Sometimes life gets you down. I still don't have a job after half a year. Jobs which a few years ago I would have at least gotten an interview for, those which I fit all the specifications for and spend a lot of time constructing personalised cover letters for, I end up not even getting a reply back from, given that there are 100 other guys out there with my stats but also a wealth of unique work experience positions. Its not nice. Especially as I hope to travel asap. I want this damn recession to be over with.
Thus ends the paragraph to which hundreds of thousands of others will reply "ditto".
It wouldn't matter so much except all I want to see lies outside the boarders of the UK. I can't wait until I can live abroad. Europe, America, Australia. It'll be brilliant. Make for better blogging too.
What brings me down most is the friend who I have spoken to in a year. She messaged me to ask if I could believe its been that long. I can't, I've been thinking that a lot recently. I can't believe someone I feel so strongly about is the only person in the world who doesn't want to remain in contact any more. Evil as it sounds I wish I heard I wasn't alone, but it increasingly feels like I am. Seems like people keep saying its time to find someone, although I'm not seeing these people find anyone, which is comforting, I like to think love happens at any age. I hate how I am when I'm attracted to someone; I told my friend I would move abroad for her, which at the time seemed like a smart thing to say, but I now realise made me seem like a weirdo. Pretty sure I've said that previously. Meh. Annoying. And depressing.
Life is short. And I've no idea what comes after. I like to think we all meet up but I'm not too sure about that. So separation in this life troubles me greatly. I really hope one day we're friends again.
Til then, it's time to alleviate the depression as much as possible. I've gotta get this job and save up for a world tour. I'm ever more set on a charity cycle to every state capitol of every state in the USA. Sometimes I doubt myself and whether or not I am really a good person. But I've seen enough cheezy movie blockbuster morals played out in real time to convince me that actions speak louder then words. I don't know how much a trip that stupid can raise but hopefully it'll be enough to make me feel like the good guy for once.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Rough Night
The aforementioned night out turned out to be a doozy.
We headed out after a lovely drink in Tooting to the place in Leicester Square. I should reiterate my desire to build an app in which everyone can rate a place they visit. Kind of like google maps when you zoom in and can get a review, but a more review-specific application, where you have to grade things such as atmosphere, service etc out of 10. Would be marvelous. The castle in Tooting had a lovely atmosphere (8.5/10) and the service was pretty good (8/10). I met the usual football superstars, Hitesh, Gau, Adam, Raj, Sandeep and Danny, along with a few lovely blokes I haven't seen in a while including Ritik and a few others. I also met a lovely pair, Hitesh's sister and her husband.
We arrived at Ruby Blue just in time to avoid a nasty 10 quid entrance fee and made our way to our private booth. Ruby Blue was pretty nice. Quite small in the bar section and it was stereotypically loud so you had to be next to the persons ear to be heard but it could've been a lot worse.
It became pretty obvious early on that hitesh's brother in law was plastered but we all were before long. Merriment was had, including a brilliant cake which I confess I had a great portion to myself.
Towards the end of the evening we were all chatting away and before long noticed a fight had broken out of the dance floor. No-one has any idea what happened but it turns out hitesh's brother in law and his wife were arrested and before long out in a police car outside! Dramatic stuff. In the middle of all the commotion and running about trying to find out what happened Sandeep went and got a McDonald's which made me laugh no end afterwards. Man is a legend.
Getting a taxi back were me, Adam, Danny, Sandeep, Ritik and a girl called Aarti. We all had a good time trying to piece together exactly what happened on the way back. The kebab shop at 4am was like a feast, food always tastes better when drunk as it is but we were able to have a great chin-wag about the night as well. I do love the word chin-wag.
So there you go, random, but a memorable night. God knows what will happen next time. A death might be on the cards at this rate.
We headed out after a lovely drink in Tooting to the place in Leicester Square. I should reiterate my desire to build an app in which everyone can rate a place they visit. Kind of like google maps when you zoom in and can get a review, but a more review-specific application, where you have to grade things such as atmosphere, service etc out of 10. Would be marvelous. The castle in Tooting had a lovely atmosphere (8.5/10) and the service was pretty good (8/10). I met the usual football superstars, Hitesh, Gau, Adam, Raj, Sandeep and Danny, along with a few lovely blokes I haven't seen in a while including Ritik and a few others. I also met a lovely pair, Hitesh's sister and her husband.
We arrived at Ruby Blue just in time to avoid a nasty 10 quid entrance fee and made our way to our private booth. Ruby Blue was pretty nice. Quite small in the bar section and it was stereotypically loud so you had to be next to the persons ear to be heard but it could've been a lot worse.
It became pretty obvious early on that hitesh's brother in law was plastered but we all were before long. Merriment was had, including a brilliant cake which I confess I had a great portion to myself.
Towards the end of the evening we were all chatting away and before long noticed a fight had broken out of the dance floor. No-one has any idea what happened but it turns out hitesh's brother in law and his wife were arrested and before long out in a police car outside! Dramatic stuff. In the middle of all the commotion and running about trying to find out what happened Sandeep went and got a McDonald's which made me laugh no end afterwards. Man is a legend.
Getting a taxi back were me, Adam, Danny, Sandeep, Ritik and a girl called Aarti. We all had a good time trying to piece together exactly what happened on the way back. The kebab shop at 4am was like a feast, food always tastes better when drunk as it is but we were able to have a great chin-wag about the night as well. I do love the word chin-wag.
So there you go, random, but a memorable night. God knows what will happen next time. A death might be on the cards at this rate.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Why is it the more things you have on a list to complete, the more you end up not doing any of them?
The Flashguns: 5.9
The Good Shoes: 7.5
I have French homework, Spanish homework, mandatory job hunting as per the job seekers benefits rules, guitar practice and other minor chores. And have no desire to do any. I'd love to do Spanish and French but I doubt I'll learn much. I'm hoping when I find paid full time employment I'll have more stability and keep a regular diary on things to complete daily. But logically I'll have less time then now. Hopefully concentration rises in line with earnings. A lot of the rich do have high concentration levels...
I went with Antus Dius to see the Good Shoes on the 18th, they were lovely and enjoyable.
More detail you say? Ok.
We turned up with lovely fliers in order to get £1 off and entered the great Hippodrome, increasingly filled with people younger then me, but a lovely place, probably my fav in Kingston.
The show began with a warm-up called the Flashguns. As Ant pointed out, it's a tad unusual for so many American bands to come to Kingston to play in front of 20 or so random English boys and girls but if you're going to come to London to play at all and are relatively small, New Slang in the Hippodrome would be a top choice I suppose. The people are nice and the place is very hospitable.
The band were "pretty ok". A perfect way to sum them up. They bashed out a few ok songs which were good enough to sway to. I remember none and if I had a video of them I probably wouldn't post, too much hassle. Still if you enjoy a laid-back indie band then keep an eye out for them, they played long, melodramatic notes and tunes, something of an indie fast paced coldplay. "Flashguns"! Apparently on a European tour so someone somewhere with money think they're pretty good. And with all that concentration they must know what's best right?
We moved on for drinks and met a guy we met last during the wombats gig. He took a photo for us which I posted on fb, the only one with me Ant and Caroline in at the same time for your reference. He's a damn nice guy and a good laugh. He was absolutely nothing like what I remembered during the Wombats gig but I was wasted. We had a brief chin-wag before those Shoes that are Good came to the stage and we ran to observe.
It was my first time viewing and heard mixed reviews. Bursting onto the scene like some wild thang, they took massive strides with their first album and were initially pretty brilliant. Unfortunately album number two was a pile of poo. It bombed and calls from the band that they were playing a song from their "latest album" is met with a chorus of "oo-er"s.
That said my first experience with the Good Shoes was rather pleasant. The band played a mix of old and new stuff and the old stuff was definitely better. Smacked of local brilliant songs and the failed encroachment of new, more mass-appealing songs which turned sour. The band are originally from Morden which is roughly 2-3 miles I'd say from where we live.
What let the band down most I'd say was the lead singers lack of enthusiasm. Banter from the front was pretty much brushed off or ignored and he seemed to be in a 'lets get it over with' mood.
Here's a video of one of their songs. It was an old hit. I also have a vid of their finale but the quality is poorer and the leader sounds a lot more off-key then I remember. It also had more viewage of the the chavs in front of us acting like dicks which is never good. Why do people throw bottles onto the stage. It boggles belief. (I sound so old!)
If you desire to see the finale it's on my facebook. Its a good song which many an Englishman (and woman) will probably recognise off of sitcoms and dramas off of Channel 4 and the BBC. (I'm thinking of Skins.)
After the performance we sat for a few hours with our friend, I mainly observed the conversation, feeling tired as hell. All of this non-work is affecting my sleeping patterns. An enjoyable time it was though.
Final News!: The unpaid internship has offered me £65 a week for one extra day a week working on their Social Networking section. Mainly twitter. Annoyingly there are TWO rather large facebook groups for them, completely splitting the support. I'm either going to try to be an admin on one or make my own, although splitting it three ways seems rather stupid. Would give an official aspect to it though.
Tonight I'm off to the central London birthday bash of two footy mates. Expect to read a blog and see photos of the night soon! An old friend has appeared in the profile picture of another friend on my facebook. Took my breath away, she's always been pretty stunning. Time to attempt to be as stunning as possible eh.
Hope all you Yanks have a great Thanksgiving!!
Til later.
The Good Shoes: 7.5
I have French homework, Spanish homework, mandatory job hunting as per the job seekers benefits rules, guitar practice and other minor chores. And have no desire to do any. I'd love to do Spanish and French but I doubt I'll learn much. I'm hoping when I find paid full time employment I'll have more stability and keep a regular diary on things to complete daily. But logically I'll have less time then now. Hopefully concentration rises in line with earnings. A lot of the rich do have high concentration levels...
I went with Antus Dius to see the Good Shoes on the 18th, they were lovely and enjoyable.
More detail you say? Ok.
We turned up with lovely fliers in order to get £1 off and entered the great Hippodrome, increasingly filled with people younger then me, but a lovely place, probably my fav in Kingston.
The show began with a warm-up called the Flashguns. As Ant pointed out, it's a tad unusual for so many American bands to come to Kingston to play in front of 20 or so random English boys and girls but if you're going to come to London to play at all and are relatively small, New Slang in the Hippodrome would be a top choice I suppose. The people are nice and the place is very hospitable.
We moved on for drinks and met a guy we met last during the wombats gig. He took a photo for us which I posted on fb, the only one with me Ant and Caroline in at the same time for your reference. He's a damn nice guy and a good laugh. He was absolutely nothing like what I remembered during the Wombats gig but I was wasted. We had a brief chin-wag before those Shoes that are Good came to the stage and we ran to observe.
It was my first time viewing and heard mixed reviews. Bursting onto the scene like some wild thang, they took massive strides with their first album and were initially pretty brilliant. Unfortunately album number two was a pile of poo. It bombed and calls from the band that they were playing a song from their "latest album" is met with a chorus of "oo-er"s.
What let the band down most I'd say was the lead singers lack of enthusiasm. Banter from the front was pretty much brushed off or ignored and he seemed to be in a 'lets get it over with' mood.
Here's a video of one of their songs. It was an old hit. I also have a vid of their finale but the quality is poorer and the leader sounds a lot more off-key then I remember. It also had more viewage of the the chavs in front of us acting like dicks which is never good. Why do people throw bottles onto the stage. It boggles belief. (I sound so old!)
If you desire to see the finale it's on my facebook. Its a good song which many an Englishman (and woman) will probably recognise off of sitcoms and dramas off of Channel 4 and the BBC. (I'm thinking of Skins.)
After the performance we sat for a few hours with our friend, I mainly observed the conversation, feeling tired as hell. All of this non-work is affecting my sleeping patterns. An enjoyable time it was though.
Final News!: The unpaid internship has offered me £65 a week for one extra day a week working on their Social Networking section. Mainly twitter. Annoyingly there are TWO rather large facebook groups for them, completely splitting the support. I'm either going to try to be an admin on one or make my own, although splitting it three ways seems rather stupid. Would give an official aspect to it though.
Tonight I'm off to the central London birthday bash of two footy mates. Expect to read a blog and see photos of the night soon! An old friend has appeared in the profile picture of another friend on my facebook. Took my breath away, she's always been pretty stunning. Time to attempt to be as stunning as possible eh.
Hope all you Yanks have a great Thanksgiving!!
Til later.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Review: Being Sellers
8.2/10
Shortest review ever. Just to say I went to see the show "Being Sellers" this Wednesday at the Waterloo East Theatre. The Theatre has literally been open 2 months. It was actually pretty nice, nice bar, nice staff and damn nice aero hot chocolate.
Being Sellers is a one man show about a guy acting essentially the life of Peter Sellers, one of our greatest comics. When walking in, the seats were on the stage, along with a restless actor in a hospital bed. Once up and running the show was pretty well put together. The solo actor had done pretty much everything from acting to directing and had taught drama in Australia for 2 decades so I knew experience was with us.
He pulled off some pretty brilliant impersonations of the great Sellers and the story was compelling. It was set in Seller's head during one of his serious heart attacks, or perhaps it was an interpretation after Sellers died of his final heart attack. Either way, the show was Seller's coming to terms with death, trying to fight his way out of purgatory and searching through his past to come up with the clues to escape. Of course this lead to all number of impressions which were very good indeed. My favourite of his works is the goons and the actor pulled off his goon show impression damn well considering he did the whole cast and the whole cast of the goons were brilliant actors in their own right.
The one qualm about the whole show was the noise. The theatre is literally just under Waterloo Station, one of, the busiest train stations in London. What sounded like 4 tracks were above the theatre, and the rumbles of trains passing overhead was pretty off putting. At one point I was trying to guess which train was coming next, as all 4 had varying pitches of noise. I also felt sorry for this obviously talented actor having to do emotional quiet scenes when the 9:15 to Chelmsford was moving just above us.
Still the show was good, the location was the only problem I had really. Cept for maybe when the actor did a falling scene and nearly crushed my feet!
Wow this review turned out to be long after all. Who knew. Not me that's who.
Tomorrow I'll do the last of the modern new stories about the Good Shoes who I saw this wed, as I'm knackered now.
Till then!
Shortest review ever. Just to say I went to see the show "Being Sellers" this Wednesday at the Waterloo East Theatre. The Theatre has literally been open 2 months. It was actually pretty nice, nice bar, nice staff and damn nice aero hot chocolate.
Being Sellers is a one man show about a guy acting essentially the life of Peter Sellers, one of our greatest comics. When walking in, the seats were on the stage, along with a restless actor in a hospital bed. Once up and running the show was pretty well put together. The solo actor had done pretty much everything from acting to directing and had taught drama in Australia for 2 decades so I knew experience was with us.
He pulled off some pretty brilliant impersonations of the great Sellers and the story was compelling. It was set in Seller's head during one of his serious heart attacks, or perhaps it was an interpretation after Sellers died of his final heart attack. Either way, the show was Seller's coming to terms with death, trying to fight his way out of purgatory and searching through his past to come up with the clues to escape. Of course this lead to all number of impressions which were very good indeed. My favourite of his works is the goons and the actor pulled off his goon show impression damn well considering he did the whole cast and the whole cast of the goons were brilliant actors in their own right.
The one qualm about the whole show was the noise. The theatre is literally just under Waterloo Station, one of, the busiest train stations in London. What sounded like 4 tracks were above the theatre, and the rumbles of trains passing overhead was pretty off putting. At one point I was trying to guess which train was coming next, as all 4 had varying pitches of noise. I also felt sorry for this obviously talented actor having to do emotional quiet scenes when the 9:15 to Chelmsford was moving just above us.
Still the show was good, the location was the only problem I had really. Cept for maybe when the actor did a falling scene and nearly crushed my feet!
Wow this review turned out to be long after all. Who knew. Not me that's who.
Tomorrow I'll do the last of the modern new stories about the Good Shoes who I saw this wed, as I'm knackered now.
Till then!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Jeremy Hardy performing stand-up
Turns out I've omitted a few small things, I should probably clear up in chronological order before continuing.
Jeremy Hardy on Stage: 7.3/10
Uno) A week before my birthday I went to see Jeremy Hardy perform his stand-up at Richmond Theatre, nice place, it was full, a few hundred people I'd say. Birthday present from Mi Padre. Using his typical 'Dad' sense of humour, he got me, him, his boyfriend and his ex seats on the front row. Typical, because I hate the front row. I like to go out to a show and be safe in the knowledge that I will be be a spectator only. Being within conversing range of the stand-up/comedy show makes me nervous, I'm not a particularly big fan of being pointed out and made a part of the act.
We got there in good time and ole Hardy came on. Being a BBC Radio 4 regular he used very political high brow humour, talking about the Richmond area, rich vs poor, socialism (his fav) the war, and getting old.
The getting old part was where the trouble started; Radio 4 caters for the older, more politically inclined Londoner, and I was the youngest person I saw by about a decade. So I get picked on, am designated the 'young one'. Things were going fine until he asked the obvious question: "How old are you?"
The following is what happened in my head within the space of 0.1 seconds:
SHIT. I'm 23. Well 24 really. I spent the next 15 minutes of the show constructing my new 22 year old life in my mind. Telling myself I was born in 1987, not 1986. Just in case he came back with a pop quiz for some random entertainment. The bad thing is this show was apparently recorded for Radio 4. I was initially quite happy at the thought of being part of the crowd in a packed show. Shame I was the only guy in the room to tell the audience I WASN'T there.
So meh, deserved a good but not remarkable score. Seemed like a nice guy though. I would see him again for a good price..
Jeremy Hardy on Stage: 7.3/10
Uno) A week before my birthday I went to see Jeremy Hardy perform his stand-up at Richmond Theatre, nice place, it was full, a few hundred people I'd say. Birthday present from Mi Padre. Using his typical 'Dad' sense of humour, he got me, him, his boyfriend and his ex seats on the front row. Typical, because I hate the front row. I like to go out to a show and be safe in the knowledge that I will be be a spectator only. Being within conversing range of the stand-up/comedy show makes me nervous, I'm not a particularly big fan of being pointed out and made a part of the act.
We got there in good time and ole Hardy came on. Being a BBC Radio 4 regular he used very political high brow humour, talking about the Richmond area, rich vs poor, socialism (his fav) the war, and getting old.
The getting old part was where the trouble started; Radio 4 caters for the older, more politically inclined Londoner, and I was the youngest person I saw by about a decade. So I get picked on, am designated the 'young one'. Things were going fine until he asked the obvious question: "How old are you?"
The following is what happened in my head within the space of 0.1 seconds:
"Holy Crap. Question time. How old am I? Easy, I'm..... . Wtf. I should know my bloody age by now, I've had over two decades to learn it. Man, theres loads of people in this room. Where was I? Ahh my age. Yes. Age. Age age age. Erm, well I'm more then 21, that was a good while ago. Not 25 yet am I? No that's way too old surely. God theres so many people here. How old am I?? Ok not cool. I need to answer. This is stand-up. If I don't answer within the second he's clearly going to take the piss. And in front of all these people. Probably a good million in this room. Well I'm here for my birthday right? So its probably a year less then the age I've been thinking about recently which will be what I'm going to become. So minus a year right? Right??? Quick say something. Tell him your age, Quick! Quick!!!!! Before its too late! Last chance. Go for it. Take your best shot. Do it, DO IT!!!!""I'm 22."
SHIT. I'm 23. Well 24 really. I spent the next 15 minutes of the show constructing my new 22 year old life in my mind. Telling myself I was born in 1987, not 1986. Just in case he came back with a pop quiz for some random entertainment. The bad thing is this show was apparently recorded for Radio 4. I was initially quite happy at the thought of being part of the crowd in a packed show. Shame I was the only guy in the room to tell the audience I WASN'T there.
"Hey I was on the radio the other day, I was at the Jeremy Hardy gig, I was the one he picked on, it was cool!"Brilliant. The show was very good otherwise. The humour was interesting and on the whole, pretty funny. I liked his over the top 'left-wing-ism' and he had the necessary confidence to pull it all off. There were a couple of lulls in the laughter but I suppose it's to be expected considering he seemed to make a lot of it off the cuff. And in that respect it was pretty impressive. His anti-war tirade came off a bit disrespectful to the men out there, despite him saying he respected them intensely, but on the whole it was on the right side of acceptable.
"Ahh yeah, you're the 22 year old right!?"
"Well I just turned 24 actually..."
"Ahhh..ok..."
"It was me though! You believe me right!?"
"Yeah...sure....(nutcase).."
So meh, deserved a good but not remarkable score. Seemed like a nice guy though. I would see him again for a good price..
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Early November = Birthday time
For some reason the 6 million or so people who had seen this rap video of Bert and Ernie chose not to inform me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21OH0wlkfbc
Well then, that's 6 million or so people who WON'T be getting Christmas cards from me next month. To be honest its kind of a let off, I'm still without paid employment and thus cannot afford 6 million Christmas cards.
Anyways, early November brings along with it a reminder that 24 years ago I was yanked kicking and screaming from the womb of a pregnant lady. And kick and scream we should. Its amazing we all grow up to be sane thinking about it. Stories abound of people who are traumatised at a young age and have trouble fitting in later in life.
Surely having to be told at age 0 that we must now breathe, eat, and drink through the mouth rather then through the belly button, that we must interact with hundreds of other people and not even have the ability to tell the ones we don't like to fuck off just yet, that we have entered into a world where crime, drugs, war and X-factor exist, would turn us all into homicidal maniacs shortly after hitting puberty. But it doesn't. Strange that isn't it.
I digress. My birthday was lovely, family friends came to the house and we ate, drank and had merriment. A small amount of cack fireworks were lit in celebration of that great dude Guy Fawkes who failed to blow up parliament back in 1605. I do like how my birthday falls on bonfire night, something pretty special about fireworks and bonfires on your birthday.
My lovely grandma also made me a brilliant cake in the shape of a hedgehog. Its just spectacular.
Grans make the best cakes. Despite what the old lady in the movie production of Matilda made us believe. Actually that cake looked good to, the lady was just nasty. MY gran filled my cake with loving awesomeness. And for your reference loving awesomeness tastes like chocolate cake with a strong element of coffee and some chocolate buttons thrown into the mix.
At le party I received the following; some awesome (and probably expensive) aftershave from the lovely McDonaghs, a pair of jeans from my sister, some forrero roccer from my godfather, some new trainers from mum and a slab of chocolate numminess from my dads boyfriend. All in all was loovely. The night was full of socialising and ended in a big talk about the Labour Party and the potential for a book group.
Most of the presents I got from others, including me dad turned out to be money which is just what the doctor ordered as I am off to the stag doo of my lovely ex-roommate Daniel who gets married next feb. December 10th - 12th will see me in Newcastle where I will participate in a grand lads weekend out. The lineup includes, in order, a strip club, paint balling, free Indian meal and a night on the town at some VIP clubs. Controversial as it may seem to say, the strip club I believe will probably be a let down without some careful going. Being male, I am lumped with the stereotype that I must enjoy and should actively seek out the opportunity to plant myself in front of naked ladies and follow their privates with my eyes like I'm taking some sort of perverted test for concussion. And don't get me wrong, it'll be nice for a few minutes. Unfortunately for the remaining few hours I will be intensely aware of the fact that I'm surrounded by seedy drooling men with erections. It won't be pretty. Fingers crossed they'll actually be normal folks on stag doos like us, we'll have a laugh at a table somewhere then get the betrothed one a lap dance.
Paint balling will be fun but painful, the Indian will be tasty and the night out will be hilarious. Cannot wait.
Last to say that I've changed my CV and Cover Letter a lot recently, I'm more optimistic then I have been in the past so things aren't so bad!
Allow me to leave you with the quote from my favourite happy birthday song by the Arrogant Worms (mainly to test the quote option)
Till next time!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21OH0wlkfbc
Well then, that's 6 million or so people who WON'T be getting Christmas cards from me next month. To be honest its kind of a let off, I'm still without paid employment and thus cannot afford 6 million Christmas cards.
Anyways, early November brings along with it a reminder that 24 years ago I was yanked kicking and screaming from the womb of a pregnant lady. And kick and scream we should. Its amazing we all grow up to be sane thinking about it. Stories abound of people who are traumatised at a young age and have trouble fitting in later in life.
Surely having to be told at age 0 that we must now breathe, eat, and drink through the mouth rather then through the belly button, that we must interact with hundreds of other people and not even have the ability to tell the ones we don't like to fuck off just yet, that we have entered into a world where crime, drugs, war and X-factor exist, would turn us all into homicidal maniacs shortly after hitting puberty. But it doesn't. Strange that isn't it.
I digress. My birthday was lovely, family friends came to the house and we ate, drank and had merriment. A small amount of cack fireworks were lit in celebration of that great dude Guy Fawkes who failed to blow up parliament back in 1605. I do like how my birthday falls on bonfire night, something pretty special about fireworks and bonfires on your birthday.
My lovely grandma also made me a brilliant cake in the shape of a hedgehog. Its just spectacular.
Grans make the best cakes. Despite what the old lady in the movie production of Matilda made us believe. Actually that cake looked good to, the lady was just nasty. MY gran filled my cake with loving awesomeness. And for your reference loving awesomeness tastes like chocolate cake with a strong element of coffee and some chocolate buttons thrown into the mix.
At le party I received the following; some awesome (and probably expensive) aftershave from the lovely McDonaghs, a pair of jeans from my sister, some forrero roccer from my godfather, some new trainers from mum and a slab of chocolate numminess from my dads boyfriend. All in all was loovely. The night was full of socialising and ended in a big talk about the Labour Party and the potential for a book group.
Most of the presents I got from others, including me dad turned out to be money which is just what the doctor ordered as I am off to the stag doo of my lovely ex-roommate Daniel who gets married next feb. December 10th - 12th will see me in Newcastle where I will participate in a grand lads weekend out. The lineup includes, in order, a strip club, paint balling, free Indian meal and a night on the town at some VIP clubs. Controversial as it may seem to say, the strip club I believe will probably be a let down without some careful going. Being male, I am lumped with the stereotype that I must enjoy and should actively seek out the opportunity to plant myself in front of naked ladies and follow their privates with my eyes like I'm taking some sort of perverted test for concussion. And don't get me wrong, it'll be nice for a few minutes. Unfortunately for the remaining few hours I will be intensely aware of the fact that I'm surrounded by seedy drooling men with erections. It won't be pretty. Fingers crossed they'll actually be normal folks on stag doos like us, we'll have a laugh at a table somewhere then get the betrothed one a lap dance.
Paint balling will be fun but painful, the Indian will be tasty and the night out will be hilarious. Cannot wait.
Last to say that I've changed my CV and Cover Letter a lot recently, I'm more optimistic then I have been in the past so things aren't so bad!
Allow me to leave you with the quote from my favourite happy birthday song by the Arrogant Worms (mainly to test the quote option)
Happy birthday!
Now you're one year older
Happy birthday!
Your life still isn't over
Happy birthday!
You did not accomplish much
But you didn't die this year
I guess that's good enough
Till next time!
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