Wednesday 17 March
2010 – ST PATRICK’S DAY
Today has potential.
As I head out all
looks good. Wearing a coat is beginning
to feel more and more unnecessary by the day now as the elements improve and
the sun begins to reintroduce itself to proceedings.
It is a pleasantly
surprising breezy journey to town, albeit with the train beaching three times
along the way creating five minutes of lateness for when we eventually pull
into Liverpool
Street. Today though for once I
feel not fussed by this. Likewise
though as I travel across town on the tube there is equal delay, which this
time is somewhat frustrating as for the duration of the ride a portly older man
decides to squeeze into the seat next to me, a seat barely designed for two
small people let alone to girth burgers.
After my initial chagrin ultimately I am not a hater and soon I slip
into this role (this role of being his rub buddy).
When the tube finally
reaches Baker
Street I spot/notice the young Geena Davis lookalike on
the train. For the entire journey she
had been hiding in the corner. She
always gives me evil looks as I swipe gawps at her. One day I will give up on this shit. As usual today when we exchange glances hers is of scowls and
mine of fear.
Eventually I emerge at
St Johns
Wood and hoof myself towards work.
On the way I find myself getting wrapped up in the Ndubz School
bundle so for fear of comments I just increase the volume on my iPhone and
pretend that they are not there. It
works. Ignorance is bliss.
As I step into the
restaurant I see my reflection in the front door and today my head appears to
resemble that of a Lego figure. Has my skull always been so square in
shape? Usually I thought it was
round. Its not good.
Once into work the
boss seems strangely very happy to see me this morning having been in the
office since 7AM, I suspect on his own.
It unnerves me to have a boss that actually appears to like me, that
doesn’t continuously criticise me and tell me my work is bad. It freaks me out to be on such a personable
level with a figure of authority.
Certainly I am not complaining it is just that it is still such a
foreign/alien concept to me and one that still takes some getting used and
adjusted to (especially following Butt Road and Baker Street).
The Girl returns to
work today and with it her cheeks looking like a lo-fi version of the Lady In The Radiator from Eraserhead. I guess her reason for absence the last two
days was genuine after all. She
expresses great concern over how she looks but even though its noticeable its
not freakish or protruding. Now convincing
her of this is another thing, her being female and all. I have to concede though it is really nice
to have her back.
Soon the boss heads
off to Sussex where he has to
deal with his mother leaving us (me) to deal with the apparently impending
consultant. Can we exchange roles
maybe?
Halfway through the
morning I get into some weird shouty argument with The Girl about Katie Price and Jade Goody. She seems to like worshipping them for being
good mothers. Personally I feel bad for
the better mothers who are in the position of having to provide for their kids
while not having a pot to piss in. I
nail my argument by bemoaning the fact that these celebrities possess
privileged positions off the back of doing nothing of merit, harbouring no real
talent other than being able to whore themselves to the public. I sound truly harsh with my arguments.
Soon lunch comes
around and feeling hungry I don’t care so I order Penne Arrabbiata with
chicken and promptly douse it in tomato sauce (ketchup) to give it an
additional kick. Sure the point of
having such a dish is that it comes with a killer sauce to give the flavour a
kick and individuality.
From here the
afternoon plays out with no real drama.
Finally I find myself pulling my finger out and making progress on the
January accounts of the new company.
In the afternoon
introducing my work colleagues to Chatroulette
is perhaps not the best move of my career.
They both look on as the inevitable visage arrives at which point they
both scream (particularly the Filipino).
Curiously though this does not see The Girl exiting the website.
Late on our boss
returns at a time when we were not expecting to see him back at all. He lets us out at 5.20PM because he wants drinks. I can’t say “no”.
We do business
drunk until 6PM at which point I get to escape and go home. As I walk up Loudoun Road towards the tube
station I spot Harry
Enfield stood outside his kid’s school with all the other parents waiting
to pick it up.
Eventually I wind up
on a 6.38PM train to Clacton and
unsurprisingly it is packed. Just as I
begrudgingly take a standing position in quick succession two goofs with bikes
board the train and suddenly take up all the space. Belligerently I do not budge for them and even begin cursing
these cunts for their arrogance. How
cheap must these fucks be not to shout for a Travelcard to
get them around London? Add on top of this that if our train crashes
they will get in the way of our emergency escape and we will perish, at the end
of the day it just makes no sense!
Thankfully one of the
bike boys gets off at Shenfield and
finally when the Chelmsford
exodus occurs I manage to snag a seat next to a couple of skanks (mother and
daughter) with too much makeup on.
Tonight I can’t be too
angry though as I listen to catch up episodes of The Bugle with both feature The American twice in a
row. This guy is my new hero, he has a
passion that is blind but authorative, one that makes you listen to and take on
board his opinions allowing them to change your own into his way of thinking. He is never right in anything he says but he
sounds right and that at the end of the day is the main thing and how the world
works ultimately. The American, I
salute you. I would say “if only there
were more like you” but my belief, understanding and experience is that they
are all like him.
When I get home
happily I find a second win and manage to tear into some writing. Perhaps its thanks to the Coke and Jack
Daniels buzz from Business Drunk.
Additionally I watch two episodes of Wilfred, both of
which rock.
With the night getting
late I head to bed to watch the recent Zach Galifianakis episode of SNL. Annoyingly I fall asleep during his
monologue. I suck.
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