance they just say "can you find out what we do in this instance?"

Nope.

Me neither.

meh.

ah well.

Llwnts.

Is what I have in place of a voice this morning.

I have one of those “Wakeup surprise” colds that happen overnight.

This one seems to be affecting my throat worst of all and now I speak in a range so low that I am having to talk into a dicta phone and play it back at high speed for it to be audible.

OK, it is not that bad but I defiantly sound more Barry White than I did yesterday.

Mind you, I could do really good dirty phone calls now.

But of course won’t, as I am a virtuous and upright citizen, who is actually avoiding starting work by posting more dull rubbish.

"Tick saliva could one day help us cure heart disease..."

Ewwww!

But how do you make a tick salivate?

Some scientists have too much time on their hands.

"Although your far across the sea,
from the sofa next to me,
Who now is gunnea bring me back a beeeeeeeer.
From the kitchen in our haem,
Where ahm sitin' alla lern.
yus she fecked right off tae Thailand
wee oot meeeee!"

Happy birthday Row.

x

Seeing as hard working girl didn't stab or punch loud talking mobile phone girl while I was out at lunch, I think I may bugger off a bit early.

I don't think anyone would notice.

And we have already had our false fire alarm drama for the day.

You know the one, you sit and listen to the sirens going off for a while and then think,

"OK, let's go outside then"

Get half way to the stairs and it goes off.

Three of those we have had this week!

If there ever is a fire we will all cook, the alarm system has cried wolf too often.

Anyway.

Sorry to bore you.

A girl is sitting on the row of desks near me talking loudly into her mobile phone in accented english.

The girl sitting opposite me but three seats away from said mobile girl has just made one of those exasperated "Pffffffft" noises and raised her hands to her temples and give the phone girl "A look"

Girl opposite me is doing some complicated stuff and I think the jagged accent of loud phone girl is pushing her close to the edge.

I am going to lunch before it all kicks off.

I heard these the other day.

1 Drinking as little as three cups of instant coffee a day can help reduce the risk of developing Alzheimers.

2 If you want to cut down the risk of getting Alzheimers all you need to do is drink three cups of instant coffee a day!

But I read in the metro this morning that a Robot created by European scientists is to go on display at Manchester University.

Called the iCub, it looks a little bit like a baby terminator. It can move its eyes, head and legs and also makes grasping movements and recognises objects. It is part of a 7.5 Million project and its movements have been based on those of a three-year-old child.

And it also plays the drums…………….

I’m saying nothing.

Topside of Beef.

Fantastic Horse Raddish sauce.

Crisp chopped raw Red Onion.

I have Sammich love!

Nom nom nom nom.

Last night I got a comment on an old post I did about Simon Amstel.

The basis of the post was that he had just walked by me in the street and I commented that he is about my height.

A “Visitor” left a comment along the lines of

“Oh how tall are you! I found this post via google while looking for Simon Amstel facts and can’t find out how tall he is”

Some people do take their celebrity interest rather seriously…..

For no reason I can work out at all, my left knee has decided to resign from weight baring duties when I walk up the stairs.

Which leads to me having to haul myself up the four flights between the ground and the first floor using the handrails to support my weight.

Bugger.

Thank you for your attention in this blatant sympathy seeking matter.

That is all.

Further to my last post about Iron Maiden winning a Brit award for Best live act being proof that the world is not all mental, comes the joyous news that Coldplay got not one award that they were nominated for.

Maybe this is the dawning of a new age of sense.

As Iron Maiden got the Brit ward for Best Live Act.

Beating Coldplay, amongst others.

OK it was not much of a contest, but still.

I was having a lunchtime conversation with Soy, one of our bloggers “Oop in’t north like” about Chip shops, or as Sarah used to refer to them when she was a bit younger “Chip mongers”

The basic gist of the exchange was that you can’t get the same things in southern chip shops as you can in other parts of the country.

Then I asked about a delicacy that as far as I know is still not available down here.

“Can you still get a bag of Scraps in the chippies up there?”

“OH YES! Scraps! Nom nom nom nom!”

“Bollocks! I wish we could get them down here.”

My first bag of Scraps was got from the village chippy in Yorkshire where my sister lived. Scraps are basically little bits of batter.

That is it.

Deep fried little twists and nuggets of very deep fried and very crispy batter.

And the thing is, as they are effectively “waste” – they would give you a big bag of them……FOR NOTHING!

And watch as you happily trundled off down the road nomming ten to the dozen and dropping dead on the spot not 50 feet from their shop from a massive heart attack.

Not exactly a health food but god……they tasted Good!

At this point I would just like to apologise to anyone reading this who is on a diet or a healthy eating regime.

Ahem.

You are a total piece of annoying fucking crap.

What part of “shuffle all songs in music library” do you not understand today?

Yes, that was me prodding you repeatedly this morning on the tube trying to get you out of your strop. Yah see, when I hit stop, next song and play I want you to fucking do that shuffle thing.

And why does “Normalize all volume levels” seem to mean “Make all the loud albums quiet and make the quiet ones louder, but make all of them too quiet to hear on the tube”?

And why does “re-set settings” do fuck all?

You are the most over rated and over priced piece of shit gizmo on the face of the planet.

If you were a person I would gouge out your eyes and make you eat them, then pack your eye sockets with your own freshly peeled and salted testicles.

Bloody kids, you have to prove everything to them because they won't believe you...

And no Juzzy, I was not on the inaugural passenger flight. They lost my luggage so I got the next one. Ships was on the first.

ahem.

Thinking about my last post....

I Reeeeely want to fly down to Casablanca on a Flying boat, stopping off at romantic places on the way for a couple of days.

A holiday were the point is the journey, not the arrival.

Pity they don't fly any more.....

Meh.

The difference between a Flying Boat and a Sea Plane, is..

A flying boat floats on its' main central hull when on the water - like a BOAT

A Sea plane floats on "floats" with the main hull out of the water.

So bloody there.

The newspaper this morning was saying how one area of growth in these dark and dreary financial times is in the area of fast food takeaways.

The paper states that “we” seem to be turning our back on more expensive restaurants and going more for burgers, lumps of chicken in special herbs and spices or six inch long sandwiches named after underpasses.

There is a better way to save money surely?

Like make your own?

I mean buying some mince beef, bread (for breadcrumbs) eggs, onions, mustard powder and some cumin would not be that expensive. Get yourself some rolls and make up your own burgers that will actually taste of something – freeze the ones you don’t cook and bingo. You will have cheaper than takeaway burgers that taste better.

And why not just buy some chicken legs or thighs, get a selection of spices of your choice, make some breadcrumbs and use another egg to experiment with your own special fried chicken. Then you would have the fun of creating something unique. And again the excess could be eaten cold later.

Or is that too hard?

Are we all just going to drag our lazy arses down to the high street and eat some bland crap that some disinterested teenage spot farm on legs has heated through and possibly coughed all over?

I know what I would rather do.

Yeah, get Shipscook to knock something up for me.

I know you will have a lot more on your mind than the anniversary of your birth today, but I hope you find some space to celebrate the wonderful fact that you are YOU and it’s your birthday.

XXX

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Because it would be embarrassing to have to admit that in the past 12 months I have not actually read five books.

I used to read lots of books a few years ago, on the train to and from work and at lunchtime in a coffee shop or pub. Now I don’t seem to do it.

Even on holiday I struggle to get through one bloody book. I am ashamed of myself.

The thing is that I live in a house that is crammed with interesting books to read – Shipscook reads like a man that has just found out it is going to be taxed! Queene Mab can get through a book in a day when she wants to, and there is me….not reading.

I am starving my brain away to nothing.

Won’t take long I know……..

at the amount of pregnant young women there are in this office.

About five I think....

Which is a bit of a high average in an office of 200 people no?

And they all appear to rather alot pregnant. As in "almost ready to pop"

Hmmm.

That is all.

Do people think that I will accept an invite just because the "face" in the picture is a pretty female aged "18" (actually that age would make me back away from a genuine invite) and I am a bloke?

No, I will go and check the blog and see that it is a- in a foriegn lanquage and B - apparently all about finance and stuff.

So Invite DENIED!

In other invite related news, I can't really accept an invite from someone who has not started a blog yet. I mean, I have no idea what their interests are or if I like their writing style and such.

So I will leave that invite in the "pending" tray for now.

Never heard of it before last night.

We had some with Queene Mabs homemade soup (which had lumps of chicken and potato and vegetables and some barley knocking around in it somewhere and it was bloody lovely!)

This is now my favourite bread for sooop dunking purposes.

It is a sort of weird black and orange colour on the outside and soft and pure white on the inside. Very nommy.

This has been a public service announcement on behalf of the Letting people know about yummy new discoveries that may or may not have been a Martini induced hallucination council.

The other day I made a Martini with Rosato (basically red) Vermouth.

This made it a rather gentle pink colour.

A visitor to Rancho Collapso asked me what it was, saying it looked nice.

"Oh this? It's a "Camp David"" I proudly announced.

Cleopatra is the girl cat here at Rancho Collapso (as I am sure some of you know by now) and she has developed a strange habit recently.

If she is not kept out of the kitchen she will jump up and eat any bread that is in the bread bin. She will even open packets to get at the stuff. I didn't think cats liked bread!

Anyway I think I know what she is up to.

In her strange cat brain she thinks "If I eat enough bread, I will start to smell of it. If I smell of bread I will attract Ducks because Ducks like bread. Then I can have duck!"

The thing is the only contact she ever has with duck is the slices of smoked duck that shipscook buys from the farmers market (which she loves). If a live duck was to land in front of her she would not know what to do with it.

Her brother would of course. He would rip it to peices!

Anyway.

I feel knackered and I drunk far too much last night.

Which is why I am having a martini now obviously.

Think I will go hunt through shipscooks CD's to see if there is anything I fancy.

Hope your Sunday evening is going well.

She laughs and I am alive

When she holds my hand and dances along the pavement I can't help but laugh.

I tidy up after her, often - and I will do it and complain and she will not listen but I will love her.

She makes me smile so much my face hurts.

I worry about her and what will happen to her in the future.

I would stand in front of any peril she faced and suffer it to spare her pain.

Because I love her above all.

Because she is my daughter.

I love you Sarah.

I am shitting myself (with nerves before you start)

Off to the building soc in a couple of minutes to talk about borrowing large lumps of money in a mortgage styleeee.

I find all this grown-up stuff so nerve racking.

Eeeeep.

Sat in Molly Moggs this lunchtime, relaxing as it were. A magazine, a pint and me were all that sat on the customer side of the bar.

On the other side was the boy from Brasil. Who is, like all the male bar staff in Mollys, gay.

We were talking about commuting times and how long it gets to take to get in to London, when I told him how long it takes me he asked where I live, I gave him a vague area.

“Jour house is a long way out” he said,

“Well I am staying with friends”

“Ju don’t have a place of your own?”

“Well yeah, but I am divorced and am trying to sell the house”

“Oh, how long were you together?”

“About 13 years”

“Wow! Das a long time.” A pause, and he looks at me quizzically then says

“You’re straight?”

Hey, I may spend a few lunch times a week in a bar staffed and owned by gay men, and it may put on drag acts on certain nights of the week but the clientele are a mixed group of straight and gay but…but….

Next, after the conversation had gone along a bit the Boy from Brasil stated.

“Oh, yous English? Well because yous eyes are dark and you are not so white as de normal English guys, I think maybe yous not all English. But when yous open your mouth you is all English”

God knows what that last bit of that comment could have been implying.

Ahem.

That personality test thing that did the rounds recently made me think about the concept of personality. It seems now that you can’t just have a personality, it has to be a disorder.

You can’t be a “moody bastard” or “a right good laugh” or “quiet but interesting when you get to know them” anymore. That would be too easy.

For example

If you have strong feelings of anger or anxiety, act impulsively, drink too much or take drugs, have feelings of low self esteem and have unstable relationships with your loved ones, you are not actually a bit of a moody billowy shirted wanker, you have Borderline Personality disorder. So you can drop the tortured poet/artist act

If you need to be the centre of attention, dress up provocatively and do silly things to make people look at you, have rapidly changing and shallow emotions, use overly –dramatic and occasionally theatrical speech, you do not need to grow up and stop being a tit, oh no - you have Histrionic personality Disorder. This does not mean that people will stop slapping you though.

If you steal from people because you think they are weak and deserve to be taken advantage of, if you are much more concerned about your needs than those of other people around you, you are not actually a cunt, you have antisocial personality disorder. So that’s all right then.

I think physiatrists and therapists invented all this stuff to keep themselves in work.

Cunning little bastids.

Last night I found a mobile phone on the train.

When I changed lines from overhead to underground I handed it in to the station supervisor. I did actually try to call the number listed on the phone as “Mum” to tell them I was handing their kids phone in and where I was doing it but there was not enough credit on it. The station supervisor said he would do it from his phone in the office.

Then my train came in and I got on it.

When I got to my destination I realised that I had not touched in with my “lobster” card and would have to pay £4.00 for a £2.00 journey.

Bugger.

I am never doing anything nice for anyone ever again.

In the reception here –

“Yeah but sometimes when it is off, you have to turn it on…”

Eh!

What other way is there! If you want to turn something on and it is off you have to physically turn it on. And if it is off, and you want it on, you have to turn it on EVERY time no? not just sometimes.

“I am going to turn that thing on, oh it is already on. Well I am going to turn it on more just to be on the safe side”

Yes I am in an odd mood.

What of it?

Yes louisa, it is your birthday.

Yes I did spot the huge hints you have been spraying about...

And I am not at all jealous that your birthday is on a Friday....not at all.....grrrr!

Have a good one.

x

Weird Inc is pleased to announce the opening of it's indoor Log Flume and Lazy River rides, specifically designed to enhance the lives of all employees.

Yes, with a howl of sirens we were evacuated just now and on trying to use our normal evacuation route we beheld about 50 yards of inch deep water all over the new carpets of the "coffee and break out area"

Yep, some numpty builder had drilled through a water pipe and now about 100 square foot of our office is a paddling pool.

First it was perfume gas attacks

Now flooding.

What the hell is next.

A few moments ago I was sat here at my desk in Weird Inc, eating my breakfast roll while waiting for the valves in my computer to warm up. It is the quiet and serene part of the day when all things are possible as the normal soul crushing boredom has yet to kick in and the next couple of hours are full of potential.

Suddenly a thick, cloying cloud of floral funk descended on me, filling my nostrils and stinging my eyes, clogging the back of my throat and rendering said morning breakfast food item totally tasteless.

The source of this hell-spawned honk was a smartly dressed woman standing 12 feet away! She must wear more perfume than any other human female on the planet.

It was so bad that I had to wrap my half eaten roll up in its packing and put it in my desk draw before fleeing outside, leaving my ex manager R sitting giggling at his desk, his eyes slowly turning red and starting to water.

Two things may illustrate how strong this perfume assault was: one, I am a smoker so my sense of taste and smell should be weaker than a non-smoker, two – the roll that I could no longer taste was cheese and RAW onion!

Yep the perfume level was that over the top.

So a tip for all you ladies out there:

Don’t put your perfume on with a bucket!

It is not nice….

See!

Oh.....

Right.

I mean the Tartan mini skirt, black tights, calf length boots, black top thing?

OK, yes they don’t look good on every woman but on the right ones it is just hot.

Well I think it is.

Yep. As I am sure you have guessed I have just seen a woman dressed like that in the office. And yes it did suit her.

In other news.

Mental. I haz it.

Now is not the time to be completely devoid of blogging inspiration.

Tis the season of people voting for the Bloscars and if ever there was at time to be producing your best stuff, now would be it.

But I am stuck.

I have nothing.

Working here in the throbbing heart of this here fancy “The London” I normally see or overhear something that I can blog about. Or rather I used to – not spotted anything of any importance/weirdness/stupidity for quite a while. Oh I am sure all that sort of stuff is still going on, I am just not in the right place at the right time.

And when a spec of inspiration does strike my vacant brain I question it.

“AHA! I know I can write about that time that I …..oh hang on. Have I blogged about that already?”

Maybe I have blogged every remotely interesting thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t tell!

So there you have it.

Or rather, you don’t.

more animals

1. Put Your iTunes/Ipod/MP3 Player on shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!
4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.

If someone says 'Is this okay?' what do you say?
"SO FUCKIN' WHAT!" (I swear to god this is true- thank god for Metallica and their cover versions, it is actually very accurate)

How would you describe yourself?
"Nest of the Cuckoo bird" - The Cramps. (working out well so far!)

What do you like in a guy/girl?
"Send a Message" Kings X (Hmmm. very obscure truth hidden there)

How do you feel today?
Black Angel - The Cult. (Well sort of)

What is your life’s purpose?
Maybe I'm Amazed - The Faces. (well I hope to be)

What's your motto?
"Lil' Devil" - The Cult. (What's in a name eh?)

What do your friends think of you?
"Arnold Layne" Pink Floyd (If you know the lyrics you may see some correlation...ahem)

What do you think of your parents?
"Tell the Truth" - Paul Gilbert.

What do you think about often?
"Loving Cup" - The Stones. (meh)

What is 2 + 2?
"Movin' On Down the Line" - The Black Crowes

What do you think of your best friend?
"The Movie" - Aerosmith. (no idea mate)

What do you think of the person you like?
"Pattin' yourself on the Back" - Galactic Cowboys.

What is your life story?
"Hurricane Years" - Alice Cooper (Who says I-Pods are not psychic?)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
"Iron Man" - Black Sabbath. (reeeely not making these up)

What do you think of when you see the person you like?
"Rag Doll" - Aerosmith. (I'm deeeeed!)

What will you dance to at your wedding?
"Fell in love with a girl" - The White stripes (subtitled "and then out again!")

What will they play at your funeral?
"Creature with the Atom Brain" - Rocky Erickson (Spot fucking on)

What is your hobby/interest?
"Sookie Sookie" - Paul Gilbert & Jimmie Kidd. (I have no idea what Sookie sookie is, as it is not explained in the song, but I have my suspicions...)

What is your biggest fear?
"Fell out of Heaven" - Wolfsbane.

What is your biggest secret?
"I Can't Wait until Tomorrow" - Gary Moore. (sigh)

What do you think of your friends?
"Planet Caravan" - Black Sabbath.

What will you post this as?
"Streets of Love" - The Stones.

Well, some of that was worryingly spot on.

Have a go.

“Shit! One of my balls just shot off under the desk! Ah, there it is…these are buggers to get back in..”

Yep. While fiddling idly with my ball closure earrings I managed to pop one of them out.

The way people looked at me when I uttered that sentence you would think I was sat at my desk with my trousers round my ankles!

“Yeah I smoke ‘em right down to the filter. That’s were they put the Heroin, all real smokers know that.”

Dennis Leary.

But it is just inside my left nostril.

And it is a bit irritating and stings a little bit when I rearrange my devilishly handsome features into any sort of facial expression.

So I am being even more deadpan than normal at work today.

Everyone thinks I am in an evil mood.

Also when I am in the toilets and there is no one else there I keep having a look at the little bastard to see if there is a hint of a head on the damn thing.

This causes my nose to itch so when I exit the toilets I am rubbing at my nose and sniffing.

This leads to the people walking past outside in the corridor giving me some very funny looks as if to say, “No wonder he looked in a bad mood, he needed another hit of coke”

I could try and lance it with a straightened out paper clip……

At least it would be a bit of excitement in this very dull working day.

I am sat at work in a boring office in a rainy city, listening to my I-Pod and doing very little.

A song comes on – “Can I sit next to you girl” by AC/DC and suddenly I am back in the passenger seat of a car exactly like this one (except the one I was in was Dark Maroon in colour) Driving around with my friend Barry, vainly offering pretty girls lifts to somewhere.

We were both about 17, the summer was hot and we were probably supposed to be in college. More often than not in the summer we would be out driving around with the windows wound down, listening to AC/DC as we cruised around the streets doing nothing, or blasting down to Southend just for something to do.

And here I am now, middle aged and in the middle of one of the most crap winters in ages, that summer and my youth way behind me.

Just watching some bankers on the news.

Some of them say that they should NOT be taking bonuses in the current climate. Well good. Sensible attitude.

Another tosser said the title line in his interview and said also "I have worked hard all year, yeah I think I do deserve it"

I don't condone violence.

But god I wanted to punch the fucker in the face.

due to a certain charming c*nt of a blogger posting his Man for Monday malarky, my recent media section is full of men with odd shaped balls.

Oh joy.

Meh.

The Streets of London are not paved with gold. I think we all know this don’t we?

Oxford Street in particular is paved with 8-inch square slabs, quite a few of which are loose.

On rainy days like this, these loose slabs sometimes lay over a little puddle of water and when you step on them they propel this little puddle out and up over your legs under high pressure.

I have just encountered two of these little bastards in the space of about 20 yards.

First my left foot hit one and was drenched from knee to ankle by high powered puddle water, then not six steps later my right foot found another with the same result.

Lovely.

Could have been worse though, sometimes the little gits manage to jet cold water up the inside of your trouser leg as well. Which is not a nice feeling.

So this’ll be Monday then.

Watching the repeat of the Friday Night Project.

God.

Lilly Allen is soooooooooooo hot.

sigh.

Mind you, I don't know what any of her songs sound like. I would probably hate them.

but still...

Schwiiiinnng!

I am now watching the Top Gear special were they have to drive across Africa.

My Sunday could not get any better if Nigella Lawson had her head buried in my groin........

Perfect.

Now on the sofa but still under the lappy.

To my right the tumbled tower of CD's that I loaded onto the lappy last night is in need of clearing up. Lots of black Sabbath, Galactic Cowboys and pitchshifter. Good commuting music.

Just watched "Moonraker" on the telly. "Fuck me is it a bank holiday?" I asked ships as the titles rolled and he dispensed the food (Tandoori lamb chops on a bed of roasted onions and potatoes with baby aubergines and Okra.) Then QM dispensed large glasses of "Fuck the President" and we watched Roger Moore's plastic hair give a Stirling performance.

Now we are watching "Night of the Eagle" which is an old black and white film about possession and stuff.

QM is snuggling up under my armpit stealing my heat.

Women only ever want me for one thing...Meh.

People in the dvd are now arguing about witchcraft in a very stilted English way. It is quite funny. The man is Peter Wyngarde...yes, Jason King for those of you of a certain age.

Also have cracked open the packet of Mehari's Sweet Orient Cigars that someone got me as prezzie. Smoky sweet nommage via suckage.

So,

So far this Sunday is going not badly.

Here I am laying in a warm bed, I can see the bright sunlight shining on the trees outside the window. Looks like a luvruly day.

Don't feel very inclined to go out there but will probably have to soon.

To my right is a Martini made with red vermouth, which does make it look rather camp.

I actually tidied this room yesterday. Of my own free will.

Honest.

No, Queene Mab did not have to drop any large hints or use any threats at all.

And I did NOT sulk like a teenager in the slightest.

Mind you, it did need doing - too many t-shirts on hangers hooked over the door frame of the built in cupboard and loads of CD's and documents lying around. Not to mention the graphic novels.

So now it looks like a responsible adult lives in here not some sulky spotty kid.

Mind you, just don't look in that corner over there....

Hope you are all having a wonderful Sunday afternoon.

Way back in the days of being at junior school..

It was not because he was ginger.

It was not because he was called Timothy. (This is Dagenham we are talking about here, where being called Timothy is like having a sign round your neck saying "kick me")

It was not the fact that he had the classic NHS specs with the elastoplast tape wrapped round the bridge

It was because he wore the crisp white uniform shirt with the short sleeves and the grey shorts.

At a school that had no uniform......

Go figure..........

Kids can be so cruel.

I have really tried.

I have tried to keep going through all of the things that have happened.

My job going in to a huge free fall of uncertainty.

The divorce and all the mad feelings and guilt it threw up.

The loss of a good friend.

The house not selling.

But this is just too much, I don't know if I can pull through this one.

I have got chocolate stains on my WHITE lucky thirteen T-Shirt.

Fuck it.

Damn choccy bikkits!

And I am far too drunk to be in charge of a blog.

So, excusermer me to anyone whose blog I have commented on...

And my hovercraft is full of eels.

And.....

Nah, other people have said it all.

Lurking at the bottom of the stats page.

"Mexican Eyebrows" seems popular. Are they trying to tell me something?

"Casanova" Why, I couldn't possibly comment.........

"Where do Bluebottles go in winter" Eh?

"Red Pussey" hang on there!

"Gay Barmen" What! Well I never. No honestly I never.

Weird inc has had a bit of a selective power cut.

Some of the desks don't have power.

Ours do.

As a result of this, not ten seconds ago, the young lady that reminds me of Devla Kirwan (in a good way) just sat down opposite me with her laptop.

Eeeeeep!

Must remember not to swear or pick my nose.....

All over the news this morning there were almost hysterical reports of more snow.

The big story seemed to be about a group of motorists who got stranded on a road in South Bizarreshire or somewhere and had to be rescued and put up in a hostel overnight.

I mean Reeeeeely.

Outside it was raining, and I wanted to know if it was going to snow where I was. I cared nothing for some dumb motorists stuck up a hill somewhere I had never heard of, or pictures of snow covered fields in Cornwall and Derry!

The weather forecasters were telling me that snow snow snow was on it’s way to me while the lovely computer generated images behind them showed rain rain rain on the bit of London I was in.

But now the bastards have got something to be hysterical about they seem happy.

Of course if there is a massive downfall of snow now in central London I will look a bit silly.

Ok,

You are in a lift at 09.30 on an alien planet that has fish on Thursday (hey, I said it was alien) and it has crashed into a cliff and you are dumped onto the surface of a hostile world full of mystery and a suspiciously and purely coincidental breathable atmosphere.

What would you most want out of the following list of items to ensure your survival? (in the months that will be following before nasa has a whip round to find the money to cobble together a spaceship that won't actually go tits up before it leaves the atmosphere and leap the light years that separate you from mother earth and perform a rescue mission).

(that was a far too long paragraphical sentence.)

A - A fat soaked bunch of chip wrappings.

B - A talking Gonk Called Nibnobs, complete with purple hair.

C - An intelligent culture with the power of speech living in a levitating litter tray.

D - A branch of McDonalds.

F - All the fluff bunnies ever vacuumed up in the world. And they are reeeely pissed off.

E - Your old bastard of an english teacher still screeching at you in front of the class and saying that you are a dyslexic bastid, but with a cheese sammich poking seductively out of his back pocket.

Well!?

No, I have not been drinking rum.

This weather is only good for one thing – reminding me of all the body parts I have abused during my life, as they ache in the cold damp like little sods.

OK, what I mean (and I am sure you would point out) is that I am an old git. So thanks.

Anyway, years of guitar playing mean that my left hand and elbow are playing up, the left elbow in particular.

My hips are reminding me of all the many many miles I have walked due to A- not being able to drive and B- actually enjoying walking. Walking awkwardly on all the ice out there does nothing to help either.

My knees like to remind me of all the hours I spent kneeling down fiddling with my effects pedals when learning to play, until I had gone numb from the waste down in fact. They love to hurt me in this weather.

So basically I wish it would warm up so I don’t feel such a decrepit old wreck.

Bring on the spring PURLEEEEZ!

Since I now live in the house of Queene Mab and Shipscook for the majority of the week, I am eating a lot of healthy home cooked food.

Lots of fresh ingredients and quite a bit of fibre and roughage. QM makes (and has posted the recipes for) some fantastic lentil and chickpea based soups.

But there is a downside to consuming all this good stuff – especially the lentils.

For example yesterday I had FOUR ponies!

And the toilet paper here at Weird Inc is not exactly made of fluffy puppies (although thankfully it is not that awful shiny stuff that just “spreads” rather than wipes)

So my poor little ring is feeling a rather rough this morning, all most like it has been sand blasted.

I may need to buy an inflatable pillow.

What? TMI?

Just testing.

I have now got about half of my CD’s onto my I-Pod and this morning I have been listening to some old albums for the first time in ages.

What strikes me about these recordings that were released in the Vinyl only era is how much more “to the point” they are with the music.

Due to the original Album format they only last 35 minutes on average and seem to contain less filler material.

Basically this was because the bands had to be more selective about what went on an old vinyl LP because there simply was not the space to faff about with that jazz improve piece the drummer had written and been sulking about not having recorded for ages, or some other self indulgent nonsense.

Now bands regularly give us shiny CD’s with over an hour of stuff on them, but in some cases they seem to be using some B list material to fill the gaps. I think because they feel they have to use up the space, a lot more songs that are just “OK” are getting through when if it had been release on a round black disk these songs would have got the chop.

Of course some bands do actually manage to give us an hour of good stuff, but not many. I would rather have less songs and better song writing than every tune the band have managed to cobble together since the last album.

And if it only lasts 40 minutes, you can just play it again.

Prawns still in their shells. (Crunchy!)

Rust, cobwebs and dead spiders (VILE!)

Calf’s brains (tastes like beef jelly basically, looks very much like a brain)

My own tongue. (Thank god my dad was around to fish it back out of my throat or I would be a tad dead.)

Your go.

Yes I am bored.

You remember Shaka Khan?

You know, she of that annoying 80’s record that starts

“Shaka Khan let me rock you, let me rock you Shaka Khan.”?

Well there is a poster up on one of the empty office windows across the road from Weird Inc bearing her facial likeness, advertising some gig or summink that she is doing soon.

Now the Ms Khan I remember from the 80’s was curvy and hot – this one appears to be about three stone and a couple of skin shades lighter than the original.

What the hell is going on there then.

I thought she was fine as she was……

London is all cold and drippy today as the sunlight gets to work melting the ice and snow.

Which will probably mean flooding in the tube system and just as much disruption as the snow caused in the first place.

Meh. (I seem to have alot of meh this morning. oh well)

That was the sound my boots made on the ice-covered pavements this morning.

The conditions out in the suburbs where a little treacherous but at least this morning they are running a tube service.

So I have made it in to work. Oh yay and wooop and such.

Meh.

Apparently it was a bit of a graveyard here yesterday, and those people that did manage to get in found that a lot of the shops in the area where shut anyway so lunchtime was a bit dull.

There was also a massive snowball fight in Soho Square at lunchtime which one of my colleagues witnessed and avoided. Ah the true spirit of the British worker, "its snowed - lets have a fight!"

Anyway,

Better do something then.

I mean, there is no reason for it but when I go outside into the garden for a ciggie (wrapped up in my woolly hat and jacket of course) I start talking in a Scottish accent.

And people respond in the same way.

"QM hen, ahm jus away oot for a ciggie ye ken.."

"Aye fair enough doll, mine yeas clos that dooor eh?"

Cabin fever takes many forms.....

In other news, Myleen Klass has just been on the telly in that advert and I have a trouser problem. Ahem.

I opened the door and stepped out into the white silence.

The blank whiteness had only been marred by a line of fox footsteps that were rapidly filling up with more snow.

I crunched down the hill feeling a little thrill at leaving the first footsteps of the day.

Flakes were staying on my nose and eyelashes but I resisted this outbreak of Julie Andrews syndrome and pressed on.

At the foot of the hill I looked up at the old fashioned lamp post and wondered where Mr Tumnus was.

At the station the staff were sweeping the snow away and arguing happily with there supervisor

"Oi you two, no more snowball fights in front of the customers! five more minutes of this and we are 'avin a tea break!"

A train came in and we all got on. Then the driver said it would not be going anywhere. So we got off.

"How the fuck do they get to work in Canada then?" I asked no one in particular.

I crunched up the hill again, walking in back in my own rapidly filling footsteps.

Answer when I remember to take a break from loading cd's onto I-tunes.

EDIT - I had no idea how appropriate this would be. These are a pair of Snow Goggles made out of Ivory. The little slits cut down the glare from the snow. Need a pair for today actually.....