I'm very sorry to tell you this but I'm afraid my life hasn't been a complete can of spam this week. In fact, this week has been great.
Basically, I've gone and landed myself a new job that I start tomorrow (the joys of being a temp). It is permanent (woooohoooooo) with a view to a Training Contract (Double wooooohoooooo) AND they have offices all over the world so after I've been there a bit I can go and work in France for three months if I want (I don't want to wooooohoooooo myself out or anything but fuck it, lets go for broke, woooooooohooooooooo). So it was with great pleasure that I said, "Adieu" to my last post and ran out of there on Friday crying tears of joy.
There are other things going on behind the scenes as well which all seem to be pretty positive so on the whole it has been a very good week.
Obviously though some hilarity has to be included as my life is one long situation comedy and nothing else. I feel now is a good time to introduce my father. He is a mentalist. Imagine the most Irish person you know (so Irish you can't actually understand what he is saying unless you are lip reading) with the look of a mad professor (curly hair that is sticking up at different angles all over his head because he can't be bothered to have it cut. His words, "I like it. I think it makes me look a bit eccentric") with the personality of someone who can only be high on drugs. All the time.
Anyway, to get you in to the feel of what it is like having to put up with such a father I'll give you a Dad Highlight.
Picture the scene. You've just got off the plane from France with your best mate from uni, we'll call her Mrs Hoppy. Dad has picked us up from the airport and she is in the back (think back to that thick Irish accent that you can't understand unless you're lip reading. Its VERY important). He is asking us how our little holiday went,
Dad: Mrs Hoppy, did you enjoy yourself?
Mrs Hoppy: Yeah (sounding slightly unsure of herself. Clearly plumping for yeah hoping that it would be an adequate answer to whatever Dad was saying)
Dad: Did you do a lot?
Mrs Hoppy: Yeah (still unsure)
Dad: What was the weather like?
Mrs Hoppy: Yeah
At this point Dad turns to me and says: Miss Bladder, I think Mrs Hoppy thinks I'm a bit of a dick....do you Mrs Hoppy?
Mrs Hoppy: Yeah.
How we laughed.....although Mrs Hoppy didn't even realise what she had said until about a year ago when I recounted the story to her.
Anyway, today we were driving past this house that my dad has bought to renovate (he gets bored and it keeps him out of our hair). He is terribly proud of what I call the Death House. Its almost like the daughter he didn't have who will never let him down or rebel. Recently he has had a wall built outside it so he went the long way around so we could fully admire the wall in the pissing rain and bollock freezing cold and he turns around to me and says,
"I'll tell you what. That wall is fucking rude."
Now, I don't know WHO he has been hanging around with but he is a 50 year old man. That is something I would expect MY friends to say (indeed, they do). And for the record, it is used in the context of, "That girl is pretty rude", meaning that girl is pretty fit. So to recap. My dad fancies a wall. Great.
Once we'd managed to leave the wall alone and stop sexualising it my dad asked me how my Saturday night had gone (look what I'm about to do here. Its genius.)
WELL, I hooked up with an old school friend who is okay in small doses but when I say small doses I mean like, 10 minute intervals. We went to a restaurant in Soho that I like quite a lot. Obviously she pissed and moaned about it the whole time we were there. The wine was flowing (it has to be, its the only way I manage to not stab people around me) and we managed to get on to the subject of the Seduced (google it) exhibition and she invited me to come along and see it next Thursday with her, her (37 year old) boyfriend, her "feminist" (completely mental, hacked in to her ex's FB account because she thought he was cheating....which he was but STILL. What would Germaine Greer do?) friend, a man she is setting her friend up with who is an ex-army out of work actor (I KNOW, HILARIOUS) and a load of her uni friends. So to summarise, come and look at pictures of cocks with a bunch of cocks. However, I was too quick for her. I came up with the best excuse ever....
"Sorry, I can't, I'm going to Birmingham that Saturday."
Don't congratulate me. It is clearly the BEST excuse in the whole wide world ever. Totally unrelated to Thursday. I know. I fucking rule. And the best thing? She was totally understanding.
Moving swiftly on. We then went to Farringdon to hook up with the most cultural woman I know and her man friend. The bar was quite loud and so my school friend decided it would be a good time to ask me what my sexual preferences are as she is so 'liberated' and 'out there'. Yes. I was a bit knocked sideways too. Is it the done thing to discuss these things
- with a person who winds you up beyond all belief
- in a crowded bar
On my travels around the internet whilst at work I came across this:
It is possibly one the most pant-wettingly-funny things I have read in AGES.
I also highly recommend
Mark Ronson feat Lily Allen - Oh My God
Highlight: The photo that they got all the visual analysts in for
Natasha Bedingfield - I want to have your babies
Take That - Patience
Highlight: So identikit, in fact, that I now can't tell Howard Donald and Jason Orange apart, so will have to refer to them collectively as Jawar Dorange. (Mark Owen, meanwhile, is still 12)
Sugababes v Girls Aloud - Walk This Way
No comments:
Post a Comment