Saturday, August 30
A very, very cool web comic, found at Fivecomix, which in turn I found from ExplodingCigar. Go to "the comics" then Absurdist Theatre. Unfortunately there doesn't seem to be any new updates for it, but the issues that are there are brilliant. Go read it!
Pig Feed And Vodka
That basically sums up my Thursday. Yeah, I know that I seem to be getting behind, but I was far too hungover earlier today (for reasons to be explained in a minute) to get anywhere near a computer. It's the bright light of the screen, hurts my (bloodshot) eyes. Oh, and the pig feed and vodka weren't at the same time...
To explain the post from Wednesday first (jeez, I'm going further and further back before getting anywhere near today's events), what happened was:
Bailey's (my employment agency) rang me on Tuesday (even further back...) to ask me if I could work at this place called Countrywide on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. I said yes, mainly because I was getting bored with being home alone all day every day. I turned up on Wednesday morning, and they finally sent me to go work a few floors up in this big motherfucker of a mill / factory. The place makes dried pellet feed for cattle and pigs, you've probably seen it if you don't live in a city. I was told on the phone that I'd probably be putting the big bags of it onto pallets, as well as a little bit of cleaning and all that. No worries (I've been saying that far too much recently, must be turning antipodean), I thought, I can cope with that. I got there, was handed a broom and told to sweep this part of the factory, as well as all of the dust from the big machines. It was hot and dusty and fucking horrible. After that, I was handed a shovel and told to clean from under this machine. This was all sludgy and smelt terrible, but I did it anyway, shovelling it up and putting it into bags. Later, I found out that the sludge was in fact the fat that they put into the food. I was constantly getting the crap on my hands and all over my trousers, and I was so pissed off at how bad the job was.
I popped home at lunchtime to let my dog out for a piss, and while I was there I rang Bailey's to ask them to unbook me for Thursday and Friday. I was quite happy to finish the rest of Wednesday's shift, because I'm not the kind of person to walk out of a shift half-way through. They were bastards on the phone, saying that they'd already had a couple of people walk out of there this week (not telling you something, maybe?), and that I was booked in until the end of the week. I eventually said fine, I'll do it, and promptly hung up on them. I was so angry, and for the rest of the shift all I could think about was going into the office and having a go at them.
Which I did as soon as I finished the day's work. I walked in, went up to the relevant desk and said "I'm just here to tell you to never ask for a favour from me ever again." They were taken aback, and I went to walk out, but Alex called me back and asked me to have a chat. He tried to put across his side ("We can't actually force you to work"), but I couldn't be fucking bothered with him. I left and went home. They then called me up a few hours later, asking me to work just the Thursday, and promising to pay me a higher hourly rate for both Wednesday and Thursday "as a bonus" for doing the job. I was already intending to go back anyway, and was really short with them on the phone. I'm one of those kind of people who has a conscience and feel guilty if I let someone down (i.e. by not turning up to a job when I'm booked to do it).
I went back in on Thursday, which was a little better since it wasn't as hot, and wasn't messy. I spent the whole 8 hour shift with a broom in my hands, sweeping the ground floor of the mill, which was covered in so much dust it wasn't even funny, and putting the dust into bags to go in the bins. I am now the proud owner of a pair of nicely blistered hands (the owner isn't pleased about that) and a slight cough from all of the dust.
Thursday night was a good one. A fucking good one. We didn't go out until after 9pm, which is about 2 hours later than usual, but I still managed to get a lot more drunk than usual, and spend a lot less than usual. i blame the double vodkas for £1 at Buds. We stopped at the West End to meet a few people, then headed down to Buds. A little bit of queuing, then a whole lot of vodka-redbulls. They really fuck you up. The vodka makes you a little tired, but the Red Bull wakes you up and gives you loads of energy. A good state to be in. It was a good laugh, sitting / standing around outside, chatting to a few friends I hadn't seen in a while (they were out of the country, the bastards) and periodically returning to the bar for more drink.
I don't remember leaving Buds, I remember a bit of being in Acropolis (the best kebab shop in the history of the world ever), and I remember most of the walk home. I live about 2 miles out from the center of town, and it's a nice walk home at the end of the night. Most of my mates live near me, so there's always someone at the end of the night to walk with. As far as I remember, it was just me and Barclay last night, everybody else had already fucked off. Actually, we met Powello on the way and the 3 of us stumbled the rest of the way home.
I don't remember actually getting in the front door or anything. The next thing I remember is waking up at 8.20am in an armchair in my living room, still fully clothed. The TV was on too, but showing just a blue screen. Putting two and two together, I reckon I must have sat down to watch some music, and the channel which I was watching was one which stopped broadcasting at 6am, hence the blue screen when I woke up. I was still drunk at this point, because I was all over the stairs on my way up to go to bed properly. I think I woke up again at 10 to investigate a knock at the door (nobody there. there never is when you think you hear something and haul your ass out of bed to go check), and then woke up for good around midday. Feeling like complete shit, I might add.
Yes, vodka-redbull is good fun when you're on it, but it gives the worst hangovers ever. I know this, and yet I still drink the stuff. Well, it is sooooo cheap... Meh, at least I didn't have to go to work. Nope, today I stayed in and did a load of housewifey things. Like I said, I'm home alone, and my Mum is very houseproud, so I've got to keep the place together. I did some hoovering, some washing-up and even washed some clothes. The laundry basket was overflowing, so I figured it was about time. Don't ask me to iron anything though, I can't iron for shit.
Made myself this lush dinner as well. I enjoy cooking, and I'm a master of throwing something together from whatever's in the cupboards. Today, it was some peppers, some onion, some mushrooms, some passata (sieved tomatoes), some tuna and some pasta, all mixed up to make something vaguely resembling a tuna napolitana. Except mine was so tasty, unlike the packet stuff. I'm very proud of that meal, even if I haven't done the washing up yet. It'll still be there tomorrow.
Last night we also made some big plans for Saturday. It could be a 3pm start for an all-day drinking session. Not good for a) my liver and b) my bank balance. Although, I am getting a bonus, so just maybe....
Thursday, August 28
Angry And Annoyed
Right, I've had a really crap day, and I can't be arsed to type huge amounts about it, save to say that I am / was in such a bad mood because of fucking Bailey's. They really screwed me over this time, and after all of the favours I've done them this summer. It really irks me when something like that happens.
Oh, and the new place where I'm working is truly the worst I have ever worked in. I know I moan about my various jobs a lot, but this is truly godawful. Really, truly, godawful. Fucking Bailey's.
Tuesday, August 26
I was watching a bit of the US Open tennis on TV earlier, and came across it again whilst flicking through the channels just now. Yeah, I know, 2.30am and I'm STILL watching live sport. So far today I've fitted in 2 and a bit football matches, some athletics and some tennis. Oh, and some Super League too. And what have I done fitness-wise? I walked my dog earlier, does that count?
Anyway, the title is because there wasn't actually any tennis being played just now when I turned over. It was instead the start of a ceremony to honour Pete Sampras in light of his recent retirement from the game. It was really well done, and you could see him getting pretty choked as he spoke at the end. The ceremony wasn't low-key, being on the main court at Flushing Meadows (teehee), and with a red carpet and all that lot, but it was subtle and fairly restrained when compared to a lot of similar events.
I always find that these sort of events, especially in America, are over the top and detract from the main purpose. It's nothing personal against Americans, it's just the way you are. It's all with the best intentions, but it always a little too extroverted. This one was perfect. A couple of little speeches from his coach, Boris Becker and John McEnroe, an unveiling and reading of a plaque, and finished with Pete saying a few words. Nothing too grand, nothing too flashy (no fireworks...), just a simple ceremony to honour a great tennis player. Well done the ATP and the organisers at the US Open.
Monday, August 25
Just lazing around, flicking through the TV channels when I happened upon MTV Icons - Metallica on MTV2. It seems to be a big gig / event where loads of musicians / celebrities come to pay their respects to one of the greatest metal bands ever. Some of the musicians / bands get up on stage and do covers of Metallica songs as well. Snoop did a pretty good version of a tune which I can't remember the name of, but then Korn were introduced to do a tune.
They did "One," which is one of my favourite Metallica tracks, and they were so good. Jon Davis sounded just like James Hetfield in the chorus parts, but did his own thing during the verses. The band did the instrumental parts justice too, but giving it a Korn flavour whilst retaining the hardness of the original. The end part was the best, with the Korn guitarists (Head, Munky and Fieldy, fucking stupid names the lot of them) showing that they can do speed-metal as well as they can do nu-metal.
Right, I'm off to go hunt on Kazaa for that song, just thought I'd share that little thing with you.
Oh, and kiwi, what I meant about VIP is that it's so over-acted and crap that it's good. You know, like The Avengers film and other random stuff. I'm sure the rumours will still spread.
I know that I'm posting this at just after midnight, so I'm not hungover any more, but I was feeling like shit all day today. This kinda affected everything that I did, and therefore this blog entry. It all makes sense eventually. I promise.
I eventually rolled into bed around 5.30 this morning, pretty much sober after the night's events (see the last post), and set my alarm for 1 o'clock this afternoon. I woke up first at about 10.30, feeling completely dehydrayted and all-round crap, so I dived into the bathroom and gulped down a shitload of water from the tap before getting back into bed. The alarm woke me on time, after a couple of freaky dreams which I can't remember right now. Still dehydrated, I drank nearly a whole carton of fruit juice with my Ricicles (I did some food shopping yesterday, so I bought the cereal / food that I wanted...) and plonked my ass down in front of the TV.
I couldn't get the enthusiasm together to walk the dog, but I had a shower, which made me feel a whole lot better, and jumped on the computer to check my emails, etc, and check what I had written last night. After that, I watched the Arsenal game on the TV, and a bit of the cricket, before retiring upstairs back onto the computer. Actually, no I didn't. I watched an episode of VIP first. I fucking love that programme, it's so camp and hammed up.
I eventually took the dog out at 8, and I remembered to take my camera with me, something I had been forgetting to do for the past few times I've been out. I took a couple of really cool pictures, and it gave me the inspiration to get the fabled photo blog started. I'm probably just going to use this design / layout for now, and concentrate on putting up the content before making any wholesale changes to the design. Watch this space...
Hmmm, what else? More football on the TV, this time it was the Spanish Super Cup. Oh, and the final day of the NEC Invititational Golf Open as well. I swear I'll watch any sport that is on TV, so long as it is live. How very sad.
I may seem really dull, but I blame it on the hangover that has stuck around all day long. I was drinking so much. I reckon that I've polished off over 3/4 of a 2-litre bottle of Sprite Lite, as well as a litre of cranberry juice, not to mention numerous occasions where I've just put my head under a tap. Why do I still drink? I've got no fucking idea. Same again this Saturday, of course.
Sunday, August 24
Okay, so it's 3am and I'm posting to my blog. I blame the alcohol and the fact that my parents are away. Mmmmmm, computer any time I want it. Please excuse the typing mistakes, I'm trying to correct as I go. Actually, this is what the world needs more: drunken statements. Never a truer word is spoken than when you're drunk.
What happened tonight was: caught the bus to Bath with Eddie, Mace and Sketch. We stopped off in a few bars / pubs before we got to this place called Central Wine Bar. In there, the four of us bought this 4-pint jug of Woo-Woo. Woo-Woo is a cocktail made up of vodka, peach schnapps and cranberry juice. It costs £18 per jug in this place, but it's worth it. 4 (!) pints of cocktail for £18? I think so. I managed to convince the barman to throw a bit more vodka in, so we were well sorted. And no, I didn't have to show any nipples to get some more vodka.
We somehow managed to meet up with a few more mates in Central Wine Bar, then we met a couple more in Slug & Lettuce, which is possibly the most random name for a bar / pub ever. Actually, before Slug & Lettuce, we popped into Baty's, where I tried one of their AlcoTubes. Fucking waste of £1, I tell you. It tasted of Ribena, and I swear that there was no alcohol in it all. Meh.
Anyway, in Slug & Lettuce, I ended up chatting to this random girl (Ellie was the name, I believe) about random shit. She was alright and a good laugh, but I was fairly pissed and led her a merry dance concering the names and occupations of my mates that I was with. It was all good fun though. Somebody bought me a vodka-jelly, so I threw that down my neck. Again, another crappy drink which didn't even give the hint of alcohol in it. As we were leaving (so many bars, so little time), I bent over to give Ellie (whatever her name was) a little peck for chatting and filling half-an-hour of my night out, but she went to shove her tongue in my mouth. For some reason, I pulled away and walked off. Still not quite sure why. She was fairly overweight, so perhaps my subconscious standards committee made the decision.
Damn you subconscious standards committee!
The night gets better though. Well, descriptively it gets better, anyway.
The bus ride home was fucking quality, 12 of us making so much noise singing random songs that the rest of the bus had no choice but to join in. "We hate Wesley" was a favourite, as was "On your own" whenever anybody tried to start a song without a response. We got off the bus in Melksham, stopped for a quick pint on the Bear, then moved onto Buds. I was chatting away outside with whomever was nearby, holding my own (I think) in conversation, even though I was twatted. After Buds it all kicked off.
We all headed to Acropolis, the local late-night kebab house, to get some munchies. I got mine sorted (Chips & Cheese), and went and sat on a bench opposite with a mate of mine. Then, this gilr started mouthing off at me, for a reason that I forget right now. She started bitching about my big ears and calling me ugly, so I gave as good back as I got. I applauded her for coming up with something original in calling me "big-ears" and ugly, then told her that she was fucking ugly too. She tried to give me a slap, but I ducked and Mace took the slap for me. Good man.
It degenerated into a slanging match, with her coming up with nothing original and me doing my sarcastic applause every time she mentioned my ears. Then came the turning point.
I ripped off this tiny bit pf polystyrene from my food box, and threw it towards my mate Mace. It happened to miss and fall on this guy Matt that I knew. I've known him since I was about 5 years old, but we've fallen out of contact in the past few years. Anyway, he went fucking mad about the fact this polystyrene tab had landed on him, and was ready to spark me out. I stood up to him (even though I was sitting) and didn't budge an inch. He grabbed with me with two hands around the throat and told me to apologise. I told him, in unequivocal terms, to fuck off.
Cue about 20 minutes when all my mates were trying to calm him down, his mates were trying to make me apologise, and both of us being stubborn bastards. Call me arrogant, stubborn and unapologetic, but I firmly believe that I was in the right. He fucking over-reacted and went ape-shit on my ass. Even a couple of girlfriends (not proper girlfriends, although one...) told me to calm down and all that shit, but I was having none of it. This other skinhead guy came over and fucking bitched about who I was having a problem with. I pointed out Matt, but this guy was certain that I was pointing at him. Cue another 5 minutes of me telling him to fuck off as well.
I've never been a fighter, and hopefully never will be, even after a fair few drinks, so I was the one sitting back and doing fuck-all. I pray that I stay like that forever with alcohol. I'd hate to be one of those types (a la Matt) that gets punchy after a few drinks.
Eventually, he came over and apologised to me. Does that make him the bigger man, or is that an admittal of guilt? I don't know, you decide. Either way, my pride was intact at the end, and my body was intact apart from a sore bit on my neck where he grabbed me. The cunt. He was deicdedly apologetic, but I remained slighlty aloof and uncommitted to the apology / handshake. Fuck it, so I'm an arrogant bastard, I don't give a shit. Fuck it.