B.W.E. (Best Week Ever)

The pieces of the puzzle that is adult life really are starting to come together. Let's see, in the last week since I last wrote I've turned 22; celebrated said turning of age; spent a day at Thorpe Park; and been offered a full time, proper job! With all that said and done, I thank you for reading another epic instalment of this blog, goodnight folks....

...OK, I find myself wanting a little more detail as I know that some day I'll want to read back on this time.

Fist Pump, Fist Pump, Fist Pump

On the past weekend, Jason and myself joined forces to celebrate our upcoming birthdays with friends, as my 22nd was on the following Monday, while his 23rd was on the Tuesday. We spent a Saturday night out on the town, enjoying a pleasant meal with friends, before hitting a couple of bars. We ended up in a place called The Retreat, which was a small, yet lively little place that served drinks at high price and played music at a high volume. So, yes what I'm trying to say is that the drinks were a little expensive, but that the atmosphere made up for that. Now recently, the fist pump has made a bit of a comeback, largely due to the Youtube sensation that is Long Island Iced Z and the Ryder Revolution that is being felt the world over as a result. The hit internet show features a lot of of the simple to learn, difficult to master dance move, and we more than broke it out on Saturday night, baby! If I remember correctly, which is a little difficult for me to do (although not nearly as bad as it is for me to remember last year's messy birthday bash), it was Sam and myself that got the fist-pumping going, and before we knew it, everyone was joining the revolution, much the chagrin of Stacey who seems to detest the move for not good reason. We even noticed that other patrons of the bar were fist-pumping later in the evening.

Saturday night wasn't the only time over the last week that I was able to break out a fist pump or two though. On Tuesday, the day after my actual birthday, a group of us went to Thorpe Park. Stacey, Jason (the birthday boy), Tom and Jane accompanied me to the top UK attraction, and while there we managed to get a go on nearly every ride. Jane it turns out, being the annual pass holder that she is, is pretty much a Thorpe Park pro, a Thorpe Park veteran if ever there was one. As soon as we got into the park - after having been stopped and searched on the way in for the second time running - Jane marched us straight to Saw: The Ride following the most direct route. We were then amongst the first to ride Saw that day, meaning no ridiculously long queues! Result! As far as the fist-pumping goes, I managed to first break some out on Samurai - a ride that I had never before even contemplated letting go of the handlebars on before; it seems as if I've gotten used to it. X: No Way Out, was a great one to fist pump along on, as the backward roller coaster in the dark now comes complete with disco-techno music to complete the experience, meaning there was no way you couldn't fist pump your way around. And finally, I managed to get a go on Stealth. I hadn't before ridden that one, as for starters it last all of about 20 seconds, and the queue has always been a couple of hours, and secondly, I've been a little scared to be fired along the track that damn fast. Basically, for those not up on their Thorpe Park rides, on Stealth you get accelorated from 0-80mph in just 2.3 seconds, and go straight up in the air at a crazy incline, before shooting straight back down. The start of the ride was pretty scared, and as the countdown to launch began, I braced heavily, but as soon as we got going, I opened my eyes and fully embraced the rush of adrenaline. I mentioned above about how I was braver than usual on Samurai, fact is that it was a common theme throughout the day, as rides that had once got the blood rushing unlike anything else no longer seemed to do the trick quite as well as they once had. Stealth on the other hand brought the full-throttle speed, height, and thrill to return me to roller coaster nirvana. Even still, I managed to break out a fist pump right at the top of the ride, and on the trip back down to Earth. I was even screaming 'FIST PUMP' at the top of my lungs, so loudly that Jane and Tom in front had to try and turn around to find out what was up, as they thought that with the commotion that I was making, that maybe me or Stacey were hurt in some way. 

After getting completely worn out and tired at Thorpe Park, Stacey, Jason and me were only just getting out Tuesday started. Although it was Jason's actual birthday, we'd both celebrated ours on the weekend prior so that Tuesday night could be free for our friend Becky's 21st. To celebrate Becky's milestone, we went for a night out in Maidstone, and ended up in Envy, which was a very nice looking club, if a little dead what with it being a Tuesday night at all. Highlights include: fist-pumping in the middle of the group, and receiving a late birthday gift from Nat and Chris in the form of a hilarious to look at, funnier to drink from Booby-mug! We had a wicked time in Kent's County Town and it looked as if the birthday girl was having a ball. Meanwhile the birthday boy, Jason looked a little sullen on the night of his 23rd. Methinks it may have something to do with being a little lovesick... 

22

The Monday prior to Thorpe Park and Maidstone was as I already mentioned, my birthday. I turned 22 at 10:41am. To mark the day, Stacey treated me to one hell of a day out. We started it with our first ever visit to Madame Tussauds, and I was completely blown away by the Marvel section that they've added in, including the wondrous Marvel 4D adventure that makes use of the dome left behind by the old London Planetarium. Stacey had also booked tickets to the Sealife center, so after lunch we headed there and got to see all manner of sealife, including stingrays, jellyfish, starfish, penguins, and sharks. Some of the sights there were pretty breathtaking. Once we were finished with the Sealife Center, we headed next door to the London Film Museum which had various props from major movies, as well as exhibits of certain films and stars, and even featured a set from Star Wars. From there we headed to the Forbidden Planet store, where Stacey allowed me to get my geek on, and bought me a Dark Tower graphic novel, following which we went to the cinema in Leicester Square. We watched Bad Teacher which was pretty much what it said on the tin, it was pretty funny, but nothing spectacular. We then ended our day with a huge feast in Planet Hollywood, overlooked by yet more movie memorabilia. I enjoyed some sizzling fajitas, washed down by a Dark Knight cocktail. All in all, it's fair to say that Stacey provided me with a jam-packed birthday to go with what had been a fully-loaded few days. 

Wednesday was day booked off to rest, recover, and recuperate from the mayhem. We got up, feeling rather hungover and deflated at 11ish, and got ourselves around to watching the highly anticipated fifth season premiere of Dexter, after which I discovered that finally, after months and months of pain-staking job hunting, that I have a new full time, proper adult, careery-type job. I'm officially leaving the world of retail next week, and in a week and half will be embarking on my recruitment career. I can not wait. The hours promise to be long, and the work hard, but I'm up for the challenge. Recruitment has piqued my interest for a while now, and I feel that I'll do a terrific job of it. 

With that news, I'll leave it for now... Exciting times are ahead for sure. For now, I'm gonna continue to fist pump.... Woo Woo Woo - You Know It!

WordSlinga'

I finished reading the penultimate volume to Stephen King's Dark Tower series this evening - Song of Susannah. With only one more part to this epic quest to read (and then the numerous graphic novel spin-offs and the additional novel that Sai King is to release upon the world next year), it's safe to say that my own personal journey to reach the Dark Tower is nearing completion after four whole years. For those of you reading this that may not have seen my previous musings on King's Dark Tower books, then let me just fill you in a tad to say that I've rather enjoyed taking the slow-approach with these novels, and will be sad to leave mid-world and end-world come the end of the literary road.

I probably sound (or read) like a bit of a loser right about now, but truth be told I don't care much about that. I've been enjoying - and still am - these books and whole-heartily recommend them to all, especially with the first movie adaptation only a mere two years away from us now. What inspired me to start writing again tonight though was the addition of some of the entries from Stephen King's own personal journals included at the end of the book. These journal entries span from the mid-seventies right the way through to 1999, and basically tell of the long, artistic endeavour in which King travelled to produce this World of the Gunslinger and the Dark Tower. It's a fascinating read - almost as much so as the terrific tale that precedes it - as it also tells of Stephen King's own personal battles with alcoholism among other issues while he was dealing with them first hand. Everything he speaks to himself of in these 'Dear Diary' moments tells like one of his eery stories and even culminates in a life-altering event, much like what would happen in one of his bestsellers. Many-a Stephen King fan reading this will probably know of the event in the writer's life that I'm referring to, and if not I ask you really? The incident that nearly killed the world's greatest popular novelist has even been parodied in Family Guy... Twice!

The Pieces of the Puzzle

Having reached this point in my reading of Roland and his trials and tribulations in a bid to reach that ever elusive Dark Tower, it would seem that my life - here in the real world - is starting to take form. I mentioned a couple of blogs back about how Stacey had finally been made a permanent fixture in her office, like a piece of the furniture if it does ya. Well, she's doing great, and I'm extremely happy and proud for her. In my world - Our World - I get the sense that everything is slowly, but surely, coming together. Change is afoot, and in the best possible of ways methinks and mehopes. I have finished my degree at last, and with that comes the climax to my life's work to date: Educating myself. I know, I know, we learn new things everyday, but I'm excited and a little nervous about the fact that I'm no longer a student of the game, so to speak. I've even decided to broaden the job hunt and am looking at the possibilities of working in the big, scary city. I'm 22 next week, so I guess it's time to become a proper grown up... I've already just said that I'm excited, and I am... about everything. I love the uncertainty of life at the moment, just the not-knowing of it all. For instance: Where will I be working in a month's time? What will I be doing? When will I be flying the nest? - These are very, very exciting times indeed, and I'm savouring every delicious minute of it! I even find myself daydreaming about all the little ways in which my life will change when I'm a full-timer. Obviously I'll have more money rolling in and will (fingers crossed) be able to move out soon enough. But I also wonder about my spare-time and all my little hobbies and interests. If I commute to London, the train journey each day, back and forth, will be a little bit of Me-Time, as I can already picture myself sitting in an uncomfy, smelly chair each day, moving at 200 miles per hour reading the latest Stephen King, or playing the newest game on my Nintendo, or even watching some movie or TV show on my iPod. 

According to Stacey though, many officey types that she knows are all into exercise, so maybe I'll abandon many of my likes to tone my abs. I suppose at the very least I should get back on the ol' bicycle. My weekly 411 column will likely become an immediate casualty as I just don't see how I'll have the time to commit to it every week any longer. One of my main concerns though is that I not stop writing. I hope to always keep this blog and don't see any reason for it to end, especially since the entries are always sporadic anyways. I guess I'm overreacting now though about it all, as I don't really know what the near future holds for me at the moment. I just want to make sure that I never stop writing as it's something I love to do, yet is something that I can easily see being forgotten about until one day, a much older version of myself (possibly middle-aged, maybe older) rediscovers this blog and wonders just what in the hell happened, just like a scene out of a movie! I'm sure it'll never get to that though. Sure.

Oli Oli Alioli

I cooked dinner for the family tonight. I produced a chili-con-carne, and the general verdict seems to be that it's better than the one Mum's been serving us up for two decades. I'm sure in truth though that it's only an illusion in that Mum's recipe has been enjoyed so many times that mine comes along and looks all new and shiny, and therefore better. Although I did include sour cream, nachos and guacamole to spruce things up from the tried and true Chili 'n' Rice only combo.

While in the supermarket hunting down the ingredients for the meal ('hunting down' sounds so much cooler than 'shopping for'), I remembered a lunch that was enjoyed by myself, and by Stacey in Spain last year. ALIOLI! Alioli is a garlic mayonnaise-like substance that isn't quite mayonnaise. We ate it en Espana spread on pieces of baguette, with a spoonful of tinned tomato puree matter dashed on top, followed by a pinch of salt. Ah it was delicious, and it took until now - 9 months later - to remember to look the damn stuff up! I guess thoughts like that need the required pregnancy time to be born into my head again. Anywho, the bottom line is that I couldn't find it, and so am left wondering whether this garlic-tasting treat is available on our shores. If anyone can help in the hunt for some alioli, it would be much appreciated.

The Monsters Hiding Under the Sofa?

One final note before signing out for the night (Sleepsville awaits my presence), we re-watched the Disney/Pixar classic Monsters Inc. the other week, 'we' being Stacey and me. It's a fantastically heartwarming film that makes you both laugh and cry... not that I cry at films... I'm a man afterall...

It turns out that Stacey takes some of the subject matter a little seriously. Now, she's always had this habit of having to put her feet up on my lap which I thought nothing of - Maybe that's just how she was comfortable sitting - Maybe not. No, Stacey would only put her feet up on my lap when she wasn't wearing slippers or any other appropriate footwear. For you see, there could be monsters lurking in the teeny, tiny crevice beneath the sofa, or bed, or whatever the hell you're sitting on, and apparently the defence against such terrors is warm, soft and comfortable footwear. Hazzah! 

Weird foot fetishes aside, I am in for a hell of a week, as we're pub-quizzing it up tomorrow night, and then this weekend the birthday festivities of myself and a few other friends kick off. I'm looking forward to it all, and will make sure to write about it all, I'm sure. Sure. Still can't believe I'm going to be 22, the age of a couple of ducks as Stacey keeps telling me. Oh well, at least I'm not 23 yet, eh sweetie? Oh yeah and while all the TV shows I've been watching recently have decided to go and take inconsiderate mid-series breaks - I'm looking at you South Park and Doctor Who - the ultimate in television shows is back, as Dexter returns for its 5th season in the UK as kind of an early birthday present from the TV Gods. Life really is piecing itself together.

Bucket List

Last night I watched the film Bucket List starring the ever-great Jack Nicholson and the always outstanding Morgan Freeman. For those of you that haven't seen this movie yet, I highly recommend it. The film follows the two characters Edward and Carter - Nicholson and Freeman respectively - as they set out to tick items off of their bucket list after having met in the hospital.

What's a bucket list? I hear you ask. A bucket list is of course a list of things that you want to do or accomplish before you die, or should I say Kick the Bucket!

This has gotten me to thinking of what I'd like to do to live what I can later look back on as having been a complete and fulfilled life. So, ladies and gents I give to you, in no particular order, the first draft of my own personal bucket list:

1. Visit America, particularly Florida, New York and California - A US tour would be ideal.

2. Visit Rome and to utter the phrase 'When in Rome' while there.

3. Go gliding (again).

4. Go to the Superbowl.

5. Go to Wrestlemania.

6. Cycle the length/width of the country.

7. Climb a great height.

8. Help someone out by peeing on their leg after they've been stung by jellyfish.

9. Meet Mick Foley and give him a hug.

10. Write a Book.

11. Become a published author.

12. Make the New York Times Bestsellers list.

13. Discuss the art of literature with Stephen King.

14. Have a Media Room in my house - a place to retreat to.

15. Have those little fish nibble at my feet.

16. Get a tattoo.

17. Read Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol at Christmas time.

18. Build a snowman that comes to life at night and aids me in walking in the air...

19. Ride in Santa's Sleigh.

20. Learn how to play the pia-pia-piano.

21. Perform a successful backflip.

22. Create a signature culinary masterpiece.

23. Celebrate a milestone birthday with a party that I can actually remember.

24. Be a film extra.

25. Ride the biggest roller coaster there is to ride - arguably this is life itself!

Ok, Ok, some of this is pretty silly, and there will be many other things that I will want to add and change to this list in the future as I continue to age and change as a person. Of course there's an obvious few missing from this list - those being to remain healthy, to have a happy family, and to have a successful career - but those are standard and the three staples of any bucket list... for most people anyway. There is also the factor to consider of that it took me about 5 minutes to write down this list, therefore it hasn't been well thought-out, which kind of makes it null and void. I guess you've all just wasted your time reading this. Poor you! Maybe you should all go out there instead of continuing to just sit there and tick some things off of your own bucket list!

Dreams of Torment

My dreams of the last week seem to be playing some kind of psychological game with me, like a gang of school bullies who've stolen my rucksack and are throwing it between each other, keeping it out of my reach. The first was on Saturday night, and left me in a bit of bad mood all day Sunday. The dream involved me receiving news that the job that I'd originally been turned down from had changed their minds and wanted to hire me. The job itself was a mesh - a hybrid - of all of the jobs that I've been to interviews for so far this year. The job that I was being hired for incorporated all of the good qualities from each of these realistically mundane roles and rolled them all up into one for me. It had the best pay, best location, best company benefits and best dress code! Lovely. I then woke up, and after a few seconds that harsh, gritty realisation that the job had been the fiction of my mind came crashing down around me in the bed. And there we have it, I was hard for poor old Stacey to get along with all day, because the job wasn't real and I felt like a failure for not actually possessing what was merely a figment of my unconcious imagination. Towards the end of the day I did manage to get over it - and myself - and cheered up.

Truth be told, my epic quest to gain full time employment has been put on hold for a couple of weeks, and with good reason. The good reason being that the light at the end of the tunnel, the finishing line is finally in sight... My degree is nearly complete! Yes, I am currently in the midst of my last ever assignment, and I can't wait to get past it. Not only will I be able to put that I am a graduate on my CV (which should bloody well help with the job hunt), but I also won't have to spend any more time trolling through textbooks and meeting deadlines on pure self motivation. I'm ever so close to the word count at the time of writing, after which I have only to edit and reference... Oh, and maybe send it off to Pete who wrote the same essay a year ago for a readthrough if he has time before my Thursday deadline (heads-up buddy!).

Elsewhere, there is some happy news on another job front, and that is that finally, after a total time of over a year racked up as a temp at her current job, Stacey has been awarded a permanent position! Congratulations are in order, she deserves it! Now if only I could catch up!

BEER MONEY!

Last Saturday, Stacey and I visited France for the day along with friends Tam and Andrew. The main purpose for any Englishman to visit said country was fulfilled during the day as several bottles of alcoholic beverages were purchased for low-low prices. On the ferry I picked up a tasty bargain in the form of 48 bottles of Budweiser (King of Beers) for a meagre £20. I already had two bottles of the stuff at home, meaning that I was among other things in life, the proud owner of 50 bottles of Bud! It didn;t take long for me to drink one (48 hours to be exact), and I was then left with 49. I've made mention on here before of the mild form of OCD that I feel I suffer, and believe every single person to possess in some form, and Stacey, remembering this felt that I should drink another to take it down to an even 48 bottles. I surprised her though by replying with the fact that I think 49 is a nicer number than 48. I can't explain any reason or rationale for this, it's just the way I feel about those numbers... 49 > 48 afterall.

I also picked up 10 bottles of French Lager for €2.70 - another great deal - and we all bought plenty of wine and some cheese, making us stereotypical English in France. After our shopping trip, Stacey drove us to Dunqurke and we parked up for a walk around. We found a bar/restaurant and decided to stop for a drink and some food. The waitress that came to our table didn't speak English, and after a bit of a struggle, we managed to order our drinks. The girls ordered Pepsi, while Andrew and me ordered whatever the beer was, opting for the mammoth litre glasses. These glasses of beer were bigger than our heads, and needless to say we were pretty drunk after finishing. The funny thing about this place wasn't the fact that the beer came in such large quantities that you could get pissed from 1 glass, no, you see after our struggle to communcate our drinks order, the waitress whipped away our menus before we could attempt to tell her what we wanted to eat. When she went to get our drinks, I grabbed it back from the nearby bar where she had put it, but when she came back with our drinks, she actually snatched it from my hands and took it away again. We thought that maybe food wasn't being served at that time and that maybe she didn't know how to communicate that fact to us. We were wrong though, as other tables ordered and were served meals of their choosing. She obviously couldn't be bothered with us bloody English not speaking her language. A nearby McDonald's therefore served as the antidote to mine and Andrew's drunkedness, a Le Double Cheese soaking mine up for me.

The Corruption of the Bean Market

I had planned to write a very different blog tonight from the one that you're about to read, a more standard blog. But, my friend and broski Tom Birch - to whom this blog is dedicated - alerted me to this very serious matter that must be addressed in some form. The baked bean industry it seems, could well be getting poured out of the frying pan, and into the flames!

The conversation began as I went out on a break to purchase a snack during work this evening. Browsing the snacks in the supermarket, I came across a new product - an event that always excites me, not matter what the product - A Pork Farms sausage roll featuring Branston Pickle. 'Yum' was my immediate thought, and I grabbed one and made my way happily to the self-service checkout. I returned to the store, clutching my prize, and as usual was asked by my colleagues for the shift - one of course being Tom, the other John - what I'd got. I showed them with glee my Branston injected sausage roll, to which John returned a look of disgust, apparently not being a fan of the stuff. Tom on the other hand seemed intrigued. It was then that Tom mentioned about how Branston make the best Baked Beans, 'Better than Heinz' he told me. I then mentioned one of those things in life that really grinds my gears, and that's when there's too much sauce in a tin of beans, referring to the other top bean brand Cross and Blackwell, who's beans we'd enjoyed in the Cooke household for years until last year when we noticed that with each tin, we'd suffer from more bean juice pouring out over our dinners. It had unfortunately gotten to the stage where the other month, we found that we were ridding ourselves of the sauce before baking the beans on the stove, and that when we did so, we were left with a mere, measly, meagre - some would say sickening - half a tin of beans. We no longer buy Cross and Blackwell beans, but rather, the supermarket own brand, or if they happen to be on offer that week, we go Heinz.

Upon telling Tom of this, he told me that Cross and Blackwell weren't the only offenders of the half-a-tin-of-sauce shenanigans. No, he told me that the budget beans, namely Sainsbury's Basics were also guilty of the same charge. Although to the defence of Sainsbury's, their Basics beans only cost around 5 pence, which is a tiny fraction compared to Cross and Blackwell. Even still, Tom then begged me a question: If they have to fill half the tin with the sauce to charge so little, then why don't they just produce tins half the size? Makes sense, as it would not only save on production costs to make the tins, but it would also save space in the warehouses, stores, and in the homes of the bean-loving public. It would also mean that those who buy these tins of beans would no longer have to sift out all that pesky sauce before the warming up process!

I agreed with Tom's more than valid point, and even provided an alternative. I mean, we don't want to tell these bean manufacturers to go to the fuss of producing smaller tins. For all we know, that could mean all kinds of paperwork for some poor schlep in an office somewhere. Therefore, my alternative is to raise the price a little then (only to what's fair) and put more beans in the tins again. I'd rather pay an extra few pence than end up with a soggy dinner when I forget to pour the sauce down the sink.

Whichever way you look at it, the bean world is in clear crisis! There's corruption afoot as far as my sources* tell me. I hope we can all stand together and fight the figurative giant that is the bean manufacturers (little Jack and the Beanstalk reference there for those that didn't notice). Who's with me?

If you've made it this far into the blog, I thank you for reading. I'll try and write the more conventional blog that I had originally planned to write and to which you have all become more accustomed to tomorrow. And Tom, I hope this is enough thanks for bringing me Chuck!

*Source: Tom Birch

Can't Catch Tomorrow

...yeah the haircut's hot, but this has gotta stop. Good shoes won't save you this time!

-LOSTPROPHETS



This job hunt is really becoming a complete and total bitch! Not only do I have to contend with the fact that I am younger than many a job seeker out there, and therefore am lacking in experience, but now the excuses are becoming absurd and ridiculous. Earlier this week I went along for yet another interview - My 5th of the year for those of you keeping count - and although the interviewer for this company was rather hard read, a fact I had been alerted to prior, I still thought things had gone relatively well... and they had. I got the phone call from the recruitment agency that had sent me there the following day, and was told that yes, indeed I had interviewed splendidly. I had presented myself well, looking dapper in my best suit, had spoken eloquently and given all of the correct answers. Unfortunately I wasn't being offered the job. Of course my immediate response was 'Why?', and the recruitment agent was almost embarrassed to inform me that it was because the man that had interviewed me felt that I was 'too nice'. That's right, I didn't get the job because apparently I'm too pleasant a person. They felt I would have been 'eaten alive'. You're probably all wondering now just what was this job doing - Prison Warden? Parking Warden? Bouncer? - None of the above, this job was in payroll. Now, I can understand that they may get some pretty irate clients phoning them up about pay, but I had assured them that I had dealt with much worse on a regular basis in my retail career. I guess all I can do is look at this as a blessing in disguise, as surely something much better can come along than working for a company whose name is similar to Maxipad!

 

Maybe I'm becoming impatient with wanting my life to move along a little. It's all just so frustrating!

 

In more lighthearted news, we had another long weekend this past week. The Royal Wedding gave cause for celebration a week ago, and a street party broke out in my neighbourhood, and then of course the Americans finally caught Osama Bin Laden. Quite the historic weekend then. In my world, the highlight would probably be a BBQ with a couple of friends on the Monday. At work, with the imminent release of The King's Speech - which I just enjoyed even more upon second viewing last night - we received a Colin Firth cardboard standee at the store. The problem was, this standee is life size, and whenever any of us were busy behind the counter, we would have this constant uncomfortable feeling that somebody was watching us. That someone was Colin. It got the stage in which Colin was used as a tool in terror, and would forever find himself lurking behind doors in a bid to scare the hell out of whoever happened to walk that way next. Thanks to Jason setting him up right behind the door at the top of some stairs, I nearly fell down said stairs, and that was after being warned by Jason that he was in fact hiding there. To gain a measure of revenge, I hid Colin behind the door that leads to the upstairs area from the shop floor. My not-so-cunning plan backfired like it was one of Baldrick's, as Jason didn't need to go upstairs for a few hours, and I ended up needing to go up there before he did... and stupidly I may have forgotten about hiding Colin there. Needless to say I fell backwards and screamed as soon as I opened the door, much to the hilarity of customers in the vicinity. At the request of the boss, Colin was to be gone from the store, so knowing how much Stacey's Mum likes Colin Firth, I took him to Stacey's where the hijinks have continued, as he actually intimidates everyone, not just us scaredy-cats at work.

 

Anyway, the job hunt continues, but at least for now I know that I've essentially got my interview technique down, even if I'm not mean enough. I'll catch tomorrow eventually, but for now I can enjoy today. I finish my degree in a few weeks with the submission of my final assessment, so I've got that to look ahead to. With that said, I've got a book to finish reading...

Toilet Humour with Asterix and Obelix

Here we are; I expected that I'd write another entry last week, but those plans ended up dead, gutted and fried in the pan. Things seem busy, and not necessarily in a bad way. Last Monday I travelled up to London's O2 with friends Sam and Andy to see WWE Raw live. We made a day of it, setting off at 10am. My day began in a hurry, as instead of pressing the 'snooze' button on my alarm clock, I turned it completely off, and woke up again at 9:45. I hopped in the shower, and got ready A.S.A.P. Andy picked me up and we headed to Sam's. Before setting off for London, Sam sorted his car at the local BP (of which Pete is fully familiar), which allowed me to have a little banter with a couple of former colleagues from the woolies days. It was on the way to the O2 that I got to make up for having skipped breakfast with a nice healthy Burger King. The show wasn't to start until 7:30pm, so I'm sure many of you are wondering why we left do darn early. To answer that, I'll explain that there's plenty to do at the former Millennium Dome, and we entertained ourselves by going to the cinema. We watched new comedy Your Highness, starring Danny McBride, James Franco, and the lovely Natalie Portman. There were memorable quotes galore in what was a very epic adventure comedy, such as 'Look at Courtney's new hair cut, doesn't it make him look like the tip off a cock', which gave us a new nickname for Andy in Courtney. I'm not exactly sure why, but from now on Andy shall be known as Courtney, and that's that.

Now, before the movie started I found myself needing the loo - having not been on my morning excursion to the lavatory what with rushing thanks to oversleeping. I'm not one for public toilets, and usually make visits to them as brief as possible. However, this was precarious situation, I'd become pretty uncomfortable and would not enjoy myself nearly as much if I attempted to hold it all in for the entire day, so I had suck it up (not literally), and do what a man sometimes has to do. I entered the men's room and as there was nobody around, I took the time to make a brief inspection of the facilities... I had a look at which of the cubicles was the cleanest, that the one I had chosen had a working lock and toilet paper, and that the dispensers above the sinks had a fresh supply of soap. With all of the above confirmed within half a minute, I placed some paper over the seats, and... well, you get the idea. While in this position, I couldn't help but wonder whether I was being over the top, and whether I was maybe crossing the boundaries into complete suffering of O.C.D. I came to the conclusion that either way, I was in a losing position, as I'm guessing that about half of you reading this think I'm insane for going through all of those checks and precautions, while the other half of you probably think I'm insane for using a public toilet in the first place - and to the women out there, trust me when I say that you can't imagine how much worse a men's room can be in comparison to how I'm imagining the ladies' to look.

After some drinks in Thai Silk and a tasty meal that sizzled like the sun in T.G.I. Friday, we made our way into the arena and found our seats, which although were close to the entrance stage, were to the side of it, meaning that we couldn't see the jumbo-screen. Thankfully there was nothing of note to see on the big screen during the telecast, however when going to a TV taping like this, when the crew were setting up for the next segment, they'd play a video on the screen to keep the fans entertained - all we could do was hear some sounds out of context, while looking out into the arena and seeing 20,000 people staring past us. Highlights of the night included a guy by the name of R-Truth turning bad and lighting up a cigarette, inciting a 'That's Illegal' chant from the masses, and a couple of thrilling, edge-of-our-seats matches.


The rest of the week seemed to disappear in a blur. I enjoyed the sunshine when I could, and worked a couple of shifts, one of which lasted for 11 hours, on what was a busy day indeed due to the company's schizophrenia causing us to have to change our systems every other week. I also attended a leaving night out for one of Stacey's (now former) colleagues. Suddenly it was Good Friday, and I had the day set aside for a visit from some relatives. We spent the day in the garden talking, drinking and jumping around on the trampoline. Saturday was spent at work again, and then I had my first Easter Sunday off in quite a few years. Easter Sunday happened to coincide with the 75th birthday of Stacey's Grandma, so the day was spent round her Uncle and Aunt's house. I tried beef wellington for the first time, which I'm sure you're all excited to read, and we spent a day talking and playing games. I hate the Best of British board game - because I lost - but love Articulate, because nobody can beat Stacey and me when we team up. We are The A-Team, even if Stacey had never heard of Asterix and Obelix....

...I'm hoping some of you readers actually know who these guys are, because I'm starting to think I may be the only person I know who's actually heard of them, let alone read their adventures in Primary School.

I'll end things here, as all I did on this day - Easter Monday - was kill a day at work... Oh, and I ate some ice cream, it was Ben and Jerrie's Phish Food, and it was yummy. Um, yeah.