I grumble...

Bank Holday weekend-tastic

2005-08-29T23:14:00.000+01:00

What a tip top weekend; and a bank holiday one at that. Ironic then that everyone I know who works in banking was working... Anyway NY buddy Alex (cousin of Sharon Freedman - not Eben) came over from Helsinki where he's working. He's also a mutual friend of my roommate Chris. Which I'm sure most of don't give two shits about so I'll continue...

Since I can't remember what the fuck we did on Friday or Saturday I'll start with Sunday at Clapham Common for the Get loaded in the park '05. The top billing included the Happy Mondays, The Farm, Fatboy Slim and Flowered up. They really should have called it old farts in the park. It was fun but I'm battling with myself not to take the piss. I mean I remember seeing Flowered up at Reading in 1991, pre-fat and balding. And as for Shaun Ryder of the Happy Mondays, blimey I think he thought it was Tuesday. Disturbingly amusing. But it was a fun day and the evening finished off well with new friends Brendan & Vincent et al at this Polish place near the Tube station where Chris skillfully (if not forcibly) manage to get the cute waitress's number. She made the Chocolate cake we ate which made Chris want go to 'her' thighs. Well done fella, I'm sure you and her boyfriend will laugh over it one day.

And today was the infamous Notting Hill Carnival, which is known as one of the biggest street festival in Europe - and most Balkan states as good training for urban warfare. But regardless we decided to leave the flak jackets at home as it was crazy hot. Had a really good time and I made it home safe, although I gave my number to this girl on the Tube which might prove dodgy as she was English.

2005-07-14T19:15:00.000+01:00

You know, I think these terrorists are out to get me. I'm beginning to take these attack personally. First living in NY with 9/11 and now this in London. Maybe I should move to France and see what gives. My new apartment's right between King Cross and Euston.

close to the apt is where the Bus exploded on Tavistock Square, I walk through there half the time on the way to work. I walked past there that day, I hung a right turn to go towards Tottenham Court Road instead of continuing that way. I heard the bomb go off, it was fucking loud, it was heard all across London. The area is blocked off with huge white plastic sheets. The bus is still there being examined bit by bit. They're still cleaning the flesh off the buildings in the area and they still haven't recovered all the bodies from the Tube tunnel at Kings Cross yet. God, the thought of it...

What impresses me is that people are perfectly clam and getting on with things. The British stiff upper lip has proved useful. But sadly, we all new this attack was coming and as shocked as we were, we weren't surprised. OK, this ain't 9/11 but the randomness of this attack is what really gets me, they don't care who they kill. Even other Muslims, they just don't care. I think the government should do what the Israelis did and bury the bombers in pig skin. Yeah then we'll see if Allah loves you then you fucking animals.

But thanks to all you NY peeps for e-mailing me to see if I was OK. That was nice, I was almost glad to hear from you. It's a classic hot summer evening outside, I'm going to go meet some friends for a drink, it's those little things that make the difference.

Rug burn

2005-05-02T19:06:00.000+01:00

It was a beautiful Bank holiday weekend, all sunny and lush. You know I remember thinking when I came back from NY how green and lush England was. Anyway, I spent the day pottering about in town and bought a rug on the way home. Sea-grass with a rubbery back for grip, nice.

Then I finished the evening off with a bag of coke and a couple of Russian hookers, very nice (and cheap).

2005-04-26T23:15:00.000+01:00

So I recently read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. It was OK, but they way it was written kept reminding me of something I'd read before. I couldn't figure out what and then it dawned on me, it's written in the same style as Silver's blog. Again reinforcing my point that our beloved Silver is non other than an autistic boy with advanced epidermal coverage.

Anyway, a few weeks ago I was on this 'semi-date' with this girl who's a friend of a friend etc. We're having dinner at this nice bar restaurant place near to where I work. So everything's going fine eventhough the one glass of wine I had went straight to my head and I'm gibbering like a fish. I guess I was too bothered about the date as I wasn't really attracted to her. I mean she's nice but I'm just not really interested. Anyway, I get my wallet out to pick up the check and guess what? My frinkin' bank card is missing. Man that was embarrassing... and she had to pay for the meal. Ouch! I mean I could have been doing anything when I discovered the card gone but no, I had to be on a date...

So I took her for ice cream afterwards as I had enough cash for that, but I spent half the time on the phone to my bank canceling my card. As you can guess there was no second date, ah well, it was a free meal...

2005-03-20T02:24:00.000Z

A prirate-esque 'jargh, well done me lad' to Silver for getting into Grad school at George Washington in the DC. Well done fella!

2005-02-02T23:22:00.001Z

I've been out of touch with most you peeps for a while. I'd appologise but I hate the lot of you, you scum sucking Dubiya votin', ground hog molesting buggers. And what is a ground hog really, some sort of gayer, fatter beaver..? What a waste-a fat, gay beaver; especially if it's well trimmed.

Anyway, I've been working hard, and I mean hard. Take last night, we didn't leave the office until 2.30am and I think I've only had about 7 hours of sleep since Saturday as I worked like a slave over the weekend. Talk about making up for the past couple of years of unemployment, I think I've enough credits for the next two years already. Anyway, the point of this blog was to take up exactly this amount of space and to waste your time by reading this meaningless drivel that's about as useful as a Frenchman with laryngitis. Kinda like reading Silver's blog (sorry Silver I had to put the customary insult in there somewhere).

2004-12-31T11:28:00.000Z

To make a donation to the major charities see the Apple site which has a useful list. There's no point sending clothes or stuff like that, so the best thing to do is to give money to these organizations that know how to handle it. And besides, there's no chance of you getting ripped off by some jerk on the street claiming to be collecting for some relief fund...

2004-12-30T22:53:00.000Z

Being of Sri Lankan origin does mean something to me and these past few days have been so surreal, I was going to write something. I wasn't really sure what to say though, I mean what can you say? It's so heart wrenching. On Xmas day news came through that some cousins of mine from Canada were there on vacation with their kids. I'm not sure exactly where they were but it was one of the places on the east coast that got totally destroyed. I heard that they ran for their lives but made by the grace of god. My sister in Toronto spoke with them yesterday after they returned so I'm just going to quote her e-mail which says it all:

'Hi Michael, just spoke to Revathy and told her you had been worried and inquired about them. She says it is a miracle all 13 of them are alive and is traumatized by the whole ordeal. They had to run for their lives. She did not get wet but John who followed was waist high in water and his slippers were pulled from under his feet. Tino gave him Arina (daughter) to carry and he had her over his head. There were dead bodies 15 feet from them and were being brought into the army camp they stayed in. At one point Revathy was alone with the 3 kids not knowing where the rest of the family was and if they were dead or alive. Their driver clung on to a tree and was slapped by dead bodies and then landed in a hotel room and managed to get on a mattress which had another dead tourist on it. The driver managed to escape thankfully. Aidan (Ravathy's son) was trapped in the van with water getting into it and thank God John saw him and ran from the otherside and got him out. Revathy is exhausted. She says they feel bad to be back when there is so much help needed there.'

2004-12-16T23:59:00.000Z

Wait it's 23.59pm... (*seconds pass on), nice;

happy birfday to me
happy birfday to me
happy birfday dear margieeeeee

happy birfday to me.

I'm still aaaliiiiiiive, wah wah wah wahhhhhhhh.

2004-12-12T22:05:00.000Z

Once I'd done my first week at work it started to dawn on me today that I can once again become a consumer. Oh such joy, I've already planned how and what to spend my first paycheck on. Astonishingly none of it involves porn; I think I've become a slightly mature adult. Ah well, there's always impulse buying.

I think one thing I'm gonna do is to move apartments. The place I have now is fine and I like living with my friend Jim and his girlfriend, Canadian Kandi. But I just want to do better than live in Stoke Newington. It's not on the Tube so I have to rely on the trains which really fuck me off, they're about as reliable as Silver. The bus service is good but takes forever to get anywhere. I mean, I live here, but I don't do anything here really. I have some friends further down the road and all but when I go out it's into the Central London usually and to get back here late at night is really a pain in the arse. I feel like I'm commuting from Forest Hills on the G-train everyday. It's not the area you picture in you mind when you think of London. And I think now that I've got my career going again I would like things more on my own terms you know?

Anyway, something I really need to do is to buy new clothes and some furniture. Don't forget when I left NY all my worldly possessions consisted of a guitar and two suitcases of clothes and assorted items. But I'm glad that I'm in the position to be able to think about starting over materially. First on the list is some nice bed linen, no more sleeping in newspaper for this boy, hooray!

2004-12-07T22:26:00.000Z

This job was advertised in 'Design Week' which is one of the most read trade journals in the UK and Europe. Yet they actively wanted me to fill the post..? I know I have a bit of a confidence problem, I am a good designer, but I lack self belief sometimes (and with good cause judging by the past four years). But I'm taking it in my stride and not jumping around covered in Jello shouting 'yippee' just yet. I'm being cautious I guess.

My confidence is gradually coming back and all those design instincts are as strong as ever. I think it's partly down to the fact that not a foreigner here, I don't need a visa. It's not a dead weight around my neck that a company can blackmail me with like my last one in NY who screwed me over. Since I've moved back to London I've become to feel more like myself; a better self. I was explaining this to Joel when he and Julie were in town. I felt that I'd gotten to know them more in those few days in London than the entire time I was in the States because the context and environment was different.

But the worst that can happen career-wise has already happened. Losing my job meant losing a life I worked hard to build, it also left me humiliated by my loss of pride. But most painfully of all was that I lost my friends, who were the main reason why I stuck it out until all hope was lost. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm moving on now; the biggest chapter in my life so far has finally come to an end.

2004-12-03T13:44:00.000Z

I've been waiting a long time to write this in my blog. I marge; the margeist marge of them all, has just got a NEW JOB. I am a Graphic Designer once more and that's official. I start work on Monday with an agency called KBW. Or KBDubya as I like to call them, that's right; I'm pro Dubya now.

It's a good agency about 12/14 people in size. The website (and work on it) is old but they do a lot of nice work. It was formed in 1995 by a couple of ex-Saatchi Creative Directors. And the financial + benefits package is pretty good too, so now I can afford to eat, woohoo food! It's based in a really nice quiet street off 'Regent Street' right in the heart of Central London, somehow I feel that I'll be spending a lot of time in the pub that's on the corner.

I had a second interview with them this morning and everything was a done deal by the time I left. I felt kind of strange on the way home, I've been struggling for so long it hasn't sunk in yet. It's going to be tough next week as there's going to be a huge workload, but that's the way when you start a new job. So I've to chill over the weekend and get my design head together.

Phew, now I've got 3-1 odds on me being fired by Christmas, any takers?

2004-11-15T22:31:00.000Z

Sorry or not sorry? Shouldn't it be assassinate or not assassinate?

But check out the gallery, it made me feel so guilty. I feel so sorry for all my beloved Damn Yankees. Well, apart from Alex, he's angry with me for signing him up on the Jessica Simpson mailing list.

2004-11-12T10:32:00.000Z

Check this short film that a friend in Helsinki sent. It might a take a while to download but it's worth it.

2004-11-10T18:57:00.000Z

Now this is what I'm talkin' about.

2004-11-09T01:19:00.000Z

cindy
Originally uploaded by <MARGE>.

And this was Cindy at the beginning of the evening!

cindy&azusa

2004-11-09T01:14:00.000Z

cindy&azusa
Originally uploaded by <MARGE>.

Her Japanese friend Azusa will now be known as 'Azusa-da-puke-a'. I think it was the B52 shots I made them have. You wanna come over to London and expect marge to entertain you? Now you know what to expect.

2004-11-03T14:36:00.000Z

I never thought I'd seriously feel like this, but I'm glad I don't live in America anymore. I don't mean to offend my friends in the States; it isn't nice when a foreigner gives a negative view of your own country. But it's a sad day not just for America but also for the UK. And unfortunately for the rest of the world too.

2004-10-31T20:18:00.000Z

So for Halloween I dressed up as a miserable old bastard who stays at home and shouts at people as they walk past in a gruff tone. I made sure not to shave for a week, get all kinds of food stains down myself (not to mention the two day old skid marks), have a partial dry bugga creeping out of my nose, the obligatory ear wax, the torn ill fitting Farah slacks and the crusty 'beige' handkerchief and I even found a stray dog to help me live in my own (and dogs) filth for a week as preparation; now that's commitment. But alas nobody witnessed my costumed triumph as I stayed home as usual. Oddly my roommates failed to notice the difference and the dog has been asleep for a couple of days now. I'm sure he's just tired.

2004-10-21T22:00:00.000+01:00

We just had a ceremony to flush 'pugsy' the goldfish down the toilet. Actually he was black, I called him Norm just for kicks. He'd been kinda quiet for a couple of weeks (the fish not Norm), just bobbing along and never diving to the depths like the other two (actually he does sound like Norm on a metaphorical level). Maybe he was scared shitless of the giant plastic Octopus that my roommate Jim put there, we'll never know.

But today he was floundering around on his side gasping for life like Silver grasping at his dignity. The poor little bugger, I thought about picking him out and ending his suffering with a clever. But I'd never killed anything bigger than a spider before, well nothing I'd admit to, but it would have been a mercy killing. By the time Jim and Canadian Kandy got home he was almost dead but still managed to give us the finger. So we respectfully gathered round the toilet and bid him farewell for the many years of calming service and finger nibbling by throwing him into a dark, cold and stinky grave (still alive and giving the finger). Oh pugsy, how we'll miss you.

2004-10-19T16:23:00.000+01:00

Karma part II

Regarding the past post; this wasn't the only time somebody let me down (although not so rudely). I've met various people with contacts who never bother to follow up on them as promised. As silly as it sounds, I think it's a London thing. This is a cold town socially, it's difficult to make new friends here in my experience. But when it comes to networking I think it's even worse. I dunno, if I say I'll do a favour for someone I generally do it, but I mistakenly expect others to follow suit. I mean, it's not like they're pledging to go into battle with me, it's just some names and phone numbers you know?

And I'm not being hostile about this, I find this whole farce rather amusing. I just don't appreciate people telling me it's my own fault for trying...

2004-10-15T23:46:00.000+01:00

Karma

So yesterday afternoon I was again trudging my way to another interview. This was a quick 15 minute review to screen designers for possible second interviews and to build up a freelance pool etc. And also just enough time for yours truly to get on his knees to cry and beg for a job like Silver with a reluctant hooker. The studio was a couple of floors above a cafe and I had some time to kill, so I went in to buy a bottle of water. They had one of those charity boxes on the counter which I dropped some change into for some good karma. I thought 25p for a job was a fair trade. I had a good interview and to keep the good karma going I gave directions to some guy on the way back home. I don't know if he needed them but that's not the point.

And the point is that everything always balances out.

I get home feeling good and all but in the back of my mind I'm thinking that somethings going to happen to piss me off before that end of the day. Right. There was a rejection letter from some Xmas job I applied for, which I thought was just kinda silly. But later in the day I call up this guy who was a friend of a friend I met last week in some bar. He's a designer from Australia and I thought might be able to help me with some contacts yeah? And he's all like 'yeah dude totally, call me later in the week' etc. So I call, and you know what he said? He said he'd changed his mind and decided not to help me out as we'd be competing for the same jobs... Which is a load of bollox as he works in production and NOT creative like me. He sounded so laid back about it too, like it didn't matter that he gave his word in good faith to help a bloke out. I was actually speechless from the pettiness of his attitude. What a fucking' jackass son of a bitch; fuck off back to Australia you slimy pompous assed fucker. I hope your Mother gets violently buggered by a Kangaroo you shithead.

And thus, the natural karma of the day was restored.

2004-10-13T01:45:00.000+01:00

You know, with all the shit going down in the world right now the thing that really keeps me awake at night is not knowing when Dave Sharma going to update his blog? I feel like I've missed out on so much of the boy's life. The highs of bangin' a drum and occasionally Sam. The lows of torn drum skins and bangin' Sam. The excitement of 'basement bhangra' and boredom of bangin' Sam.

Dave, when oh when are you going to actually put something up on Davesharma.net!? Stop torturing us you loveable Shagetz!

2004-10-11T22:30:00.000+01:00

I think I'm developing a fetish for Avril Lavigne and some strange rash under my right armpit.

2004-09-27T23:59:00.000+01:00

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.

2004-09-20T01:54:00.000+01:00

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.

2004-09-16T23:03:00.000+01:00

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.

2004-09-15T01:31:00.000+01:00

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.

2004-09-13T23:53:00.000+01:00

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!

2004-09-09T18:18:00.000+01:00

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

2004-08-31T16:33:00.000+01:00

Transient without being a transient

I'm supposed to be moving to London tomorrow and there's a possibility that I might go and work in Brussels in a month or so too. Either way, things are going to change for me which is good, but kind of unsettling too. For the past year and a half my life has been on hold after losing my job in NYC, struggling to find a new one to stay there and to preserve the life I worked hard to build. This whole summer at home in England has been kind of strange and testing, I really feel that all this time has been stripped away from me, and that's not something you get back. But I guess I'm feeling pensive right now as today I've been once again packing my few possessions up and getting ready to move on again. I think my confidence is still a little shaky after NY. I keep thinking history's going to repeat itself.

If I end up going to Brussels I'd only stay there for a year or so and return to London . But I think the thought of not being grounded in one place with friends and roots is starting to chip away at me. The adventurous side of me wants to go to Brussels to test my resolve again, maybe to exorcise the ghosts of humiliation and failure from leaving NY and to prove to myself that I can do it. And the other side is questioning why bother and to just keep looking for a job in London (which is itself the harder of the two options) and get settled there for good; the old 'don't take any risks and you won't get hurt' crap. I know I'm whining blah blah blah. Every time I try to progress it fucks up and I've just had enough you know? I kinda feel like I have no purpose and am going nowhere, so what difference does it make what city I live in? Ugh fuck it, nevermind.

2004-08-31T01:58:00.000+01:00

Marge the Argonaut

It wasn't quite a Tarantula, but it wasn't far off. I'm sitting there in the rocking chair watching some late night Discovery Channel as usual, it was about 11.30pm and I was just about to go to bed. I saw this flicker of movement out the corner of my eye; Jesus H it was the size of a small European car! And it moved faster than priest at summer camp. Now of course I had to prove my alpha male status to the Cat which had run off in fear, I swear she said 'what the fuck..!?' Anyway, I tried to step on the damned thing, it was like trying to crush a giant Galapagos tortoise. After falling off I ran to the dinning room and proceeded to beat the bastard over the head with a chair until it finally gave in and went to the big cobweb in the sky. It was a supreme moment of triumph for my fragile male ego.

So there I am again the next evening, same time etc. And another one of these beasts appears from exactly the same place as the one before. Maybe this was its' Mother like in Jaws 4 come to seek revenge? Again I tried to stamp on it but it evaded my slipper with ease and disappeared behind the sofa. Naturally, feeling pissed that this one had made a mockery of me I waited until it crawled up the wall later on. Man this one was arrogant, struttin' up that wall like Norm in a locker room (Kindergarden). And bam! I got the fucker with a rolled up newspaper. But questions remained, where were they all coming from? Was this some new Arachnid right of passage to reach the kitchen without meeting an ill fate at the hands of the evil brown giant in the rocking chair? And would there be a repeat battle the following night?

Yes, yes there was.

You'll be glad to know that I survived. Again, TV, same time. Except this time the bugger came crawling along the wall above the fire place in full view. And this one was the biggest so far; I'd need a bigger chair. But no more chairs, I went an got some bug spray! Half a can later when I was kinda seeing the world in shades of green I decided that maybe this one had won the day until it succumbed and fell to the floor stoned with a mighty thud behind the sofa. Man what a relief I thought. So as I sat there wondering where the hell all these monster spiders had come from and whether to check in the garden for strange glowing meteors, when the bastard suddenly came charging out from under the sofa like Silver running from a girl. Of course my reactions were a little delayed from the bug spray but I dived out of the way 'A' Team style to safety by the piano. As I backed away it actually followed me! Man, this one was really pissed. Then, the stand off... we stood there sizing each other up, figuring each other out like Gary Cooper and the other dude from that scene in High Noon. Then it flinched and with rapier like grace I grabbed a large file from on top of the piano stool, which contained all my Mums sheet music and slammed it down on like the monkey with the bone from 2001 A Space Odyssey, finally crushing this Moby Dick of spiders.

The file is still on the ground as I'm too frightened to lift it up in case the thing isn't dead and tries to make a final grab for me like the Alien. I can't wait to see what happens when my Mum goes down early in the morning and picks up the file...

2004-08-20T23:38:00.000+01:00

Dad v Pizza

I always said that my Dad's kinda like Grandpa Simpson, but brown instead of yellow; the other night I was in the kitchen thinking what to cook my folks for dinner etc. Dad had a choir practice that evening and was getting impatient to eat soon and to get going. He said that there was a frozen pizza in the freezer which would be quicker etc. We ended up arguing over it as I refused to eat shite like that and preferred to cook something fresh and healthier which would take the same amount of time to prepare. But no, he walks into the garage where we have another freezer and comes back saying that he's going to cook the pizza. And the sorry little fella is standing there with a packet of frozen sausages in his hand. Fuck it made me laugh. He just stood there all confused. I know, I'm cruel but it was funny.

Everywhere he goes he leaves a mess behind, it's almost a law of the universe like gravity. I was in a rush once to mail some application forms out one day before last post was collected. But I had included some portfolio samples so I wasn't sure what value stamps to put on them etc. So I asked him to weigh them and see, as he knows the weight limits and charges and all that stuff. So I hand him the first one and I watch him weigh it and when he gives it back to me it has jam on it! But from where? There wasn't any jam around and he seemed stumped as to where it had come from as well!

I swear one of these days he's going to come running home claiming Wolves are chasing him...

2004-08-16T11:44:00.000+01:00

Ann Coulter v The rest of us

There were certain things that along with many of my New York friends, I found distasteful about America and that's American politics. Now leaving the War on Terror aside, there's a lot more about US politicking in the mainstream British media due to the upcoming elections. And I think us Brits should pay attention to this as I think there a few lessons/warnings to take note of. One being Ann Coulter, now this woman's so ultra right-wing she could have been Hitler's' press secretary. Heck, she could have taught Joseph Goebbels a thing or two about propaganda.

But I want you to read this article in todays Independent newspaper about her. In the UK we take it for granted that people like her could never get taken seriously because we seem to view ourselves with a little more rational and logical than middle America, who is increasingly paying more attention to Ann Coulter. Middle England and middle America are scarily similar places. We might not have guns but that doesn't make us any smarter. I mean how much of the population voted for the UK Independence Party and the BNP in the European elections this year?

2004-08-14T00:06:00.000+01:00

Woohoo, I'm moving back to London! And about bloody time too I say. No sign of a job just yet but I needed to do something to break the circle of only going down there for interviews. I mean if you're trying to move back somewhere it helps to actually be there. It's a bit of a calculated risk but the design market picks up at the end of the summer etc., so lets see if I can get my timing right.

But I've seriously had enough of being at home, I mean I love my folks but I think we all preferred it when there were a few time zones between us. You see my folks (more specifically my Dad) like to argue about anything and everything. Even when they're in agreement they still have a shouting match over it. I mean like tonight; the Olympic opening ceremony. My Dad ended up having an argument with my Mum over the content of the show..? I mean it's funny but I have no idea why she married this man, and yeah-thanks for the second rate genetic material Dad!

Anyway, in a previous blog I mentioned that in a moment of frustration, I applied for a job in Brussels. Well, they've called my bluff and requested an interview in London in a couple of week time. I mean, I don't think I really want to move country's again for a while. I'm sure it would be a great opportunity but then I have just come back from five years abroad. I don't know if I have the energy to do it all over again. But I said I go for the interview anyway just for amusement. I mean it's gonna be funny watching me giving a bad interview so I don't get the job. Mind you I think I've become pretty good at that already.

2004-08-04T00:04:00.000+01:00

It's come to my attention that there's an awful lot of sexual stereotyping in Mr Men books. I'm sure their creator Roger Hargreaves was a nice bloke but I think he had some serious problems with women. Maybe his Mother didn't love him enough, or too much... in the not so 'PC' way?

But if you look through the collection of books you get the impression that something's amiss. Mr. Hargreaves has put women into two groups: scary/angry girls and greedy whores. For example, there's Little Miss Scary and Little Miss Angry who clearly fall into the scary/angry category.

What's most disturbing is the greedy whore category where we find Little Miss Greedy and Little Miss Fickle. But alas I'm not even sure what to make of Little Miss Fun who also likes to be Little Miss Quick who later becomes for want of a prophylactic; Little Miss Late.

2004-08-02T17:59:00.000+01:00

Cat v Squirrel

So I happened to be walking around the house aimlessly like one of those Bears you see in Romanian Zoo's when I came across a sight. One of my Mum's cats, Tammy or was it Poppy..? Either way they both got the gayest names you could give to a cat. She's the really psychotic one that always brings in dead birds, mice, babies etc. I mean seriously, she's a nut job, even the other cats stay away from her. She's kinda like the Charles Manson of her feline generation. A few weeks back she brought in this little bird which got away from her and sought refuge in a corner. The poor thing clearly had a broken leg and was clearly on it's last legs (sorry, couldn't help it-hehe). So I put the blighter in a tissue box to calm it down and keep it warm etc. But of course the little rascal was faking it-no sooner had I turned my back when it tried to fly out of the clear glass conservatory door. Which was pretty funny because it was closed at the time.

Anyway, I'm walking past when I see Tammy having a rather vigorous staring competition with the squirrel that lives in the attic through the living room window. Alas, Tammy's lust to rip the shit out of Mrs. Periwinkle (the squirrel, who I'm not sure is actually married but I'll investigate that for a future blog), was impeded by the large pain of glass.

Now there's this grape vine that grows by the corner of the house that runs all the way up to the roof and provides an easy means of elevation for the said squirrel to her lush penthouse in the attic. And it was from there that she was looking down through the window at Genghis ' the cat' Kahn who was giving some serious eyeballing in return. Tammy eventually starts clawing at the window and looks to me for intervention. However, being neutral in this evolutionary battle of wills I wasn't going to get involved, besides I didn't want to spoil the entertainment.

But the whole thing made me think of how there have been squirrels living in the attic for years, generation upon generation; like Star Trek but furry. I even used to feed them nuts by hand until that incident with my nuts... er, anyway they've been there so long I think they have a legal right to claim renters' rights, the little buggers. And there have been generations of cats who've tried in vain to catch them. The last two cats (Kiri and Sushi, again with the names... ) were pretty inventive though, but after years of scheming, mysterious injuries and Vets bills they gave up. Seriously, when you see one of your cats walk by whistling with a nail gun it kinda shocks you; I didn't even know cats could whistle.

2004-07-31T10:25:00.000+01:00

Last night was a weird one and a half. My good friend Mel and her fella Naill were in town to visit her parents for dinner/stress/arguments etc. Later in the evening I popped over to save them on the way to our local pub. Which by the way I hadn't been to for at least six years I think. That pub has a lot of history for both Mel and me, we grew up in this sleepy little town and sometimes the only refuge from it was the pub. Your local is an extension of your living room but with a cigarette machine to replace the irritating family.

When I got to Mels' place her Mother was showing Niall old family photographs of her to him, the kiddy ones were cute but you know how those teenage years can be embarrassing. But it made me think of how everyones' parents just love the opportunity to humiliate them in front of other people. I mean what is this revenge for the pain of childbirth? But hell I thought it was funny. But it was like a old times; I'd go to Mels' place on the way to the pub and by the time we'd turned the corner from her house, Mel would grumble about her parents and then I'd grumble about my parents until we got to the pub. It made me giggle, some things just don't change.

Anyway, along with a couple of other peeps went ended up at the pub. Hilda, the original landlady has long since gone and now it's run by some other nameless people. But this place has changed a lot, and for the better I might add. The beer garden at the back has those nice wooden tables and benches. It has flowers and even a small lawn making it a really nice place to chill and catch up with old friends. But it was a bit strange seeing people you kinda knew at high school and how they've changed, or hadn't as was the case with most. What was even more strange was seeing their younger Brothers and Sisters there who are all now in their mid twenties. Man it made me feel old. And there were some other pub characters who I guess when the pub was sold were bundled with the furniture and fixtures.

But I think about all those evenings I spent there with all of my friends. Christmas and New Years Eve spent in the pub, Sundays afternoons. I remember some pretty funny things like two friends, Adrian and Karen having a competition to see who could drink more pints of Snakebite in ten seconds and the resultant jet stream of purple puke from Karen. I laughed so hard I hyperventilated.

But it was kind of reassuring that some aspects of you hometown hadn't changed, I meant the pub not Karen puking.

2004-07-30T02:19:00.047+01:00

You know I've finally found the incentive to learn German.

Which brings me to this (not really but hey). I saw a job posting today in Design Week for a Graphic Designer position in Brussels. Now for you Yanks out there; Brussels is in the relatively small and peaceful nation of Belgium. Now I know that makes it ripe for invasion but the Germans did state their case for that some sixty years ago and it didn't turn out to well for them either. I'm just sayin'...

Anyway, the point being is that I've only been back in dear ole' Blighty for a couple of months and I'm already thinking about leaving again. And I'm not the only one. More Brits are leaving the UK than ever before, an estimated 300,000 people a year. Is the quality of life here so bad..? No of course not, this is a great country.

So why? I think it's pretty simple really. There's an increasing amount of Brits who don't like the company of other Brits. We're supposed to be some kind of civilized and sophisticated nation. Oh the irony. Have you been to our towns and cities on a Saturday night..? The epidemic of binge-drinkin'-fightin'-loutishness (and that's just the girls) is unstoppable. I think it says a lot about us Brits, there's this aggressive disposition simmering away. It's like some Jeckle & Hyde thing. And we don't like the foreigners do we? Ugh, the casual racism, the Empire rhetoric. And always harping about the one and only bloody World Cup we won back in 19-whogivesashit-66. But it's not that simple. I like to think it's a step towards a borderless world. People should spend at least some of their life abroad. I like being in Europe, and it's the best thing for Britain. But it brings out the predictable negatives in people and shows how dumb as fuck they are. But that goes for most countries, the grass ain't any greener.

I think the other day sums it up for why would consider leaving again. This may not sound like much to you but see it from my perspective. I was in the universal shit hole known as Crewe (the grim North West) trying to find a couple of Cycle shops on a particular street. It was one of those pre-war terraced red brick neighbourhoods with those scenic council estates in the background. So I'm waiting to cross this road junction when this shitty ford Sierra pulls up behind the car that was waiting to turn onto the main street. There was ample space for me to keep walking with out getting in the way but no, the fucker hits the pedal to shut the gap, and he waited until I was half way across so I had to jump back. Why? Because I'm a person of colour (thanks God for that) and the people in the car consisted of two big fat skinheads; bare bodies to show off their tattoos. And three skanky, syphilitic, scum-bag whores in the back. Believe me, I could feel their aggression. I avoided looking at them as that would have been enough to get the shit kicked out of me for sure. But I kept thinking all that day that's it's scum like that made my experience growing up here so bad. It's people like them who I wanted to get away from by going abroad.

I mean sure, I went abroad to advance my career, broaden my horizons and see some of the world while I had the opportunity etc. But the deciding factor that made me do it was represented so well by those people sitting in that car looking the way they look, thinking the things they think, being who they are and hating me for what (they think) I am.

2004-07-28T21:19:00.000+01:00

So I'm back in the UK after living and working (kinda) abroad for the past five years. I did a year in Helsinki and I came back a couple of months ago from a four year stint in New York. I would have stayed there if it were not for a shitty economy/911/almost getting my greencard but not/a Creative Director who gave me the chop and I wish would die of CJD/and needing a new job with a visa to match. But there will be more wistful tales in future blogs.

Alas, the Universe has its' plans for me; none of which agree with. You know, I think the Universe is a woman-one of those butch angry types with way too much facial hair, you know like the ones in those women's' groups at University who hate men?

Anyway, I find myself back in Cheshire of all places, in my hometown which as lovely and picture postcardy as it is, is a small town with small town people with small town attitudes. And by the way, I fucking hate the North of England and it is grim up North. So why stay here I here you cry? Well, until I get a job back in London where I used to live before I went abroad, I'm stuck here for the duration... grumble grumble.

Ah well, at least it'll have some humour value.