Red onto Grey

I'm in the process of writing another short story. In which the narrator is perceived to be extremely intelligent but possesses perverted morality values. Such is that insanity or indifference beckons.

In the process of? Not really. I started writing quite a while back but got overwhelmed with work. So it's been sitting dormant as draft all this time. I'll publish the beginnings of my draft now and finish it later.

Red onto Grey / The Grey Wheelbarrow

I remember quite well a poem by William Carlos Williams. The Red Wheelbarrow it was called. Now, how did it go again? Oh, yeah....

so much depends upon

a red wheelbarrow

glazed with rain water

nearby the white chickens

Bloody marvelous isn't it? I mean, the ability to speak in italics? Haha. Well, okay. I did steal the concept from Terry Pratchett but heck I ain't makin' money from this so sue me. Ah. On second thoughts, please don't.

Four simple lines mean so much. Mr. Goldbuns, my English teacher in back in Tailor's College, insisted it was so. Upon being asked why, he said it was open to interpretation. What da diddley duddeley farkh is the man talking about? Anyway, we all thought he was a raging queer until he started dating the Geography teacher of whom he could have hidden his slender girly frame behind.

Maybe she owned a strap-on.

Who knows?

Who cares?

I'm beginning, yonks later, to understand what ol' Goldbuns was yammering about. It is open to interpretation and mine is - that them little diddle things we all take for granted are either essential or have a major influence. How often is it that you have really really needed a triple locking inter-connectible star headed screwdriver? Not ever? Once every 5 years or so? But goddamn if you ever needed it, you needed it bad. Then look at something simple and more everyday like washing machine detergent. If you ran out and had a big load to do you'd know about it while you went through a big pile of laundry, sniffin' various items to check which ones didn't smell the worst. And a base necessity like yer house keys. If the door slammed and locked you out, you'd really really know about it. Especially if you was in your undies or had the shits or both. The neighbours will never look at you the same. Believe you, me.

I've got a wheelbarrow too. Wheeee! It's not red though. It's grey. A nice one it is too. It's been plenty useful since I got it. I don't use it everyday, I don't even use it every week but goddamn! I need it and really needed it sometimes. It lives in the garden shed. Just like any good wheelbarrow would.

Draft End 16/5/07

'Draft' is quite accurate, I wrote all that in one sitting and never had the time or inspiration to open it up again. One day perhaps I'll finish it.

Bravo Johnny Bravo

I played my hour's worth of footy last night with my erstwhile teammates. The Machas couldn't make it so we played the Italians instead. We had utterly hammered the Machas last week and this time round it looked like it was our turn for a spanking. We were 6-0 down in the first 20 minutes.

The Italians are a funny bunch. Olive coloured guys with frizzy hair and names like Francesco and Fabio. Fabio amused Adrian. He's so muscle bound Adrian calls him Johnny Bravo. Which of course is made all the more funny that they shout 'Bravo!' at each other often enough. They speaka da Italiano to each other of course.

I did my toe in about halfway as well. It's funny how small things can totally mess you up. I bled out under the toe nail. I know as much cos the thing is as black as night right now. I had to wear slippers to work today.

We won in the end though. A herculean effort was required and we won 13-8. I scored just the one but as my teammate, Dario said, "you don't score many but when you do they're really good goals." And it was good, even if I say it myself, and especially since I was already limping around the court by then.

I'd pounced on a loose ball and lobbed everyone in front of me almost from the halfway line. To borrow a basketball phrase, nothing but net.

Belissimo.

Bravo!

She's back. Awesome.

Back for a while apparently. And I didn't know. Is what happens when you don't give a ferret's kahunas about your myspace account.

awesomezara.com

and

awesomezara at blog.myspace

Workin' life

Haven't blogged in a while.

Up to my neck in paperwork, quotations, catalogues, samples, phone calls and coffee.

Workin' hard for tha money.

In about 2 weeks I think I'll be wondering what to do with myself again.

I think some gardening is on the cards and I can finally finish the short story that I've been writing since 2 weeks ago.

Sounds like a plan.

Picture of Happiness

Phone conversation between mother and 6 year old daughter.

"Where's daddy?"

"Daddy's in his house."

"Why isn't daddy with you?"

"Daddy's in a bad mood."

"Oh. It's okay. I'm in JB."

My little angel that one.

Social Ills

What is socially acceptable? Through media (I blame Astro here) belching is becoming not such a heinous crime these days. It is still considered a social ill though dependent on setting. Breaking wind is not so much a social crime than it is potentially embarrassing since it is sometimes announced with quite a dignity-shattering sound. It is interesting to note which people find more offensive, the potentially bad smell or the fact that they're taking in to their lungs air which has been expelled by someone else's internal systems. Take note, in such acts like fellatio and cunnilingus and even kissing, socially worse things are ingested.

Why is the smell offensive? Why is the sound so humour inducing? Why is such a natural act embarrassing? Are we blaming Queen Victoria again?

Nothing though, is as pathetic as farting in the office when your colleague's in the other room, realising that there's a odorous by-product and attempting to breathe it away using your own lungs as a filter just so's she might not notice.

I mean, c'mon! It's just a fart!

Optimism

This picture got me through a lot of difficulty and frustration at my first job years ago. I found it recently hidden away in an old email when I cleaned out my hard drive.

FA Cup Final Ramblings

I saw this on the football365.com letters section:

"On a quicker note... Evra instead of Heinze, O'Shea instead of Brown, Smith instead of Fletcher... please."
- Imran Laher

It's like an echo of my own opinions before the game even started.

Me? I was stunned when Fergie played Heinze instead of Evra who I've come to appreciate immensely, much like Vidic. I also really wanted to see 2 up front, Smith and Rooney instead of the complete bollocks which saw Giggs and Ronaldo playing in positions where they wouldn't maximise damage to Chelski. I wouldn't say Darren Fletcher had a bad game or is a bad player (he didn't and he's not), he just shouldn't have been there purely for tactical reasons. Right fullback? I personally had no preference to Wes Brown or John O'Shea.

Of course, this doesn't imply that MU would have won if these changes were made to the starting lineup. For all we know, with a weaker midfield, MU might have lost it in normal time. Although it can be argued with forwards like Smith and Rooney, the midfield would have cover even from the front. Ah, bollocks. In hindsight, everyone has 20/20 vision.

Forget it. But before I stop, I'd just like to mention that my man-of-the-match for that game is Michael Essien. A truly fantastic player but another of Chelski's whores. Not near as bad as that Jon Obi Mikel feller though. He actually photographed with an MU shirt before the complete bollocks that was to follow and culminated him in signing for Chelski. Looking at him now, thank the stars he's a football slut. MU even got 12million quid in Roman's pocket loose change as compensation. Essien though is a class player. Just not a class act. I'd love for him to be wearing red though.

Despite the tauntings of the Chelski fans on Sunday, I took it quietly and with food humour. I know one thing. Next season. Every EPL match they watch on TV, every EPL pre-game show, they will have to watch Gary Neville lift the Premiership trophy in the opening sequence. Over and over and over again for at least until this time next year. Cheers boys.

Another Monday

I saw something new. New to me anyway.

It was a kid on a bicycle. Nothing unusual except that he was talking to someone on his cell phone as he rode through the neighbourhood.

I'd never seen that before.

Monday morning, back at work and I'm so tired. Hit the ground running? Don't think so. The weekend's supposed to be for rest. Doesn't happen that way. There's housework, gardening, cooking, reading, footy, golf, TV and video games. It's a feat of time management to fit all that in. Usually I just give up and end up playing footy, sometimes golf, watching TV and playing video games.

Got to get your priorities right. I managed to finish God of War II yesterday, after I came home from footy.

FA Cup Final

Two words.

Sucker. Punch.

Buy a Degree!

Need a Bachelor of Business certificate from an Australian university? Just get in touch with the guy who sent me this message on friendster.

"how are u there...first of all, i would like to say hi to you...and i need a favor from you, not sure if it is ok...I would like to verify a certificate of Edith Cowan, however I cannot find the sample certificate from the University. Do you mind if you could scan your degree cert and send to me? i am not sure if you are ok"

Uh. No pal, I'm not ok with it. Obviously the answer is "I don't think so. Mate."

SM3

I finally got to watch Spiderman 3. The cinematographics were great. The special effects, better.

This was my reaction to the third Spiderman movie:

Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is. It. Over. Yet? Is it over yet? IS IT OVER YET? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet? IS. IT. OVER. YET????

Shimabukuro

Laaydeeez and gennelmen.... Jake Shimabukuro!



That's not a guitar. That's a ukelele. Awesome.

Thursday Smoke

If you can spare the time google this book title.

Latawnya, the Naughty horse, Learns to Say "No" to Drugs

Nevermind, 'cos if you did, you might end up here. I'll save you the trouble. Click on the link.

A few things you might realise. Mama Horse has the same first name as the author. The author has eight children just like Mama and Papa horse. The girl horses have names like showgirl tranny dancers' stage names. The author's description on the dust jacket is a stroke of genius.

If this woman can get published, I'm already a literary giant. Anyone want to publish Esque? Or my work-in-progress, "Red onto Grey" when it's done? Riches, greatness and awards for literature await!

Uno des Syllables

I just had to put this IM conversation here.

xxxx: hey
El Perrito: hi
xxxx: how ar u
El Perrito: not bad
El Perrito: you?
xxxx: not bad too
El Perrito: at college?
xxxx: yes
El Perrito: any classes today?
xxxx: yes
El Perrito: you're distinctly monosyllabic?
xxxx: yes
El Perrito: wonderful!

Solitary Confinement

I'm alone in the office.

One colleague's unwell, another is away from the office and the boss is on-site.

I wish the urge to goof off wasn't so strong.

The fact that you're reading this shows I have displayed the beginnings of, potentially, a lackadaisical approach to today.

Yo Mama

I park my car in the parking lots below the office while I'm at work. The ones where you feed coins into the beast and get a little piece of paper with the expiry time and your number plate on it.

I went downstairs at 4:50pm. Time had expired. I did think I should put in 60sen into the beast which is better than a 30Ringgit fine. I thought, what the hell, 10 minutes left before quitting time. I was packed and ready to go at 5pm. My colleague has the keys. She's not coming in tomorrow so I need to take the keys from her. I wait for her and at 5:10pm she gets up to go. I get to my car at 5:13pm. There's a fine on the windscreen, time of fine: 5:11pm. I clutch the fine in my clenched fist and scream rage at the heavens.

"Ahhh.... ffffuuuuuuucccckkkkk!!!!!"

The parking attendant, who is still nearby decides to be scarce. I spot her when I get into my car.

Mothers Day just went by. I hope parking attendants treat their mothers well. Cos nobody loves parking attendants except maybe their mothers.

Critique

barb_er : and i must say - nice one on your latest blog. very modern writing style
El Perrito : esque?
barb_er : yups
El Perrito : it was really just a long winded method....
El Perrito : ....of getting to compare gf number 1 to yeast
El Perrito : :))
barb_er : very chic lit actually
El Perrito : well.... not really. i'd been frustrated reading neil gaiman
El Perrito : i don't think i'm cut out for short stories much as i love them
El Perrito : the title esque is supposed to reflect on authors
barb_er : but u can read that book.. the book that i could not read..
barb_er : by that travel author
El Perrito : as in neil gaiman-esque
El Perrito : harlan ellison-esque
El Perrito : though naming those two are just examples. in no way am i making any comparisons or attempting to emulate them.
barb_er : ok.. ok.. point noted and taken
El Perrito : crappalike dat
El Perrito : but it has something not usual in a short story
El Perrito : positive hope at the end
barb_er : :))
El Perrito : :D
El Perrito : and of course this is the way my english tuition teacher would have loved for me to write back then!
barb_er : oh yeah.. too-ee-syun
El Perrito : but i'm glad you liked it. it's a good indicator
barb_er : it is? of?
El Perrito : readability
barb_er : from me? you gotta be kidding
El Perrito : i am?
barb_er : okay. you're not.

Cojones!

I've been put to shame by Erin. More or less. This is the text which fueled her ire especially the bits in bold text.

"In Australia (and "developed" nations), there are those that don’t work and are not bothered to work because they can draw unemployment benefits. There are 3rd world nations who greedily absorb foreign aid when they should be using foreign aid to help themselves in the form of working towards self sustenance. Most of the money raised to assist famine in Africa, especially Ethiopia, was spent on weapons and absorbed by the fat cats.

Well….

In the event of privileges two things happen. One is that some of the privileged class takes full positive advantage and uses the benefits to get really get moving. On the other side, the others in the privileged class sits on their asses, mooch about and rabbit it because they don’t have to compete but sit back and reap the benefits anyway. There’s a lot of grey area in between but I had to elaborate on the extremes.

Those who have to fight and work for everything know how to shut up and bend over because 1. They can still make a good living; and 2. They need to maintain and cultivate the farce of an environment in which to make a good living.

DON’T reply this comment. Delete it if you wish. I’ve been wanting to spill all that before but didn’t have the cojones to do it on my own blog.

But please visit me in Ka-munting. I would like a toothbrush please."

She had her say about it in a posting. And I did reply, again in a comment to the posting. The age gap? Eleven years I think. Think she's she same age as Sher May, Kevin and the old Ironwood gang. I wonder what they think? Sher May would have her head too high in the clouds, I would know, we were an item once. Whether or not anything has changed since isn't a matter. She's good at being happy. Kevin has been away in Oz but perhaps Ravi could come to an opinion. Then again, Ravi would probably just take the most rebellious stance just for the sake of it. Anyway:

"I don’t exactly fear posting politics on my blog. I just wanted to use the word ‘cojones’

For me, it’s just not worth opening up this can of worms. It might snowball. Not likely but I didn’t want to be the catalyst.

“2. They need to maintain and cultivate the farce of an environment in which to make a good living.”

With the ignorance factor and pomposity everyone detected when the pollies had their own rant on Malaysian bloggers, it’s just not worth it.

My mentioning ISA might be for amusement but fact is I personally know someone who spent time in Kamunting and I know human rights people who try to help ‘guests’ there.

But I wouldn’t worry too much about being arrested in the coffee shops. I’d already be in the slammer!

I’m not being condescending nor would I patronize you and I don’t know it all. I do think it’s a good thing that your generation is taking interest and isn’t content with the inner workings and the truth. The dissatisfaction you feel, to me, is a healthy indication that young adults are still bright and refuse to have the wool pulled over their eyes.

With the chains of power so long in place, change might just require no less than revolution. My generation is content to avoid such a situation. There is a good reason why. A revolution may just occur from within. What frightens me is that I personally think that the non-privileged classes will have if worse if it is successful. Which is why we tolerate the present situation.

One day we should sit down and risk arrest but I’d also be content if the conversation was about something else."

The strange thing is that we were probably writing at the same time. While I was writing Esque, she was writing This is becoming a serious issue. Strange, considering how Esque reads.

Esque

"Esque"

It was awkward. I didn’t really have anything to say and neither did she. Small talk would seem to be the order of the day. Rigid, soulless etiquette kept us there trying to get along.

In the branches of a nearby tree I saw a straits robin. It was a small black and white bird, with a long tail which it flicked periodically. I once teased a former girlfriend into believing it was called a flip-arse bird. Then again she had once believed that the air pressured Burswood Dome was inflated by men with bicycle pumps.

We wore blank tired looks. We sat shaded under a pitifully inadequate umbrella which sheltered a small round table with wrought iron chairs. The shade cast is miserly and we have to almost squeeze into what shadow is bestowed. At least from this proximity I can breathe the pleasant aromas which emanate from her hair and skin. The chairs were obviously built for aesthetics which was evident with the restless squirming we both suffered trying to find comfort in their rusting embraces. The umbrella’s stand came up through the stupid little hole in the center of the metal table. It robbed us of space and forced the edges of our laptops to protrude off the edges of the table. There was hardly room for the ashtray.

Not that it was a welcome object in any case. She didn’t smoke and tried to keep the disgust off her face at the smell and the floating smoke but still she maintains a polite façade. In the background I hear Snowpatrol's "Run". It's one of my favourite songs. It seems fitting for the moment.

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

I sigh and stub out the cigarette. I hadn’t even enjoyed it. The end still burns and violates her space and senses.

She frowns but finally she speaks again.

“I do despair. It all seems so aimless. I have no idea how all this connects me to my future. I’ve been told that this is all meaningless anyway.”

There is a momentary silence before I reply. The silence is unnecessary. I already knew the answer.

“It is meaningless. All it proves is that you have the ability to carry through.”

“Will I ever look back and think that it was beneficial to me? That I need this?”

“There will be times. I can admit that much.”

Even the coffee is as weak as the conversation. Here it’s just dark grit in hot water. I don’t know how to justify the cost. I suppose someone has to pay for the awkward chairs and the stupid table with its feeble umbrella.

“I have to go” she says smiling apologetically looking at her watch. I didn’t have to be told and she didn’t have to look. It couldn’t have been long since she last glanced at her timepiece and not even as long ago as the look before last.

I must admit I felt some relief. Though I had so much wisdom and warning I could impart on her youth and naivety. She would face all the darkness and harshness life could throw at her. I hoped she’d mostly walk in light.

I drank the grit. The straits robin sang. Hopped once. Flipped twice. Then it turned around and flew away. It was then I knew she’d be just fine.

END

Woooooo! Gloooooo!

Some guys are making alterations to the filing racks in the office. There's varnish, filler and glue aplenty.

I've been breathing in the fumes for a while now.

Naturally, I'm high as a kite. Who needs drugs?

Hot Spicy!

It's been a week now since I started work at the office job. If you were wondering why it's such a big deal to me, I haven't worked in an office and for someone else for 5 years. I've still got my own little business running but I don't need to attend to it day in, day out. 99% of the time, I'm at home sitting on my ass anyway. So, when opportunity knocked, I answered.

So yeh, it's been a week. It amazes me that businesses still don't use their own email addresses. I suppose companyname@streamyx.com or companyname@pd.jaring.net is still okay. I'd rather a business have name@companyname.com. I just think it's more professional and a better presentation. Here's my gripe: companyname@hotmail.com or companyname@yahoo.com is downright unforgivable. Even worse, I've sometimes been asked to email employees' private yahoo or hotmail email addresses.

Hullo out there...? Getting your own domain name and to have email forwarding isn't very expensive. A little investment here might go a long way.

Other gripes I have are, I have no idea how some of these people do sales. They don't carry themselves well, are unpolished and borderline just-plain-rude. Might as well move these Ah Pek people from the front into the back offices and production lines where such brusqueness can be used to better effect.

As an extra rant, here's something I would like to bitch about. An excel file is a book. It contains pages or worksheets. It's not just one damn page. There are tabs on the bottom of the pages. They scroll horizontally. I have stupid people ringing me up and almost getting into an argument with me. Look at the bottom of the pages for the tabs, you fucking morons. Not that you will anyway. When I explained this nicely, all I get is attitude and adamance. I've adapted though. One simple question makes my life so much easier.

"Are you familiar with Excel?!?"

Shuts them up. They all say the same thing.

"Let me have another look and I'll get back to you."

They never do. If ever someone does, I'd have to label him or her: Beyond Help and Recovery.

Someone else couldn't open the file. Doesn't have Microsoft Office. Had to resend as an email comprising text in an email message. Another company had no email address. How tragic is that? They aren't a RM1.00 company. Their product range is huge. They can supply most of the things I'm asking for. I had to fax over a shopping list of no less than 30 pages.

But it made my day. After all the bad mojo I had yesterday, it really made my day, especially since it was the last thing I did before leaving the office.

I was speaking to the sales person. Perhaps gently chiding her on her company's lack of email address. I made hrmmm hmmmp noises indicating my displeasure at such a failing. "Fax the whole shopping list? Hrrrmmm hmmmmp...." As a last resort, I asked her if I could email the list to her own personal email address. I could feel reluctance emanating through the phone. But it was kind of embarrassed reluctance. Finally she said I could.

Her email address?

name_chilipadi@name.com

I didn't start, pause nor flinch. Instead I asked, still very politely and formally, "Is that chili with one L or two?" She replied that it was with one L. Then I asked, "chilipadi as one word?" and I received a confirmation. The remainder of the conversation was polite, amiable and professional. Then I hung up the phone.

That's when I cracked up.

Giggled my ass off.

It made my day. It was therapy!

What the @#$&*%*???

All of a sudden.

For no reason.

My blog can't be viewed from my domain name. A 404 error is what happens.

It happens on and off. If you're reading this, lucky you. You got in. I can't and it's my blog!

Do I revert to the brain-spillage.blogspot.com address? What annoys me further about this is that I noticed many blogger friends took the trouble to update their links to me to the www.brainspillage.com URL even though the old address would still work. For that I thank them and stress that crap like this shouldn't happen.

Is it google or my domain nameservers at fault?

I have no clue.

This sucks.

MetroFila

I was given birthday presents from my sister early. Makes sense since she was around Monday and she lives and works in Singapore.

It came in a Fila bag. I've been having a quiet chuckle at what's written on the side of the bag.

Our design speaks Italian

We are emotional

We are intensely passionate

We are feminine in view point but masculine in action

We are one company

One brand

One team

With one clear mission in mind

They could have saved a lot of ink and just put:

We are Metrosexual

Instead of blabbering on and on like that. Sounds like English slogans made by Ah Beng manufacturers. It was quite popular in the era of the carrot cut pants. In the 90s that is. Thank goodness it went the way of shoulder pads. I miss leg warmers though!

Formula Me

Me + (long sleeved shirt + slacks + socks and shoes) + leather sling bag + spectacles - lip ring - swearing = 925

Geddit?

Stealing Time

Here I am, pinching a bit of time from the company to put this down.

Well....

Chaaaaaaampiiiooonnnssss!!!!

At the start of this season that all I wanted for Manchester United was the Premiership title. All else was secondary. Done and done. Woohoo!

Chelsea FC doesn't get any sympathy from me. They do however get bucket loads of respect. The way they've played during the entire season has been fantastic. Last night's game though, the way they rallied one man down against Arsenal was magnificent.

I don't have to like them though but I don't hate them either. Football fans that hate other teams, I find, are kinda sad. If you live in England, and for example you live in Birmingham and support Villa and you hate Birmingham City, fine. Likewise Everton/Liverpool, Sunderland/Newcastle, Spurs/Gunners, bla bla bla/yakka yakka yakka. What are we, the overseas fans, after? Bragging rights over fans of rival clubs or cultivating a genuine love of the team and the game? Bandwagon fans jump aboard just to be able to bask in the glory of the team's successes and gloat over fans of rival clubs. Sad but appreciated. As I'd said before, more fans means more merchandise gets sold. More merchandise sold means more money for the club. I just don't want to talk football to any of them.

When I was in Perth, I hated Wollongong Wolves. I felt I was entitled to. They continued to be in the way of Perth Glory's umm.... glory. I lived in Perth, I went to every home game I could get to (on foot no less), I wore the shirt(s) and knew every player by name and number. I remember I gave a Wolves' player, Matt Horsley, the finger when he scored against Perth and I was behind the Glory goal. He had the cheek to wave and grin to us. I locked eyes with him and flipped him the bird. Of course the irony is that Perth Glory signed him the very next season! They also signed Damien Mori, NSL's top scorer, but by then I had left Perth. I left shortly after Perth had lost the NSL Grand Final at Subi Oval to.... Wolves. They eventually won it but by then I was out of touch with the Australian league.

I think I've stolen enough time from work. There's a supplier coming over with brochures as well. Heigh ho, heigh ho....

Yeeeeaaaaahhhh!!!!!!

Weekend Spillage

First things first.

One hand on the Premiership! It wasn't anywhere near the best game I've ever seen but the win was more satisfying in the tale of two penalties. If other fans despise Cristiano Ronaldo, that's no big deal. The guy seems to take all the abuse and quite often stuffs it to them by scoring or setting up goals. If any player deserved abuse it was Michael Ball. I don't really care that he threw himself over Wesley Brown's leg to win a penalty. What irked me was the stamp on Ronnie early in the game. Well, surprise surprise, Ronnie stuffed it to him and the boo boys not very long later.

It might be said that Ronaldo didn't have a good game other than winning the penalty and converting it. I suppose then people who say that didn't notice that City players converged on him whenever he got the ball.

On a side note, you don't know how pleased I am to see Nemanja Vidic back in the team. He looks close to full fitness and full form.

Sentimentality only gets so far. I have one of those mini compo thingies that my dad bought for me as a present years ago. I've been resisting suggestions that I dispose of it for many years now. It's been a piece o'crap with CDs (it's old, I got it when I was 21) and getting progressively worse. I used to be able to take it but recently I've been using it to play the backing tracks for when I play guitar. Naturally having the CD skipping while you're trying to play to the track really annoys. I snapped today.

Beat the beejezuz out of it. Oh hang on. That's not quite accurate. I carefully detached the speakers from the main unit first then placed it on the carpet (no floor damage) and smashed the bloody thing. I haven't thrown a tantrum like that in a while. Man, it's therapeutic.

I've bought a new player, it up to my old speakers and subwoofer (which are quite good) and gave the new speakers to Barbsie. The new player's a Panasonic as well so there's some continuity and the labels still match. It's got a really funky CD door as it folds onto itself and up. It plays mp3s as well. So I've traded the cassette player for mp3 capability. Cool. Who still listens to cassettes? Gone the way of the 8 track I think. Can any of you remember 8 track cartidges and betamax? Are you even old enough?

Paris Hilton. Sentenced to 45 days jail. Wow, I haven't spilled on her in a while. I don't think it's a bad thing that she's going into the house. When she comes out, she's gonna have some street cred! She's spent time in the house! Snoop Dogg can produce her next album. She can do a Nelly Furtado. Never mind that she'll have to fend off butch prisoners and prison guards for 45 days. The street cred will be worth it. Do her career good. Chin up girl.

Aerosmith - Janie's Got A Gun

Elmo's got a gun

Elmo's got a gun

Big Bird's on the run
Heard he's dialling 9-1-1

What made Elmo snap?
Was he tired of Big Bird's crap?

They say when Elmo was arrested
They found Oscar headless in the trash
I hear that Gordon's really running
Now that Elmo's got a gun
The street's never gonna be the same

Elmo's got a gun

Elmo's got a gun

Grover's head has come undone
Sesame Street's not real fun....

It's the weekend!

Day two over and I'm beat.

The weekend's here! Woohoo! Friday night, I'd usually be heading out for a little bit of a party. Not tonight though. I've been catching up with the new posts on blogs but didn't leave any comments, sorry, too tired.

Sometimes I'd been chatting in the daytime with people who were at work.

Honestly.... now I'm back in an office I'd like to know where they ever found the time? Major slacking weh!


Workin' hard for the money!

Reply to Nick's comment

Well, no sympathy deserved nor sought after, Nick. It was a poor game on MU's part. While I am disappointed, I know there's still a lot to look forward to. Been with MU since 1986 so I do know how to wait for success and I don't think there'll be a long wait again this time. There hasn't been a drought for quite a while now. I know worse. On the international stage I'm an England supporter.

I should add though that I love bandwagon supporters. They're the buggers that buy all the gear. Someone's got to pay for the purchase of players, the players' salaries and what not.

To be really honest, all I had wanted for MU right of the start of this season is the Premiership. The FA Cup if won, will be a bonus.

The World Turns

In bed before 11pm.

Yup.

This is definitely weird.

Corporate

I'm sitting in an office in Section 20, P.J.

I'm sitting at a desk.

There's a telephone and a line for my laptop. I'm wearing a long-sleeved shirt, slacks and shoes. I'm being paid (a cheque weekly) per day, a higher amount than I ever have been paid (on a per day basis) before.

It's been years.

It's kinda wierd.

Whimper

It was a collapse. A loss was the only outcome once belief evaporated.

Unlike the semi final against Juventus in 1999, there was no one to drag the team back into the game like Roy Keane did that day.

No one stood up this time.

Usually I look at losses as a positive thing. United are always most dangerous when burnt. Their opponents in the next game always expect a backlash. But in this game it is a moot point. This wasn't a league game. It was a knockout 2-leg game. It's over. The backlash could occur in the Premiership, ultimately winning it. But for the Champions League, it's over.

I'm severely disappointed. I'm not as disappointed with being knocked out than I am about the manner of the loss. The players seemed out of sync and overawed by the occasion. What I saw was not the team I have seen all season, that fears no one and goes into every game with the intention of winning.

That didn't happen. Manchester United cannot claim to be one of the best in Europe when they go into games overly cautious of their opponents.

This wasn't shot down in flames. This was a submissive lie down, roll over and still got savaged by the alpha wolf anyway.

I shall have some tim sum and tea this morning. There is a lot of unhappiness to wash away.

For Real?

Couple of days back I was giving Greg a ride back to his hotel and we were talking and I don't know how Jerry Springer came up.

Jerry Springer.

Jerry Fucking Springer.

I've never seen a full episode. I did see a little of an episode or two though while I was still in Australia. What I thought to myself totally aghast, with my eyes like saucers and my mouth hanging open for the flies, "can you be-lieve this shit?".

There were people a cussin' and a beatin' on each other and Ku Klux Klan members trying to convince people that they were actually a good thing. Maybe they are, who knows? Propaganda is a powerful thing. I've read excerpts of the satanic bible before and I found myself thinking, it's not really all that evil. Nothing on sacrificing virgins or sex with your sister. It actually made sense, some of it. I didn't encounter any devil worship. I didn't even come across anything particularly religious. It seemed just an alternate approach to life to that of Christians, Catholics, Methodists, Jehovah's Witnesses, Protestants, etc etc.

Jesus. (Oh, excuse me).

Just how many sects, chapters, clubs, beliefs, etc etc, are there anyway? Anyway, I'm not religious in the least so my view, of what little bits of the satanic bible, I saw sounds pretty much like rules for a life outside God. As in you don't have to live in fear of burning in hell and there are no such things as sin, just right and wrong.

Well.... Of course, I will repeat that I only read bits of it here and there. I didn't chase down a copy nor did I read as much of it as is available on the internet. I have better things to do. Things like fornication without marital vows, occasional indulgence in onanism, overindulging in food and drink, coveting someone else's woman and sometimes I'm quite content doing nothing at all.

Of course, just because I've appeared to criticise God (whichever one) and even had the gonads to read excerpts from the satanic bible, I'm going to have a very unpleasant afterlife. But of course, that depends on what you believe.... or don't believe. From what little I know, and I'm guessing, is that the satanic bible is a bible for people who do not wish to be constrained by religious blackmail and mandatory worship. The concept of hell has a lot to do with all that if you think about it. Because such a mindset is definitely against God, this was declared (by its creators) to be satanism. It was probably even a joke. I don't think they actually did anything like you'd see in a Hollywood horror movie.

But the satanists had their own church. They also had a hierarchy and even fancier titles for their leaders. As far as I'm concerned, they pretty much went a big circle and ended up pretty similar to anything they were trying to defy. Satanism was probably meant to be a life of freedom without the fear tactics and politics that you will find in any religion. And by religion, that includes satanism. I think it was a brave try but it ultimately consumed itself.

Humankind cannot seem to function without power and politics in anything and everything.

I hate politics and politicians. But I know why they're necessary. It's a necessary evil. Yes, I purposely and intentionally used the word 'evil'.

Of course, there are probably people who practice satanism as an actual worship of the devil and actually believe all that evil doing shit. I'd worry about them but one thing is obvious.

They crazy. Lock 'em up real tight or kill 'em. Either way it suits me.

Oh yes, and the KKK. I've never encountered, met or even seen a member of the KKK. What I heard is that they stockpile weapons, encourage exclusive reproduction between white men and women, lynch coloured people (apparently in the past, not now), are afraid that the white man is losing control of the good ol' US of A (wasn't theirs' to begin with) and they are an exclusive club with fancy titles for their leaders.

You know what? Fuck them too.

And of course members of the KKK were sitting on Jerry Springer's stage in their bedsheets with Jerry egging on the crowd, it was almost comical. It would be if the KKK didn't exist. But they do. It ain't funny.

What is funny though is Greg telling me that on one episode of Jerry, there was a man and his daughter on stage. The father is a bigot and hates blacks. Obviously, his daughter's boyfriend is black. You just know it. It's fucking Jerry. You don't need a doctorate to figure out what comes next.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"I've got a boyfriend, daddy.... Daddy, I'm sorry, he's black."

Before daddy can get over his shock and react cue Jerry asking the crowd, "Shall we bring him in?" And to which the crowd naturally voice their affirmation. Black dude walks in. White father stands up, points finger and shouts angrily. A lot of beep beep beep sounds masking out what he says but by now all of us can read lips. Just watch the English Premier League. Don't lie. You know what they're saying to the referee. Naturally fists are thrown and the boyfriend and the father start laying into each other. Then we hear the darling daughter.

"No daddy no! Don't! I'm having his baby...!!"

The crowd is delightfully horrified.

Daddy looks stunned. Boyfriend looks smug. Both are in mid punch. Daddy looks at boyfriend, mouth open. Boyfriend gives daddy the World's Biggest Shit Eating Grin.

Punching resumes.

The crowd of course, goes nuts.

This is entertainment in the USA. They love this shit. Me? I feel embarrassed that people actually like this crap. I shouldn't just pick on Jerry. Sorry Jerry. To fuck with that Ricki Lake bitch too. There's a theory that it's all fake and is all an act. For humanities sake, I hope it's fake cos that shit is too tragic and too fucked up if it were real. It's bad enough that people want to watch it.

Other Jerry Springer episodes I'm sure exist:

- My daughter is a stripper.
- My mom was a pornstar.
- Ever since mom ran away, I'm my daddy's wife.
- I'm black and I want to join the KKK.
- Why zoophilia should be legalised.

Just think of the worst crap possible. Jerry's already thought of it. I promise you.

Where's Wally?

I was talking to a friend of mine who studied overseas and he was relating something that happened to him while he was over there.

Where he was, I wouldn't want to live there.

I wouldn't want to live in a country where if I get pulled over by cop, I have to stay in my car, not make any sudden moves and keep my hands where they can be seen.

I don't want to live in a country where when I am asked to produce my car registration and when I lean over to the glove compartment, the cop's hand is suddenly on the butt of his handgun and he's barking orders at me and on full alert.

I would refuse to live in a country where I will buy a gun just because everyone else has at least one and that includes the bad guys, the mentally unstable, the easily excited, teenagers, celebrities and everyday ordinary folk.

It's ridiculous.