Friday, August 31, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Oh, and before anyone gets any ideas, the Tartan Army can fuck off too.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
I jest, no body's banned. Not even everyones favourite old scrote Duff, a man who's been ejected from more blogs than I've had disappointments in life . You see, I only wish I had people to ban. My last tracker reading was twelve (count 'em) visitors to this blog in the past 24 hours. Fuck! Not even the random blog hoppers and spammers want to know. I do content myself with the fact that the same folk pop in each day (probably), but it's not enough godammit!!! That said, at least I've not got to the stage of inventing people to comment on my blog, though I'd say it's not far off..............
It doesn't help that I'm posting as infrequently as this dissolute cunt. I predict a small flurry of nonsense posted around the time I move in to the flat, to make up for my current mutedness.
It seems certain items of post have been received at my 'new hoose'. I don't like the sound of that, it feels like i'm being tracked. For the past fifteen years, I've felt almost invisible and it's been rather pleasant. Now they know who I am and where I live. I'll always remember the day I finally signed my soul over to the Satan.
He works at the A____ N_______. Lovely guy, Ibrox season ticket holder, lives in Newton Mearns, eats his young..................
Ok, I won't be in tomorrow night as I have a wedding reception to attend. I'll leave you with some good old fashioned sick 'n' twisted God Fearin' Gospel Joy...........
...........and this little oddity
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Sorry if that's more than you needed to know.....
What is it with bosses? Why do they seem determined to ensure that their underlings have absolutely no respect for them? Maybe stomping across the room to chastise someone for absently playing patience on their pc at 4.55pm while they write out some addresses on envelopes has something to do with it. Little men being pressured by their superiors and taking it out randomly on their own minions.............It seems to be the way of things. The Big Man, who sits opposite me has a bit of cardboard with the Dept leaders name on it and an arrow next to it. Every time said boss leaves the room to go to the toilet/kitchen/out the office, he pulls this sign out and points it in the general direction of departure, like a slightly overweight and very ugly, ginger cheerleader. We all rejoice, as for a few sacred minutes we are no longer being watched...............
Should I ever attain such a position of power, my hope is that a silent assasin assails me in the night and painlessly lobotomises me or something. Team Leader = Everyone hating yr guts forever........... I think I can live without such nonsense.
Anyway. This week I suggest you visit Bock, Billy and Velo Gubbed Legs. Those are orders Private!!!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
.........Like watching a sock puppet 'recite' Bukowski. It could be worse, it could be Bono..........
there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that fine relaxer
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
pouring a glass of water from the
while entranced by
just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch
before they get to us
when they do
get it all
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Myspace has given me food for thought over the past week or so. First of all I got 'Phished', which means, for those of you who don't know and don't care, my password got nicked and my account was 'piggybacked' for the purposes of nefarious ringtone hawkery. Honestly, if they were advertising scud or sex aids I wouldn't mind, but ringtones???
"yo mumma sucks urs cock
u suck so much balls that ur mom gets jealos
hey four eyes saw u in town the other day
I KNOW WHERE U LIVE!!!"
Awww! I think he likes me! What scares me most is that 'Joe', bless his soul, has set up a myspace account, seemingly for the sole purpose of sending people abusive messages. It did cross my mind that it might be my brother, but he's funnier than that. Besides, he knows I'll set fire to his baws if he tries that pish on...............(puffs chest out, tries to look hard..........)
I can laugh about it now, but at the time it was terrible...............
The house is on it's way! I move in on 14th of September. Huzzah! Went to meet the lawyer on Wednesday and whilst waiting on him, got to see how a telephone switchboard ought to be operated. One woman, a million incoming calls and not the slightest slip or trace of stress. I did a bit of phone cover in my last job and to be honest, it had me pissing adrenaline...........I thought I was hard pressed if two people called at once. Six at once seemed to be no problem to this dame. Funny thing was, it all came back to me like a Vietnam Vet having a flashback and I started getting a bit jumpy and nervous for no real reason. It was hardly as if she was going to ask me to mind the switchboard while she went for a cuppa....................I was glad when the lawyer stuck his head round the door and saved me from the freakish countryside mags and the eternally ringing phone..............
I was going to end this post in the style of an eighties American sitcom, with a glib moral or lesson that can be learned from my experiences in the past week, but frankly I'm at a loss.............Any suggestions? Best one gets entered :HERE:
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Thursday, August 02, 2007
This little epiphany dawned on me today as I almost nodded out in the office. Eyes going fuzzy and feeling like lead weights, unable to move from page to screen and back again without concerted effort, they close briefly and suddenly gravity cracks me one on the back of the head and I'm heading face first for the keyboard. The shock snaps me out just in time and a little adrenalin rush perks me for another five minutes. I look around to see if anyone noticed (they hadn't) and made my way wearily back to the kitchen for more coffee.
I now realise I need to be asleep by 1amv at the latest, that I can't really drink too much on a school night and that buying pakora from the carry out at the bottom of the road at 2.15am is not really good idea. Theres nothing worse than admitting defeat, but there you are.............
Of course, in the old days I'd get leathered on cheap cider or rum miniatures, then happily do a six hour shift in a kitchen the following day. Piece of piss mate! Nowadays, it only takes a couple of shandies to make me feel a bit grubby next day. Also doesn't help that my life is that bit more sedentary now. The job occassionally calls for a bit of physical work, but more often than not I'm stuck at a PC, exercising nothing more than my right forefinger. I actually look forward to filing work. Means I'm out of the beady eyed glare of my boss and I'm able to move about and keep myself awake.
Sometimes I miss the 'pissing adrenalin' effect I got from my last job. Phone work means you're constantly on edge, as does working in a payroll office where everything has to be kept ahead of itself from week to week.
So, that's why I'm blogging now and not at 1am. I actually wanna get through tomorrow without having half a dozen narcoleptic episodes and have everyone think I'm on smack or something. Not that it matters I suppose. The new overlords look to be in Alan Sugar mode, firing people left, right and centre. Ok, technically they're 'laying people off', but that doesn't really fit in with the blatant pop culture reference, does it?
"You're Being Made Redundant!" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
Am I next? Who knows. They've layed off most of the IT dept in Glasgow and got rid of the cash room. It all points one way to me and I'm not pleased. The last fucking thing I need to be doing just now, about to move into a house and trying to get something approaching savings together, is to be looking over my shoulder and having to find a new job.
Ok, heres what's amusing me on the internet tonight.
Mustafio, he make me smile. So does Billy, the stuff about the Heathrow Airport expansion is eye-popping. Matt at Oblong Scone ponders the nature of door holding etiquette and religious zealotry, while professional smart arse Dan Allen hi-lights sports journalism cliches and wonders why nobody's used the headline "San Diego Padres molested the Twins" . Quite frankly, the standard of sports journalism is universally bad, but considering the fucking ludicrous names the Yanks give their sports teams, I'm quite astonished that nobody has given in to the temptation...........