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
lunes, noviembre 13, 2006
domingo, noviembre 12, 2006
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
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
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
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
jueves, noviembre 09, 2006
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
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
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
miércoles, noviembre 08, 2006
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
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
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