Soylent Tube



As with the Subway, the Tube has its' fair share of people falling/throwing themselves under the trains etc. It's sad of course, but in an effort of population control I reckon Transport for London are encouraging its' Tube drivers to keep score and 'nudge' the figures up. Otherwise why oh why do the doors keep opening way before the train has stopped? And I don't mean just as it comes to a halt kinda thing. I mean while we're still hurtling through the tunnels! Man, I'm beginning to take this personally, maybe todays driver was related to Silver. I mean he looked kinda unstable in that cowardly way like Silver does and he was ranting to himself like Silver does, although he smelled better than Silver does.

Oprahosis + SexandtheCityitus with a mild case of The View



An e-mail from a certain ladyfriend in NYC, 'there was a party in the den under my store today for a 1yr old, so it was really an excuse for the cool parents to drink (a whole case of wine) and I noticed that almost all the fathers were American and the mothers were from someplace else, because they were speaking to there kids in other languages including Japanese (that little girl looked shockingly like bjork) it was like the toddler version of the United Nations but with balloons and cake'.

Which made me want to make the sweeping generalization that American men prefer foreign women because most American women* are a pain in the ass and not worth the hassle of breeding with. And not one of them could give a decent blowjob. But having said that, if I was an American woman why the fuck would I marry an American man**..? But at least American women are hotter than their English counterparts; all that unwaxed pasty whiteness makes me ill urhurhurh...

*Exemptions to Alissa, Nicole and Millie who are breedworthy.
**Exemptions to Silver as he hasn't finished puberty yet.

For want of a speeding bus...



So I was walking home this afternoon after running a couple of errands around town etc. I'm walking towards this bus stop outside this school and hear this girly high pitched shout/scream in the distance. I didn't particularly pay attention to it and carried on walking. Just ahead of the bus stop there was a juice box that had been stepped on and the juice had exploded from one corner leaving a really cool triangular splat with the flattened box at the edge; it looked kinda cool. But as I get closer to the bus stop I hear the same high pitched girly scream/shout, 'but I'm thirsty wahaa... but I'm thirsty!' It's some 11/12 year old boy screaming a tantrum at his Mother, demanding a drink (probably Gin, this is London after all).

Kid: I'm thirsty, I'm thirsty!!!
Mum: No you've already had one, and look what happened (exhibit A: squished juice box).
Kind: Naaahh I'm thirsty now, I'm thirsty. Wahaa..!
Mum: No, look what you did, calm down.

At which point he screams again and not knowing how to show his frustration goes and sits in the middle of the bus lane. My God, I couldn't believe how infantile he was being, and like I said he must have been at least 11/12, heck maybe even 13. So the little shit's sitting there looking like he's recovering from some extreme Yoga position screaming like a frinkin' baby. As I walked past I just looked at him and thought if ever there was a time for a speeding bus, it was now. Yes, a cement truck, a car chase, a Jumbo Jet, anything to flatten the jackass! There he sat, the little shithead, until two Police officers who happened to be walking by had to physically pick him off the road like a protester and out of the way. I didn't stay to look, but I hope they went Rodney King on his ass.

Man I am so stoned right now... and I'm IMing with Silver, a new low hooray! As usual, we're arguing, this time over the time he was so stoned that I convinced him I was Scottish* and that all the English guy jokes were out of irony (I dunno it seemed funny at the time). See, he states that I was also stoned and didn't believe me, but be assured it did, kinda. You know sometimes I'd like to just ring my hands around his neck like the little chicken he is and SNAP!

*Events may not have actually occurred in reality but kinda did.

Buying bread from a man in Brussels, he was 6ft4" and full 'a muscle...



But that's another Brussels tale, but the Men at Work quotes are the best. Like that time my Dad and I were arguing over that frozen pizza, and I just gave him a Vegemite sandwich. Oh how we laughed...

The interview in Brussels went well and I got to see a little of the city. You know, you can always tell the true nature of a place by what the taxi driver says. And the chap said it was all good so there you go! I was looking to try a little French out but was feeling shy about it. I mean I only remember some of the crap they taught us at school. And believe me, I ordered my fair share of ham sandwiches that day. However, the taxi driver had non but you live and learn.

So I met with the Managing Director for lunch at this restaurant by a lake (I reframed from getting the ham sandwich). We even had a lunch time beer (sigh), it was all so chill in that wistful European way. Of course then I did start to wonder about his driving skills after that on the way back to the office, which is in an old mansion that looks like the ones the Gestapo used to torture people in. I liked that Brussels is so mixed with Euro-peeps from all over too, it really does have a nice international feel to it. So after some more conversation and arm wrestling we decided on a general salary range and benefits package etc. Put it this way, if I did go to live there I could live 'very' well indeed. And the hot women index was pretty good too, maybe I should move there... But I won't know anything for a couple of weeks yet. The work's very corporate and that's the direction I really don't want to go in. I don't want to do the same shit I did in NYC all over again. But if they do make me a horses' head in the bed offer I can't refuse I'll head back to spend a few days there really getting a feel for the city before I make a decision. But I dunno, I'm not sure if they will or not anyhow; but whatever (like I'm in a position to pick and choose jobs). I had another interview in London today that seemed more of the usual, blah blah blah for this design studio.

But enough about jobs, lets have another side note. You know, I think Jimi Hendrix gets remembered up for the wrong songs. I mean yeah sure we all love 'Hey Joe' and we can see Joes point that if ones' wife shags someone else; surely one has the right to blow her head off yes? And for sure we'd all like to kiss the sky and watch ploughmen dig our earth, not sure why they didn't get shot at from the watchtower. I mean if you're on the damned watchtower you'd... nevermind. But I think songs like 'Message Of Love, Mannish Boy (Live Muddy Waters cover), and Ezy Ryder' are far superior, go listen go!

Is that a sprout in your pocket..?



I'm finally settled into my friend Jim's place in NE London. Stoke Newington to be exact. Lets just say it's an area of 'transition' kinda like the LES ten years ago. But it's going to have to do for the mean time, it's got a lot of good pubs and restaurants. I don't recall seeing a Starbucks yet so it's got that going for it.

I've obviously been occupied with sending out resumes and all that job hunting lark. But as I've been abroad for so long I don't really have the contacts in the design biz here, so it's going to take an age to get a job here eventhough the markets good and there's lots of hiring going on. I've got an interview on Monday with some agency but the most interesting one is tomorrow in Brussels, which I mentioned in one of my first blogs a while back. I had phase one of the interview in the Brasserie of the Oxo Tower which was nice and cool. Phase two is to visit the office dans les Bruxelles to check it out. So I'm popping over on EuroStar for the day. I've never been to Brussels before but I know a few people who've worked and been there and it sounds all good. And after visiting my friends in Helsinki a couple of months ago I got that feeling to go live in Europe again. But we'll see what happens, wish me luck.

On a side note, you know it hasn't been easy leaving people you love and returning to the UK. And I know that they miss me too, even when they tell the don't give a flying fuck and hate me. I know it's just their way of saying that they love me still and 'really' don't wish me to have a long slow painful death by having my nads shot off. You sweeties kissy kissy xxx