Contrast and Compare

Scott’s Blog gave me an idea about the celebrity I might be like.

Traditon

The little boy-that-used-to-be On Christmas morning watched
the tree. He hid
beneath a man's disguise, But oh! the sparkle in his
eyes!

I found the above quote, by Della Adams Leitner, and I thought it captured how I perceive most of us feel on Christmas morning – still excited about what you are to receive yet restrained by our increasing maturity.

***

Ever year that I can remember before moving in with Michelle, Christmas morning took on a variation of the same events. I would be woken or wake my parents in the morning and my Mum and I would wait on the stairs for my Dad who went to the bathroom. Only when we were together did we open the door to the living room and go to the tree where our gifts awaited us. After the wrapping paper was torn and hugs and thank-yous were exchanged we would get dressed into the smart clothing for the day and my dad would make some rolls in sausage or bacon.

While my dad prepared my morning meal I would go across the back gardens to the Hamilton’s house to wish the family a happy Christmas and exchange gifts with my best friend Sparkie and his brother Andrew. The three of us would then go round to see our other best friend David to not only give him his Christmas gift but also to wish him a Happy Birthday.

With David collected, and his family given there hand shakes and kisses on the cheek, our quartet would then make its way back to my house where my breakfast (probably by this time a brunch) awaited along with the Hamilton’s who would have made thier way over to see my parents.

In later years these events would then follow a visit to our local so that David could be bought a beer and have even a little normality on his birthday.

This was our tradition, my tradition, and as the years go by its practice is less and less kept.

***

I no longer wake with my parents and therefore there is no more waiting on the stairs or rolls with sausage. I’m sure this is similar in tone if not method to what each of us left behind when leaving the house.

This year my family are dining out for Christmas Dinner (another tradition broken) and the meal is set to start at 1pm. This morning when I woke I was trying to plan what Michelle and I will do and where we will go at what time on Christmas morning before having to be at my mothers.

We have to go to Michelle’s mums to see her and Billy and his son Scott. We have to go to Deborah and Gavin’s, Michelle’s Sister and Brother-in-law, to see our Niece Cameron and Nephew Ryan. And we have to these things within two and half hours while returning home between visits and then again before visiting my Mum to collect the gifts for each group.

Understand that I know these are the things we have to do and also that I want to do them – it is important to see your family at Christmas after all, even your not quite yet in-laws. But of course time, ever the thief, has robbed me of all traces of the tradition I have known for all the life that is in my memory.

This is not the clocks first triumph over my Christmas customs. The first came when I decided I was too old to be read the Christmas poem my mum had read to me since I was a baby, I read it myself but it wasn’t the same. Next came when my sister was Married and moved away when I was 11. Every year previously she was always the first person I would wake at times too early for the whole family to rise. I would show her what had been left in my Christmas stocking and then she would doze while I sat on the floor beside her bed and read the comics which had been left for me.

Last year I didn’t even see my family at all on Christmas Day. My parents were down visiting My sister and my brother was working, but I at least got to see my friends in the usual manner.

***

Of course I am saddened that any semblance of my Christmas ritual is lost to me but when I really thought about it I realised that Michelle and I have the opportunity to begin new practises and build new traditions. There can be no plan to them, tradition is an organic practice which grows and evolves over time and is suddenly part of life without realising that it had even been conceived.

Growing up, I think, is about leaving behind those little pieces of your childhood over time and replacing them with your own actions and thoughts. To reiterate the point of Della Adams Leitner as I perceive it – childhood is not lost but merely hidden away to use as reference for the years that follow. The full quote reads: -

The little boy-that-used-to-be On Christmas morning watched the tree. He hid
beneath a man's disguise, But oh! the sparkle in his eyes! He watched his son
with great delight And how his heart leaped at the sight Of Junior opening up
his toys, And then . . . there were two little boys. One half past three, and
one . . . oh well, His age in years why need we tell: It did not matter as they
played With auto, train and gay parade. Circus and games and toy pop-gun I'm
sure I do not know which one Was happier . . . the half past three Or grown-up
lad-that-used-to-be.

"Seven chipmonks swinging on a branch on my uncles ranch..."

In the absence of valid and interesting thoughts on my life and time here’s another stupid questionnaire that asks you to do the following 7 things: -

1. Seven things to do before I die.
2. Seven things I cannot do.
3. Seven things that attract me to... (insert anything you like).
4. Seven things I say most often.
5. Seven books (or series) that I love.
6. Seven movies I watch over and over again (or would if I had time).
7. Seven things I couldn’t live without.
   

Seven things to do before I die:

1. Visit New York City.
2. Visit the White House.
3. Write a book or story intended for publication.
4. See a page drawn from one of my scripts.
5. Contribute to society.
6. Enjoy work (A.K.A. live the dream).
7. Learn to drive… I suppose.

Seven things I cannot do:

1. Go to bed at an appropriate hour (note the time of this post).
2. Wolf whistle.
3. Use phones with camera and the internet.
4. Touch type
5. The splits.
6. Develop code breaking mathematical algorisms (I tried…).
7. Play poker well.

Seven things that attract me to... Comic Books:

1. Consistent and fully realised characters.
2. The concept of heroism in all forms.
3. Constantly improving stories.
4. Seeing the capabilities of a person’s imagination without the constraints of budget of SFX.
5. Ever improving and more creative and/or realistic artwork.
6. Cliff-hangers.
7. My childlike escape into a, now less child friendly, fantasy world.

Seven things I say most often (impressionable ones, cover your eyes):

1. Fu*k!
2. Ah Ya Cu*t!
3. Bastard!
4. Sh!te.
5. “Pure” (apparently when used in sentences e.g. “… then he was pure going to…” “Aye and ah was pure like…”).
6. No. (or one of it’s variations).
7. At-at-at! (my cat warning word).

Seven books (or series) that I love:

1. The Jack Ryan/John Clark Series (my favourite being Without Remorse) by Tom Clancy.
2. Richard Russo Nobody’s Fool.
3. Richard Russo Straight Man.
4. The Kenzie and Gennaro series by Dennis Lehane (my favourite being Darkness Take My Hand).
5. The Harry Bosch series by Michael Connelly (my favourite so far being The Last Coyote).
6. The Myron Bolitar Mysteries by Harlan Coben.
7. The Atticus Kodiak series by Greg Rucka. (my favorite so far being Finder or Critical Space.)

Seven movies I watch over and over again (or would if I had time):

1. The Godfather (Pts I &II)
2. Raiders of the Lost Ark.
3. Blade.
4. Jaws.
5. Get Shorty.
6. Out of Sight.
7. Unbreakable.

Note: this list was written, re-written and written again more times than I care to admit and this was what I had when I gave up. The actual list is waaaaaay longer than 7.

Seven things I couldn’t live without:

1. Michelle (aww).
2. Comic Books.
3. Bit Torrent.
4. My mobile (I’m ashamed to say).
5. Frijj Milkshake.
6. Starbucks.
7. Bananas.

2005 Questionare

1)Was 2005 a good year for you?
Hmmm… Judging by my memory and Blog entries I have a new nephew, new friends, a new cat and a new path in life in 2005 – so yeah, it was peachy.

2) What was your favorite moment of the year?
Booking the honeymoon was a pretty good moment as was booking the registrar but I tend to lean towards finding out that my student card gets me free cheeseburgers at McD’s…

3) What was your least favorite moment of the year?
Well that’s not tough to figure out – getting fired and potentialy ruining all wedding plans and life as Michelle and I knew it pretty much beats not winning the lottery 97 times this year (so far).

4) Where were you when 2005 began?
My parents house.

5) Who were you with?
Michelle, my mum and my dad

6) Where will you be when 2005 ends?
Good question – I turned down two parties last year so if I get invited to one this year I’ll go to that. (the though crossed my mind to have a party myself but the flat’s too small)

7) Who will you be with when 2005 ends?
Probably Michelle, my mum and my dad when the actual bell tolls but that’ll be after leaving somewhere then probably returning to going somewhere else.

8) Did you keep your new years resolution of 2005?
Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha – you crack me up. Let’s recap my list.

1. Save for the wedding.
   RESULT: Fail – I lost my job and became a student! How’s that for crappy saving.
2. Lose weight.
   RESULT: Fail – I actully gained weight. In fact I actully went up a notch in my belt from August to November.
3. Work on scripts.
   RESULT: Fail – though still going strong in my head I think I may have typed some re-writtes or new matterial three times in the last year (if even that much).
4. Be more sociable.
   RESULT: Pass – Over this year I’ve got to know people better and made new friends for the first time in 12 years.

9) Do you have a new years resolution for 2006?
Might as well try for last years failures and add a ‘study hard’ for good measure.

10) Did you fall in love in 2005?
I fell a long time ago and show no signs of getting back up.

11) If yes, with who?
Michelle.

12) If yes, do they know?
If the dimond ring and proposal didn’t get my point across then surly the fact that I tell her at least 10 times a day should do it.

13) Are you still in love with them?
Ah you know the tune - " I love you more to_day than yes_ter_day..."

14) Do regret it?
No.

15) Did you breakup with anyone in 2005?
Have you not been reading? Do I have to come over there?

16) Did you make any new friends in 2005?
First time in 12 years – which also includes people I already knew but have just got to know a little better. (I say 12 years to stress my new sociable status but in truth I made a good friend in Stuart over the previous year).

17) Who are your favorite new friends?
All of them! Sounds like a cop out for me to say that but for me to say they are my friends means that I really like them.

18) What was your favorite month of 2005?
I don’t know. What kind of question’s that? September I suppose – I started college and it was my birthday so I saw all my friends.

19) Did you travel outside of the UK in 2005?
No I haven’t been out of the uk in 6 years..

20) How many different states did you travel to in 2005?
I am always more or less in the same state. It ranges from grouchy to sombre.

21) Did you lose anybody close to you in 2005?
Yes. My aunt, Jean, died on late in the morning on 15th November. I did try to write Blog as a eulogy to her but I realised that I didn’t know her well enough and it just ended up being about my guilt in not doing more for her when she was sick since she lives one minute walking distance away from me (see I did it again!).

Jean was kind hearted and always jovial, she also had an amazing faith which I know would have been a comfort to her in the end as it always had been.

Sorry to end on a downer but I didn’t write the questions.

Start Spreadin’ the News

Honeymoon’s booked! I dragged my cold/flu infected body down to the centre with Michelle on Monday where we went into Cambuslang Travel and a very helpful lady named Yvonne spent over an hour getting the best price for us. We had not come unprepared, we were armed with a previous quote from Thompson travel agents (which was not much more to be fair) which was to be the bench mark Yvonne had to beat.

After getting all the details and our new quote I headed home fuzzy headed and sniffley while Michelle went to lunch with her sister. I wasn’t so fuzzy headed enough however to forget to try and beat my new price. I phoned Magic breaks and then another place which my mum suggested and which name escapes me to try and beat Yvonne’s quote. They failed surprisingly and Spectacularly.

Given the recommendations I had received for these places as the places to go for a good cheap holiday my renowned scepticism was tweaked as to the quality of the Yvonne Quote. My sister had previously recommended a site called tripadvisor.com to me so I went looking for the hotels listed in the Yvonne Quote. Both hotels were fine, with one having very high reviews and, while the other had mixed reviews, most of its points were lost simply by the age of building rather than the accommodation its self.

The Yvonne Quote was a winner and it was booked yesterday morning.

My Wife and I will fly from Glasgow on the 2nd September heading for New York City, New York where we will stay at The Jolly Hotel Madison Towers located in Madison Avenue (and seen above to your left). We will stay in the earth greatest city for five nights departing on the 7th September for the Hawaiian island Kauai (Jurrasic Park was filmed there!)where we will stay at the ResortQuest Islander on the Beach Hotel(above right) for a further 5 nights in an ocean view room. (below)

Obviously there are lots of things to do in NYC and in Hawaii we can just chill out and enjoy the sun the sand and the sea.

Naturally this wonderful holiday had to have one draw back (you didn’t think it could really be that perfect did you?). Seems we have to make a stop for a whole day on the way back home in San Francisco. I suppose we’ll just go to Alcatraz or something to pass the time…

NB: the story above has been slightly edited for the sake of poetic licence. All details of the events described are accurate though the actual booking of the Honeymoon was a little more long winded than I though necessary to tell.

PS You’re all so jealous! You know this and I know this.

Baby Face

Best. Facial Hair. Ever.

Anti-Nap

Here I am going on about weddings , lost jobs, new babies and college courses when I have neglected to mention a new addition to my household. Michelle will tell you if you ask that this thing was simply the Best. Gift. Ever. (though possibly without the pop culture emphasis) and I will grudgingly agree that it is nice to have around. The “it” I refer to is Michelle’s kitten who we eventually called Fudge.

Laura and Stuart took Michelle and I to Maryhill (to buy Michelle’s birthday gift after I had given my reluctant consent to do so. Thankfully when we got there we found no jewellery on the kitten nor did she have her ears pierced, apparently it’s only the human children that have this done to them (right after the doctor smacks the weans arse I hear). When we got her home and opened her cat box the then nameless kittens first act was to run and hide behind the couch. Then behind the chair. Then under the computer.

After a few days she stopped hiding (as much) and was quickly bonding with Michelle. After much posturing in the time leading up to the cat being bought my intended indifference was shattered when I saw the cute tiny wittle pwitty kitten!

***

Much thought went into her name and though I called her Stinkor (complements of Mr. Tonner) for quite some time we came up with a definitive name on the third day. Named after the mischievous tomboy and classic literature character we would call her Scout.

We would call her Scout, as it turned out, for about a week until Michelle decided she didn’t like it. Yet again the kitten was nameless and I refused to allow Michelle simply call her ‘Cat’ which she had wanted to do. I’m also generally against having human names for animals unless it fits, and none of the human names suggested did so.

You’d have to ask Michelle came up with it but eventually she suggested, in fact stated that the kitten’s name was Fudge. Now at first I thought “Fudge?” in the same way that I’m sure anyone reading this for the first time must be thinking it. In due course though the more I thought of Fudge being the name for this kitten the more it seemed to fit for me. Others when I told them said “Fudge?” as I had and my sister said that it sounded rude but, like me, they came round to it.

***

I’m a little ashamed to say (though I’m not sure why) that I love having the cat around. Sure she claws the foot stool, sure I have to shovel her excrement into a bag and out to the bin but that doesn’t matter. She’s fun, she’s friendly (no clawing) and she’s clean. However I could live without the anti-naps.

Between the hours of 4.30am and 5.30am I am awoken each night by a poking on sole of my foot. This is not painful by any stretch of the imagination but it does mean I’m awake. And once I’m awake I’m awake, it takes half an hour to an hour out of my sleep thus it’s kind of the opposite of a nap; an Anti-nap. I used to think she was hungry but these days I think she’s just bored. Michelle and I are out all day so she naturally just sleeps. It turns out that by 5.30am she had her fill of sleep so she’s up.

I can’t keep her out the room because there’s not latch on the door and I can’t keep her in the living room because her litter box is in the hall and if you move that they get confused about where to go to the toilet and I’m not cleaning that mess. It’s not so bad really. I get a drink and I can get stuff ready for the morning.

In truth I know that if I could keep her out the room I wouldn’t. her bed’s in our room and she just cries and scratches pathetically at the door anytime we try to block it. You try not feeling bad about a tiny creature trying to get to you for no other reason than not wanting to be alone!

Ah I’m weak and I know it…

Photo Finish (A Halloween Miracle)

With 90 minutes on the clock and only one minute of injury time to be played good fortune struck a belter into the net and saved the day. Yes, our costumes did arrive. I attribute our luck in having said costumes delivered mere hours away from the party celebrating the pagan ritual of Hallows Eve to my long standing worship of the pagan God Bastardus Jammya.

It was 11am on the 31st day since ordering the Deluxe Jack Skellington costume and the Sexy Wonder Woman costume from toynk.com via EBay. My mum was coming to pick me up so we can do our weekly Asda run in fifteen minutes so I was getting ready to leave the house when my door was chapped. You might expect a deity handed my that box, a golden vision maybe a burning bush but in fact it was a short middle aged man on the wrong side of thirty in a dishevelled blue uniform.

I couldn’t believe it. I had remarked to Michelle earlier in the week that with my luck the costumes would turn last minute but even I didn’t believe that my uncanny ability to “always land on my feet” would help us this time. I’ll never disbelieve again.

***

The party was a great success and everyone did a great job with their costumes, in particular Scott’s headless man, Gary’s granny wolf and, for his all too convincing character acting, Dillon’s performance as the über ned/chav Dilz.

Some of the night’s highlights include Dillon’s (As Dilz) techno rave dancing, Dillon’s (as himself) being shoot in the ass with an airsoft rifle at his request, and if I’m not mistaken Jack Skellington’s rendition of Aqualung’s Strange & Beautiful was quite well received. I’m unsure of this because as remarkable as the talking mask was it’s faults lay in the almost total lack of vision sound and air. Most likely to be the most talked about event of the evening was the appearance of Laura and Stuart’s forty something drug indulging slut neighbour known only as The Razzler.

***

The meaning of the Razzler’s title is still shrouded in mystery and her exploits, dating back to the time before Laura and Stuart had even heard of their now home and far too notorious and explicit to see print in these pages, but rest assured they are the stuff of depraved legend. Like a buzzing fly she appeared seemingly from nowhere and could not be removed. Claiming that she wanted to see the flats balcony at 3:30 in the morning The Razzler was no sooner in the door when a drink and a fag (in the non-smoking flat) materialised in her had and she had settled into a seat, integrating herself in the middle of people’s conversations.

Knowing my tolerance of unknown people and interlopers Laura asked if I could get her to leave. I considered doing so but knowing that Laura and Stuart had to live next to this woman I decided that my careful chosen words, “get out”, lacked the finesse that was required.

It wasn’t long after that until a series of faux taxi’s were being phoned and two by two the guest of the party retreated in hiding to there faux home a.k.a. Laura and Stoo’s Bedroom. Michelle and I along with Stuart’s younger brother Gordon were forced to actually exit the flat with the virtually pulling the Razzler with us out of the door. Eventually though she did go across the hall to her own home, but not before asking Gordon if he was sure he didn’t want to join her for “a wee drink an a smoke”. I’m assuming she was not reffering to tobacco as earlier in the night she had explained that her fourteen and sixteen year old boys were in the flat getting stoned while she forced her company on us. Fourteen and sixteen.

After the bothersome entity had bee exercised the night continued (sans time change) to 6am, when tired eyes prevailed over drunken minds. This was much to the disappointment of Stoo and Michelle who were up for more chat and finishing the already half finish bottle of Southern Comfort they had started scat hours before.

***

Tonight is the “post match” dinner at Shenanigans before we see Second Hand Elastic Band a.k.a. Gary’s band play at the same venue, and I’ve just realised that Stoo will be dropping by to pick us up any second.

Until next time then.

P.S. Thanks to Dave Hogg for providing the link pictures - to see more Halloween photos follow this link

4x3

So we get one of those wee cards through the door, you know the ones that say you have to go down the centre to the post office to collect something, and it says we have to pay £1.27 postal or something like that. So Michelle and I are all like "Cool beans that must be the Halloween costumes!”. So I get showered and dressed and get on my way down to the collection point full of smiles and relief that our costumes had finally arrived. You might even say I had a spring in my step.

So I get to the post office window, I've got my smash ready to had over and I ask the gentleman behind the counter to bring me my goods. Off he goes then into the back, he's a few minutes back there but I don't mind, I figure that maybe the box/boxes are awkward to carry due to the size of them. He's soon back at the window and I'm confused because he's not plunked down a couple of awkward boxes in front of me. He's not even plunked an easily handed box down, no; he has gently placed a 4x3 inch envelope in front of his customer. Me.

I study this posty guy for a sec. He's not got a lot to do behind this window I think. He's bored and having a little joke at my expense. He must read my thoughts because he says
"You can read it and decide if you want to pay if you like".
I do as he suggests and remove a small card from the small envelope which proclaims 'Thank You!' rather than the 'You're on Candid Camera!' I was hoping for. Inside the card is my sisters hand writing thanking Uncle Craig and Auntie Michelle for the Dora the Explorer Leapster game I bought my niece Anna for her 4th birthday singed off with her own oversized, yet impressive for a new four-year-old, signature. Needless to say; I paid.

My sister assures me that she did put a stamp on the card but since that time I've learned that several others also had to make a pilgrimage to their own post offices to pay for their own 4x3 inch card.

Dull Boy

Yes I’ve already complained about this, I know, but that was more of a “I won’t see Michelle” gripe while this is a “My life without me” gripe. Seriously I have no time for me! I have college, course/home work , study and my job Monday to Friday, I have a few measly hours on a Saturday once I take away food shopping and general home making things (a woman’s works never done… hey wait a minute…)and Sunday (this is not a moan) is my day with Michelle. So Let’s see That’s Monday to Friday, Saturday and Sunday covered so that leaves… right. Look at the time I’m doing this at if you think I’m exaggerating!

On a separate note our Halloween costumes haven’t arrived yet and the party’s on Saturday. I hope they come during the week because I have no time (did I mention that before) to get another and have vowed to turn up in a pair of tighty whitey Y’s if I do not receive the costumes.

In the mean time, at least I have my writing to keep me happy.

All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.
All work and no play makes Craig a dull boy.

37 hours

Band E1 Administrative Officer for Operational Services based in HM Reverence & Customs Centre One tax office. As of yesterday that’s me, that’s who I am Monday to Friday from 5pm to 10pm.

If the training for the post is anything to go by then it should be pretty easy money (not to mention a tidy sum for part time employment) and indeed very welcome money with our, Michelle and I, nuptials seemingly steamrolling their approach.

As happy as I am to no longer be a kept man and contribute to our household income I am troubled that my new found employment is a regrettable thief of time. More precisely time with my Fiancée.

I have long considered myself to be a loner – someone more comfortable with my own company than that of others – in truth though I’ve discovered that it’s not solitude I crave but comfort. I’m never happier than in the company of those I can be myself with, with whom I feel no pressure to entertain or pander to. The list of these people is short to be sure (though expanding throughout this year) and each person on it has earned my ease with long hours of laughter, personal history and of course the ‘power chat’. This wasn’t the case with Michelle though.

I have always felt a deep sense of serenity in Michelle’s presence from the very moment I met her. No doubt my reader’s eyes are rolling to the ceiling with this sugar-coated stack of sentiment; nevertheless, it’s true I assure you. I can’t tell you the date we met and at that time it was the wrong thing to be feeling given that I was meeting my friend’s (my best friend’s – my practical brother’s!) new girlfriend but I can tell you that she gave me a most unsettling calm.

Since moving in together two years ago Michelle and I have spent 90% of our free time together and I fear for how we will fare now having to be so much apart. I don’t worry that our relationship will suffer - not at all. My plight is that Michelle hates to be alone. Ask my bride-to-be and she will tell you different no doubt, but, I know her better than anyone and I know that she hates to be without me. I might sound like a braggart, big headed even but I know that what I say I true for the simple reason that the same is true of me. Our only difference is that I have things to fill my isolation – such as computer games, comic books, and the writing of overly long Blogs for example. Michelle has no such hobbies to pass her time and as anyone knows a night alone in front of the television is a long night indeed.

To see someone 37 hours a week sounds not too bad to any of you I’m sure. This estimate however is a ‘best case’ estimate and one that includes the wee hours of a Saturday night and is comprised mostly of our only day together with drips and drabs of the spare week day hours making the final amount.

As I said before - I’m sure your eyes are rolling at the melodrama of my troubles. Especially since I’m a student making a close to full time wage, however if I could ask you the favour of remembering that Michelle will be on her own for the majority of the following months (years?) I would be grateful if you could maybe send her a short text or give her a short phone call from time to time. Cheers.

IKEAthon

After getting home from Kenny and Claire’s housewarming at 12:30 on Saturday night I have to say that I wish I had stayed for a couple of more hours. My thinking at the time was that I was going to Ikea the on Sunday and that it would probably be a hard day, what with shopping for the furniture, then the building of the furniture. Wide awake and at home early on a Saturday I though at the time I must have been crazy to leave the party – as it turns out though I was right.

Stuart and Laura, our kindly chaperons, picked us up to go just after 1pm. We got back just before 8pm. How in the hell we spent over five hours in the one shop I’ll never know. Not that I wasn’t as much to blame as anybody. There wasn’t a model kitchen, bathroom, study, bedroom or even utility room that we didn’t look at or a product that we didn’t at least look at once and even at that our duration still baffles me.

I’m aware that this sound like a moan and that I’m making out it was a terrible day – that wasn’t the case at all I was just shocked at the time frame in which it took place! In fact I only have two complaints about the day at all. Firstly, and I suppose not so bad, is that we forgot to get a towel rail – I know “so what” but it’s annoying to forget little things. The second moan I have concens the fact that half way though the day, while stopping for a bite to eat, I got a pain in… let just say a delicate area, and that said pain did not subside until later that night.

So got a new footstool/chest, a huge bathroom cabinet, cushions for the seat which I am sitting on as I type, bed side lamps, shelving for the bedroom and a whole mess of other crap which somehow came up to a fairly substantial amount. Well the plan was to do the house up… so I guess this is what it takes to get it done.

Worst Uncle EVER

Today is my niece Anna’s 4th Birthday.

Since she lives down south I ordered, as per my sisters suggestion, Dora the Explorer - Leapster Software (I believe Leapster is a sort of preschool Gameboy with educational virtues) for her from Amazon. As I ordered it on Wednesday I was fairly confident that the gift, wrapped and with message, would surely reach my sisters door either on Friday or better still today. It did not.

Worse still is that yesterday, I saw this package as my saving grace. Arriving home in the late afternoon after being in Glasgow I near immediately watched the season premier of Smallville Season 5 and following that was visited by Jim. At 16:30 dressed in joggies and an old t-shirt I realised that I had forgot to pick up a card, and with the post pick up at 17:00 I knew that there was no time to get one.

Although I’m sure Anna won’t care, she’ll be surrounded with cards and gifts, I feel I’ve let her down. After all though the cards and gifts she will receive today will be plentiful, they will be sent by a multitude of people including my parent friends as well as my sister and brother-in-law’s. These people are virtual strangers to Anna but managed the simple and swift task that I failed.

Comfortador

Does anyone even read my other Blog? Anyone at all?

Say Hello To My Li’le Frien’

All together now: - Awwwwwwwwww

Meet Jonathan William McFall, my now nine-week-old nephew, born on the 27th July.

Not much I can say about the wee man that you can’t see in the picture but as far as I can tell he’ll be a stand up guy and break a lot of hearts :)

Anna will be 4 on Saturday so I'm sure I might get a pic or two then. In the mean time you can follow the link and look at lots of her baby photos.

Chatsworth

I was going to write about my new nephew just now but I found out that I accidentally deleted the pictures I intended posting. I’m waiting for Lorraine (my sister) to forward them to me again so in the mean time I’ll talk about something else girly: clothes.

Hat you see to you left is the idea of suit that I’m going to wear to my wedding. Not the waistcoat and tie just the suit.

I always knew I wanted a long coat in this style because it suits me so well but I was never sure if they existed. I’m thinking along the lines of those displayed below for the cravat (in the syle seen on the right) and waistcoat.

So what do you think? (click images to enlanrge)

Return of the Native

Ever since I decided to make this great return to the world Blogging I’ve wondered if I should keep both my Blogs going and if so how I would distinguish between them.

It took the best part of a few seconds to think of, so it might not stick, but I believe I have a solution.

AMBLOG – my original and vast posting page will focus, as it always has, squarely on the wonder to modern science that is me. Chronicling my life like a sort of online diary (without my innermost thoughts of course).

COMFORTADOR – the Blog I created to give my interest in the practice new lease of life will now become where I tell it my way. I’m thinking film, book and other media reviews and recommendations, Links to interesting sites and the occasion commentary on the world at large.
As I said it might not stick but we’ll see how I do.

My return to AMBLOG was last night, follow this link (or scroll down) to view it.

And I’ll try to think of something to review or something for COMFORTADOR by some time tonight.

"I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

Welcome back folks. You all still with me? Thought not.

Ah, but still the tide it is turning in this ongoing novel I call my life. Interest’s been waning the last few years so my publishers Fate & Destiny decided the franchise needed a long overdue revamp.

First off the protagonist got fired from the job that the readers felt he whined too much about and caused the lagging pace of the prose in the last few volumes. Next the author sent him back to collage to do a degree in Business Studies with a possible lead in to a career in teaching.

The hope is that this bold new direction and some new supporting players give the character a new lease of life and give the reader a renewed appreciation of the series.

Of course thing can’t go that easyfor our hero. As long time followers of the books will be aware there’s a marriage to long time love interest Michelle not too far away. Add to this the change in career from reasonably paid office worker to student and it should help generate a little tension when it comes to financial and social aspects to story not mention the romance element.

All in all I think it’s a good plan. Over the last few editions the lead had become a little reparative. Some might say stale. These changes in story elements might be just what are needed to make things interesting again.

The pages are being written as we speak and personally I can’t wait to see what twists and turns are in store this time around.

Workmates

Debbie and Roz in my work were looking at the site today. I try never to write (or in fact think) anything bad about anyone so I wasn’t worried about them reading anything, but, I have to say that it was slightly embarrassing to have them read my moans about work. On the other hand they are probably the first people to be on the site (including me) in months.

P.S. for anyone that still reads this or cares I’ll write a proper post in the near future.

What's in a Name?

The title of my new Blog, ‘Comfortador’, is a word which was invented by writer extraordinaire Joss Whedon, the man responsible for films such as 'Alien:Resurrection' and 'Toy Story' as well as the excellent comic book series ‘Astonishing X-Men’. His television work however is what he is most famous for, having created the critically acclaimed cult television shows ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and ‘Angel’

The word is a play on ‘Conquistador’ a word that literally means ‘He who conquers’ but I believe can used to also mean ‘He who seeks conquest’. It is from the second meaning that Comfortador is derived from - meaning ‘He who seeks comfort’.

I had a text from my friend Michael (Nigel) yesterday asking me to describe him in just one word. I couldn’t do it, I came up with ‘witty’ which was, to put it plainly and politely, rubbish. But comfortador is my ‘one word’, my descriptive. All I want is to live a quiet and happy life. I don’t seek fortune or fame but I equally don’t want to constantly struggle and be unremarkable. I don’t care if I’m the best or if I win or lose, I have no interest in conquest I just want to be happy, to be comfortable.

I know that might seem a little boring, a little unambitious, maybe even a little old fashioned - but I’m comfortable with that.

Grandfather

Have you ever thought that the life your parents have led is far more interesting than your own? I certainly have, In my family there used to be a new shocking discover just about every year. The most shocking of which from my perspective came when I was between 10 and 13 and found out that my dad had been married to someone before my mum and that I had a brother and sister I never met.

My parent’s stories are filled with gangsters they socialise with, murders and murderers, secret births and weddings – and this is just the stuff they tell us about! Most fascinating to me however is the kidnapping of my mother when she was a baby by her father.

Martin Wedlock, my Gran’s first husband, was at some point in time, was stranded on a raft for three days by himself. I don’t know what had happened that caused him to be on that boat and neither does my Mum, but, she had been told that when her father had left to go to war he was said to be a kind man and loving husband. When he came back his time in the water had changed him, something had splintered his mind while being stranded and he had apparently developed a terrible temperament.

I apologise if the details here are a little sketchy but the fact is that I don’t think my Mum, who told me about this, knows all that much about it. My Mother had never met the man and in fact only saw her father for the first time a few months ago in some pictures that she was able to get from some of his family that she was able to track down.

Some time after the change in Wedlock’s personality my Grandmother had filled for divorce, whether she had already given birth to my mother or if she was pregnant I do not know. All I know is that when my Mum was still an infant in her crib Martin Wedlock took her and jumped out of her first story bedroom window with her in his arms. As dramatic as this was my mother was soon back home after my Gran and her sister went round to where Wedlock was living and simply took her back home.

I wish I knew more to tell you, if fact I just wish I knew more about the man full stop, but, anyone who could tell me about him and this incident is sadly dead or simply unapproachable for comment. The family that gave her the photographs of him told that he my mother that he had been a very kind man who was always smiling and joking. Having apparently having got over his problems Martin Wedlock, as my Mum always refers to him never as ‘my father’ or 'dad', remarried and lived a happy life in Fife until he died at some point in the last decade or so.

Idol Chat

Think about your hero, think why they are your hero and what it is you admire about them. I only bring it up because I mentioned my own hero, Muhammad Ali, in last night’s blog and thought that I should qualify or explain that statement.

Born Cassius Marcellus Clay to a poor family in Louisiana Ali fought his way to the top becoming Heavy Weight Champion of the world for the first time in 1964. After retaining the title for 3 years beating 9 challengers, Ali was stripped of the title in 1967 for refusing to be drafted into the Vietnam War. He would twice regain his stolen title becoming the first man in history to win the belt three times and becoming the greatest boxer of all time. Despite his sporting achievements, which are impressive and worthy of note, it was Ali’s actions outside of the ring which merit my idolism.

His refusal to join the US Army came after the draft board, which Ali had been tested by previously, altered their requirements for service meaning that hundreds of men who had been unfit for service suddenly found themselves being fitted for boots and a helmet. Using his position as a public figure Ali refused to fight in war for the same people who would not allow him to sit with them on the bus or eat at their table – In his own words, spoken to a reporter,

"No Vietnamese ever called me nigger."

It is this firm conviction in what he believes to be right and his
unflinching will power to do what says which I admire. He was poorly educated
but highly intelligent and as fast with his mouth as he was in the
ring.

There is a line in the film ‘Ali’ ,which I am not sure if
Muhammad ever spoke, but I believe it sums up the man perfectly.

"I don’t got to be what nobody else wants me to be and I ain’t afraid to be
what I want to be."

What better words to live by are there?

The Last(?)

In homage to my first post, simply titled 'The First', I want to give this post the equilly simple title of 'The Last', but I can't help but type that question mark.

The truth is I may from time to time and update the chronicals of my quest for an avarage life - not so much on a day to day basis; more on a 'when there is actually something to tell basis'. This is something I won't be doing on my new blog 'The Comfortador' and tell you the truth I'm worried that if I don't update this site every so often that it will be wiped.

The New Frontier

I don’t know how it happened, maybe we’ve all figured out that our lives aren’t as exciting as we might have wished, but it seems that blogging is just about ready for the long dark sleep – at least amongst those I know to participate.

Last week Michelle, Laura, Stuart and Myself spent a few days in Millport, and although there are some stories to tell I can help but feel that I would rather tell my stories in company and hear the laughs and the comments first hand. Don’t you?

In my case I feel I have also began to use my blog as a sound board for my whines and gripes about my job - I’ve become a bore on the subject to the extent that even I can’t be bothered listening anymore.

To that end I will be no longer be writing about the mundane day to day happenings of the work place or my home life, there will be no more tirades about my unsatisfying work my stories will be kept for ears to listen rather than for the eyes that I suspect no longer read them.

Despite all this I don’t really want to give up my own little corner of the internet. I still love being able to Google myself. From now on my blog will concentrate on the stories I have told hundreds of times before - the ones I know will bring a smile to faces. I’ll also look the little oddities and peculiarities that happen and go unremarked upon in everyday life – In short I’ll look for those things that are worth writing or at least that people might just find at least mildly interesting, amusing or worthy of their time.

I don’t think it will be easy, but as I tell anyone who’ll listen I would love to write for a living and if forced I might even tell you that I think I have a aptitude for it, so here’s my opportunity to prove it.

To mark this change of pace I’ll be giving the site a new look soon, wish my venture luck and I’ll see you in the new frontier.

Emergency Call

I’ve just played a message that was on the phone in my work on the speaker phone. The message played as follows: -

"Aargh shit! Awright, Ah’ve cut ma willy on a barb wire fence, ah need help. Ah f**kin’… Whit ah need is a tube of Savlon, a plaster – big plaster, and ah f**kin wet suit and a divers helmet. Bye."

The time of the call was early Sunday morning the caller was unknown.

Gucci Shoes

How many people are working today? Just me? I thought as much. Never the matter, despite the fact I’m sure you’ll all be too busy with your free time and your sunny day to read my post I’ll write it anyway.

In truth though I did have a good weekend and was out all day on Saturday there’s not much to tell. As I had mentioned in my last post, Saturday was Nigel’s birthday day out. We had lunch/dinner in town at Underworld late in the afternoon, I went home to get Michelle, who had been at work, and we rejoined everyone at Shaw’s. As per usual in this kind of night there was lively debate and much laughs were had by all but, as anyone knows these laughs are best left to the night and never retold in a way that does them justice.

The only story I will tell from that night is the socially awkward conversation I had while trying to explain how I was socially awkward. As an example of a social situation in which I felt strange was when Shaw and I found ourselves sitting in the flat playing the X-Box. “So, what?” I’m sure your saying much as everyone did on the night. I explained to them, as I will explain to you now, that in spite of knowing Shaw for over a decade through school and being friends with him for quite a few years I had never found myself in his company when we were not in a group. Now if I sit with Nigel, I sit with Sparkie, I sit with David, Jim, obviously Michelle and these people know I’m not a conversationalist and are comfortable with that. Bottom line they know me. As much as one person can know another they know me, and it comforts me to know that they know, you know? I’m a comfortador (my new favourite word) and when I find myself with people other than this I feel a tension fill the room, I have to talk, and I have to say things, any things.

Understand? No, neither did Shaw who, no doubt helped by the drink, summed up my explanation to the result that I was exclusively uncomfortable in his company alone. This was, I think, mostly he and everyone else having a laugh at my expense but that did not stop me fervently trying to back pedal to extent that my throat was raw and my voice was hoarse.

In spite of this hole digging exercise in ridicule and misunderstanding both I and Michelle had a great night which lasted into the wee hours of the morning.

The other point of interest from the night was the fact that there may be a new addition to our one bedroom flat, but I don’t want to say too much until I’m sure there’s something to say.

For now I’m off to clear the shite from my desk and reflect on my social issues.

Club Foot

The track of the Serenity trailer is ‘Club Foot’ by Kasabien. Thanks to Stoo for the answer that has alluded me since Thursday evening. I feel like kissing you for telling me, however, you will of course only receive a manly handshake and perhaps a firm pat on the shoulder.

8 Days a Week

So, eight days and no post (technically nine days now given the time) you’d think I’d have plenty to report, but sadly this is not the case.

The most interesting thing to happen all week was a former college, with whom I worked with in my previous employment. Big wow wee you may say, but if you'll take a moment for me to delve into a little of my employment history I can explain the impact this interview had on me.

Back in my last job, half of the staff of which including company directors now work with me in my current job, I sat in a table of four which covered administration and project co-ordination for the construction department. One half of the table did one set of jobs and the other half did another set of jobs, and when I moved to my new work place the job I undertook no longer existed due to this company being more independent than the last. This being the case I currently am undertaking and learning as I go the jobs that were done by the other side of the table. If you’ve not guessed by now, the reason that I was so concerned about my former college’s interview is that she holds the post other side of the table.

Now, I’ve been assured by friends and family that I have nothing to worry about and that there’s no way I’ll be replaced, but (I know you saw that coming) here’s the thing – if I was my work I might replace me. I’ve done anything to badly mess anything up, not at all, but (there’s that word again) things could be done better simply because I’m learning as I go and I am the only person who can tech me (messed up huh?). This is a new company trying to lay there claim to this particular market place and a company like that needs things to be done as well as possible – I wouldn’t take it personally is what I’m saying. Like I said though, it’s probably nothing.

And that is really the whole show for events so far this week. Coming soon is a day in town and night at Shaw’s tomorrow in celebration of Nigel’s 24th Birthday (which ended three hours ago) and a trip to Millport in a few weeks for a few days with Laura and Street Fighter Stoo. For now, that’s that with that, as I frequently like to say more and more these days. Hopefully by Sunday there will be more interesting happenings to report on.

‘I aim to misbehave’

After an eight day absence I’m sorry to say this is less of a post and more of a question or favour.

Could you please go to the Serenity trailer and tell me what that damn catchy ‘Na na na na na na’ song is in the background. Cheers.

I will post later, count on it.

24 Hour Chump

Did I ever mention that I hate my job? Thought I might have. Given that I do dislike my employment and that you are aware of this fact would it surprise you to learn that I have just (look at time of post) finished the work which I brought home from the office? I thought it might.

I’m not surprised though. I do not like the job but I have to admit that they give me a more than adequate wage. Given this ‘extra’ cash I feel that if I am given a little extra work then I don’t really mind doing a few hours at home (and not taking lunches – but we won’t go into that), though I do wish that I had started to do it earlier.

I started the work around midnight, but the reason for this was that David came round and I wanted to watch stuff on TV – I don’t really mind doing the work at home but I don’t think that work should invade my ‘personal time’. Who needs sleep anyway? I’ll get enough of that in the pine box!

Who needs sleep anyway? I’ll let you know in a few hours…

PS – In other news, with Stuart having decided to return to Tukido I’ve decided to christen him ‘Street Fighter Stoo’ (get it?). I, of course, find his new moniker hilarious and hope that it will catch on as soon as possible.

Hospital Drama

Yet again this week I have not been performing my usual post quota – could it be the novelty is wearing off? No! I’d never give up this my own private soapbox on which I can share my views and news with the world. Instead I was unable to post due to medical problems, just not my own.

On Tuesday night when I came home about 6pm Michelle, who had taken the day off, had still not returned from the pub lunch she had went to with friends at around 2pm. When she did come in she was happy to see me, if fact she was happy to see most things thanks to the four Long Vodkas she had had during lunch. However after an hour or two she was a little less jovial and suffering from a headache, which I naturally teased and showed no sympathy for being the pillar of sobriety that I am. Pitiless am I am to the hangover sufferer I did find it a little weird when she started feeling nauseous – Michelle may be a light weigh in the holding your booze department but upchucking after four drinks? I don’t think so.

Soon after the nausea presented (that’s my ER-esk way of saying started) Michelle was being physically sick, in fact violently sick – this I knew was not due to four drinks. Once the sickness stated it didn’t stop, at all.

At 1 o’clock in the morning Michelle, still being sick, was now beginning to lose consciousness and was visibly thinner and I did what I should have done hours before and called the NHS Helpline. The nurse I spoke to told me to take Michelle to an after-hours clinic and made and appointment for her at Hairmyres for 1:30am that night. I quickly helped Michelle get dressed and phoned a taxi to take us down to the clinic. When we went out to get the taxi Michelle and collapsed at the door to the close and the taxi drove away, the driver shouting to me to phone an ambulance as he went.

I had left my phone in the flat, Michelle was barley conscious at the door of the close and I didn’t know what to do. I decided to get the phone, which meant leaving Michelle in the close – not my favourite decision, but then bad decisions seemed to be my forte that night and what else was I going to do?

The ambulance, lights flashing, took about five minutes to come – it felt like an hour. Once it arrived Michelle was quickly hooked up to monitor, her blood pressure taken, given oxygen, blood was taken and she was hooked up to a drip. I was to put it in the most accurate terms ‘shitting myself’ so you can imagine how Michelle must have felt (turns out not too bad – she was completely out of it).

We left the hospital at four or five in the morning, Michelle was pretty much the same, but they had given her an injection to stop the sickness (for a while) and said the best place for her was to be at home. I never slept, and Michelle didn’t much either as she was soon being sick again.
Over the whole of Wednesday Michelle showed no improvement but was thankfully able to fall into a deep sleep around 4pm which was largely undisturbed until the next morning. As much as I appreciated everyone’s concern I was unable to sleep until eleven that night due to constant phone calls and being overtired.

Today is Sunday and Michelle seems fine, and is as we speak demanding bacon sandwiches for breakfast, The loss of appetite that came with the sickness having subsided sometime yesterday.

If you’re wondering her illness was called Gastroenteritis (gastric flu), I’ve provided a link so you can look it up – it sounds a lot better than it was.

Expressing Our Anger At Optical Retailer

Please read the letter I have ghost written for Michelle for details on how were shafted by a major retail Opticians. I have omited the name of the opticain for I fear I might be sued (like that many people read this - but I read about a similar incident in the paper).

Dear Sir or Madam:

Sometime during the month of February 2004 I was administered an eye test in your store and given a prescription of 0.2505 in my right eye and 0.7505 in my left eye. I then purchased Merino glasses along with another set with tinted lenses for which I paid the sum of £209.

I the last few months I have been experiencing headaches and loss of focus in my vision. I naturally assumed that I might require a new prescription and so visited another retail optician for an eye test. The results of this test showed that I do not require and should never have been prescribed glasses in the first place.

I also contacted my doctor regarding my headaches and loss of focus and I was advised that it was possible both ailments were caused by wearing the glasses that ******* ******* provided me.

At the time of purchasing the glasses I was prescribed by ******* ******* I had recently bought a new flat and was trying to overcome debt from the Christmas period and therefore would not have such a pricey purchase unless I believed it were necessary.

At this time I am now left with a £209 pair of glasses which I do not need and still suffering from loss of focus and headaches from wearing an incorrect prescription that I was given by ******* *******. I demand that action be taken on this matter in order to compensate the waste of my time, money and the damage to health.

I would appreciate a swift response on this issue.

Sincerely,

Michelle Dowling

Full Lid

As I write this I am acutely aware that I have to make this entry much more interesting that my previous lacklustre post, thankfully I had a busy weekend so it shouldn’t be too hard.

When I woke up on Saturday morning at around 8am, my phone rang almost immediately. It was Jim, with whom I had made arrangements to join on a quest to a building site at Leavendale to ‘liberate’ a hand towel style radiator. Unfortunately an hour later we discovered that Jim’s man on the inside had failed to leave the ‘merchandise’ at the agreed place and we were going home empty handed.

Almost as soon as I got home I was back out again to go to Asda for the ‘big shop’ with my mum – on which I spent about £70 on the biggest pile of crap you could fill a giant fridge freezer with.

Back from Asda, I had half an hours rest before meeting Dave at the bookies to waste my money on a host of losers in the Grand National Even more upsetting than the loss was the fact that I upped my bets from previous years having picked the winner three years in a row.

While at the bookies I had got a text from Stuart inviting me up to Mark’s (not Sparkie) for some X-Box. I wasn’t too sure where Mark lived so I arranged to meet Stoo up at the water tower at Greenhills. While I was waiting I saw a girl getting into a car looking over, she was wearing a hood though so couldn’t see who it was at the time – turned out it was Maxine, Jim’s finance who was coming out of her mum and dad’s – small world.

Michelle and I were going for dinner that night at 8 o’clock so when I realised half way through a game of Halo that it was 7:25 – I was fairly certain I’d be getting’ ma baws toed off Michelle. I phoned a taxi and was down the road for twenty-five minutes to 8 and ready in a record 3 minutes flat which left me waiting until quarter to 8 until Michelle, who had been home for an hour, finished getting ready.

Dinner was okay, the meal was nice, but it was slightly spoiled by the ‘Bamtastic’ couples beside us, one of whom at one point suggested to his girl friend near the end of the night that they ‘get a wee gram of coke and head down to Centre Point’. Classy you’ll agree.

When we got home – there was an amusing conversation with my drunken parents (well at least my dad was – not sure about my mum) but as I have written close to 500 words at this point I feel I should wind this post up.

I also have Sunday to talk about but if I’m being honest there’s not too much to report except Michelle and I being shafted out of just shy of £200 by a major retail opticians. Trust me – you’ll hear all about it.

Blah

As sure as I am that I have to leave, I have to say that work has for the first week since starting here flown by this week. My volume of work has been so plentiful that I have not only missed every lunch break this week but I have also been staying late and taking work home. I didn’t even email Laura yesterday! (that’s when I know I’m really busy)

Back on the home front (when I wasn’t working from there) theirs not much to report, applied to a few jobs, Sparkie came round for a while on Tuesday, I got a hair cut and mostly I’ve been watching the variety of US shows I’ve been downloading (The O.C. is the mutts nuts I don’t care what no one says).

I’ve been writing again, I’m finally getting closer to a definitive plan for my story and the last of my ‘final’ drafts.

Well that was all fairly humdrum, usually when I write Blog like this I launch into one of my ‘Three Weeks in ‘98’ stories…

Big Gay Grown Up Week

My uncharacteristic lack of rigorously regular daily posts can be directly attributed to my equally uncharacteristic busy week.

The fact that my desk now faces that of the Managing Director in work is undoubtedly also factor in my lack of updates but I have to say not the deciding factor in why I was not posting from my office chair. After my ‘enough’s enough’ sending out of the CV’s and letters last week my work load seems to have quadrupled, keeping me busy throughout the day (and till 6 o’clock on Thursday night). Don’t get me wrong, the work I’m doing is still that of a trained monkey and I still want to leave, but at least I don’t have much time to think about how insulting to my intelligence the tasks I’m given are.

Away from work was also I was also having a busy, but certainly more pleasant time in what was described by some as ‘gay’. On Thursday night David had arranged a night out with the boy’s, myself included. Nothing wrong with that I think you’ll agree, but apparently the fact that we were not going down to the pub or dancing and instead going for a meal together meant we were ‘Lady Boys’. In fact -Lady Boy’s who lunch. Despite the immature sniggers at our meal together it was a good night – everyone was a little disappointed that Sparkie and Jim didn’t make it but despite this we had a good laugh and were up the road before midnight like responsible adults. We were all working the next day after all…

My next ‘grown up’ social event was the Oxymoron that was ‘Gay Couples Night’. Nigel had planned this from the previous Saturday and on Thursday night I was pleased to hear that others thought the concept of a ‘couples night’ was a strange and middle age activity. In fact it was the naming of the gathering as ‘couple’s night’ which brought forth some kind of ominous pressure that we’d all have to be… ‘coupley’, it was not as if everyone who was going would not have went anyway. If I had been asked to drop my keys in a bowl, I would have been out of there faster that…um… well… I’d be fast is what I’m saying (I’ve never good with metaphors).

Despite my apprehension and Michelle’s worries that none the other girls (who she barley know thanks to my three year long exile from going out) would talk to her the night was great. We had the best time we’ve had in ages and any preconceived awkwardness faded away when we walked through the door.

The Long Good Friday

No bombs went off, don’t worry, but I thought I’d nick the title of the British gangster classic rather than name my post a mundane ‘Long Weekend’

Went on town on Friday during the day and I annoyingly can’t remember what I did that night – probably nothing.

Crystals with Laura and Stoo was Saturday night, which was great – it was a good atmosphere after the Scotland game and Stuarts dancing kept us (and I’m sure others) greatly amused. First time I’ve been out since Halloween so I’m glad it was a good night. Weirdly though, we were amongst the youngest people in there rather than being surrounded by the usual gaggle of 16 year olds.

Went to my ‘aunt’s’ for dinner on Sunday and got to see my wee cousins for the first time in ages. I say ‘aunt’ because despite being my mothers sibling she grew up with my brother and sister and I tend to think of her as equal to them – a sister.

On Monday I got up early and went to work, gutted that the rest of you sons of bitches were still snoring. However when I got into the office and did a bit of this and a bit of that, it was decided that we were too quiet and sent up the road for 1 o’clock. Have to admit I kind of wasted my extra time and did nothing in the afternoon but at least Michelle and I with Stuart and Laura got something to eat at Shenanigans then went to see Hitch (wait for the video) that night.
I apologise this post doesn’t have my usual flair but I don’t seem to get in the writing mind set this morning – must be because I’m back at work

Geek Out!

I have to admit I’m a little ashamed of myself, but I’m really, really excited about Countdown to Infinite Crisis. I usually keep my comic book inclinations to myself – in fact some people I know might not even know I read comic books – but I have been like an eight-year-old about this thing all week.

I’ve been on Internet forums talking about (I never do things like that), I held up the cue in my comic shop talking to the manager, Adam, about the advance copy he’s read. I’m even considering taking a half day on Friday so I can get a copy as soon as possible.

Like I said I usually keep my 'fan boy' predisposition very much to myself, but I figure with all the geeking out this week my self-respect can’t get much lower. Can it?

Apply Myself

After weeks, nay months, of endless gripeing about my unfulfilling and soul destroying occupation I’ve finally got off my arse and done something about it.

I hit Monster, I hit S1, I hit fish4, I hit Job Centre Plus and I have printed a bevy of letters and CV’s – envelops for which are currently placed in my coat pocket cheekily stolen from work.

I’m confident that in just a few short weeks, as long as I stay committed to my cause, I’ll be attending interviews and moving into a new desk. I already feel liberated.

Don’t work though, I know it will be a hard road ahead and that I shouldn’t set my hopes too high, but I’m prepared to tough it out.

Wish me luck and keep your fingers crossed for me! (Do it!)

Back to Reality

An old English proverb states "All good things must come to an end”, I can’t disagree.

Alas my nine day retreat from work has ended and I have returned to that place which substitutes lucid and interesting thoughts with something resembling white noise.

I won’t complain however, I see no point ion ever doing that and I’m tired of my own whining. In truth I can’t complain, during my largely uneventful week off not only did I not send Clair the CV which I had promised to send but I didn’t even visit the job centre or send even one letter away to prospective employers – How can I complain about something I have made no efforts to change?

The week off was okay (a week off’s a week off after all) but like I said, largely uneventful. Aside from a morning in town and a trip to Edinburgh Zoo on Friday Michelle and I did very little, given that this was the case it is fairly surprising to me that we somehow managed to spend roughly £500!

At least I’m off on Friday…

...Nor A Lender Be.

Is it just me? Am I old fashioned to think that if you give someone a loan of something they should take care of it?

Last week I was going to watch The Recruit, which I bought quite a while ago but have yet to properly watch (I feel asleep first time), but when I opened up the case I was surprised to find it was without a disk. Now this DVD had been returned to me a few weeks ago from Nigel who had had the film since before he moved. In this instance I’m willing to accept that a combination of moving home and the habit of taking the disk that is in the DVD player and putting it into the case of the film you’re about to watch, is bound to cause some misplaced items.

This does not mean I’m fine about the missing disk, by no means, but as I know that you read this I want to make it clear that the birthing that follows is not about you Michael. Instead it’s about Rocky.

Before I moved out of my parents I bought the ‘Rocky Anthology’ box set which has all five movies. I had the box set for two days, watched the first two films and then Dave borrowed it. Dave then gave it to Andy and Sparkie has just this night returned the box set after nearly two years. As if this were not enough to piss me off Rocky IV and V are missing.

What the fuck is that all about? Seriously. I buy something, I spend my money on it and someone who is my friend, I don’t know who (but arguably Dave is ultimately responsible since he was the original borrower) loses it? I never even touched those disks and, given they may have been lying under someone’s bed for two years, it’s probably fair to say that they’re gone for good or completely fucked.

I’m done being everyone’s cheapest video rental shop, if people don’t want to look after my shit they can join fucking Global.

Seriously very fucked off about this.

Retro

My title seems apt to describe a recurring theme from the last few days. I suppose first off it was it Dave lending me his ‘Rocky: Legends’ game, nothing fails to bring back 80’s nostalgia like the Rocky theme tune I think we can all agree on this.

Next up was playing Street Fighter II at Stuart’s on Saturday night on the X-Box, rather than on the SNES as it is meant to be played, but still, there nothing quite like a tiger uppercut, or better yet a fire ball.

Scant hours after rediscovering the joys of a Dragon Punch I fond myself with a Sega Master System control pad in my hands, rediscovering how much I suck ass at Micro Machines.

I had taken my X–Box to Stoo’s on Saturday is the hopes that we would do a system like Halo battle with many participants, but given that the ‘many’ turned out to be three people including myself the proposed link never happened. None the less I couldn’t be arsed carrying the massive console back home at 3am on Saturday night. This decision caused me quite the dilemma the next day when, as I often do, I got the urge to ruthlessly shoot and kill lots of people.

After I gave up on my underworld contacts providing me with a Glock 17 9mm fixed sights hand gun, I took down my dust caked N64 and played a bit of classic Golden Eye, in my opinion the greatest FPS ever devised. I soon found that my deadly accurate aim was still intact despite years of neglect and my urge for loud and violent noises was satisfied… for a while…

The final retro incident occurred someone in between all this when instead of thinking about writing my Scripts I actually wrote one, an event unheard of for many a month. As always I hope I keep it up but who knows…

Wow this is late even for me!

Fantabulusish

Hello all you happy people, sorry about all the moaning and self pity yesterday. Don’t worry about it though I’m fantabulus today.

Maybe it’s because I only have a few days to go before my week off or maybe it’s because I’m in some sort of dream like haze since I slept for two hours last night.

You can bet if my good mood is due to the later reason that my unusually chipper mood will deteriorate from fantabulus to craptastic faster than you can say ‘exhaustion’ by at least lunch time.

It’s always fun when I don’t or hardly sleep, I seem to get kind of edgy in a funny way (funny to me at least) and I say thing I wouldn’t normally.

Last time I hardly slept, when I was out with David and Sparkie until 7am, I went to my comic shop and the guy behind the counter said that the last copy of one on the issues I was looking for was in the hand of the twenty something Sk8er Boi customer he was serving. I told him ‘I hope it’s not, otherwise me and this guys going to be wrestling outside’ The Sk8er man-child kind of looked at me to gauge how serious I was (which of course was not at all) and I told him ‘Don’t be scared’. I know the guy behind the counter pretty well, I’ve been going there every week for about five years and on a regular basis for the ten years before that, and he reassured the guy I was kidding.

So it should be fun today… as long as I don’t pass out…

¡Así que es venido a esto!

¡Hola mis amigos, yo he decidido anunciar hoy en el idioma de la pasión! Hago esto para tres razones: -

Razone uno – mostrar aburrió apasionadamente soy ya.

La razón dos – hacerle enterado de cuán salió apasionadamente soy que estoy apagado la semana próxima.

La razón tres – porque yo me pongo’T tiene realmente mucho en decir.

David y Natalie eran redondos anoche un rato y Dave amablemente me había comprado un director nuevo para mi X-CAJA desde que el un control restante acolcha tengo es casi para el cajón.

La salud y la felicidad buenas a todo hoy, yo espero que su día vaya mejor que mío.

The Plan

After watching the highly entertaining and illegally obtained ‘Ray’ with Jamie Foxx, Michelle and I lay in bed and talked last night. We talked from half past midnight until three in the morning about the course our lives have taken and where we would like them to go from here on out. When all was said and done we had the plan.

Michelle’s plan seems to be a simple and highly obtainable goal to reach compared to my own, and I hope that’s how it turns out like that. Basically the plan is to first learn to drive and then get a job as a rep/trainer for a hair company. She has all the necessary qualification, skills and talent to be employed in the job save for the driving, and so as I said, it should be relatively easy with the right attitude and appropriate amount of determination.

This change in career would mean more money, not having to work with the public and, perhaps most importantly, less exposure to the chemicals that irritates and burns her skin.

My own plan, as I alluded to in my earlier paragraph, is a little more complicated. First off I plan to take an HNC in communication in night classes over the next two years, the money will be tight for this with the approach of the wedding, but I may be able to gain some kind of grant to help us out. Following my course, which I will pass with the highest merit, I will take a job with the EK News, and with my first story expose the negligence of the police force which allows semi open drug use and regular violent riots and attacks in the Westwood Square and in particular the Westwood Bar. Following this explosive exclusive article I will of course be head hunted by a major news paper, e.g. The Herald, where I will work for the next decade or so. While gaining journalistic experience as well as life experience I will be working on my first novel, a sure fire worldwide bestseller which will make me rich beyond my wildest dreams.

So there it is. As I said, it may be slightly complicated, but I’m sure I’ll be able to pull it off. Don’t you think so?

Chronic Lateness

I was up just before 7:30 this morning, and had enough time to make lunch and not be in a rush I was out at the bus stop just after 8:00 and on any normal day I’d be getting to work either on time or earlier. But then I hadn’t counted on snow and a traffic jam that started two bus stops past my own (that’s just after Belmont Drive bus stop) and went right the way past the car dealerships.

Couple this fact with nobody having keys this morning and having to wait for a guy that normally doesn’t even work on Fridays to come in with them, and - you guest it – I walked in at the same I do every morning; 15 minutes past my start time.

I can’t win.

Where Everybody Knows My Name

Michelle is the first person I can think of it happening with. First time I met her she said ‘Oh I know you!’ Turns out we were in the same class in Primary Six (something which I still have no recollection of). It happens all the time and I can’t understand it. I hardly ever go out now and before that I never went out at all for about three years. I never speak to people I don’t know. So why do all these people keep saying they know me?

I was asking about Nigel’s new girlfriend last night and he said ‘Oh, she knows you’ much like Michelle had said all those years ago. The same thing happened with a girl Sparkie was seeing a few months ago and when I met my friend Elaine at the dancing, whose boyfriend was with her and I am certain I have never laid eyes on, said the same thing again. And there are others too.

Sometimes they don’t give the ‘Oh’. Sometimes they say ‘Well *he/she* doesn’t really know you, but *he/she* knows your name.’ How! Why do people know my name? How have I, of all people, got such notoriety? I would be surprised if even my best friends spoke about me. There are no stories about me as far as I know, I don’t do anything interesting and I don’t work with people that live in East Kilbride.

I just can’t work it out.

Old Friends Are Best

Sparkie and Nigel were round last night for the first time in ages. I had barely seen Sparkie for more than an hour all year due to his constantly working his two jobs. Even though we just sat about and watched TV it was a good laugh and we were comfortable in the way you can only be in the company of old friends.

Wow, that’s all I have to say. My shortest post ever I think.

Why do I like these things?

:::FAVORITE:::

Movie: – The Godfather.
Book: - Without Remorse.
TV Program: - The West Wing.
Cartoon: - Roadrunner.
Band/singer: - Gomez.
Song: - There She Goes – The La’s.
Food: - Cheese.
Time of year: - Late Autumn.
Thing about yourself: - I'm always honest.
Time of the week: - Friday at 5pm (when else?).
Joke: -

Paddy and Mick are late for their biology class, and in an attempt to save time
they jump over a fence. Paddy makes the jump but Mick falls short and is stuck
with a spike in him. Paddy runs into the class,
‘Miss miss! Mick’s feel and
got a spike up ‘is arse!’ He shouts as he comes into the class.
The teacher,
appalled by Paddy’s terminology and corrects him, ‘Rectum Patrick!’ she
bellows.
‘Wrecked ‘im? It nearly fuckin’ killed him miss!’ says Paddy.

Swear word: - Sons of Bitches.

:::WHAT WOULD YOU:::

Want your superpower to be? Super human strength.
Kill for? Vengeance and love… possibly the last of my mums lemon pie.
Die for? Michelle and my principals.
Change about yourself? My scabby feet.
Buy first with your lottery winnings? The contents of Borders.
Do with 3 wishes? Get money, Have superman’s powers, know everything.
Say to God? Guess I was wrong.
Sell your soul for? To get back someone else’s.
Work as in your ideal life? Comic book writer.
Do to change the world? Destroy the Bush administration.

:::WOULD YOU EVER:::

Steal? Maybe. Depends
Pose nude? Sure, the world needs laughter.
Kiss a person of the same sex? I rarely have much choice about it.
Sing in public? Only in a crowd.

::: PICK ONE :::

Sing or Act? Act.
Fight or Walk Away? Walk away.
Baby Boy or Baby Girl? Girl.
Give up Booze or Give up Cigarettes? I don’t use either.
Half full or Half empty? There’s water in it; it is what it is.
Live without sex or Live without love? Oooooo Sex, no wait! Love… no wait! Sex… I suppose. Maybe.
Books or Films? Books.
Phone or Text? Text.
Personality or Looks? I would have said looks before but Michelle’s gorgeous anyway so I’ll say personality.

:::WHAT IS:::

Your greatest fear? Upsetting people.
Your biggest regret? Leaving collage
The thing most people don't know about you? I never learned to read.
Your talent? Writing hopefully.
Your proudest achievement? Saving over £1000 pounds in the last couple of weeks a finally getting big boy pants after 14 years of soggy failure.
The best thing about you? My stunning wit and charm.
The worst thing about you? My almost constant sarcasm and my ‘little storm’ moods.
The most fun you've ever had? Pervert. Seriously though 29 July 1999. The whole day.
The dumbest thing you've ever done? Had sex for about two years straight without having any protection. Ever.

:::WHO:::

Do you love? Michelle.
Do you trust? Michelle and David mostly but all of my friends.
Knows you best? Michelle, David and Sparkie.
Is like the brother/sister you never had? Sparkie and Dave.