While My Guitar Gently Weeps

"The time has come, the Walrus said..." Well, now my time has come, 2006 is nearly at an end. I have to prepare myself for tomorrows trek back to Bruxelles, via Madrid. There are only a certain number of items I can take with me and, unfortunately, Eloise - my guitar - is not one of them. I don't want to chance losing her or getting her damaged by some lunatic baggage handler at any of the three airports I have to pass through.

To elucidate - since I found out that things were 'going south' between my parents, I immersed myself in music. Initially, just listening to it and then becoming more involved. Learning to play guitar, to write songs, to join a band and perform in front of thousands of people. I always had one favourite guitar. After my son was conceived I gave up music and got a "proper" job but bought Eloise as a compensation for losing one dream but gaining a better one (followed by two - my daughter).

Since then, wherever I have moved (more specifically a place I call home), Eloise comes with me. She is here with me now in Spain but I cannot take the chance that she may be damaged. Also, I'm not sure that the new place is yet home. She will have to stay here with the 'guitar-minder' until I figure out the future. I will shed a tear when I have to leave her but as life is constantly shifting, I could be back here sooner than anticipated.

I don't play as much as I would like anymore - time spent with puters seems to rule my life. I wish I could but then again I wish a lot of things. Most importantly, I wish I could see my children more. Alas, not to be.

I wish all of you a very Happy New Year and hope to greet as many of you personally as I can manage (assuming any of you want to greet me). Shit. Didn't think of that. If you don't, just pretend I'm invisible. It's ok, I was married so I'm used to it.

In the meantime, get pissed, stay sober or do whatever suits your fancy. I wish you all the best Gothic wishes for the New Year and may all your dreams come true (apart from the one about crucifying ex-partners, or squidging small furry animals, or that dodgy one involving cocunuts)....hmmm, maybe I should have a 'whip-around' and see a therapist?! Not sure how far 1 Euro would get me though.

a luego y Feliz Ano Nuevo,
S

besos -> Little Goth
besos -> Little Gothess
besos -> mi madre
grand besos -> Mi Mariposa

Expected Behaviour

A wonderful phrase I was given years ago whilst validating some software for a global company. When I explained that it didn't work and therefore there was no way on Goth's earth that I would sign off on it, the politics started. Meetings were called, conference calls scheduled but I had my proof.

When I was asked to explain my findings, I asked whether they wanted the short explanation or the long one. The short one. "Ok. It's a crock of shit!" So then the muppets requested the long version. Not going to bore you with the details but if a software package causes a computer to crash, it is crap. It is not expected behaviour for me. To them, it was. Maybe they had tested it also - and thus, was indeed expected.

Expected behaviour for me is like when I got caught in bed, by the father of a 16 year old girl - at the time, a very active, naked 16 year old girl. Yes, that was expected that he would try and kill me. To be fair, she had told me she was 18 years old and her body could quite justify that testament. It was also expected that, as he was 20 years older than I, running away really fast was an option that would work.

Expected behaviour again, as I prepare to return to the airport that, once again I will get "pulled" by security on the outward, and customs on the inward. Joys of the Gothic appearance. I wonder if gay people keep getting pulled with the expected consequence "oh, go on - search me". Sorry, that was a bit stereotypical but in my little knowledge of gay people, they do seem to be more in touch with their feelings, even though in certain societies they have to keep things quiet for fear of retribution or whatever.

Finally, I would just like to mention that I will be severely drunk on New Years Eve - with any luck, across all time zones in the world. It's going to take some doing but, as anyone would know me could testify, something that could certainly get classified under "expected behaviour".

a luego,
S

Karma

What goes around comes around. Or as the Reverend Earl J Hickey says "Do good things and good things happen to you, do bad things and....bad things happen to you".

Shit doesn't work for me. I tried being a nicer person but here I am - same place/same situation. Stupid time in the morning stuck with an erection you could swat squirrels with and no-one to play with. "Watch it fella, you could take somebodys eye out with that!". Highly unlikely I think. I don't think that my inch and a half of wriggling fury has to be registered as a lethal weapon just yet.

Poetry.com have announced that I am to be entered into their hall of fame. Wow, the little fella calmed down at the mention of their name. Probably bored the shit out of him like it does me. I know I can write poetry - I don't need some pompous twit to confirm it for me. I was just utilising the free web space and funky free printouts.

Now I just need to figure out how to take over the world. "Bwah ha ha" *in comicly Dr Evil fashion*. Actually, I don't know that I want to take over any world. It seems screwed up enough already without my intervention. If there is a Goth, I'm fairly sure that he/she/it was sufficiently stoned whilst manufacturing this existing enigma.

So, I'm off to see the doctor to get myself some viagra. I don't actually need it but I'm curious to see what will happen if I do take some - watch out squirrels ;-) The last time I saw Dr Irrelevant, he suggested/prescribed Xanax.

I didn't quite understand his instructions about dosages but did get the bit where he said - "do not mix with alcohol". To me, that's kind of like saying "do not piss into the wind".

Suitably tabletted up I drank a couple of beers. Strangest thing happened - I saved loads of money on beer. I scooted right past the drink loads of beer thing and straight to the walk into furniture mode. I would have pissed myself laughing if I knew who/what/why I was. Next time I saw Dr Strangelove he seemed somewhat put out.

Apparently I had taken 8 times the correct dosage even before I mixed it with alcohol. "But that was enough to knock an elephant out" - didn't work dude - skinny Goth takes the trophy!! Was still funny as fook! Hidden the rest of the tablets somewhere.....don't know where (but then they wouldn't be hidden if I did know).

Oh well, I suppose I can go back to bed now. Final quote from Rev. Hickey - "I'm just trying to be a better person".

a luego,
S

What Difference Does It Make?

And so the dark side of Goth World. The depression, always brought on by one of two factors. Women or money. Combined - fooking lethal.

I could never, at the time, understand Morrisey and his whingeing 'so what difference does it ma-ee-uk'. Now I get it. Whatever I do is never enough. So, jump on the bandwagon. Blame me for everything shit in the world. Fookin hell - Vietnam, I'll take the rap even though I wasn't born. I should create an advertising campaign "Something shit happen? It's ok I'll take the blame!"

Just because some useless twat in Mayo-land didn't do what they said they would, my bank account looks like a starving child in Africa (without the flies of course). And you....fookin crap bus driver, you're going to hang alongside me. YOU MADE ME MISS THE PLANE and thus spend more money I don't have.

As for the agency message when I tried to call to find out where the fook my money was "sorry, our offices are closed until 2 January, Merry Christmas etc" - tough shit. Take an extended vacation because I am there on the 1st and trust me, there will be nothing of the office left but dust.

Firestarter Turbo.

The little book of calm burns quite well - especially with the added incentive of petrol !!

I feel this overwhelming desire to STAMP on something small, cute & furry.

Think positive.......ok. Alcohol is more effective if you have no food. Think about that agency boy. Might want to bear it in mind when I send the killer hamsters up your rectum.

I haven't felt this angry since I found out my ex-wife wasn't sleeping with someone else. For fooks sake woman....move on! Are you that chuffing ugly? Shite, perhaps I was drugged. Maybe I am as truly 'mad as a bicycle'.

I need to punch someone - ow, that hurt! Unfortunately in Goth World you can only damage yourself.

Where's that bottle of Jack Daniels? I need to dive to the bottom.

Ha........found it. Back to normality.

a luego,
S

The Day After Tomorrow

Blooming crikey. I still feel pissed two days later. As I missed the 'window of opportunity' to speak to mini-goth and mini-gothess I went on what is affectionally known as a 'bender'. Sleep is for wimps - drink until you pass out or get arrested. Simple rules - drink what ever is in front of you and then go 'mine-sweeping' (pouring drinks into your glass from peeps who have been forced to visit the toilets, look after a dying pet, been stabbed in the head with a pencil etc).

It wasn't my fault I wasn't allowed to speak to the mini-goths. The dragon had other ideas. She was obviously extremely pissed off that the mini-goths liked my gifts more than hers. She wants me back - I don't want to go and thus we have a problem. In the meantime, mi mariposa was on the phone to our mutual friends in Paris. I got chastised for being arsey (yeah, yeah..I know) but they had got the wrong end of the stick. I was moody because I wanted to tell my beautiful children that I love them and wasn't able to.

Fooking hell.

Got loads of groovy new toys to play with. Thanks to mama, busy stroking hobbits in New Zealand with my not-so-little bro - the entire first series of 'Me llamo Earl' on DVD. Thanks to mi media naranja (with a little help from my vegetarian buddy from the yUK) I now have a funky MP3 player. Also the shirts that I had coveted in autumn.

More importantly, I got the chance to make a difference. Not homeless stories this time, una chica I used to work with - a beautiful woman and mini Voda (sic) that any normal guy would die for - her ex is a moron, this muppet can't see past his nose, it's so far up his arse. I swear I will stamp on his christmas chestnuts and derive great pleasure from the process.

And so, raise a glass to V and join me in mashing his bits into porridge.

Other than that, quite a normal Christmas in Goth World ;-)

a luego,
S

Boxing Day

Oh Goth how I used to hate this day. A family gathering, tempered only by the lure of chocolates for us wee children. The men would booger off to watch the football (joys of having a grandmother in West Gorton, Madchester (UK)) and thus rather close to Maine Road and Old Trafford. The men chuffed off to watch football, the women were left to gossip, the kids with, "selection boxes" - a composite of chocolate sweets which we weren't allowed to eat until after lunch, complimented with a glass of Vimto. We weren't allowed beer before you were 6 in the UK.

Alternatively, staying in Wales, we could watch rabid dogs and idiots on horses chasing badgers, foxes or other furry creatures. So much for the Hunt. Hunt - Rhymes with? (Think Sesame Street! begins with a C). Bunch of toffee-nosed geeks with no friends and even less personalities. Like they could even justify it ........ the bankers!!! Wouldn't mind if they caught the wretched creatures for a reason - tally fook off!

Today, I intend to get steadily but slowly pissed as a fart (sorry ladies, have tried really hard not to swear). I have earned this privelege - ok, maybe I haven't but the Wodka I've been drinking says I have!!!!!!

Bloody Mary!!!!!! ha ha - not swearing, just......rather tasty.

I suppose I could ask for a re-run of the Queen's speech. Naw, bollocks, the queen obsessing about her anus horriblus in a YMCA way. She should have joined the Village People before unleashing her freaks on us.

EEK - re-reading this, I sound rather angry.

Consequence of not being allowed to speak to the fruit of my loin yesterday - and yes, I am damn fucking angry. But....

My Name Is Goth (I'm just trying to be a better person)

a luego,
S

ps before you think I have completely lost the plot, mi Mariposa is soundly asleep after having been fed, wined and cuddled. I'm content and loved. Hooray.

besos a todos XXXXX

Christmas Greetings

*bursts into song* -> "Oh the weather outside is frightful...." no it's not!! But, that's why I chose to come back to Spain for Christmas. I think I may have seen a cloud yesterday but today, perfectly azure blue sky.

By now, mini-gothess should be 'Happy Feeting' the chuffers on her GBA, mini goth pretending to be Ronaldinho on Fifa 2007 on PS2 and ex-Gothess content with the promise that I will cover all tuition fees for 2007. In the meantime Mariposa and I will cuddle up with a glass of wine each and watch some suitable tear-jerker like Aeon Flux.

I think this year, I am the most organised I have ever been. Presents were wrapped and sent in time. Nothing has been overlooked. In fact, I think I will have a very un-Goth day and be resolutely happy.

At this point I wish you all a beautiful Christmas and thankyou for reading my inane drivel. If I have made you smile even just once then it has been worthwhile. If not, well why are you reading this - you muppet!!

Jesus!! - happy birthday dude ;-)

A special thanks to Mother Goth - busy cuddling hobbits in New Zealand. Extra big love in your direction for always being there (not in NZ obviously) and continuing to worry about the weird behaviour of your offspring. May love and prosperity adorn you - and a plague of locusts descend on your ex-partner who unceremoniously left you behind. May he die a horrible death in a gutter somewhere (after being butt-fooked by an armadillo).

Feliz Navidad a todos y, para mi ninos -> TE QUIERO XXXXXXXXX
S

ps Hermano -> go with the NWA theory.......Fook the Police!

pps Mi Mariposa -> siempre te llevare en mi corazon :-*

Homeless Christmas Party

These things only happen in Goth Land. As I was talking to my little homeless friend Leo this morning it occurred to me that they never have a Christmas party. Everyone goes to some Christmas party - unless you're homeless. Where would you have it? "Oh, the bus shelter looks good this year folks". Who would you invite?

So, having shared a coffee I went away to contemplate this. Needless to say, my freaky Gothic mind came up with a solution. Merrily to the supermarket I did go thinking ahead of how I was going to a) give Leo and his lovely dog Bo a day to remember and b) freak out most of the population of the city.

Suitably kitted out in my best Gothic gear, and with considerable supplies, I returned.

• Bag full of clothes I would never use
• Bottle of cheap champagne
• Plastic glasses
• Assorted snacks and chocolates
• Chewy smelly dog type things for Bo

At first I thought he was weeping from happiness but then I realised how demeaning I must have appeared. Complete twat. I hadn't given a thought to what HE actually wanted. Bo, however was over the moon. After a discussion he (Leo, not Bo who by this time was licking his balls) understood that what I had done was with the best of intentions. We shared a drink, a laugh and I promised to take him for a coffee at a suitable terrace of his choice before my return to the Sprout in the New Year.

Not quite in the Bob Geldof arena yet but 'poco a poco' -> Spanish for 'baby steps'.

In Goth World this is what Christmas is about. Make someone happy instead of rewarding yourself with all the worldly goods you can attain. Not that I plan on giving away my puters and stuff, but, one by one we can all make a difference if we choose to.

As John Lennon would have said, on predictive text messaging "ndkj vnfdx k nbdxz". (Give peace a chance)

a luego,
S

Bus Driver

It can't be that difficult to drive a bus without hitting something - not if it's your job. Apparently, in Mayo-land it is that complicated. Having allowed ample time to get to the airport the bus driver promplty twatted a car. As if this wasn't enough, he proceeded to shout in French that it wasn't his fault, he had right of way...blah de blah. 40 minutes later and the intervention of some less than inventive police gestapo and we were mobile again.

Now I've been monitoring flights over the last few days and the majority have been delayed. Not the git that I wanted to catch. Sorry, the gate is closed now. BASTARDS.

My only alternative to staying in Mayo-land was to get an alternative flight. Can't do one from Zav though - have to go to Liege. Fooking hell - I don't even know where Liege is let alone how to get there but, in desperation I took and paid for the flight.

Now the race was on. Get to a place I don't know, have never been to without missing another plane. Life was so much cosier in bed :-(

Having booked a train ticket from Zav to Liege I asked politely which platform I should wait for my latest adventure on. Number 3 in 10 minutes. Hooray, something going right. IDA (Impending doom alert) - bloody thing was late. And just to rub it in I had to change at a place called Leuven. Not that complicated except that they don't speak English, French or Spanish there. Eventually, I figured it out and got the right train to Liege.

In typically Belgian fashion, there is no way to get from the city to the airport except by taxi. Muppets! Or perhaps a conspiracy of taxi drivers?! The one I got was really nice - quoted me 30 euros direct, took me to the bank/cash machine on the way to the airport and still came up with a figure of 27 euros at the end of the journey. Nice one dude. Having 'mentally budgetted' for 30, he gets the 30 and a beer or two.

My only consolation to this disaster is that not once has anyone assumed I'm british and thus spoken to me in English. Nice not being considered Johnny Foreigner but I'm kind of used to being the outsider. Just hoped it hasn't frogged my Spanish up for later today.

As I write this I am sat at a bar in the airport at Liege. No smoking - BOO HISS. But the waitress is rather cute in a diminutive, oriental way. Cool place though, more bars than shops - if only all places were like this!

Doing this makes me feel a bit 'Goth in the City' - tapping away on my puter, watching people and fantasizing about shoes. At least I'm not at work.....hee hee. I wonder if you could actually get paid for rambling - of course you can....I know some journalists ;-)

a bientot,
S

Update #1 -> what a chuffing disaster. If it wasn't for the lovely Sandra Bullock lookalike working for the airline I swear I would have punched someone very hard, on the bottom. In amongst the chaos, she was a shining light - thankyou my dear and big Christmas Gothic kisses to you (did tell you I'd put you on here but forgot to ask for your telephone number - DOH)

Update #2 -> someone up there is taking the piss. Got home, eventually, to a bottle of my best friend Senor Daniels and there on the label is the list of awards JD has won.... 1905 Gold Medal, Liege, Belgium. Little bit ironic - don't you think?!

Back Home

And so, the final posting from Mayo-land before I jump on a plane and scurry back to the sun. For those of you remaining here I wish you scarves, gloves and central heating. Looking on the bright side, you should get visited by the chubster in the red suit first as you are closer to the North Pole (assuming you've been good boys and girls that is).

Personally, I have been very good this year and as my letter to the chubster was sent off in plenty of time I may even get what I asked for. I completed my portion of the Christmas shopping with plenty of time to spare and without having to do one of those last minute rush around the shops at the worst time of year things. It's a shame I won't get to see the little Goths faces on Christmas morning but I will be thinking of them and will endeavour to not weep too much.

Fortunately, as I found out last night, Godzilla (ma-in-law) has changed her plans and will not be bringing her little cloud of doom to stay with us thus making an even more festive season than was anticipated. In some ways it's a shame as I had already made my battle plans, downloaded multi-megs worth of work related documentation so that I could justifyably lock myself in my office whilst she was in attendance. Now, I suppose I will still have to read it but will also be able to spend a large portion of time filling myself with festive goodies whilst watching the google box.

The only problem with our cable provider in Spain is that there is no BBC (bloody good channel over Christmas) or Sky Sports so I will be missing out on the football too. On the flip side, everything is cheaper there - in particular my best friend Mr Daniels. Saturday will be a short trip to El Corte Ingles (the supermarket) to stock up, particulary the lovingly presented roasts that they offer each year - complete with luscious stuffing.

In the meantime I wish you all the love and cuddles you could wish for, copious amounts of food and drink and for the ladies....Gothis kisses to you all XXXXX

Yo los deseo una Navidad Feliz y un Año Nuevo próspero

a luego,
S

Arsey Mood

Too angry to post this yesterday so you'll have to pretend your in a time warp and Sunday in Spain lasts twice as long as any other day *wavy arms oooooo*

Unfortunately, I woke up in a nasty mood - the sort that you don't want to be in the vicinity of. Fortunately, mi mariposa is used to my mood swings - chooses to ignore me until I have calmed down.

We went for lunch, which turned out to be an all-day session. Across the table were 2 children but I couldn't figure out why they attracted my attention. After a while, baby bear said, or rather, asked me "Are you a bad person?" - without waiting for an answer, he continued "Do you steal things from people?". Ok - little freak meets Goth Freak. "I have.....in the past" I responded truthfully. "Oh, that's ok then" he replied and continued pulling his ham sandwich into little pieces.

All the time that this conversation was occurring, his big sister was shooting daggers at me (metaphorically, not in real life). Eventually I entered into a conversation with the two 'wee-ones' and their father. "So, it must be tricky dealing with Autism?" I ventured avoiding the obvious 'isn't it a nice day' thing.

"How did you know?" asked Daddy Bear. Suitably non-plused, baby bear came around the table to ask why I was talking to Daddy bear without permission. I lifted up my jumper to show him the Man Utd shirt I was wearing for the game later, he stroked it carefully and then asked "where's your name?". Deciding not to swear in earshot of baby bears I thought, rather than vocalised "Fooked if I Know". Return to ham sandwich demolition.

I know children - I behave like one enough of the time!

I signalled to baby bear that he should come and talk to me again. "What have you asked Father Christmas for?" - "ssshh" he replied, "not allowed to tell". After which he told me exactly what Mommy Bear had on her shopping list. So, I decided to raise the bar - make things a little more difficult for Santa's little helpers. I have no idea where you would buy this particular toy in Belgium (or anywhere else for that matter). Not my problem, I just created it ;-)

So, having turned my attention to Babe-ess Bear I uncovered some startling information. Schools here are just as crap as the yUK. At least she speaks French....not so sure that's a positive point.

Anyway, they left - not before baby bear shouting out (and making peeps jump and drop coffee cups etc) "BYE S....SEE YOU NEXT TIME"

Now, I am totally drained but have to go and watch football. I don't have to....I choose to.

DOH

ala,
S

addendum - football shite but my new best little mate was there. He turned to daddy bear and said "Told you S would be there". He was correct - I was but, I did make a promise to the little rascal.

Boll fooking Uks

So now I am really angry. The cheeky twit has cottoned on to the fact that I've been surfing his Wifi for free and now I have no free internet connection. I know I was 'extracting the urine' using it, downloading the latest version of Linux complete with free penguins but that's not the point.

Now I have to move my arse outside gaaaaaarrrgh. Probably have to go to one of those T'internet Cafes. Hateful. Full of African people shouting down the phone like it is going to travel further "HELLO - I'M IN BELGIUM - CAN YOU HEAR ME?" - yes I can fooking hear you and if you don't shut up I'm going to kill you and your pet monkey!!!!!

I suppose I could invest in Twittycom but I don't want to. What if I had to call their helpdesk for some bizzarre reason, like actually needing help?

Pour continuer en francais apppuyer sur un
Por Nederlands twee
For English - hold the line, listen to some well dodgy music and when we do answer your call we'll still speak to you in French (ha, teach you to live abroad you son of a raspberry!)

I suppose I could go the Grand Place in The Sprout - use the free T'internet connection available there. Twittycom have been kind enough to furnish a list of places that they call 'hot-spots'. Really cool if you log in via the 19216811 (with dots in appropriate places) as you come on line as the Administrator of the network. Ha ha - change stuff and run away in a slow motion, wavy fashion.

Listening to Led Zeppelin at the moment - jeez, you must have really got your moneys worth if you went to one of their gigs. Each song seems to last for an hour. Complete opposite of The Ramones - 120 seconds of fury/angst delivered at high speed. Hooray, music has changed to Rage Against The Machine. "that's how you got a bullet blasting through your head! Just victims of the in-house drive by - they say jump, you say how high.........."

So, today I get to watch Man Utd v West Am. Normally the result is not a tough decision, but tomorrow my Santa's Little Helper who is an Ammer is bringing me toys (techie stuff) back from the yUK - if his team get 'hammered' I may not get my cool toys :-(( Where's Cantona when you need him? He could karate kick all the fans, without breaking my new toys, and everyone would be 'appy. I'm forever blowing bubbles - just like Michael Jackson.

Interesting news - I'm pregnant.........not really, just checking you were reading fully. Bit stuffed on that score being womb-less. I suppose if I lost my virginity I could create - being a Goth and all, but then I don't have those lovely wobbly bits to feed created Goth-lit. Have to sit down and ponder creating a Miss Goth. Eek, gives me an idea for a TV gameshow.....the perfect Miss Goth. Will spend the rest of the day pondering and unload this insane drivel tomorrow.

a luego,
S

Day of Discovery

Hooray - it's not just me that's weird. Not that I give a flying chuff but it does make you wonder. I mean, what would happen if you weren't as screwed up as you thought you were? Yikes. Anything might happen. Anyway, having attended one of those Christmas Dinner things (suits and all) I have concluded that the only sane people in the world are myself and my invisible friend Slide Boy.

It is frightening to see powerful people dress up in 'jim-jams' in front of a room full of people. I understand the underlying psycholgical philosophy behind it but... it's still a grown person in pyjamas.

Looking on the Goth side - free alcohol, free food etc. People in pyjamas and silly santa suits - forgiven!!

I was late - always come last - it's a Goth thing. However, I was sat next to a particularly beautiful young lady and spent all the time worrying about the fact that I had forgotten to put any fragrance on. What might she think of me? I found it hard to concentrate on anything apart from the dress, the body and what might lie beneath it. Lovely if she took the time to talk to me but if you don't smell nice why would any decent woman want to talk with you in the first instance?! Perhaps I smelled of sex?! But how can that be as I am a virgin - must be an immaculate contradiction thing.

And now, mi Mariposa reclines on the sofa as I type away on my baby 'puter.

Oh the joys of residing in "Nerdsville" - like a 'blessing in disgust'. As Staind said "It's been awhile since I fooked things up, just like I always do".

Getting bored of my desk looking like the Starship Enterprise flight deck - puters everywhere. I want the old days when I was in a band - loving, rocking and drinking - guitars, empty bottles of Jack Daniels and amps everywhere. But I'm too old for that shit now. I have resposibilities. By-product of the loving-thing -> children. Not that I regret their existence for one second - they are my 'life-blood'. Life changes and you have to change with it.

On top of that I must undo all the screwed up shit I caused my butterfly because of my kids. Not because the kids can't let go but because their mother can't recognise when it's over. As Moist said "Push just a little too late - is this want you want, what you need, what you wanted me to be?"

And, whilst I'm on the topic of mini-me's I am going to readdress the fortunes of the wonderful foodstuff known as sweetcorn. Sorry T-Meister but you're on your own for this one. Mini-Gothess loves corn on the cob and I order it for her every opportunity that I get to see her. If she finds out you are insulting her favourite food stuff she will kick the crap out of you and I will be laughing too hard to help you. She's only 8 years old but I expect her to reach her 1st Dan in Karate by 11 and when she does, I will devote all my energy to ensuring that she can go to Japan to attain the next few levels. Even now she is scary, way beyond what I achieved in martial arts - and I thought I was good fighting for my country in competition (small country - Wales).

Soon be Christmas and we get to celebrate a guy getting nailed to a tree by getting gifts for peeps.

a luego,
S

ps shopping done already - gifts already handed to Satan Claus
pps if you're buggering off home for xmas now, best Gothic wishes and enjoy :-)

And God said No

So, my alter-ego - the big chuffer with a beard has been farting again - only reason I can explain all this wind. It's great if you want to fly a kite - crap if you want to keep your hair in place. Yikes! Just occurred to me. What happens if you wear a rug? (toupee) - hold on for Jimminy Cricket's sake!

Sunday was fun. Went to the pub to watch football, drink beer and attempt to be a normal member of society. Didn't really work but got the beer thing sorted. Also, cheated and did something I haven't done for years - played pool for money. Cool. More money than I started with (into 3 figures to be exact'ish). Not my fault that 'clever-pants' talked better than he played. In the end, 70 smackeroonies better off, after all beer/whisky paid for, I came 'home'. Felt like Tom Cruise without the cheesy smile - oh, and without a naked Nicole Kidman sat on my face.

I was agitated about my neighbour so I decided to interact. First reaction was to do the rain hell and furious vengeance thing (smite all in your path thing) but I relented and went the other way. That is, I 'niced' her arse!! Now, not only is it very peaceful, I have a willing volunteer to do laundry, look after any pets I may choose to get and generally slip notes under the door with strange messages on.

Oh, the joys of being Goth.........

In a few weeks I have to deal wiith the 'Evil One' - not looking forward to that at all. Perhaps she might explode beforehand - perfect xmas present. 'Hi' - *boom* - how cool is that? And, in a perfect world, I wouldn't have to clear up the bits either!!!!!!!

Unfortunately, I think I am going to be tested again. Eek!!!! Sounds like a Britney song. The antithesis of evil - the Spears one! Fook off back to the Disney Channel!! (and take your chipmunks with you).

And Goth said No...........

Only been back here a week and my calendar is already full. Christmas parties and all that malarkey. Not my cup of whisky at all - but if peeps want to give me free food and alcohol - Goth says yes....

Then it will be new year and indiscriminate snogging - that's a definite no on the Goth Top Ten of favourite activities. It's not the swapping bodily fluids that concerns me, it's the invasion of my personal space without an invite. Piss off and take your lucsious twin sister with you. I don't mind 3 in a bed as long as we all agree - no alarm clocks, no getting out of bed until sunset except for me to venture to the kitchen and bring back some food/drinks for us all. Otherwise......

Goth says NO

Weak End

Thus Goth rested. Not entirely true - there was the Madchester derby football match to attend but other than that - no agenda. Have successfully avoided churchy type things on a Sunday for zillions of years so no change there then.

Trying to get used to this new keyboard layout is a pain in the rectum - why can't all keyboards be the same? Why do I have to hold down the <.shift> key to get a number? This could be so confusing. What if I lose my virginity, meet a girl and take her to bed? Will she understand that <.shift> 69 is a position or will she just hear the <.shift> and assume I meant go away? Boo hiss!! No pie for Goth boy.

Stopped raining in Mayo-land which is nice. Robert Smith and his tears for chuffing rain. Stop it!! It's not big and it's not clever. I'm used to Spain and I don't live on a plain. Sun, very un-goth like I know but strangely comforting even when I am avoiding it.

Met some interesting peeps this week.

The train conductor who thought I didn't have a ticket (quite correct actually) but fortunately for me, I was able to explain that as one of the <.shift> 4400 (kidnapped by aliens etc) they probably kept my ticket as a souvenir. Suitably freaked out he left me alone.

The taxi driver (in Mayo-land) who speaks no English or French but for some bizarre reason, does speak Spanish (hooray). Got exactly where I wanted to for only <.shift> 6 Euros.

The trainer whose grasp of English is hazy at best. Delivered her speech in French with an African accent then I had to laugh (out loud) at the description of getting help through "First Aids" - mettez un preservatif! (and stop bonking the monkeys)

The waitress who was transfixed by my hair being plaited - don't care, I just buffet on the winds of fashion. Still got served first so who cares?!

The neighbour who thinks that making noise is clever. Been polite, been discreet - now cometh Brother Manson at maximum volume for the dark hours. "Oh, did I wake you up? Try reading the Little Book of Calm and relax - or else DIE". Wouldn't mind if she was cute but she looks like a pig on stilts. Not that I'm being bitchy but she does look like she was breast-fed through a straw.

The barman - serving me drinks and a little bit freaked when I spoke to him in Spanish. He speaks Spanish but figured I couldn't - DOH. In Rome, do as the Romans do. Not really sure what that means except you should build really straight roads, invent central heating and feed lions with religious zealots. "I'm Brian", "I'm Brian.... and my wife is too!!"

a luego,
S

Any Weirder?

Ok. Things, life, situations cannot get any stranger. Well, they could but I would have to inhale a large amount of drugs to get to that point. My children love me (it's their job - even when I'm a complete twat), women like me on an ethereal plane, men love to tell me their inner secrets. Things are coming together - like a little animal orgy (just think of those little hamsters in stockings and suspenders).....Oh, the joys of being Goth.

No wonder that I'm as fu*ked up as I am. I always worry about everyone but me.

Anyway, I have strayed from the path of good once more (well, the path was a little bit fragile to start with) - friggy diggy!!

I have returned to the country I spurned and it welcomed me with mayonnaise covered, outstretched arms.

For Goth's sake, can I do nothing right?

Once, it would be nice to just....... be.

Looking on the bright side - oh shite, there isn't one. After Eight mints are my only distraction - sad but true.

4am, wide awake when I should be asleep. Gaaaaarrgh. (when I wrote this, not when I posted it - I can get pissed with the 'best of them' but haven't figured out the time travel thing yet)

As for you that thought that I couldn't post when I was busy....ha ha, just a time of the month thing!! Grew hair and had to howl at the moon so it was a little difficult typing but I'm back to sub-normality now.

a luego,
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

ps if it's your connection I'm using - tough - get the encryption sorted you muppet

Happy Birthday Goth Junior

So, it's official today. Twelve years to the day since miracle number 1 in my life appeared on the planet. True to form, he waited until just after closing time at the pub to make his mother's waters break and start his arduous journey out. Can't say I was impressed with the 9 hour labour ordeal but he was worth the wait.

So I undertake my ordeal of travelling back to that horrid country where he lives with his mother in order to hug him and tell him how proud I am of him and how much I love him.

He has it tough really. Fast-tracking in the school system, officially labelled as gifted - the girls love him for his elfin qualities and demeanour. Boys hate him for being so popular with the girls. Long black hair, a gift for languages and computers as well as a gifted musician. (Don't know where he picked all this up from - sounds nothing like his mother!).

I don't care though - Goth Junior is a star in my universe of love.

Not so happy about all the messing around with flights I will undertake over the next four days but I will be happy at the gleam in his eye when he smiles (against Goth protocol I know) seeing Goth Senior walk through the door. Should also be happy with the CD's I Amazonned in advance to be on the safe side (including, funnily enough the latest Evanescence CD - his request). Spooky but true.

It's a shame I can't see him every day but then I would also have to see Mrs Ex-Goth every day and that just wouldn't work. I should also give a mention to Gothette Junior (miracle number 2) - not her birthday but I love her equally as much. She does have qualities I can equate with her mother - stubborn, bloody-minded, very beautiful and can be a royal pain-in-the-arse. But, she is fiercely protective of her brother and would literally kick the shit out of anyone picking on him. I know, I've been on the receiving end of said ferocity. Luckily, as my arms are long enough I could just put my hand on her head, far enough away that she couldn't kick, punch or bite me, until the storm had blown itself out.

ala,
S

LBoC ->"Take junior lessons. Take a lesson in calmness from children: watch how they live every moment for the pleasure of the moment. Pretend and you could be like that too" - No arguments today and no madness quotes on a special day.

The Perfect Gothic Male Day

Ok ladies, you asked for it (the description not the sex thing).

Sleep until sunset
Wake up being stroked in a mysterious fashion
Stretch and then get dressed to the haunting melodies of Evanescence
Have a glass of wine and contemplate the food thing
Be slightly disturbed by concubines calling to remind one about restaurant booking
Depart for an evening of entertainment
Enjoy imparting wisdom whilst eating luscious food
Listen to whispered suggestions about the next course
Partake of extremely satisfying musical event
Return home with concubines
Be lavished in warm soapy bath surrounded by candles
Get softly led to bed and loved to death
Fall asleep before that horrid sun thing arrives again

So, that about covers it I think. Don't need the Little Book of Calm's interference on this topic.

a luego,
Master Goth

Golfing Goth

To be a golfing Goth - well, that was the theory anyway. I always hated the sport - hours and hours of televised sky. Why do they get cameramen who were ex anti-aircraft gunners? That, and the stupid clothes. Dressing up like a pimp from Starsky and Hutch. Thanks but no thanks.

But, a few years ago, my not-so-little brother and I were reunited. After a few weeks of meeting up for a beer or two and laughing about what complete tw*ts we were to each other growing up he issued the immortal words - 'Next week, shall we go for a game of golf?'. Once my head had stopped spinning I actually thought about it. Normally, the answer would have been 'I'd rather sew my head to the carpet'. But here was a real opportunity to do something sporting and spiritual.

Actually, that's a lie - my thought process was more like...go to a golf course, make a complete idiot of myself - hmm tough decision, NO!. But, and this was the deciding factor, I'd be with my brother who has a really short temper, is carrying lots of metal sticks and is a policeman (badge and gun included).

What happens if one of those poncy gits says 'Excuse me, do you mind if we play through?'. Oh the ensuing carnage would be marvellous. Thus I agreed.

Unfortunately though, it was completely boring. Not one club swung in anger, hours searching for the balls that had ignored wishes and gone left when they should have gone right. To top it all, I got a better score than he did. Joys of being a virgin on a golf course. So now, I have a lovely set of golf clubs and never play golf.

At least I got to wear black all the time. The club secretary made it halfway toward me to complain that I didn't look the slightest bit like Huggy Bear then caught a glimpse of my brother winding up his 'death to all in my path' thing. Very short non-conversation.

Only reason I relate this story is because I have to weigh up the implications of transporting said golf clubs to my new residence this weekend. Never know when you might need to wrap a 7-iron around someone's head (apparently little bro is more accurate with that one than the 9-iron and I defer to his better training in this respect)

a luego,
S

LBoC ->"Levitate - stand straighter and taller than you feel natural, with an imaginary thread attached to the top of your skull..." oh shut up. That's sounds like torture, not calm.

BBoM ->think positive thoughts or else the Attack Badgers will get you, burble in an incoherent fashion, play golf.

I Love Pussy

I wanted to take Pussy home, cover her in Nutella and do that licking off thing so that she purred and never became a stray cat. Alas, too late, my Pussy never came.

Now I'll just have to dream of Pussy from distant lands :-(

To explain a little more clearly, when I did some work for a language school I had to step outside to enjoy my nicoteine fuelled habit. There, sunning herself was Pussy - as I named her. Initially, I thought she was just passing but over the course of a few days I realised she actually lived there.

So, as is the norm for an all seeing, all knowing etc Goth, I had to enter Pussy World, to reach out and touch her. This I did through a supply of food and drink and a fair amount of stroking. In my Goth pockets, I always have some nibbles for Pussy and I make a point of passing her nest of choosing to distribute goodies every day that I can.

I wanted Pussy to come ... and live with me but decided it wasn't fair if I left her alone. So, the Nutella plan was abandoned and I must resign myself to visiting Pussy when I am passing.

It's hard, just thinking about leaving Pussy but if I can't give her my undivided attention she may be unhappy and unfulfilled. Thus I would break a major Goth rule - keep Pussy happy.

I know that I will always think about Pussy and if I close my eyes, see Pussy all around me.

a luego,
Pussy Loving S

LBoC -> "Offer a compliment. You'll find the good feelings that flow from it will be as much yours as the recipients" - go hug a tree and leave me alone!!

BBoM -> It is said that no word rhymes with orange - not true...orange does. Orange, orange, orange, banana oops fruit avalanche.

The Joy Of Myth

La Mitologia Celtica - 'Uno de los documentos que se cita mas a menudo acerca de la religion Celtica es un pasaje 'De bello gallico'. Hooray for me - I'm a Celt. Not so sure if I'm beautiful but I do have admirers. Must be a hair thing. Can't only be because I'm Welsh - that would be plain silly.

So, I am calmer now - still agitated about returning to countries I hate but, I made a promise and so I must keep it. Joys of being a Goth - with all the resposibilty it entails not to mention the squashing people like insects thing.

Spoke with my new accountant 'figure' in Luxembourg. Had to surpress a little laugh as he is Welsh also. What next? - Tom Jones as my best man? Charlotte Church naked on my...eek, too much information.

Celtic mythology - where to start?! Lots of funny little creatures lurking in trees, don't remember any dragons and funnily enough, don't recall anything about sheep either. Yet, for some reason, us and New Zealanders are reknowned for our sheep - or rather, intimate knowledge of them. Funny thing is my 'not-so-little' brother moved from Wales to ..... New Zealand. Don't take the piss though as he's big, clever and has a gun. Joys of being a policeman apparently.

The great thing about mythology is that it's all a myth. 'Sorry miss - couldn't do my homework as I was pursued by a giant hamster that I could only kill with strawberry jam'. Gaarrggh - Jam-fest :-(

a luego,
S

LBoC -> "The most important skill in staying calm is not to lose sleep over small issues. The second is to be able to view all issues as small issues" - so, if you're worried that your 'todger' is too small that advice will help?!

BBoM -> Fried squirrels make great frisbees but only use the grey ones - the red ones are cute, cuddly and my friends.

Losing Control

Angry (dark) gothic people might want to look away now.

It's my biggest fear/worry and concern. No matter how big or clever or intelligent I become, I can't do it all. I can't save everyone or everything and at times it makes me so bloody angry. What's the point in having all these abilities if you can't utilise them? Bit like being Superman but you can only fly if it's not raining. Heart says fly with umbrella - logic says, ha - 'watch me do that gravity thing again'!! Common sense says, check the weather report first.

I guess I should see a therapist but then again I know not (semantics maybe but I know it wouldn't help either of us).

Maybe, the knowledge that I have to return to a country I don't want to is making me sadder than I know. Perhaps, I'm just attending one too many funerals to be healthy. I know the Little Book of Calm is trying it's best to make me - shite, I don't know, it's not working (making me calm I mean).

I will deal with it - I always do. It's a part of being me. When in doubt - switch out all transmissions and focus on the day after the next. Not an ideal solution I agree but, the shite works.

For now I will concentrate on what's important...checking the weather report.

ala,
S

LBoC -> "Imagine every day is a holiday. Do one little thing that stimulates this holiday mood each day, then watch your worries fade away" - I'll fookin fade you away you hippy twat

BBoM -> Imagine you are being breast-fed by an Giant Panda, eat a book, fade into the background with a wavy-motion

Gothney Spears

Oops I did it again! You blonde moron. If you buggered up the first time (and realise it) you don't go back and do it again. That's just plain, fookin stupid. I mean, if I'm walking through the jungle of normality and accidentally 'piss-off' some neanderthal who then pulverises me, I don't go back the following day thinking 'maybe it will be different now'.

Run away! And teach your partner how to run also - then you don't have to go back and save them.

Rant over with.

Stroked my Little Book of Calm. wow - it got bigger *mental note - stroking makes things grow bigger*. I wonder if the same thing applies with intelligence? - thinking about it, probably not. Didn't work for my little sister, Britney.

Yikes - perhaps my whole line of thinking/perception is warped. Gaarrgghh - flashback - those words resonate in my head. Have I heard them before? Loop in the space/time continuum - run away.

Have to go and book one of those haircut things now. Being a WOG (Wizzard of Goth) is fab and groovy, in a slightly off-centre way, but expensive on shampoo and conditioner. So, off to the hairdresser I must go. I just need to find one that actually knows how to use scissors. My favourite used to be a girl called Lisa. Worked at a famous hair salon in the YUK. I explained that I wanted a large red streak put into my very long, very black hair. 'Are you mad?' she asked - 'No' I mentally replied - 'it's the most time-consuming thing I can think of that allows me to observe and thus fantasize with/about your cleavage'.

Not quite sure that I know the Spanish for 'Hurt me and I will rip your heart out' but I hope to get the correct message across to the hairdresser person. We'll see - if I come back looking like Uncle Fester - start arranging funerals.

a luego,
S

LBoC -> "Have you ever noticed a calm person with a loud voice?" - yeah, seen vegetarians too and a right bunch of pasty looking mother fookers they were too

BBoM -> Stop in the middle of a busy street, point up at the sky and every couple of minutes say "wow". If you do it correctly, you can stop traffic and all sorts.

The Seventh Day

So, on the seventh day, Goth rested. Or took time off. Or got fed up inventing silly things like Sweden, porcupines and that fluffy stuff, oh yeah, candy floss. I have seven days, then it's back to reality with a resoundingly large bump. In 4 days, I must travel to UKky place to pay homage to my son - he's worth the agony I have to put up with just to see him. Then back here (the following day), pack my suitcase and then, after some cuddly stuff, away to the land of mayonnaise. This Omni thingy is harder than it sounds (oo er missus).

I thought the whole point of being a Goth was that you could send thunderbolts raining from the sky or speed around on chariots - oh shite, missed that bit in the small print. It's just under the 'will carry out duties in a respectful manner and not use x-ray vision to see through angels dresses'.

In the meantime though - PARTY!!! Not really, I just liked how it sounded. A bit loud, a bit dangerous, a bit (should we get some of those fluffy hats for everyone?). This is why Goths don't have parties. Way too busy up Mount Olympus inventing stupid games for mere mortals to fluff up. I mean, Chelski, I could (no, I couldn't - that's in the small print also - 'thou shalt not pick on johnny foreigner - even when he does visit Old Trafford with his little band of muppets').

So, got to be prepared. Got to be ready. Got to be...well, I don't actually - I am a Goth after all. Yikes, just remembered - have to deal with the ex Mrs Goth. Now that is scary. She could turn me into a pillar of salt, or a chaffinch or just do that bursting out crying thing.

I shall have to recruit the help of my favourite little evil helper, Mr Oz. If the writing messages that people can justify killing for by playing the record backwards doesn't work, Mrs Oz will step in and scare the sh1t out of everyone including Mr Oz. 'Oh bloody hell Sharon - now what?'.

ala,
S

LBOC -> "It's hard to feel tense when you're learning something you want to know. And you can learn from the most unlikely places" - yeah, and it's even harder to learn when you're dead you sanctimonious twat.

BBoM -> "Jump into a deep puddle for no reason, eat some leaves and then walk in an eccentric but dangerous fashion"

Puppy Love

Call it puppy love if you want. I have this tendency to attract 'wounded' people, animals, birds etc. I feel a compulsion to play Goth and make everything right. The good news is that more often than not, I can make things right - the bad news, I didn't get any of the 'super' powers invested on/in my rival - the big bloke with the beard.

So why 'Puppy Love'? Certainly not because I am a fan of the Osmonds. It's because I was talking to a friend - we, ok I, ventured into talking about my own funeral. Not a thing that should enter a normal persons head but, try walking in my shoes.

My theory was when I die, it would be nice if all the little saved 'puppies' turned up - there could be the little 'saved' puppy procession. Then they could all be presented with a stick and a marshmallow to toast over my burning corpse. All of this could happen to the sounds of The Mission - "Deliverance".

I don't want to be omnipotent, omnipresent or omni-anything - have enough trouble being where I said I'd be at the right time. But, some of those 'Super- powers' would help about now you fat twat.

a luego,
S

LBC -Little Book of Calm -> "Float in a swimming pool, a float tank, or even a bathtub, and weightlessly feel your tensions dissolve" - yeah, but what if you have a green submarine?! Ha, didn't think of that you hippy geek did you?

BBoM - Big Book of Madness -> Go to a wedding and when it gets to the "...if anyone objects?" shout "ME" and run away really fast

Freak Show

Yikes - made a mistake and ran out of cigarettes. Not an issue to those of you that don't smoke, but trust me, when you do smoke and run out at 4am it's not fooking funny. I'd already closed my brain down and it's like having to reboot just for some nicoteine.

Where do you buy cigs at 4am on a Sunday in Spain?

So, once the brain had booted up S69 second edition - I thought, well, what did I do the last time this happened? Gaarrgh - system crashed and I had to start all over.

What's open 24 hours a day? Pharmacies..they sell drugs ergo they must sell cigarettes. Apparently not. Then, an epiphany - bloody hotels. They always have cigarettes (apart from that one in Praha which had lots of prostitutes instead -'yeah, I'll take 20 menthol blonde please!')

Just my luck, the first hotel, manned by the one-armed idiot from hell doesn't know and doesn't care. I would be angry except for the fact that he never once switched to english or even spanglish.

Ok, brain - do that 'thinky' stuff. "Follow the Noise" it said. Yeah, great idea you cerebral moron, that's why things get squashed on the road. "No, the noise of laughter and discos". Fat chance - like I'd even get in a disco.

"AHA" my hormones shouted. "Got it" said the brain, and eventually it fell into place (the idea, not the brain or hormones - they're still out of whack).

"Go to where the people are, there must be a kebab shop or something equally horrid". Lo and behold, there was and they sell cigs to weirdos wandering around at 4am - result! Unfortunately (and it's a karma thing) for everything good, something bad must balance it.

In my nicoteine quest I had to see girls, virtually naked (great, these see-through sunglasses), Guys poncing around acting like they are the best thing since .. this is the funny bit - you float up behind them and shout "BOO". I would have laughed but that's not Gothic at all.

Little Book Of Calm -> "If you substitue a herbal tea such as peppermint for more stimulating drinks such as coffee and tea, your ability to be calm will be enhanced many times"...yeah, and what if I don't? What if I drink coffee forever and am still cool?

Big Book of Madness -> Walk into a wall and wait for someone to ask "are you alright?" - laugh and declare that you were just testing the laws of physics (harder to get away with if you stink of alcohol but...)

a luego,
S

The Weirdest Day

Officially, the weirdest day of my life (24 hours) comes to a close. There is so much happiness and love I feel ashamed to call myself a Goth. Everywhere I look, I see peace, sex and breasts. One of these days, I will rid myself of this obsession - today is not the day.

As I sit here, enjoying a cerveca in the blazing sun having been welcomed from afar by friendly barman, H, I am at peace. Apparently, last week I had walked past his new main place of employment and he shouted out "Master - here - free beer". I didn't hear him but manana we have agreed that I will visit and the free beer thing is still on - result!

So, as it says in the song "Boobs are all around me, and so my thingy grows!". Must find a way to get rid of this feeling of joy - very un-Goth like. Just stab myself with a pencil or something. Bloody hell.....look at the size of those...

Off topic question - do all women from Eastern countries dye their hair red - was there a big sale I missed? or is it merely a ploy to get through customs?

Anyhow, my shopping list for Satan Claus has increased somewhat.

• Breasts for the T-Meister - he can play away without breaking hearts or wind
• Her own bed for the Mink - with both sides working..in a harmony way
• New boy-fiend with empathy for DQ
• Joy and happiness for mi mariposa
• New clothes for me - not in black (don't tell the 'ex' as she will send a thunderball of hate and make them turn to dust)

Little Book of Calm -> "A glass of chilled water will calm you more than most other liquids. A cup of warm water will calm you even more" -yeah, right, but a bottle of Jack Daniels takes you all the way ;-)

Big Book of Madness (BBoM) ->"Speak in foreign tongues - any language will doodle-do, run into a field and lick a cow - gently fondle a trombone"

a luego,
decidedly satisfied S

ps Oh for chuffs sake - I just logged onto t'internet to post this and one of the stories is "Rugby - Blind World Cup kicks off in Argentina" - how the chuff does that work?

Fookin Tourists

I used to love Fridays, now I dread them.

Another influx of 'grockles' - 'fookin tourists' - you can see a mile away thanks to the dodgy shorts, sandals with socks etc and that's just the 'women'. So, arriving at my favourite terrace for a quiet beer, contemplation and relaxation - gaaarrggh.

First thing I hear after my beer has been delivered is from the next table. "Eh love, is there no chips with this?" - the waitress looked at me for an explanation 'estas locos' I replied. Why would you need chips when you order Ensalada Murciana (Murcia Salad)?? Bugger King you all and I hope you get just as confused there.

Once in a while, I interfere (when brits are particularly annoying) and send them to my favourite restaurant here. Mi mariposa asked me why? Did I want to spoil a lovely local restaurant? Was it because I was trying to increase the income?

NO - it's because they don't serve chips, the staff don't really speak English but before the 'over-cooked lard arses' would realise, proper food would be on table before them.

Fortunately for me, most people here assume I am Spanish (until I try to speak it) but it's a blessing. I don't want to be grouped with the retards from hell (brits). Also, said retards, cannot adjust to Spanish time. Bumbling around between 14:00 and 17:00 wondering why all the shops are closed. It's Siesta time - go to bed, make love like sea otters, go for a meal...do anything except work. Shops will open again later, it's their job!!

Eek - gone off on one again, sorry.

ala,
S

ps Big Book of Madness -> "swear in a foreign language, develop breasts, order pizza for someone you don't know (then hide around the corner and chuckle)"

Oh my Goth

This has to be the funniest thing I have seen/experienced for years.

I had been dozing on the couch after the exertions of the last few days. Suddenly, something on the TV I'd forgotten to turn off, woke me up. It was like watching an episode of Spliffy Street.

Angel, the one from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who now has his own show, got 'puppetised'. He got attacked by the evil one and turned into a puppet - at which point I woke up ('ish). Woke up is not really the right expression, I sort of didn't enter reality at all - was still in vampire/puppet world. I was coming round from dreams about women doing.....

Yikes, I was transfixed by the 'Blade' version of the 'Muppet Show'. I know this probably makes no sense, it makes even less to me - and I was there - I think. I'm writing this now so you can get a sort-of-sense of it as I experienced it....

So Angel (now looking like Bert from Sesame Street) had to battle against the evil demon that looked like Ernie (from Sesame Street).
Funnily enough, Bert won. But in the meantime, I was too still waking up to care. You can't do a show about vampire slayers using puppets can you? Apparently so.

People smoke drugs to get this sort of shite happening.

Hee hee, in my world it just kind of materialses - 'size of a chaffinch - shazam'. I will be needing small nuts about now.

Was thinking about my return North and stuff whilst I fell asleep. Scheiss passiert.

a luego,
S

oh Big Book of Madness tip -> "Shout "Help, Help" at some bears, take a pointless exam but, midway through, stand up and declare "I'm an orange, oranges don't do exams" before storming out"

Bar Staff

Don't you just love them? (if not, it's only because you're not the one getting served first). This *post* will be from a male perspective because....well, I am male. So, I love barmaids - and sometimes they love me right back. Not quite sure on the logistics of it but....

Too many years ago to remember, there was this blonde barmaid that lusted after me. I know this because (she told me so) and she used to stroke my bottom every time she walked past me. I know it sounds outrageous but it wasn't that there wasn't enough room to get past - she insisted on doing it when the pub was empty. She then asked if she could be my mistress - "get me a flat and you can come round anytime you want for anything you want - and yes I will do anything you want" etc. Yeah, like I have STUPID tattooed across my forehead.

Here, there are a number of establishments I frequent and all the barmaids know what I want (oo er) so I get 'served' really quickly. Back in Bruxelles, I had a similar deal. It's a pub life but someone has to do it. Switching to the other gender, barmen can be really cool too. When I was a student, I was one. Such great tips -> "touch my wife again and I'll kill you", "the Finnish Presidency is, well, sort of Finnish really".

Money is crap but you can't complain about the perks. Free food, free beer and an endless supply of lecherous customers to use, abuse or simply bar. Landlords/ladies are quite simply mad. I could drop a few names here but then the places I am still allowed into would get rather 'thin on the ground'.

On the down side, as a bar person, you have to listen to self-opiniated, whingeing malcontents - with a smile. "Another one Sir?" "Yes, the wife needs to be disciplined Sir" whilst thinking 'if you were any good at that making babies thing, you'd have babied her to sleep before you came out for a beer and I wouldn't have to listen to this shite'.

Little Book of Calm -> "Have calm thoughts. Picture calm scenes. Recall calm sounds" grrrrrrrr

Big Book of Madness -> "Onions cry too - stroke a penguin, but without getting chocolate on you - fat people make more noise...when dropped from a great height" - aaahhh, feel better now.

ala,
S

Travelling

Oh Goth - here I go again travelling. I just booked so many flights in the last few hours of darkness (and thus, peace) it is almost frightening. There are so many places I have to go to, it's no wonder Satan Claus is red all the time (ha, almost as red as the T-meister watching football!!)

I figure that Deciembre will be my ickle Selection Box of countries to go to (shit-loads you don't want, but a few of the delicious rascals call to you). By my reckoning I will take too many flights in the month - bearing in mind

• a) I hate flying
• b)I am working only 15 days in the month
• c) One flight per day.

and travelling to airports, eating food made from carboard etc - it's going to be a long month I think. Satan Claus is still not going to be bringing me what I want as I have been a naughty boy.

Could be worse - somehow - somewhere - somewhen....

Hope to catch up with the T-Meister in the sprout before Christmas - on my list (flights etc and whether he's not too busy learning how to cook and things that rhyme with cook - just kidding matey, don't know and I'd prefer to leave it that way) but things change too fast sometimes.

What I will guarantee - is that if any blogger wants to get together for a beer or two before the chrimbly thing, it will happen (same place, same time would kind of help). Will do 6 down - crossword, not dodgy stuff.

must pack suitcase - eek,
S

Snivelling Bob

Living in Spain is great - warm weather, cheap vino and cigarettes but as soon as the temperature drops - eek, not prepared and I turn into Snivelling Bob and his Box of Tissues. I dread to think how I would feel if I had to move back North again. Might takes weeks to get used to the cold and that wet stuff that falls from the sky (rain I think it's called).

Of course, it doesn't help that my 'ex' gave away most of my wardrobe, well the clothes within it - mainly the warm stuff. I suppose I could go shopping - gaargh.

So to the Little Book of Calm -> "Breathe less - a deeply relaxed person breathes only 5-8 times a minute. By slowing your breathing down to that rate, you will quickly relax".......well, duh. That's called sleeping. Slow down more = coma (and thus no TV) - even less breathing = death, totally at peace. Guess the book's not really working just yet.

I should write my own book, The Big Book of Madness -> "Buy a monkey, live in a tree, take LSD and assume you can fly" Phew - calmer already ;-)

a luego,
S

The Perfect (female) Day

Ha ha - figured it out eventually. The perfect day for a woman done and dusted (I think) The non-schedule runs something like this:-

• 11 hours sleep in a big comfy bed in complete peace
• Wake up being cuddled by friendly partner (no sexual intent)
• Delivered breakfast in bed - weetabix, honey, grapes, cheese, crackers, coffee, fruit juice, chocolate, more fresh fruit and more hot coffee
• Papers in bed - 3 languages (Clever peeps that speak many languages need the variety)
• Sun
• Walk in town - in warm sunshine surveying shoe shops, jewellery shops etc
• Drink on terrace - large amounts of love in the world - survey in a lazy fashion
• Back home - buying chocolate cake on the way
• Buy coffee for homeless person (Leo) and water for his dog Bo
• Meal prepared, cooked and presented - roast chicken in honey and mustard, potatoes, broccoli with sesame oil and seeds, and other assorted vegetables, gravy in a slightly oriental fashion
• Chocolate cake
• Coffee
• Favourite TV show & film
• More sleep in said comfy bed

In between, at random but at hours/minutes of choosing, that 'making babies' thing.

So endeth the first lesson. Alright, it's maybe not perfect but the complaint box is empty!

Now I need a week to recover - well, maybe not but I am exhausted.

a luego,
S

The Laws of Drinking Alcohol

As I have been drinking for more than 25 years now (not constantly - one does require sleep, sex etc) I feel I can postulate on my theories with some degree of expertise. To explain I have compiled this list along with explanations in English.

1) The degree of consumption is inversely proportional to the level of intelligence. -> the more you drink, the stupider you get. Sad but true. Bear in mind the phrase 'It seemed like a good idea at the time' - it's your 'get out of jail free' card and you may well need it.

2) There is a marked increase in the number of attractive people in any one place which correlates to consumption increasing -> stange how this one works. Walk into a bar and everyone is ugly. Five pints later and the place is full of attractive people. Ten pints later, it's like you have entered a beauty pageant. Until the morning afterwards and you wake up next to "gaaarrrgh - I didn't did I?".

3) The world is just a great big onion. -> Marvin Gaye has a lot to answer to over this song. He made some of the most beautiful songs ever and then came up with this. Unfortunately, after a few drinks this is the one you will be singing whilst attempting to climb out of the ditch you fell into on your way home.

4) Reality is a concept. -> speaks for itself really - or the Vodka/Whisky you're drinking tells you *hic* it's a conchept *hic*. 'Go on, just one more for the ditch!'.

5) Quality and quantity are relative in the space/time continuum. -> the first drink is quality, if it's not, then you are already aiming for a quantity type thing with predictably disastrous results.

6) 'Blame transferral' is healthy - not a bad idea as some 'do-gooders' / psychologists would have you believe. -> when all else fails, revert to rule 1 - it was a good idea at the time or "wasn't my idea - Kevin, Dave or erratic badgers on acid, thought it would be fun". Just keep repeating the mantra - not my fault - evil made me do it.

7) Laws of physics still apply although it doesn't seem that way at the time. -> flying seems a great idea. I mean Superman could do it in his 'skids'. However tempting it seems after imbibing alcohol - don't. The results are always disastrous. Physics rule - great ideas crash into trees.

8) Moderation is for people with no money. -> all men are created equal - bah humbug. Give me Gates's money and maybe we'll talk. Meantime, money for beer is all I need. The sex thing is nice if somewhat diverting.

9) All pandas are created equal. -> well, apart from the female/male panda thing. They all eat bamboo shoots. Jeez - the things that keep me awake at night.

10) Last orders were invented by Satan and don't apply outside the UK. -> ha. I'm so sorry about this one....NOT. Knew there was a reason I didn't want to live there anymore.

a luego *hic*,
S

Saturdays

Don't you just love them?! The adrenaline rush of no work followed by the perfect hangover cure - a Sunday. This Saturday however, I have to go to the airport. Looking on the bright side - less traffic. Looking on the dark side - I could be sat in a bar getting inebriated while watching football.

Was having a nice conversation with my friend in Paris until baby needed feeding. My imagination got the better of me. You have two arms, one of which the baby is in, the second of which is attached to the phone. How do you undo blouse and get "foodsville" out unless you have three arms - aaaarrgghh - too much information already. I told her to hang up the phone and call me back.

I've seen (and tried) this breast feeding thing. What idiot came up with the slogan 'Breast is best'? Well DUH. I like Jack Daniels but given a choice between a bottle or a pair of 40 DD's in your face - which queue are you going to join? I know which one I'll be in - the long mother fooker!!

I also got the first opportunity to speak with her bloke - other half of the baby equation. Now I have to call back the Attack Badgers - he seems perfectly ok and maybe halfway as mental as me. Did promise to go to Paris at earliest opportunity - logistics permitting. At least I don't have to speak French as the place will be full of Japanese tourists.

Still not sure about tomorrow - have to go shopping and everything first. Bum.

Decided against having my hair cut - it's a Samson thing. Didn't want to look like Bon Jovi anyway - except that bit where he looks at his bank balance...that would have been nice.

a luego,
S

Being a Parent

Yikes - being a parent, I hate it and I love it in equal proportions. I love the 'making babies' thing and hated the 'having babies' thing even though it wasn't me that had to push a 'car' through a hole designed for a sausage. I was there at the beginning, there at the birth - cause and effect.

I'm in a dilemma though. When I was picked on at school, I used my intelligence to escape, initially. When that failed I used martial arts to turn someone elses cheek.

Now that my kids are experiencing the same learning curve - I want to do the 'furious vengeance thing' on their oppressors. I can't though.. What if they turn out to be as screwed up as I am? eek!!

But, if I interfere, how will they learn? If I don't. how will they survive? I know I have to stand back and watch.

My children are going to be stars in their own universe. Hopefully, you will all benefit from it. If not, blame me - not them.

a luego,
S

Airports

I seem to have spent so much time wasting my life in the past few years travelling to/from and sitting in airports. The only reason I mention it now is that I will be at an airport Saturday, Monday, Friday, Monday in the next nine days. It takes me back to my old schedule pre 9/11 except you could throw the occassional Tuesday and Thursday into that same two week mix.

I'm not sure what it is I don't like - definitely that some airports are worse than others. As a smoker I like to actually have somewhere I can enjoy a cigarette or 20 before I get on a metal tube I have no control over, preferably with a drink in my hand. Not so easy these days at most airports. I don't care about the duty free but I do care about the security check. I have no issue whatsoever about the stringency of the checks, it's the muppets in the queue in front of me that annoy me. What part of 'metal detector' doesn't make you think that all that gold jewellery you are wearing is not going to set the alarm off moron?

I don't like being hurried on to a plane for them to sit there for 45 minutes because they missed their slot to take off. To sit there, in air-conditioned hell while satan's spawn become restless and run around annoying everyone and not a drink in sight....lovely. Nor, when we land - people applauding. What for? It's the pilots bloody job to land the plane. I wouldn't get on the chuffing thing if I thought it was a chance thing.

Then comes the cacophony (usually Nokia) of mobile phones being switched on even before the plane has taxied to it's stand. "Hi, I've arrived - should be out in half an hour" - make the phone call inside!! Finally, the jumping up to escape as fast as possible. Why? So you can stand at the carousel waiting for your luggage and enjoy the ambience?

I used to like flying into Munich, except that customs used to grab me every single time. I once flew in on a Sunday night, knowing I was flying to Bruxelles on the Tuesday morning, back to Munich on the Thursday and returning to Manchester on the Friday. So, like a little boy scout, I packed a carry-on suitcase inside a bigger one. Customs pulled me. Usual questions, why are you here? How long for? When I replied "approximately 28 hours" he freaked and wanted to know why my suitcase was so big. "Because you didn't ask how long my trip away was for, only how long I was HERE for". After 5 minutes he got the idea, we chatted about the city, football etc. Flying back into Munich on the Thursday night, the same guy pulled me again. This time I was prepared..."Stop" I said, and recited all his favourite bars, restaurants, football team, players until he gave in and remembered my name from last time. HA put that it your lederhosen!

Would go and pack but I only do that about an hour before setting off. Got it down to a fine art now. I know where everything is and it's a lot easier now in Euro zone that you don't have to carry small bags of different currencies about. And as I have the art of pointing and nodding down to a fine art also, no need to speak foreign languages :-)

a luego,
S

The Stag / Hen Party

Every so often, like today, I like to unwind by going and sitting on a terrace, enjoy a beer and watch the world go by - well, more specifically, watch the people go by. Good thing about living in Spain, it's still 20-24 degrees on average so it's still feasible and pleasant, even in a T-shirt. Then I felt a shiver run up or down my spine - probably did a few yo-yo's actually. One of the few sights that truly terrify me now. A marauding pack of females on a hen "do" and not just the ordinary ones, the ones who have gone to the trouble of having tour T-shirts printed in either shocking yellow or bright pink with "Sharons Last Shag Tour - Alicante 2006". Christ, they terrify me. I'm quite safe really bearing more resemblance to a chipmunk than a chippendale, but it's still a long way from my comfort zone. As usual, I was thinking of a number of things at the same time and one was to do with a line from My Name is Earl (the programme where he has a list of bad things to undo) - trying to reunite some guy with his girl, the guy asks if his girl slept with anyone else. She replies that she "used her hand on one guy" - Earl stands there looking gobsmacked and then says "Shoot - I don't know how to un-ring that bell !".

So, still trying to not make a list like Earls of all the bad things I have done, I got thinking about stag parties I'd been on and what would make it to my list if I ever did do one. One in Chester came back to haunt me. I think there were about 10 of us and we were doing the pub crawl before the nightclub thing. Nice summer evenings so all the guys are in shirts, the girls in town, mini skirts etc. Walking up the street towards the Cross we spotted a group of very foxy ladies walking toward us on the other side of the road. Preening began on both sides, smiles exchanged and then there was a *clang*, not like a bell but more like what you would hear in a harbour. At which point the girls burst into laughter. A man's immediate reaction to laughter of that sort is to check if his flies are undone. Nope. Then we looked round. Lying prone on the ground was Mike, bloody nose and developing shiner. He'd been concentrating so hard on the girls.... *thwack* straight into a lamp post *lol* - I should have helped him up but I couldn't, I was laughing too bloody hard. Sorry Mike.

Then there was the weekend in Dublin. 14 of us over on the ferry, Friday afternoon for a weekend. At that time, in my defence, I was still in my Rock n Roll phase. I lost the 'lads' within 10 minutes of arriving in Ireland as I was somewhat more focused on the Irish girl I'd met on the ferry. So, 7am Saturday morning I eventually arrived in Dublin realising that a) don't know where the 'lads' are staying and b) don't have my ticket back. Nothing else for it, find a pub. Four hours later, and quite a few more pints of guiness than that I announce to my new friends and 4 new fiancees in the pub that I'm just off to find the lads. Great idea in a pub, bad idea in sunlight in a city you don't know. As luck would have it I bumped into them within 10 minutes. Eventually, I persuaded them to come to my new pub. As we walked in a number of people shouted "hey, S is back - a pint for yer man". So, I'm talking to Mr and Mrs Fat and persuade her to grab bridegroom-to-be and make him dance. Mr Fat and I get into a friendly argument about strength. I confidently announce "I could lift you up you fat bas*ard". The bet is made, the deed halfway done when I remember that laws of physics and alcohol don't mix. Flying backwards, Mr Fat still grasped in my arms, but decidedly on top of me now we crash through the nearest table laden with guiness. Needless to say, we went through the table, the guiness went everywhere - the 'lads' ran away but I just stood up, said sorry, replaced all the drinks and carried on drinking there all day. Sorry, if you got a guiness shower.

Finally, one where I was best man and thus supposed to protect the 'stag'. Easier said than done when said stag is one of the rugby team and I have the build of a stick insect. So, in the local pub one of the team sidles over to me and whispers in my ear "take him for a game of pool". I obliged and then, 5 minutes later an impending wave of doom crashed over my head. Standing in the doorway was a policewoman with far too much makeup backed up by a scrum of grinning rugby players. I tried to make a run for it (I figured only stag needed to attend) but 20 rugby players coming in one direction whilst I try to head the other through a single doorway - well I think you can figure out the result. I can't say I particularly enjoyed the 'show' although I was intrigued with the banana trick. I don't think his wife found out - well, they still got married. I threatened to bring it up in my speech but never did. Sorry Mr M.

ala,
S

Shout at the TV

Shouting at the TV is not normally a pastime that I indulge in, apart from football, which doesn't count. Everyone shouts at the TV when football is on, not all for the same reasons granted but why watch the game if you can't shout "shoot" at the defender in his own box with your team one goal down and the seconds tick away? Also, the award of a penalty - half of the bar shouting "YES" while the other half shout "What the fook was that you myopic retard?!", or words to that effect, at the referee.

Anyway, last night I found myself shouting at the TV. It was the last episodes of Prison Break and the escape, having been thoroughly planned was on. In typical TV 'oooo, let's make a drama out of it' fashion, anything that could go wrong did. They ran two episodes back to back and so the first ended in typical cliffhanger fashion, by which point I was so agitated I screamed "Not now you bast*rds!!" - which is a shame as I have been trying really hard not to swear. Now I'm no nearer to understanding what the chuff is going on since I started watching it. Except that the evil witch behind the conspiracy has now been sworn in as President of the USA. Unusual how often those three words appear in a sentence - 'evil', 'conspiracy' and 'USA' - message there maybe?

So on to my next, shout at the TV topic - horror movies. They never make me scared, I don't sleep with the lights on (highly un-Gothic) and have only been startled twice that I can recall. So I did a little research and rather unsurprisingly found a list which I include below for your perusal.

a luego,
S

How to survive a horror movie

• When it appears that you have killed the monster, *never* check to see if it's really dead.
• If you find that your house is built upon or near a cemetary, was once a church used for black masses, had previous inhabitants who went mad or committed suicide or died in some horrible fashion, or had inhabitants who performed satanic practices in your house, move away immediately.
• Never read a book of demon summoning aloud, even as a joke.
• Do not search the basement, especially if the power has gone out.
• If your children speak to you in Latin or any other language which they should not know, or if they speak to you using a voice which is other than their own, shoot them immediately. It will save you a lot of grief in the long run. NOTE: It will probably take several rounds to kill them, so be prepared.
• When you have the benefit of numbers, *never* pair off and go it alone.
• As a general rule, don't solve puzzles that open portals to Hell.
• Never stand in, on, above, below, beside, or anywhere near a grave, tomb, crypt, mausoleum, or other house of the dead.
• If you're searching for something which caused a noise and find out that it's just the cat, *leave the room immediately if you value your life.*
• If appliances start operating by themselves, move out.
• Do not take *anything* from the dead.
• If you find a town which looks deserted, it's probably for a reason. Take the hint and stay away.
• Don't fool with recombinant DNA technology unless you're sure you know what you're doing.
• If you're running from the monster, expect to trip or fall down at least twice, more if you are of the female persuasion. Also note that, despite the fact that you are running and the monster is merely shambling along, it's still moving fast enough to catch up with you.
• If your companions suddenly begin to exhibit uncharacteristic behavior such as hissing, fascination for blood, glowing eyes, increasing hairiness, and so on, get away from them as fast as possible.
• Stay away from certain geographical locations, some of which are listed here: Amityville, Elm Street, Transylvania, Nilbog (you're in trouble if you recognize this one), the Bermuda Triangle, or any small town in Maine.
• If your car runs out of gas at night, do not go to the nearby deserted-looking house to phone for help.
• Beware of strangers bearing tools such as chainsaws, staple guns, hedge trimmers, electric carving knives, combines, lawnmowers, butane torches, soldering irons, band saws, or any devices made from deceased companions.

ala,
S

Shopping

I really don't like shopping. I don't like any part of it. I occasionally like to go into a music shops and covet the spiffing new Ibanez guitars that I will never buy but the rest, keep it thankyou. Which is why, I use the female warrior, Amazon, so much. No queuing, no avoiding small kids who have escaped from their pushchairs, no waiting at the till whilst the clueless shop assistant tries to figure out why the bar code scanner is not working - try showing it the bar code moron. I know this may upset the female community but here's a question...would you a) prefer to drag me around being miserable while asking questions like "does my bum look big in this?" or b) me give you a stack of cash, piss off down the pub and meet up with you for a meal later?

So, having ascertained that I don't like shopping, have to fly back to the YUK for my son's birthday etc I decided to Amazon him some CD's. Great idea - don't have to carry things around the two airports, can't forget as it is already done and so on. Unfortunately, Amazon makes shopping a little too easy. When you're a regular it bypasses things like credit card details, delivery addreses etc and makes assumptions based on pattern. I wanted the CD's to go to an address in the YUK and the invoice/bill to come to the Spanish address. Imagine my horror this morning to be awoken by Postman Pedro burbling on about there being a package for me and could he just put it in the lift instead of coming up to deliver it. Si, si, si - whatever.

Bloody crikey! I screamed as I opened the lift door. One new delivery from Amazon. Now I was rattled - had I chuffed up? had Amazon chuffed up? Thankfully, it was Monsieur Legume, my friend in Bruxelles who had, under the influence of alcohol, had also been shopping on Amazon. Being slightly left of centre and remembering an e-mail discussion we had last week, ordered a TV series on DVD, a music CD (Tim Buckley - lovely :-) and The Little Book of Calm?!

Sales of this book are apparently 2,000,001 and rising. Rising by 1 for sure as I send a copy to an ex-cow-worker of mine back in the Sprout. He spends his days and nights scheduling flights so I had occassion to work with him whilst "fixing" their system. For 3 months I thought he was gay (granted, an idea based on the way he walks is not a clever way to determine someone's sexual proclivities) and then I found out, his walk was due to a very bad traffic accident. Take a bow Mr N - one Little Book of Calm on it's way matey (and get off that porn site).....little rascal.

Now, I think I have to go shopping - not because I want to but because my 'magic fridge' is not working properly. Always seems to work when she's here. Take some beers but it never runs out. Now she's not, the fridge has developed a mind of it's own - mainly in a state called empty. Reet chuffin great is that........not. Have to wait an hour or so though - daren't go out in the sun, might shrivel up and die or anything.

ala,
S

Bloody Monday

I 'ate Mondays.

That feeling of waking up alone, not in somebody's arms is hateful. But here I am, Monday and alone. Perhaps I should make a list (like in My Name is Earl) and go around correcting all the bad things I did in my life. Ha - but I'm clever see!!

Define the borderline between good and bad. I could have sworn at a weetabix - could be bad, but then I could have said I love bloody weetabix -hmmm immediate dilemma.

It's kind of obvious, I think, you stamp on a hamster -> bad person but if you stamp on a rat that is going to munch on your trapped buddy's body -> god person = good person. Easy isn't it this good and evil thing?! No wonder I never went to church. Well, thats not true, I did go to church - wasn't worth a rats arse but I went. I went to 'envelop myself in the arms of our lord' or so I was told - in reality, the only reason I went was to bonk Tina R like a puppy on heat.

So what else happened esta semana? Chuff all. Some fookers tried to rip the wing mirrors off my car - again. I decided last time I had to tape the mirrors up, I would leave a surprise for my unwelcome guests. Judging by the spattering of blood on the pavement - the little rascals found it.

Gave up smoking (whilst I was asleep) and ate some food - hooray. Ate some food on Tuesday and met some groovy girl called Dana who only wanted to.......oh yeah, that part was a dream.

Anyway must be off - now I've mentioned the dream I have to live it ;-)

a luego,
S

Sorry

Posted the same chuffer twice - my whisky.....it's a little rascal you know :-)

Games

I hate games - all games. Every so often I try but my continual loathing remains. Take for example 'Twister' - just a game for the perverted. Family game my arse - just an excuse to touch people in weird ways explaining it away by proclaiming "I was only trying to get to the blue spot". Chess or even speed-chess....how bloody boring is that?! Have you never wondered why grand masters look in-bred? No-one with half a social life would participate. Trivial Pursuit....boring. Just memorise all the cards before hand and amaze dinner guests with your amazing knowledge of trivia.

The reason for my ranting about games? I've been thinking about what Satan Claus can bring me. I saw the latest advert for the PSP2 portable, microwave your dinner, do the washing up thing. Looks great - be bored after a day. I've had a computer since 1981 and the only game I ever enjoyed playing was the one I wrote. Asteroids - in 1K of memory. I did try playing all the Atari, Sinclair Spectrum, Nintendo etc rubbish but it failed to ignite anything in me.

Also, a few years ago, my son wanted one of those PS2 things and so, to ease Satan's burden, I had to drive a wagon for a few weeks to pay for it (and all the other pressies Satan hadn't got around to making/purchasing yet). Tremendarse. A 40-foot artic in central London in the run up to Christmas. As luck would have it the route from the depot meant 'parking' on the M25 motorway most of the time. When I did get there it was truly the nightmare before christmas.

So, my recipe for success - avoid games at all costs......except strip poker or any other one that involves naked or soon to be naked partners (ha, how's that for politically correct - didn't mention lesbians once.....DOH!)

a luego,
S

Beer

As Baloo sings in 'The Jungle Book' - "It's just the beer necessities, forget about your worries and your wife" or even more poetically, Homer Simpson - "Beer - the cause and solution to all man's troubles". The sun has come back, I'm happy again and as I write this I am sat on a terrace in a T-shirt, in Noviembre, enjoying a cerveza (beer). Whilst it is still in my tiny, pickled brain - simplest way to avoid a hangover? don't stop drinking!

Today, I nearly completed my portion of Christmas shopping - Santa has to delegate you know. I just have the two biggest things to get, one each for my two children. There is no point in buying electronic goods here and taking them over to the UK. Invoking the guarantee would be pointless as it would cost more than it saved. Also, the instruction manual would be in Spanish - again, pointless as neither of my children speak or read Spanish. Shouldn't be a problem for my son - he's male and thus has the "Will read instruction manual only after I have chuffed it up" gene.

Manana, someone may be 151 Million Euros richer. Chuffing hell - what a responsibility! You could buy Cuba or anything. I already have my second place lottery ticket - no point in picking the winner and being disappointed when it doesn't happen. As the old adage says, 'no point crying over spilt milk' - to which I would add....spilt beer - call the FBI, MI5, KGB......(ha, bet this gets flagged by the spying chuffers!!)

I might be going to Paris (France not Texas) soon to see my lovely friend and her equally lovely new baby. I used to hate Paris - it's the reason I choose not to speak Freanch even though I can. Now I have to reconsider my position. Had a lovely Sunday afternoon on sat on the grass overlooking the Eiffel Tower with beer, friends and an acoustic guitar - sweet memories *sighs*. Sunday, Bloody Sunday ;-)

Finalmente, -> It's no wonder there is a relationship between alcohol and beauty. The more you drink, the more beautiful people you can see. There is a caveat in that one reaches a point at which, what seems like a really good idea at the time is not, and you will realise either the morning after or 9 months later (24 if you invaded a zoo and thought that big huggly grey thing looked irresistible).

Time for food - my stomach is sending messages to my brain asking if my throat has been cut.
ala,
S

Homeless

I'm not a heartless Goth but I do object to beggars, passive muggers and those attempting to extort money, especially with an accordion. Piss off and take your monkey with you!! Sometimes, like yesterday, I "reach out and touch" a truly worthy person. As it wasn't raining, at last, I decided to go out for a stroll. On my way to the Cathedral, I called in to buy some cigarettes and as I was leaving the shop I saw a homeless person I have seen around for 6 months. Not once has he hassled me for money, fags or "owt" (as they would say in Yorkshite, YUK).

So I stopped and asked him if he'd like to have a drink in the bar that was not 20 meters away from where he was sat - needed a combination of French and Spanish to be understood. He said, with a very sad voice "I'm not allowed in places like that". My reply, and I was in full Goth regalia (coat like Blade etc), was "Fu*k that - you're with me". So I strode in with my new buddie in tow, ordered a beer and a large coffee and dared the barman to do anything about it. After half an hour of talking, I had to make my excuses and leave. I had learnt an awful lot about Paco (that is his name) and why he was in the situation he is and I like to think, for a short time, he regained dignity. Left him my cigs and lighter but stopped short of inviting him home.

Years ago, when I worked for a software house in Leeds, I used to nip into Safeways at lunchtime to buy a cheap sandwich and can of coke. To get there I had to pass the Yorkshire Post building and a homeless person selling the Big Issue. Weeks went by before I finally stopped and talked to him. Our first conversation was "can I get you a coffee or something?" - "I'm ok, but if you can get some water for Bob" his dog, changed over time to "Morning Ian, coffee with two sugars and water for Bob?" - "Nice one, S". One day he stopped me and said "I'm not going to be here tomorrow" - "why?" - "because I have got a job counselling people about drugs - those who have, know more. The Big Issue organised the job, accommodation and now Bob and I will have a warm place to sleep at night". Top Result!!

The moral to the story being, not every beggar is loser. We could all go there - some rise from the ashes.

Hmm, bit positive for a Goth isn't it? - well everyone dies.....(ha, corrected that happy thing)

a luego,
S

Sleepless night

In case any of you are wondering, I had a sleepless, lonely night again. So if you are curious why the appearance of the page keeps changing - it's me "frigging" with it. Content will not change, suicide is painless (I think that was the M*A*S*H theme tune - well, it was close) but the data will NOT go walkabout.

Dearest Mama asked me what I wanted for Christmas and so I replied an i-pod. Can't justify buying one myself but it has to be better than matching tie, socks and cufflinks?! So then, she goes to some financial doofer and gets given a free MP3 player. Bum! Now I have to have a total rethink on what she can go shopping for - Satan Claus will be busy. And no, a blow-up sheep is not on the list.

At least it's not raining again. I didn't move to Spain for the rain - could have stayed in the YUK or Bruxelles for that. As I'm talking about switching countries - here's an interesting opinion (rather than a fact). Brought up in Wales I had to be bi-lingual (but that didn't include "foreign" languages like French.) Now I have figured out the key to languages - no more will I go to a foreign country and end up with monkey brains or antelope bollox on a plate and be too polite to complain.

You want to know the key? ha ha send 5 euros to MSF and then ask me (Medecins Sans Frontieres) - http://www.msf.org/

hasta luego,
S