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

Cold

This will probably not be the most interesting post ever as I have spent the last 48 hours "nursing" a cold. Therefore I have been drinking herbal tea whilst sat in a sleeping bag (in the front room) watching TV (also causing me to hop around like a one legged kangaroo), or huddled under the biggest duvet in the bedroom I could find trying to sweat it out. In the meantime, for the few hours I had time to cogitate.

I came up with my list of Top Ten TV shows currently showing (here) but interlaced in these muses a list of bizarre thoughts that crossed my mind, which I list first. My blog, my choices. Feel free to comment.

Bizarre thoughts I had:-

- Space discovery..why? So we got Teflon and thus non-stick frying pans but no ET
- If a male rottweiler clamps it's jaws on you, grabbing it by the balls releases the jaws..why? Why/how did someone discover this fact?
- Most Michael Stipe lyrics..why? Don't even get me started on that
- Pigeons can't fart..why? Not that I care but how did someone discover this?
- Pull a fish backwards and it drowns..why? No point of living in water then!
- a blow j...no, better not go down why it's called that
- waiting for a bus, train etc, light a cigarette and it comes
- parents get more childish as they get older..why? We become wiser, or them stupider?
- Mood swings - women have a "time of the month", men a "time of the day"
- old people can remember things from 63 years ago but not that they told you the same story 20 minutes ago

The TV shows, in no particular order:-

- My Name is Earl (freaky but very clever)
- House (Hugh Laurie is ace in this)
- Prison Break (guess what this is about)
- The Dead Zone (based on the S King novel)
- Monk (Tony Shaloub at his comedic best)
- CSI Miami (best of the 3 CSI series)
- Supernatural (dark but don't watch it with anyone who hates The Shining)
- The Simpsons (DOH!)
- Law and Order SVU (black and justice, with Ice-T?! from NWA to a police series...)
- Crimical Minds (FBI profiling with some nice characters)

a luego,
S

Mondays

Monday - back to work, back to reality Monday. I hate chuffing Mondays - second worst day of the week for me only "trumped" by Sundays when the god squad are on patrol. Well, apart from Easter Monday which is nice for religious reasons namely that we get to remember the life and preachings of the jesus bloke by large rabbits delivering chocolate eggs. Don't seem to recall seeing the word "chocolate" in the bible but perhaps I wasn't paying attention. Come to think of it, I don't recall the word "rabbit" in there either.

*nudge in back from conscience* stay away from talking religion.........

Apparently today is the 20th anniversary of Fergie taking charge at Old Trafford. Goth that makes me feel old. I remember Big Ron, and Dave Sexton to name just two of his predecessors. I'm just glad Fergie wasn't in charge of my school football team when I spooned a penalty over the bar in the schools cup final. Still, my football career lasted longer than my rugby one. Unfortunate thing with being Welsh - rugby is the national sport so you have to play it at school. Not the best option for a stick insect like me. Nice career statistics though - played twice, sent off twice.

The games master explained the principles but my intelligence wouldn't allow me to dive to grab someone's feet whilst they were wearing boots with studs. Didn't/doesn't make any sense. So during the first game, when he shouted "stop him" as some fat chuffer ran directly at me, I did. Unfortunately for said, by now running relatively fast lard arse, my Karate was a lot better than he was expecting. Red card and off I went. Similar thing happened in my second game with the same result. Thus ended the rugby career I never wanted anyway.

Didn't break the land speed record on the way back from the airport yesterday. Too busy messing about with the CD player while driving. Anyway, it's too dangerous driving fast - might squash a hedgehog or anything. For some reason, the Spanish are great in straight lines 0-150 kph with no messing but as soon as the road features a bend they stamp on the brakes. It's like being back in the YUK when the first snowflake falls - severe panic attacks (not me, my fellow motorists!).

a luego,
S

The Jigsaw Man

To steal from Steinbeck - the best intentions of mice and men! I am so angry I could..........stamp on a hamster. Not smoking lasted 4 hours and 31 minutes (mainly while I was asleep). Didn't pick the best time to give up. The love-in terminates today as she has a "ticket to ride". My ex has gone decidedly "stage-left" and it's still chuffing raining.

As Gaz says in The Full Monty - "It's all to f*cking cock is this". Trying to be positive though - grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Did manage to find 50 euros I had stashed in a drawer - don't remember why but hooray anyway. 10 bottles of Wodka if I shop at Murky Donna (the cheap supermarket in Spain).

So, why the Jigsaw Man? - because I feel like a jigsaw with a piece missing - 999 pieces in a 1000 piece tale. Every time I think I have the chuffer figured, I can't complete the puzzle. Suppose I could just cheat and give it away to charity!! And I still have this overwhelming feeling of doom as I know I have to move back to Belgium from Spain - chuffing great......mayonnaise with everything again! Looking on the not so bright side, at least it will be easy to remain Gothic and I still have my umbrella collection ;-)

Today is a trip to the Aeropuerto - slowly on the way there, attempt to break the land speed record on the way back. Thankfully, I don't have to go to Ali-twatty airport - god I hate that place. Thank Goth I have a copy of The Shining on DVD to watch later - "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy".

Should be happy - living mainly in Spain and not on the plain but Goth rules apply - no smiling, being happy or wearing colours other than black. I went to do an intensive Spanish course at the University - I can read, translate and speak Spanish but wanted to improve it. Had to drop out however - the dinky little French "chick" sat next to me was too much of a temptation and I don't want my libido running my life.........think "shoe repair shop"!!

So, I'm off to look for the missing piece of the puzzle. It's bound to be somewhere obvious - Einstein said so.....not personally but laws of physics etc. Could read "Mastering UNIX" but it's so chuffing boring - oh bollox, get the Richard Pryor DVD out!!

a luego,
S

Smoking

Oh chuff!!!!! - time has finally caught me up and it's time to quit smoking. (P*ss off if you've never caught the habit, partaken and thus rued the day you started). I'm starting to turn Simpson yellow, can't get on public transport anywhere and my lungs protest at the slightest incline - ha, probably give up completely if they saw Mount Everest. Just got my Zippo (lighter) confiscated at LiverFool airport - message there maybe. Going to be hard work though - had my first ciggie at 8 years old and I'm now nudging (in a gentle but alluring fashion) 40.

Word to the wise - buy shares in Wrigleys now, dump Philip Morris shares. Going to try and compensate using chewing gum. 40 tabs a day to nada is going to take some doing but if she can, I can. Might be really arsey for a few weeks - she was/is. But, afterwards, I'll be able to smell things again, stop regurgitating my lungs every morning and be hyper-critical of people smoking. Oh, and I won't worry about turning myself into a human(ish) bonfire by falling asleep p*ssed with a tab in hand.

Don't know what I will do about the proliferation of lighters.......go to a Bon Jovi concert or something. I could make some small model volcanoes - but no school project as I'm banned from going there. Kind of a habit - me getting banned from schools!!

Thinking about it though, what am I to do with empty beer cans? Great ashtrays. I suppose I'll overdose on chewing cocktail sticks. Eek, I wonder if I'll be able to smell badger's bums when I don't smoke anymore?!!!

a luego,
S

Spider Loving

Ha, now you little rascals will have to go out and buy The Mighty Boosh to make sense of this post (Spider loving). I just spent what felt like an eternity moving beds around - well, from one room to the next. Broke the other one. Should be very male and proud but I'm far too gothic for that macho crap. Now, I want some more "Spider Loving". *sings* Oo ee oo ee oo ;-)

And (only starting a sentence with 'and' as I was told you couldn't do that, ergo, I will just to prove a point) it's still chuffing raining in Spain. Didn't think there was this much water in the sky here - yikes, I was wrong. It does happen.

This is an outrage!!

Tonight is the Primitiva lottery in Spain - grand prize of rubbish but still bought a ticket yesterday "got to be in it to win it". It's great, as in typical Spanish fashion, none of the shops that sell the tickets are actually open today. Wouldn't mind except the Spanish are obsessed with lottery type gambling - go figure!! Of course, I could be worth 131 million euros by now (Euro Million lottery) but, meanwhile, back in the real world - no new car, house, holidays, teefers etc.

Must say hello to my little bro -> "Hello" - he's busy arresting hobbits on t'other side of the planet. From Selby (UK) to Wellington (NZ) - as he would have said "it's reet nuts is that". The good side is that he couldn't take his golf clubs with him so I "inherited" them. Haven't used them yet - haven't had any burglars yet.......not sure if a Spanish burglar will duck when they hear "fore" before they get a 9-iron round their head.

Also won 5 euros on the bet. She said, he said type of thing. Yesterday, not the restaurant of my choice - 2 courses, crap food, crap service and 40 euros. Today, my choice. Special little Spanish place - no "grockles" (tourists) and 3 hours later, after 5 courses, a litre of wine, water, coffee, free schnapps and only 30 euros lighter we wobbled away. Might have to change my name to FatSpanishGoth!! Have to do something with that extra 5 euros.

a luego,
S

Bloomin chuff - as if to disprove my point, the Welsh rugby team actually drew with Australia (not the whole country, just the opposing rugby team). Whatever next? Prince Charles becomes handsome......yeah, maybe not eh

What a lot of weather

And so, prompted by posts, I have to explain the weather here in Spain at the moment. Apparently, the rain falling mainly on the plain is bullshit. Every so often, it rains like it does in Bruxelles - i.e a lot. This really freaks people out here. Although the Spanish have seen umbrellas, they still haven't figured out how to use them. It's a good job that I still have my "cloud of darkness" to make people cross the street rather than bump into me, otherwise the chuffers would be poking me left, right and centre trying to "get it up"......

Generally, it is hot, sunny and lovely. In fact, in nearly 12 months of being here, I can only remember it raining 6 days (except it rains at night sometimes, which doesn't count as you can't see it).

I have a friend called "Elf" - he's not a real elf but he is a bit small and dinky - which counts I suppose. He works as an air steward for BA (British Airways) on the long haul flights. Anyway, his mother is Austrian and although she has a good command of English, she does say certain things that, on first hearing you want to correct but after time you wonder whether she is more correct?!

For example, when it's pissing down with rain - i.e. really wet, she says "What a lot of weather we are having" - on nightmares "I made bad dreams last night"

Now I must go and see to the chores. Wodka and tomato juice for me - whats chores? ;-)

a luego,
S

On the Road Again

A new day - a new Euro Millions Day - a new no event day (I can once again win nothing - but with style).

Got into an argument with my father, my ex-wife and pretty much everyone who moves (not at the same time, managed to do them in a random fashion). No change there then! I look forward to Santa Claus having a real problem when Christmas happens. Might get the "Argument Action Man" if I'm really lucky - "Action Man Deserter" if not.

Wanted to buy a motorbike for my son but he can be just as stupid as me (oh the joys of inheritance).

Look, vrooom, really fast, tree, EEK, dead!!

Like Marc Bolan but at least he wasn't driving (and it was a Mini not a bike)! He (Bolan, not my offspring) could at least blame it on the girlfriend - hooray for him.

I know I shouldn't/mustn't get a Subarru Imprezza WRC, Porsche 911 Turbo, Ferrari 328 GTB etc - should probably get a Wolwo estate (back to the HIM reference) - hence why I have currently, the 4-door Audi A4 (she's called Eleanor) - incredibly reliable, safe and I'm not tempted to "power-slide" around corners, roundabouts or anything not like a straight line. Did once have a "rally-prepped" car but I was dangerous in it - not just to myself but to little old grannies trying to cross the road. They had to learn how to do that Matrix 'hanging in the air' thing.

I didn't crash though ;-) but did get busted for speeding. The police didn't seem impressed with my "power slide" around the roundabout at 60 mph in a 30 zone or maybe I just had the stereo on too loud or, ha and this is more likely, I made one of the chuffers spill the gravy from his chips onto his pants!!

ala,
S

ps HIM reference = band from Finland "taking the piss" of Scandinavian people who pronounce all V's as W's - hence Volvo becomes Wolwo

Wales

And so another interesting day in Gothsville draws to a close. Went shopping - always a nail through the heart of sanity. When I'm master of the universe I will ban shopping. Doesn't seem much point now that we have the internet - well, apart from the googling shop assistants bit. Anyway, I hate spending money now - had the "Becks" knocked out of me (desire to buy things for no apparent reason). Tomorrow is another day I fail to win the Euro Millions jackpot. What would I do with 131 million euros anyway - especially after I have banned shopping anyway? I suppose I could create a big pile of money and climb up and down it - or get a monkey like Michael Jackson or buy an airplane like Richard Branson.

A quick introduction to Wales (Cymru) for those who don't know or care.

It's a small country on the left of England (according to the atlas). Lots of sheep and stuff.

Good things from Wales:-
- Stereophonics
- Manic Street Preachers
- Howard Marks (purveyor of grass - and not for lawns)
- Super Furry Animals
- Ryan Giggs
- Richard Burton
- Me

Bad things from Wales:-
- Charlotte (the harlot) Church
- Aled (balls chopped) Jones and his chuffing snowman
- Catherine Zeta Jones
- Holiday homes on fire
- Vinnie Jones (but he cheated as usual)
- The Rugby team
- The Football team

Middle things from Wales:-
- Tom Jones
- Shirley Bassey
- Michael Owen (because he played for England and LiverFool)

ala,
S

Boosh

And so, after a tearful reunion etc it's back to reality. My gift to the grandpa of Bruxelles (Bill Bailey) arrived intact and was enjoyed so it was time to dust off, whack in the DVD and enjoy The Mighty Boosh that he sent me - magnifique ;-)

Have to think about flights to the YUK - aaarrrgghh! Promised I would be there so - shit must happen. Rather sew my head to the carpet but....

United played FC Copenhagen - fun I'm sure - DOH - they lost!. Couldn't watch it, as usual, but Danish managed a win.....not eating one of their pastries again!

Suggested to MaMa an iPod as my Xmas gift to convey to Santa. Went tits up as she got a free MP3 player from some conference or other. Now I have to think what else Santa and his magic sleigh can bring. New Man Utd top I think - or maybe tell the US that Osama is hiding in Denmark.

ala,
S

Song Number 1 (having a bad day)

I'd like to think, to take the time, wonder for a while
Why my life is fractured, broken and fragile
All I ever wanted was so simple and so true
All that I needed was the person that was you
I'd like to hope that when the tears stream down my face
That you'll be there, holding me, no-one can replace
What you mean to me, what you will always mean
Forever, for always, my love for you remains

I'd hope to think, to take the time, amazed for a while
How my life is fractured, broken, torn and so fragile
Mariposa you call to me, you sing my real name
Media naranja, my lover, esposa, je t'aime

All Saints

And so to All Saints Day - thankfully not named after the dreadful UK girly band who butchered "Under the Bridge" originally by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. If you are going to cover a song, at least understand what it is about you silly little girls.

Anyway, All Saints Day - a religious holiday through most of Europe is based on a pagan festival. A little convenient, but that's organised religion for you. Take the bits we like, throw away the bits we don't and hey presto - organised religion. Cynical? It's my middle name!

I still have to organise a flight back to my country of origin for my son's birthday and I promised I would be there. Doubtful about flying into LiverFool again - done it once, never again. Costs too much to go to Madchester - even though I would be close to the beloved Old Trafford (home of Manchester United). That leaves me with a choice of Leeds (field in the middle of nowhere) or East Midlands (bigger field, bigger nowhere). Have to make a decision before the flight costs escalate like a supermodel on drugs.

Ask me about the teddy in the toilet incident - then you will understand the level we are working at.....

ala,
S