Quiet times, shouty noises, smelly boxes
Well, all is quiet in the Fortress of Quiet'ytude... still on enforced rest cure from the fun factory, and it's not unpleasant. I could get used to this. In fact, although the work gear is laundered, badged and awaiting filling, I can honestly say I'm not looking forward to going back one bit. Mooching around, not a bad way to fill the day. The sun is out, the weather is not unpleasant and I'm getting a few things done. Some difficulty at the moment actually getting my quack to play ball and see me at the mo; I don't feel like going back until he actually says I should, and lets face it, if he says "another ten days off for YOU, matey", who am I to argue? Ahem. But seriously folks, I need a proper brief on when I can start exercising, when I can get the push bike out, when I can do all kinds of stuff and it's not coming from the anywhere right now; I know what I'm like, I'll only go and overdo it and break something if left to my own devices. Anyways up, I prescribe for today a certain amount of pottering around in the garden, a certain amount of fettling the Mile Eater, since I started TLC'ing it yesterday in preparation for the "return of the engine" and certainly no more "insanity strength bastard cider and beer products". Oh no. Quite enough of that stuff.
Mooching back through the world of late, this feature caught my eye.... I know it's not in the least politically correct, nice, acceptable and is in fact extremely wrong of me but it made oi chuckle. Even the Germans just wiped the buggers out en masse, it takes the towel wearing types to actually find a use for them other than flipping burgers on a special placement. Whatever next? Will the London underground advertising types reuse that five foot high gurning unfocussed face they had on their well meaning "you wouldn't give poor Droolo here a job, you prejudiced bastard; look into your hard heart and be a better person" poster that I saw last time I was in the smoke into a "know your enemy" sort of thing? "Britain's least wanted"? Who knows. In fact, who cares. It's news of the weird, folks. You couldn't make it up. But sitting here with a powerful telescope in the Fortress, I see all. Or all that the Indie and the news wires allow me to see anyway. Why can't I get paid to go out there where the metal flies and write shit for a living? I do it here for free. Ah, good point. If I'm out there with my EOS30, who's going to look after the G boy? He's having a hard enough time with the hyperactive young Turdwalker at the moment who is staying here again. The kitchen today was not pleasant. If you could bottle the smell of the litter tray today, Chanel would NOT sell it. Suffering as I was with Beerybelly and the after effects of cider, I have elected to make that the problem of TWM as she has far more experience of shitty arses than I do, and I'm just not dealing with that sort of thing first thing in the morning.
Oh and quote of the day from yesterday... "nothing says I love you like a drive by shooting". Where on earth did that come from? Why didn't I leave it there? Strange times. Maybe I AM getting a little stir crazy. Compulsory driving layoff ends tomorrow. Probably need to get out in the sun for a few hours.
Mooching back through the world of late, this feature caught my eye.... I know it's not in the least politically correct, nice, acceptable and is in fact extremely wrong of me but it made oi chuckle. Even the Germans just wiped the buggers out en masse, it takes the towel wearing types to actually find a use for them other than flipping burgers on a special placement. Whatever next? Will the London underground advertising types reuse that five foot high gurning unfocussed face they had on their well meaning "you wouldn't give poor Droolo here a job, you prejudiced bastard; look into your hard heart and be a better person" poster that I saw last time I was in the smoke into a "know your enemy" sort of thing? "Britain's least wanted"? Who knows. In fact, who cares. It's news of the weird, folks. You couldn't make it up. But sitting here with a powerful telescope in the Fortress, I see all. Or all that the Indie and the news wires allow me to see anyway. Why can't I get paid to go out there where the metal flies and write shit for a living? I do it here for free. Ah, good point. If I'm out there with my EOS30, who's going to look after the G boy? He's having a hard enough time with the hyperactive young Turdwalker at the moment who is staying here again. The kitchen today was not pleasant. If you could bottle the smell of the litter tray today, Chanel would NOT sell it. Suffering as I was with Beerybelly and the after effects of cider, I have elected to make that the problem of TWM as she has far more experience of shitty arses than I do, and I'm just not dealing with that sort of thing first thing in the morning.
Oh and quote of the day from yesterday... "nothing says I love you like a drive by shooting". Where on earth did that come from? Why didn't I leave it there? Strange times. Maybe I AM getting a little stir crazy. Compulsory driving layoff ends tomorrow. Probably need to get out in the sun for a few hours.
posted by Fred the Singing Bandit at 11:33 am
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