Frankly, Mr Shankly

Posting in the wee hours. Wouldn't have it any other way........... As a child, I always responded well to late nights with the 'grown up's', listening to odd and apocryphal tales about strange family members. Time moves differently for a nine year old than it does for an adult, and eleven pm always seems like the dead of night. These days, an early night is half twelve, so such formative experiences have obviously served their purpose for this trainee hedonist. Of course, it's all Vic 20's, ZX 81's and Acorn Electron's these days.................The art of being bored senseless by ageing relatives seems to be all but gone............... I awoke this morning to find Police tape everywhere. It covered most of the back court, as well as the street in front of my flat. Even getting down towards Maryhill road was a chore, having to be directed by various officers of the law until I was clear of the area of forensic interest. Seemingly a man in his early forties had keeled over right outside my bedroom wall on Friday night. No suspicious circumstances it would seem, just common-or-garden natural mortal termination, the likes of which happens a thousand times a day. It's just that this guy did it 'alfresco', rather than lie rotting in his flat for six months, until the neighbours started to object to the smell. Since I'm of the belief that one of the finest things a human being can do is to die and make one's neighbours retch from the stench of one's putrifying corpse, I can't help feeling that this chap may have missed his chance. Still, he got the full 'men in white suits with camera's' treatment, so it wasn't all bad............... Talking of glib attitudes towards death............. Latest score from the Gaza Strip. Game off due to corpse strewn, blood soaked, crater riddled pitch. Match re-scheduled for sometime in the distant future, when the price of human life is regarded highly enough to print receipts. Then there's work. The human pustule I work under seems to go from strength to strength. As the department dwindles and the heart of the place dies in front of us, the little pissant charged with the daily running of our part of the office seems to become more and more virulent. A major lesson to us all in the dangers of allowing unctious, egregious, time serving little turds to hold control over anything or anyone. He reminds me of Major Major from Catch 22, but without the positive personality traits. We're talking about someone who tells you to bring any work problems to him, and then treats you like a mental retard when you do. His basic personality defect is that he breathes. I'm of the belief that he can't help it, that he's a seriously tedious, small minded, passive aggressive little arsehole who has no business being in charge of anything more important than the stationery order. My escape is almost complete. I shall not be denied. Ok, nothing more to see........... Go on, bugger off! ;)

Dafties

Every so often, find myself over at the other office to collect files for our department and each time I come away wondering what it is they teach them at school nowadays.

Overheard the other day...........

1 - "That Paris Hilton makes great perfume!"

2 - "How do you spell 'Richard'? Is there a 't' in it?"

3 - "What does 'intricate' mean?"

There are more, but I'd need to talk to other witnesses and make a list of them. The latest one I heard was "What's this 'credit card crunch' thing about then?" Utter genius!

Mind you, give me a genuine simpleton over some pseudo-intellectual bore any day of the week.

Toast

Was Hippocrates a season ticket holder at Cathkin? Stone memorial hidden away at the back of the terracing.

It's always nice to get aquainted with the appliances in ones new home. The Hoover, the washing machine, the cooker and the central heating. Oh, and the smoke alarm............

It was Sunday morning (ok, it was 1pm, but that's still the morning as far as I'm concerned.) and I'dstuck some toast on. I absently wandered through to the living room and stuck the tv on, only to become slightly transfixed by the hypnotic drone of the F1 car racing. God! I miss Murray Walker. The only man in the world that could make watching paint dry sound exciting. Instead we have a couple of inane public schoolboys to add to the tedium of watching 24 men driving round in circles for an hour and a half.

.........but I digress. It was around this point the bloody smoke alarm went off and I realised I'd burnt me toast. Thankfully nothing was on fire, but what to do about the infernal racket the alarm was making. I opened doors/windows to let the smoke out, but to no avail. I then tried holding the button on the alarm casing. Still nothing. next I unscrewed the casing and tried to wrench the battery out, only to find it was connected to the mains and any further tampering could see me doing a rather entertaining 'St Vitus Dance' atop a set of wobbly metal ladders. The next few hours are too tedious to go into, but by the time I'd asked the chap upstairs to give me a hand getting the battery out (I'm such a gurl!) and the girl next door had stuck her head in and wished me luck and little else, my nerves (and hearing) were more than a little frayed.

Anyway, my knowledge of household systems is a little clearer now I suppose, but I haven't made another slice of toast since............

Taking the nets down. All part of yr duty as a Thirds player.

Ok. Some links. Third Lanark AC have a wee site up. It's not too flash but it does tell you when they're playing. It's free, you get to watch the game from the terracing of what was once known as Hampden Park (back in the mists of time), and more recently was the home of the last club to go out of business in Scotland, the original Third Lanark AC . It is just amateur football that gets played at Cathkin Park today, but the last time I went to see them, I came away wondering why I bothered going to Firhill at all. The video of the game can be found here. Mud, meaty tackles, loads of goals and some nice football, just ignore the naff Star Wars theme they've tacked onto the video in post production. Furthermore, if you watch between 7.31 and 7.46 you'll see my lanky frame descending the terrace steps behind the player being interviewed. Yes, I am an old buffer..........

Acrobatics in the penalty area
Panoramic view of Cathkin Park

I've Got God In My Earpiece And He Sounds Like Private Fraser

via Seven Days

Just back from the football and I've suddenly remembered one of the reasons I'd stopped going. It was like having Statler and Waldorf from the Muppets behind me. Grizzling, moany faced old cunts.............

They were actually correct in a few of their observations, but their unrelenting dourness had me wishing I'd brought a gun with me.

I shouldn't moan, it only cost me a fiver......

Thieving Fuckers!

Bjork at Connect festival, Sunday Night

Well, it had to happen sometime............

I've had my wallet nicked. I was in Lidl, I'd just payed for my messages and was transfering a few things to my satchel at the counter behind the checkout. Rather than putting my wallet back in my jacket pocket, I've foolishly and left it out on the counter and gone without it. An uncharacteristic mistake, I have to state. I made the forlorn journey back after getting about five minutes up the road and realising I was a bit light in the pocket department. As I had surmised, nobody had handed it in, but someone had almost certainly nicked it. All that was in it was a few quid in loose change, a national insurance card, a bank card that the thief will never be able to use (especially now that it's been cancelled) and various other bits of useless shite.

Cheers mate. I know who you are. You were the trackie wearing dick who made me wait in the queue while you went for something you'd forgotten, you were the wee dobber who was transferring messages to your rucksack as I walked out of the shop and couldn't have helped but notice that fat looking brown leather pouch laying there unattended. You were the cagey looking fucker who suddenly started fumbling for gears on your bike as you came past me as I returned to the shop between five and ten minutes later in the mistaken belief that someone would have had the decency to hand it to one of the staff.

If it was indeed Shellsuit Bob who had away with my wallet, I truly hope he gets raped by his bird with a 12 inch steel dong, or maybe his pet doberman bites his balls off in the night. There are other possibilities, but the circumstantial evidence points one way, and at this moment in time, that's good enough for me...............Guilty!

Apart from that I'm fine. How's everyone else?

For Lism. The Hold Steady say Howdy!

I Wanna Sweep the Streets!!!!

Anything but what I'm doing now! *

Work has finally ground me down. It's a wonder it hasn't happened sooner, I must have a bigger masochistic streak than I thought. The idea of having to alternate between long, grinding, endless days of tedious mouse clicking and being up to my ears in paperwork that's been barely explained to me by the worlds most unapproachable man has finally taken it's toll on me. It's either the job or me........

The CV is being dusted down as I speak, references shall be sought and I fully expect to be in a similarly infuriating and soul crushing job in two months time. It's just that from here even the most threadbare and yellowing of lawns looks more appealing.

I admit to being an ill-educated peasant with serious issues regarding self application. I will tell you I don't have limited horizons but others may inform you otherwise. I'll break the cycle eventually, probably when I'm least expecting to, but until then the merry-go-round of crap office jobs looks like continuing......



*I hear they get paid as well as I do, if not better.....