Ho-ho-ho

I haven't been blogging or commenting much lately though I still take time to stalk some blogs here and there. New job, away a bit and numbness (cause unknown but I suppose a visit to a doctor might help) in some of the fingers on my left hand have played their part.

I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. If you're a non-Christian raised type and have another religion I'm still saying Merry Christmas because, well.... it is Christmas and I'm not the sort of P.C. arsehole who's gonna go round pretending it's not (lest any petals take offence).

Enjoy your presents, family, loved ones (usually they're different people, let's face it), eat sensibly, drink irresponsibly and I might see you all on the other side, or not. Personally I intend to be so bad that I'm going to need an elevator to take me up to St. Nick's.

Boo!

Hallow'e'en. Pre-daddy days it meant getting tidied up and going to do some serious damage at a flange infested embibing emporium. How times have changed. Now, father to the funniest (and smartest, eerily knowledgeable in a way that would make you believe in re-incarnation) toddler around you'd think I'd have happily swapped my days of debauchery for an evening full of tot sized games and amusements. No. My (smartest, funniest, Elmer Fudd-on-helium speaking) toddler is afraid of Hallow'e'en masks and even painted faces. As fireworks are officially banned now, thanks to the wee spides who fire them at pets and ambulances, that makes for an interesting Hallow'e'en.


I can't be done for child abuse just for taking her into a bar can I?

2 what-ifs, no weddings and (nearly) a funeral

A forty-eight hour trip to London is hazardous to your health. Life threatening even. Let me explain.

It all started when I was driving to the airport. I was just in the process of turning off a roundabout to throw my car into a private car park opposite the airport when a bus bombed through without seeing me. I managed to get stopped just in time. Had I assumed he would've/should've seen me I'd have had 17 tons of metal to play with. I think it's safe to say I might have got hurt. Thirty seconds later I'm dropping my keys off and contemplating the what ifs. That lasts for most of my journey.
Five and a half hours later I emerge from the Tube network to commence my two days in London. I'm getting better at it. Not afraid to get the bus now. Know how to get to some places. Well, as long as some kindly soul has given me chapter and verse on the directions/changes etc. but the guy I usually go over to see lives on a main bus route. It's a piece of piss and bus stops are right outside his front door. So, a quick freshen up and off we go. Pills and drink. Drink and pills. Three hours a night sleep but only if absolutely necessary. Plenty of craic. Visits to illegal 24 hours off-licences, you know how it goes.

Fast forward. Return trip home. Flight delayed. Flight takes off and gets to within 3 minutes and 1000 feet of landing. Pilot applies full throttle and sends us sharply skyward again. He bing-bongs to tell us that "we" have a problem with the brakes. He fancies flying around for a bit "to do some tests" (like Mr T used to say "I ain't no fool", he's going to dry off his seat, calm himself the fuck down and try to take us in again when 1./ he's stopped shaking 2./ the fire appliances have been scrambled 3./ we have less burny liquids on board). It gave me my 2nd what if moment of the weekend. As I'd already done my homework on Friday I settled down to scrolling through my MP3 player for what might be my last song - a nine minute version of How soon is now by The Smiths.

So despite my best efforts,the efforts of bus drivers and aeroplane captains, I'm still here. Well, for another week anyway.

Dirty weekend

Is it that time again? It always creeps up on me. Once in a while an old friend comes to stay the weekend. You see, we had a torrid affair many years ago and ...well, she just won't let go. I know I should say something but ...she's a good person, average looking, smells nice and has made a packet in the movies. So, out of the goodness of my heart I allow her to be my fuck buddy. Magnanimous I'm sure you'll agree. We mostly stay indoors if you know what I mean. It's not as if she gets recognised when we go out or anything, even after she did that Matrix sequel. It's just that she's a bit of a minx ....and she's sooo into me. So if you don't hear from me for a day or two you'll know why.

Don't do this

There are things in life one just shouldn't do. No ifs or buts, they're just not clever. I'm not saying I've done any of these but take it from me that I have it on good authority that the following are NOT recommended.

1. drinking Guinness whilst entertaining someone of the opposite sex. It's o.k. if you stop at 2 but if you drink on or if your meal is particularly rich or mix it with a quality Merlot..... well, let's just say have your excuse ready for later on. Or make sure your coat is handy. If they'd been able to mass produce that noxious gas during WW1 think how many lives would have been saved.

2. lighting a cigarette from a camp-fire. I know it'll seem cool and avoid the problem of having to find who's nabbed your lighter or fight the slightest of breezes to ignite your cancer stick of choice but you'll only succeed in giving yourself male pattern baldness in 2 seconds flat. And your eyelashes and eyebrows will look just a tad silly when reduced to black shrivelled stubs.

3. falling asleep after sex only to awake in excruciating groinal pain due a condom still being in place, wanger, for the first time, as big as a baseball bat but having the appearance of the most massive blood blister you can imagine. Not a good look.

Hard work

There's a bit of a kerfuffle going on at the minute. The Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott has been outed about a recent affair he had. He wasn't sacked by Tony B Liar but a member of the public complained to the police on the grounds that, as a public servant, having a bit of slap and tickle on company time (and in his case at an employer provided office) is an offence. It certainly should be in his case, have you seen the pic? Police are investigating as we speak.

Apparently 20% of U.K. companies have a policy regarding relationships which would mean something like this is grounds for dismissal. It got me to thinking if I'd ever compromised myself in that way and of course I have. I'll stop the clock at 5. No, just remembered ...6. Actually 8, I'm all out at 8. So, I can't really have a go at John. Work hard, that's what I say.

legs

I'd like to re-assure regular readers that I haven't died, just needed to put the pedal down a bit on the work front. I think I have just succeeded in doing enough to avoid getting into real trouble, my boss returns from holiday tomorrow so time will tell.

The London break was about a day too long but here is a quick synopsis of what I did.

Friday, travel time door to door 5hrs 50 mins. Planes, trains and auto mobiles and lots of walking involved. Exactly as predicted!
Quick shower then out to the Funki Munki where I stood at the bar with 2 mates and drank double Bisongrass and soda for 5 hours. Oh, some drugs might have been involved. And the petite barmaid was forced to come round the bar (she was even shorter this side) and drink shots with us between rounds - 'cos obviously double Bisongrass all night makes you a bit of a lightweight).
Saturday, woke up with very sore, cut knee. No memory of how this happened or how I got home. Must have tried (unsuccessfully) to walk though. Met up with others for a meal at 7.30 after having some mid afternoon Guinness. Ate badly cooked fancy food (quail and wood pigeon followed by lavender brulee) and drank Merlot and Guinness, separate glasses of course. Went to a house party (more drugs might have been involved) getting a taxi home at 7am and falling out with the host's only invited work colleague (he fucking deserved it, the boring bull-shiting, tight-arse excuse for a man that he was). Recruited a South African girl to hit him on my behalf. She hit him much harder and more often than I had anticipated.
Sunday, breakfast at 1pm, afternoon Guinness and orientation (2 days late) followed by drinking and eating in Covent Garden and China Town like the self respecting tourist I am.
Monday, homeward bound. More planes, trains and auto mobiles.

Oh, yes..... legs. Now that I've written this I won't be able to look at that air hostess's legs when I call up my page. Shite! I was enjoying them.

Some things stay the same, some things change

Met some friends on Saturday night for a drink at a lovely wee bar in the city. When I say wee I mean the whole bar is smaller than my living room and, of course, packed to the rafters. It's covered in posters and album covers from the 50s through to the 70s and has made little or no concession to modernity and fashion the decor being more 19th century than anything else - an original parlour bar. That in itself has made it fashionable, for now. The irony. The toilets consist of 1 cubicle per sex (although I dare say they may at times accommodate more than 1) and if you squeeze through the bodies to get to them before you have to give your foot a warm shower you really should be given a medal. It's situated in one of the old streets, cobbled with parking on one side only as it's so narrow. When I was looking for somewhere to park I crawled up the street past the front door at the very same time a 6 ft 9 transvestite (who hosts a gay club around the corner) was leaving. I looked like a curb-crawler cruising within 2 feet of this blond mini-skirted giant. Inside Bisongrass and 7yr old Havana rum helped grease the vocal cords and we had the penultimate ripping the arse out of each other session before one of the triumvirate moves to live in Australia. Hard to think he'll be gone soon. We all feel it but being men can't do any more than scrape the surface when we're face to face of how it'll change all our lives. I will get something written down for him. He's a good, deep, intelligent, warm hearted, big fucker and I know I'll get him blubbing and, if I'm honest, me too.

booze, birds, business

Yes, I realise that has a slightly 70's sound about it but I just couldn't resist the alliteration . In fact I liked it sooo much I stuck some more in that last sentence. How fucking clever.

So, the second instalment of the fish tale (get it? groan) will have to wait as I'm off for a couple of days on a work conferency, drinkfest meeting type of thing. Now I know I appear to be developing some sort of a pattern at these events like this or this and this but THIS time it WILL be different. Fingers crossed.

I mean, armed with a sackful of determination and a suitcase full of stoicism, what could possibly go wrong?

same old

Rewind.

7.15am January 1st 2006. Time for bed. The red wine, Bisongrass Vodka and MDMA are cancelling each other out. I have to pick up my daughter around midday (even in my drunkenness I'm giving myself a hard time about being a bad father). All night people have been giving me compliments of one sort or another, "don't look your age", "must be doing well", "etc. I don't take compliments well. A friend of mine who's leaving to live in Australia in a few weeks kept telling me how I'm one of the his favourite two people in the world and how much he'd miss me. His emotions are always kept well under wraps and it was nice for him to say things like that. He wants to arrange a small ski holiday before he goes (a first for me) and I dare say I'll be putting myself in danger in any number of ways - stories will be posted. Yesterday was spent watching my daughter amuse herself (thank God) after a few hours sleep before the residual MDMA overcame the diminishing alcohol left in my system and tortured my exhausted sleepless body.

A two day hangover is halfway spent, I fall further behind in my decorating/moving plans and I return to work tomorrow. "30 lottery tickets please" will probably be my next spoken words. You know where I'm coming from don't you ?

Christmas dinner (and why I'm pathetic) part 2

This follows on from part 1 found here.

Part 2

So where was I . Vulnerable - that's where I was. NEWPA was casually slipping her arm around me in that "I'll keep it loose so it's friendly but if you reciprocate I'll really get friendly" kind of way. You know what I mean don't you? During the next wee while we chatted and other colleagues were in our company.
I had picked up that NEWPA was a bit too drunk and started to order up glasses of water for her making sure she was sipping them. I think we loosely stuck around each other - I wanted to make sure she didn't get taken advantage of and I had no romantic notions myself because of the state she was in - and she hung around me as we exited to the residents bar. It was here that my boss's, boss's boss started a conversation with me. All I'll say is that I should know by now. These boss type fuckers have a tendency to ask questions and I have a tendency to answer forthrightly. (When I was going through airport security next day I felt someone grab my arm. Yeah, it was him. Earth swallow me up please!) Next time will be different (why o why can't I just be rude and walk away from these people when they ask me questions, it would be so much less harmful for me in the long run).
Back to the plot. I am being topped up with large glasses of wine by all and sundry. That's just what I need with no sleep in 24 hrs and severe dehydration due to the dodgy guts. NEWPA is still here and my drunkenness must be catching up with hers.We can both barely speak and she loosely holds my fingers or my waist or gets really close to my face. You know what's coming next. My excuse is that I was drunk. I never can make good decisions when I'm drunk. Can't evaluate a situation. It's my folly. I let her bounce off my face in what was probably half a dozen attempted casual snog passes - the ones where they can be accidentally put down to losing her balance,blah, blah, blah. But 6 times? I am such a twat.
It's now past 4 and she is more sober than anytime over the last few hours - good. I however am swaying in the strong breeze created by an anorexic waitress gliding by- not good. Nothing happens. Nothing except EXPA comes to join us remarking that "Why did I leave her with ... earlier?" and for some unknown reason (and this bit really isn't like me) I get into and then take over a conversation about dick size. WTF !! Can the A team please swoop in and distract everyone with potato mortars and bling and stupid theme tunes, I need rescued. EXPA went to bed. NEWPA, who had now been joined by a friend of hers asked for 4 of us remaining to sit at a table. I think I must have been close to catatonic now. Funny I didn't remember being that way until the autopsy the next day. Bed (solo) was a mere few minutes away.
So there you have it. Or not.

I have some BIG questions for myself.

• Why was I such a gent?
• Why do I think I'm still sober when talking to a boss?
• Why can't I work out the small signs?
• Why can't I drink water like Jebus?
• Why do I turn into my brother when I'm drunk?
• Why did I spend a lot of the night making fun of fat girls ? (Oh, I'm not proud- forgot to mention that earlier. In my defence it was only the really fat ones who dressed inappropriately - I'm still digging that hole aren't I ? Shut up man!!).

I should have been tucked up in bed early on, dictating to a PA - any PA. I have another of these type of events in January, except bigger. Can you please give me some advice, some words of wisdom?

I'm really sorry ...

The title ? Just practising . O.K. - sit down and I'll tell you .

You see I went to Manchester for a work conference type thing . I only got 4 hours sleep the night before my flight so it was a long day . I met the usual bunch of colleagues some known to me, some not . There was 1 girl however - not a stunning beauty but very, veeery sexy and she's always smiling . She flirts outrageously with me and this time was no exception . She worked out early in the day that we were to be seated at the same table for dinner and when we went in to the room she changed name cards so she could sit beside me . Flirting ensued . By the time dinner had started I had already gained considerable familiarity with the best Merlot on the wine list .

• I heckled the guest speaker
  
• I had a less than positive conversation about by boss (he was sitting directly opposite me)
• I may have said or done something inappropriate with the flirter
  
• I stayed in the bar to 5 am although can't remember anything past 11 pm
  
• I told my boss's boss some things I probably shouldn't
  
• I ignored my alarm clock until exactly 8.29am when I awoke with my contact lenses still welded to my eyes - the first session of the 2nd day was starting at 8.30am sharp
  

So, as you can see Monday is a daunting day for me .

Now where was I ?

I'm really, reeeaaallly sorry .....

ground hog day

having just spent a night drinking in my old local i have come to the conclusion that i may be stuck in ground hog day or at least that bar / town is . perhaps it's the same for you . I'll explain what i mean . when i arrived i found there were some friends there and some, better to call them , acquaintances . one such acquaintance " o " who is an artist was busy chatting to another acquaintance " m " . as the night progressed i learnt from the mutual friends that " o " was shagging " m " ( he's always been that discrete ) who is the girlfriend of another artist " i " , also a friend of " o " . now i suspected that their relationship was slightly open , let's say i thought the door was slightly ajar but i never expected the door was loosely attached to the frame hanging by one noisy rusty old hinge . and being as "o " is Mr shout-it-from-the-hills on the old sexual liaison front his relationship may end up ending up sooner than he thinks . it's not very often i'm in that bar now , although it used to be my haunt every friday / saturday night because you could always be sure of bumping into someone you knew . so who should arrive in but " s " who has spent most of his adult years living with tribes people in India and Pakistan close to the kyber pass . i didn't even recognise him at first . he was the pretty boy at school and we all wanted to sleep with his older sister . but now he looks about 10 years older than he actually is and has the teeth of a chain smoking 70 yr old bare fisted boxer . still , like i said , this place always draws them back again . and then there was the girl who was the girlfriend of a brother of one of my old neighbours - mad Kenny i called him ( there's a clue in the name ) . i remember being invited over for a drink by him late one night and she was in the house with him and his girlfriend . his girlfriend went to bed leaving the 3 of us . then Kenny started getting twitchy . it was clear he had an eye for her and didn't like me being there getting on with her . anyway i left but said i'd be up for a while if she fancied some drinks and that i'd leave my door open . so sure enough she arrived over . damn , she looked fine . in the morning she left by the side gate so that he wouldn't see her .now i hadn't seen her from that day and on the one night i go back to that town there she is in the bar .

so yeah , ground hog day i think .

Where am I .... ?

let's start at the beginning , which is actually the end . i woke up about 9 ish not knowing where i was ( this isn't a strange or unusual phenomenon to me ) . i was in a hotel room with a work colleague - now , i know what you're thinking ...... . well let me just say that i knew for weeks that said work colleague would probably spend the night in my room . did you have sex i hear you ask , did you make the beast with 2 backs ? well no , i didn't and that probably had a lot to do with the fact that my roomy was kevin . so no sex or strange goings on then ? now i'll go back to the beginning .

kindly, someone had rearranged my flight to a more sensible time so i waddled into the airport with the customary 20 mins to departure , walked straight past everyone and went up to the close out desk where i proceeded to piss off the check in lady by not having my driving licence to hand . i'm not sure what her rush was here as she gleefully told me the flight was 55 minutes late . my boss was getting this flight too , he arrived later having got his secretary to do the sensible ring ahead thing . went through the 2 nd security screening and there's one guy who always pulls me ( it must be that "i've shot a kalashnikov" look about me ). anyway he pulled my bags to bits and then proceeded to check every one of my laptop's orifices in the pursuit of some well stashed class A s no doubt ( must remember never to hide them there ! ) the 55 mins came and went and eventually the plane left. arrived glasgow , but had lost my phone . realised as soon as i got off the plane and the lady on the information desk ( i use the word " lady " but she was biologically less of a lady than i was , i mean she had a moustache and most of a beard and was probably an ex bulgarian shot putter from the 70 s fed anabolic steroids to help prove to us that communism was better ) was less than helpful so i did what every man would do in the situation and asked one of her male colleagues to check it out ( so that's the 2nd woman i've pissed off today ) . the net result was i arrived for a 12 o'clock meeting at 10 to 3 . just time to check into the hotel round the corner and change my shirt and drop down to the doo.

restaurant , very nice - food , bloody good . wine bottles and drinks rounds coming at a suicidal pace . peeps saying team meetings wouldn't be the same again , blah , blah . took a load of pics , talked a load of bollocks , was properly shit faced by tea time . went in for a bit of mutual flirting with a work colleague ( you look nice , yes you do too ..... ) female of course . i wish i could tell you more about what happened next but i can't - i was reminded i'd given my home phone no. to someone ! i lost the camera several times , once for about an hour , only for someone to find it in my pocket . don't remember leaving the bar ( but as you can tell i obviously made the right call here ) or walking home ( although i have a vague recollection of being lost ) or getting into the hotel / room . no lap dancing , no fights , am i getting dull , growing old ?

anyway , have had enough flashbacks to make me glad i can't remember more ( at least i forecast that bit correctly ) .

so , anybody want to tell me about a recent night out of their's . with the juicy bits of course !

is your work party like this... ?

10 days to go to the work xmas party

this is possibly one the the highlights of the ye.. no , week . even better - i have to get on a plane to get to it so it makes it feel like a bit of an adventure ( o.k. , a not very exciting adventure but beats having your balls whacked with a 9 iron ! ) .

i enjoy a piss up . that feeling of elation you get when you have a prolonged session , especially if it starts in the afternoon - GOD , how i love that feeling of afternoon inebriation . better than coke , the slow build up of light headedness , the banter , the anticipation that this could be the best night of your life ( uh ... i don't have a binge drink problem ) .

here's the standard xmas doo format -

fly in early , 7.00 am for start of team meeting at 9 ish . there's about 14 of us .

have team meeting , blah blah , great f ing year - plans for 2005 , yada yada .. is this meeting still fucking going .. wrap up at 2.

get to the fancy lunch place - still don't know where it is . boss orders bottles of spirits for the tables - big timer ( but i like him )

name calling accelerates and as i'm leaving this xmas i expect at least 3 dickheads to call me a "judas wanker" - chefs finest efforts are reduced to baby food in vats of mine-swept drink - but chef shouldn't fret as we'll be seeing some of it again later !

tea time sees everyone pissed - you know that tunnel vision you get - and you start to look around for "free" people at neighbouring tables . she's nice , she's f ing gooorgeous , she's an ugly slapper .. she'll be the only one that makes eye contact with you .

6 ish - now here's where it all starts to go a bit pear shaped . we're all half fucked - can hardly talk . one of us ( and to conceal his identity we'll substitute the name of an american president ) Colin , wants to go visit some titty bars . this is where 14 becomes 8 + 6 . lets assume i go with the majority ( as the rest will comprise of my boss and 2 secretraries ( nothing wrong with secretaries - just that these 2 don't drink and wouldn't know what a good time was if it came up and bit them on the arse .)) now this is the stage when you're 10 ft talll and bullet proof isn't it ?

11 ish - 8 bars have been "hit" , 2 or 3 titty bars in there , did i say we were fucked yet ? Colin's needs have not been met , he's got an anal fixation - so he's always looking for some sort of hybrid pool room / lap dance bar if you know what i mean , must have been some traumatic event in his childhood !! nobody else wants to traipse round the streets looking for this unicorn .

11.15 argument/ fight starts , 8 becomes 3 , 1 , 2 , 1 , 1 . nobody can usually remember too much after this part as 2/3 hours more essential drinking is done .

some days later - the truth , or all that we'll ever know of it , is known . the rest is probably best left that way .

let me know what you expect your work party to be like ....