...j'ai pleuré comme une sallope.
So. It's almost time for Sleazy to turn over a new leaf and relinquish his Sleazy moniker once and for all. It's pretty much guaranteed to be a messy, teary affair. I have still yet to get my arse in gear and send them the requested three songs I want played at the wedding reception. However, I have been thinking about their first dance song a lot. I'm so indecisive I don't think that if I decided to attach myself to a ball and chain I could quite cope with choosing pretty much the most important dance of your life (I could say something extremely crass about the most important dance of your life being that one at the school disco when you were 12 and you accidentally ended up losing your virginity in front of the whole school. But I won't. Because I'm talking about my best mate's wedding. And I wouldn't want to lower the tone).
I've come up with a few options now....so maybe, one day, in the very distant future I can look back on this for inspiration. And a prod to my memory. And the contenders are:
Rick James - Super Freak
Blondie - I Touch Myself
R Kelly - Bump n Grind
Remember that.
As an aside, I'm going to make the unprecedented move of summing up my weekend in two words. Bet you can't think I can do it. Well.
Woot! Yay!
See. Fuck you. Or are you counting these words too? Cos if you are that really isn't fair. Because this is actually abusing you for not having enough faith in me to tell a story using less than 1,000,000 words. Yes. Abuse.
I've come up with a few options now....so maybe, one day, in the very distant future I can look back on this for inspiration. And a prod to my memory. And the contenders are:
Rick James - Super Freak
Blondie - I Touch Myself
R Kelly - Bump n Grind
Remember that.
As an aside, I'm going to make the unprecedented move of summing up my weekend in two words. Bet you can't think I can do it. Well.
Woot! Yay!
See. Fuck you. Or are you counting these words too? Cos if you are that really isn't fair. Because this is actually abusing you for not having enough faith in me to tell a story using less than 1,000,000 words. Yes. Abuse.
Everyone standing...looking lovely. It started so well
Stop being such big fucking girl's blouse, play by the rules and we won't humiliate you totally...
Just let you lie in the street with your Superman pants out. And then let you get your cock out (I feared for the lens so I'm afraid there are no pictures of this nature. Much to Sleazy's horror, "What? There are NO pictures of me with my cock out?"
"No. You got shot in the bollocks at paintballing. It was bruised. And we were turning away. Covering our eyes. Saying euggghhhh")
Stop being such big fucking girl's blouse, play by the rules and we won't humiliate you totally...
Just let you lie in the street with your Superman pants out. And then let you get your cock out (I feared for the lens so I'm afraid there are no pictures of this nature. Much to Sleazy's horror, "What? There are NO pictures of me with my cock out?"
"No. You got shot in the bollocks at paintballing. It was bruised. And we were turning away. Covering our eyes. Saying euggghhhh")
And so my first full night back from the Motherland should have probably been one of rest and recuperation....but then my uni friends decided to come to the Big Smoke and it would have been quite rude not to get smashed. I suppose the right thing to say is something like, "Oh my God, I'm never drinking on a school night again I feel awful", like Michael emailed me today but I didn't feel that bad. Obviously I had a bar of chocolate and a can of coke for breakfast and I looked like total shit (my boss asked me what time I got to bed at and if the gig was any good. He also let me get away with wearing footwear that straddles both the shoe and trainer line. I think he secretly likes the fact that I come in sailing just close enough to the wind to be appropriate but still far enough away from appropriate for people to say to me, "Leopard print tights and grey wedges....You're so crazy!").
I think the reason I love seeing my uni friends is that I just do not stop laughing when we're together. Not only are they hilarious in their own right but we inevitably end up reminiscing about when we lived together and the shenanigans we used to get up to. It's also amazing the things you forget. We were discussing our drunken highlights and I'd actually managed to forget the morning Chris woke up in the back of a car which was locked on the other side of Leicester and how no idea how he ended up there. Obviously the owner wasn't impressed and when he found him, several hours later, kept saying, "But it was locked. You were in the car. And it was locked", over and over again. The story gets all the more surreal when he frog marched Chris to the cash point so he could give him the money for it to be valeted but gave him a clean shirt and dropped him back at the house. Although when Chris was sat in his living room waiting for him to find him a shirt he went to pet the man's dog (not a euphemism for something filthy) the man turned around and just said, "NO". Obviously there are other highlights and it's difficult to choose just one but I think that one is definitely up there....Although the story of the toilet is definitely quite surreal. Me and the boys had been out the night before and I woke up the next morning vowing to never go to Fan Club (or as we affectionately called it, Fanny) again and opened my bedroom door to get the much needed pint of water and proceeded to trip over a toilet. Yes. An actual toilet. Left outside my bedroom door like a little present. None of us can remember finding it, much less bringing it back to the house. The irony of the whole situation being when we decided to move it a week later (we were students...) none of us had the strength to pick it up and carry it down the hall. How the fuck we managed to drag it from wherever we found it I don't know but I think we were pushing the student stealing boundaries. Traffic cones are so passé.
My favourite bit of last night though was Alex getting totally shitfaced whilst her fiancé sat and watched her hug us all and say things like, "Do you remember when we used to drink ourselves stupid at home before went out so it'd be a cheap night and Chris would get so drunk he'd projectile vomit on the way to wherever we were going?" (I think it is becoming very obvious, very quickly that my drinking habits are actually quite acceptable when compared to the East Park Road Massive) and make an appalled face. My how these things come back to bite you in the arse....On the way to the tube she shouts, "Hang on, carry on walking", whilst she stops off in a door way on Longacre, voms a little, comes out of the doorway and announces, "I've just been sick!" I fucking love that woman.
So, whilst I didn't feel too bad I think it goes without saying that I didn't feel fantastic either. At half nine my phone goes from some random number so I answer expecting it to be a wrongly diverted call but it's a Defendant who hasn't acknowledged anything I've ever sent them. Sorry about the lack of correspondence but they're going to settle so they'll put a cheque in the post for £14k tonight. I won't lie. I put down the phone, did a lap of honour round the office and when my boss came in told him the craic. The reply? Fuck off. Yes. That's how shocking this was. I was pretty impressed with myself. So then my Arch Nemesis comes over in the afternoon. I refer to him as the Smiley Assassin. He seems quite nice but he gives you shitty things to do like, oh, er, let me see accounting FUCKING ACCOUNTING and then gets all ball fucking achy when you have other work that isn't his to do like, um YOUR OWN. I digress. So. He comes over and congratulates me on my work. Then he proceeds to say that my client is actually his friend and he told him to ring someone connected with the Defendant to let these people know about the ongoing litigation and he thinks that it was the call that the client made that brought the money in. If you're stupid (or maybe not very paranoid. Like me) I'll spell it out....he was basically saying my work was pointless. In a parallel universe somewhere whilst he was saying this to me he wasn't standing by my desk. He was clambering on to it, using my chair (DON'T get me started on the chair debacle) to get on to my desk where he proceeded to squat just in front of my monitor and do a massive shit. And then set fire to it. I'm telling you. That is exactly what happened in another universe. Prick.
Once I manage to stop being incandescent with rage - it took 2 cups of coffee - I calmed down and carried on with my work safe in the knowledge that karma couldn't possibly send me any more pricks to annoy me. How wrong I was. And this time a double whammy! Let me introduce you to Carol. Carol works in the post room. She's sort of in charge of it I guess. If one can be in charge of post and not be Royal Mail. I, however, refer to her as 3 Billy Goats Gruff as she reminds me of the troll that won't let you pass. It's like that if you need some stationary. You have to tell her that someone is coming behind you and they're not only going to ask for a single hole punch but a stapler too! The greedy bastards! Don't they know we're in a fucking credit crunch? So she comes over to me about 4ish asking what I did with Jan's leaving card. I reply that I passed it on and turn around and continue with my work (it is sometimes known that I actually use my PC for non internet related activity). She remains. She then asks who I passed it on to. Now. I had this card exactly TWENTY FOUR HOURS AGO. Surprisingly enough I do not find it important to retain information such as who I passed a card on to yesterday. She seems completely flabbergasted by my outrageous and scandalous use of my memory. Fancy NOT remembering something completely trivial. This would NEVER happen in the post room. They keep a record of absolutely everything. No stamp pilfering here thank you Sir. So off she wanders having been told that it's been out of my hands for a day. A whole day. She did attempt to argue with me and say that it needed to go to the other office to be signed. I just looked at her and she scuttled off. I hoped back to her bridge. No. Here she was. Back again! Good old Carol. You can't keep a good detective down. And this time she's brought the Smiley Assassin with her. Fucking. A. He is explaining that he came to my desk, put it down between two folders because he didn't want to risk Jan seeing it, all the while behaving as if I'm not sat, slack jawed looking at these two people trace a card that hasn't been in my possession for TWENTY FOUR HOURS. He sees my incredulity and states that they're looking for the card. I've lost patience now and snap, "Yes. I know. And I've not had it. For a whole day. Twenty four hours", and with that I turn around and they fuck off. Jan is leaving next Friday. The other office is a five minute IF THAT walk away. Is it really so urgent that THREE people have to stop work to look for it? Has there been a plan that I wasn't aware of that means the other office has been given a week and a half off for no reason other than shits and giggles? Is Carol actually a character out of Heroes and her superpower is the ability to know when a natural disaster is going to befall our offices and she just knows it's going to happen this week so Jan's card won't have a meaningless sentiment scrawled in to a card by someone she probably regards with total contempt? What smacks it though is that the Smiley Assassin has lost a file. A whole file. And it's quite important it's found. If he searched HALF as hard as he looked for this fucking card it'd be revealed in no time I bet. In the mean time I take great pleasure in sniffing at him and saying, "I think this file went missing before my time so no, I don't have it. And no. I've never seen it."
Okay. I think I've ranted enough.
Today I read about this
http://photooftheday.hughcrawford.com/
I think the reason I love seeing my uni friends is that I just do not stop laughing when we're together. Not only are they hilarious in their own right but we inevitably end up reminiscing about when we lived together and the shenanigans we used to get up to. It's also amazing the things you forget. We were discussing our drunken highlights and I'd actually managed to forget the morning Chris woke up in the back of a car which was locked on the other side of Leicester and how no idea how he ended up there. Obviously the owner wasn't impressed and when he found him, several hours later, kept saying, "But it was locked. You were in the car. And it was locked", over and over again. The story gets all the more surreal when he frog marched Chris to the cash point so he could give him the money for it to be valeted but gave him a clean shirt and dropped him back at the house. Although when Chris was sat in his living room waiting for him to find him a shirt he went to pet the man's dog (not a euphemism for something filthy) the man turned around and just said, "NO". Obviously there are other highlights and it's difficult to choose just one but I think that one is definitely up there....Although the story of the toilet is definitely quite surreal. Me and the boys had been out the night before and I woke up the next morning vowing to never go to Fan Club (or as we affectionately called it, Fanny) again and opened my bedroom door to get the much needed pint of water and proceeded to trip over a toilet. Yes. An actual toilet. Left outside my bedroom door like a little present. None of us can remember finding it, much less bringing it back to the house. The irony of the whole situation being when we decided to move it a week later (we were students...) none of us had the strength to pick it up and carry it down the hall. How the fuck we managed to drag it from wherever we found it I don't know but I think we were pushing the student stealing boundaries. Traffic cones are so passé.
My favourite bit of last night though was Alex getting totally shitfaced whilst her fiancé sat and watched her hug us all and say things like, "Do you remember when we used to drink ourselves stupid at home before went out so it'd be a cheap night and Chris would get so drunk he'd projectile vomit on the way to wherever we were going?" (I think it is becoming very obvious, very quickly that my drinking habits are actually quite acceptable when compared to the East Park Road Massive) and make an appalled face. My how these things come back to bite you in the arse....On the way to the tube she shouts, "Hang on, carry on walking", whilst she stops off in a door way on Longacre, voms a little, comes out of the doorway and announces, "I've just been sick!" I fucking love that woman.
So, whilst I didn't feel too bad I think it goes without saying that I didn't feel fantastic either. At half nine my phone goes from some random number so I answer expecting it to be a wrongly diverted call but it's a Defendant who hasn't acknowledged anything I've ever sent them. Sorry about the lack of correspondence but they're going to settle so they'll put a cheque in the post for £14k tonight. I won't lie. I put down the phone, did a lap of honour round the office and when my boss came in told him the craic. The reply? Fuck off. Yes. That's how shocking this was. I was pretty impressed with myself. So then my Arch Nemesis comes over in the afternoon. I refer to him as the Smiley Assassin. He seems quite nice but he gives you shitty things to do like, oh, er, let me see accounting FUCKING ACCOUNTING and then gets all ball fucking achy when you have other work that isn't his to do like, um YOUR OWN. I digress. So. He comes over and congratulates me on my work. Then he proceeds to say that my client is actually his friend and he told him to ring someone connected with the Defendant to let these people know about the ongoing litigation and he thinks that it was the call that the client made that brought the money in. If you're stupid (or maybe not very paranoid. Like me) I'll spell it out....he was basically saying my work was pointless. In a parallel universe somewhere whilst he was saying this to me he wasn't standing by my desk. He was clambering on to it, using my chair (DON'T get me started on the chair debacle) to get on to my desk where he proceeded to squat just in front of my monitor and do a massive shit. And then set fire to it. I'm telling you. That is exactly what happened in another universe. Prick.
Once I manage to stop being incandescent with rage - it took 2 cups of coffee - I calmed down and carried on with my work safe in the knowledge that karma couldn't possibly send me any more pricks to annoy me. How wrong I was. And this time a double whammy! Let me introduce you to Carol. Carol works in the post room. She's sort of in charge of it I guess. If one can be in charge of post and not be Royal Mail. I, however, refer to her as 3 Billy Goats Gruff as she reminds me of the troll that won't let you pass. It's like that if you need some stationary. You have to tell her that someone is coming behind you and they're not only going to ask for a single hole punch but a stapler too! The greedy bastards! Don't they know we're in a fucking credit crunch? So she comes over to me about 4ish asking what I did with Jan's leaving card. I reply that I passed it on and turn around and continue with my work (it is sometimes known that I actually use my PC for non internet related activity). She remains. She then asks who I passed it on to. Now. I had this card exactly TWENTY FOUR HOURS AGO. Surprisingly enough I do not find it important to retain information such as who I passed a card on to yesterday. She seems completely flabbergasted by my outrageous and scandalous use of my memory. Fancy NOT remembering something completely trivial. This would NEVER happen in the post room. They keep a record of absolutely everything. No stamp pilfering here thank you Sir. So off she wanders having been told that it's been out of my hands for a day. A whole day. She did attempt to argue with me and say that it needed to go to the other office to be signed. I just looked at her and she scuttled off. I hoped back to her bridge. No. Here she was. Back again! Good old Carol. You can't keep a good detective down. And this time she's brought the Smiley Assassin with her. Fucking. A. He is explaining that he came to my desk, put it down between two folders because he didn't want to risk Jan seeing it, all the while behaving as if I'm not sat, slack jawed looking at these two people trace a card that hasn't been in my possession for TWENTY FOUR HOURS. He sees my incredulity and states that they're looking for the card. I've lost patience now and snap, "Yes. I know. And I've not had it. For a whole day. Twenty four hours", and with that I turn around and they fuck off. Jan is leaving next Friday. The other office is a five minute IF THAT walk away. Is it really so urgent that THREE people have to stop work to look for it? Has there been a plan that I wasn't aware of that means the other office has been given a week and a half off for no reason other than shits and giggles? Is Carol actually a character out of Heroes and her superpower is the ability to know when a natural disaster is going to befall our offices and she just knows it's going to happen this week so Jan's card won't have a meaningless sentiment scrawled in to a card by someone she probably regards with total contempt? What smacks it though is that the Smiley Assassin has lost a file. A whole file. And it's quite important it's found. If he searched HALF as hard as he looked for this fucking card it'd be revealed in no time I bet. In the mean time I take great pleasure in sniffing at him and saying, "I think this file went missing before my time so no, I don't have it. And no. I've never seen it."
Okay. I think I've ranted enough.
Today I read about this
http://photooftheday.hughcrawford.com/
Jamie Livingstone decided to take one photo a day on a Polaroid for no reason really other than he wanted to. Now his friend has put them up on a blog. No explanation, just photos. If you google it you'll find the story but I've been looking at the photos and it's actually completely mesmerising. I love photos anyway, even if I don't know anyone in them. I spend a lot of time on Flickr. They do end up telling a story which is compelling and sad although I'm sure at the time he thought that no one would be interested in his day to day life because everyone thinks their day to day life is incredibly dull but to an outsider it probably isn't. I should stop rambling and just let you decide though.
Also,
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/gallery/2008/aug/12/bushlol
this is actually one of the funniest things I've seen in absolutely ages. I think my favourite is a toss up between the massage one and the geek one. Keeps me entertained anyway.
And finally, why the fuckedy fuck is fucking Peaches Geldof front page news cos she went to Vegas and got married to some massive chin? Tell you what Peaches. Why don't you fuck off to AmericaLand and stay there with your massive chin? Nothing would please me more than not having to see your stupid OD face polluting my vision when you make some massive cock up that is drugs related.
Sorry. That was quite venomous wasn't it? She really is rather irritating though is she not?
Also,
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/gallery/2008/aug/12/bushlol
this is actually one of the funniest things I've seen in absolutely ages. I think my favourite is a toss up between the massage one and the geek one. Keeps me entertained anyway.
And finally, why the fuckedy fuck is fucking Peaches Geldof front page news cos she went to Vegas and got married to some massive chin? Tell you what Peaches. Why don't you fuck off to AmericaLand and stay there with your massive chin? Nothing would please me more than not having to see your stupid OD face polluting my vision when you make some massive cock up that is drugs related.
Sorry. That was quite venomous wasn't it? She really is rather irritating though is she not?
You know women talk too much when they email each other......
but don't bother reading it themselves.
Is it wrong to be perversely amused by this?
but don't bother reading it themselves.
Is it wrong to be perversely amused by this?
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