Tuesday 12 January 2010
Dream: I am looking at my American Friend’s Facebook profile and pining. What a fucking idiot. I also find myself looking over the profile of The Teeth who suddenly appears to have found some confidence in his profile as it now no longer displays more than the minimal information, the minimal information being a fan of the character from Monkey Island and that X-Factor act Same Difference, those horrible incestuous squeaky clean perverts in the closest. What the fuck does it say about a person to display an interest in such an act? Jesus Christ how fucking moronic can a single person fucking be? Quite frankly he might be a serial killer possessing declarations such as those.
Outside today it is more slush now than snow; there isn’t even any real ice which is a major relief now. I really can’t see us being hit with any more heavy weather now even though the news continues to report shit elsewhere in the country and a threat of further snow combined with a distinct lack of grit/salt to put on our roads. Perhaps I’ll get to see the real deal when I head up to Manchester at the weekend.
That said the drive to the station is not without incident this morning as it turns out to be a strangely aggressive drive. I don’t why I am exceptionally snappy this morning (perhaps the dream) but everyone appears to be driving like a moron this morning as for some reason all pedestrians feel it is their given right to just step out in front of me, me in a two tonne automobile. Go figure.
Obviously the train gets delayed this morning as an extended period is spent on the platform hopefully looking out at the train track towards where the train should hopefully be emerging from. Eventually it arrives but not before time.
I’m feeling very uncomfortable at the moment; these I guess are the January blues. My god I am bloated right now, my clothes feel tight and suffocating while that permanently tired feeling is slowly beginning to raise its head again. These things are looming. It is a bad journey into town today, the kind where it feels difficult to breath.
On the tube today appears to be the English businessman version of Statler And Waldorf as a pair of funny looking middle aged talk incessantly finding great humour in criticising every subject matter they choose to discuss.
I have decided to dedicate February to self improvement, which in itself is a backwards way of saying I can do whatever I want now through the remainder of January. That said every year January is always going to be a write off of month during which any scraps of smiles should be snapped up. That said February can hold the key.
As the tube passes through Great Portland Street the station is closed as water engulfs the platform to a detrimental degree. I wonder if this why we proceed to sit between here and Baker Street for a very long time this morning.
Despite such hold ups I eventually get into the restaurant where everything is already opened up. The collective mood sours slightly when The Girl phones in to say she has been ill during the night but she will try to get in, which is a gesture I don’t think she would have been making six months ago.
Tension is in the air today as a managers meeting is being held that comes with an air of feeling very last minute. Even my boss is being dragged into the round table sit down. I am quite thankful that I am not dragged into these; there often is much shouting to heard emitting from proceedings. I wonder if my predecessor used to attend them.
This morning I manage to polish off the head office adjustments on the accounts even though they prove trickier than they really ought to be.
When The Girl eventually turns up she comes in moody and with a grump but at least she has brought in homemade cookies. I’ll put up with her shit provided the biscuits taste good. Happily she soon comes around though.
Before long it is already midday and lunchtime with me today being the only person in the office really eating (going with the salmon, new potatoes and hollandaise sauce option). What is wrong with these people? Gift horse.
In the afternoon off the back of the meeting my boss begins grilling me about areas of the accounts. We are now addressing areas that have long gone unaddressed and thus are in a worse state than they need be. He is obviously concerned that all his capital introduced may not be getting recorded. Being that a lot of it has not hit the bank it is quite probable this is true. Our meeting gets dragged out to home time as I endeavour to post a series of fiddly adjustments on other stuff. As a result of this 11th hour hassle I am glad to be heading home tonight.
When I get home tonight I proceed to drink and write again.
TV tonight is utter bullshit but such is the eternal Tuesday schedule, this night is always a true television no go zone. The point gets truly emphasised when in the space that Nurse Jackie was last week now BBC2 screens a documentary series called Muslim Driving School. Truly what is the point of this programme? To drum up racial hatred? Did we not go through this shit a few years ago with that toothless grin Maureen Rees cunt? Now there was a person that would benefit from driving in a burkha.
Tonight Millwall are playing their FA Cup replay at Derby. Eventually the game goes to extra time where Morison scores again only for ‘Wall to fluff the lead a few minutes later. Inevitably the game goes to penalties which get played out live on Radio Five. Millwall have a long legacy of not being able to take penalties, the most famous example being the two they missed against West Ham in 2004 while in the process of beating them 4-1 (to think it could have been 6-1). Unsurprisingly they lose so with that I head to bed back to the status quo of existence.