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.
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