Men at work

Well, the presence of a couple of new bottles in the kitchen collection, and a large number of beerclips, several of which have commenced their new career as fridge magnets, and for all of which, I paid nowt; would indicate that I quite successfully chatted up the head brewer of a fine brewpub in Scouse last weekend. In a totally hethero way of course. Doesn't normally work for me, chatting people up for freebies. I haven't got the tits.

A low key bank holiday for me this time around; I'm conserving funds for the debauch at the end of the month. School reunion coming up down south, which promises much weirdness; but also which I suspect will involve me having to be financially solvent enough to get there in the first place; which kind of precludes the usual "hit the streets and party like it's 1999" effort. S'funny, I don't remember 1999 actually being that great a party year. Quite a weird one, actually. Anyway. Just come out of the shadow of a two day laundry binge (yes, deeply joyous and very interesting) and a couple of days of my own home cooking (not dead yet, but working on it), plus the manly man power tools training at work (Angle grinders! Sparks! Metal cutting! More power, more power, feeeeeeeeeeeeel the testosterone) and have now actually, properly, run out of anything to eat. So some limited supplies run is in order, yes? Maybe. Maybe I should add some tools to my shopping list. Away with your poncy electric carving knife, I cut my turkey with an angle grinder. Yay! No, that is not the way that to the end of the month with a little drinking money left intact, we get.