Thursday, 9 April 2009

Thursday 09 April 09

The morning piece is shattered by a screaming Kurt Cobain. I levitate off the bed in fright.
Make a note to rethink the alarm clock sound.

Remind myself that since I'm at my desk, I'm going to have to do some work. Whatever that is.
Immediately log into Facebook.

Unfriend someone who insists on using their update thingy to show off. Your aussieBum's arrived in the post and?!
Why were we friends in the first place, I can't remember?

Realise that the mood I'm in is much like warmed up vomit.

Tesco-time! so stomp up the road with Nine Inch Nails blaring.

Desperate and angry with hot bicepage make Trent Reznor fit stuff.

Old woman shoplifting shocker!
I can't quite believe it but I'm pretty sure she put a loaf of bead in her old-person carrier-on-wheels thingy.
It could be my grandma which makes me overcome with pity as Trent sings "will you bite the hand that feeds, will you chew until it bleeds?"

Dear God (if you exist and Dear Allah just incase)
Please, please help me so that I never end up in my old age having to steal loaves of bread from the Tesco.

Wikipedia, Popbitch messageboard, GMail, Wikipedia, Amazon, Virgin Atlantic, busy, busy...

In the bar since it's some long weekend or something and everyone wants to get a load of alcohol in. Buy the first round of drinks so no-one notices that my soda water doesn't have any vodka in it.

Feign a war injury and leave the bar.

Respect is a big thing for me, whether you know the person or not. As is the film Casino.
This is why I remember these lines so well:

"You beat Nicky with fists, he comes back with a bat. You beat him with a knife, he comes back with a gun. And you beat him with a gun, you better kill him."

So when I'm doing lat pull-downs and walk to the fountain to get some water, the fuckwit who wanders over while I'm away, picks my towel up off the machine throws it behind the ergometer better watch his fucking back.

I try and tell him that what he did is pretty fucking rude but he's sitting down, looking at the floor and grunts something back.

For the rest of the session I keep a discreet but watchful distance.

Dipshit leaves his togbag out while he goes to shower. I pour the pint of skimmed milk I was going to use for my protein shake into his gym bag.

Go and sit in the area near the reception to watch the exit.

He's on the way out and stops at reception with his milk-soaked bag. There is much showing and telling before he leaves.

"Good night", I say to the receptionist on the way out. "Cheerio" she says in her best Australian accent.
"Oh by the way," I say with the loveliest smile from ear to ear, "what time are you open on Good Friday?"
"8am to 8pm."
"Brilliant, have a great weekend!"

Wander home instead of taking the Tube. Annie Lennox at her piano sings to me.
Tell me the story about when you were young
I want to hear it again.
Leave in the part where the hero gets stung
I want to savour it, I want to play it again.

Get ready for bed before the shit from one day passes on to the next.


wayne said...

Ouch! You are not to be messed with. Although he really shouldn't have cried over spilt milk.. (groan...sorry!)

fleetmonkey said...

Remind me never to get on your bad side. Did you not even get a dirty - I reckon it was you who did it look when he left? Or had he managed to upset other potential milk pourage candidates.

Talking of which why do you do milk in the protein - thought you were supposed to add milk.

Anonymous said...

'ergometer' - phwoor !

Bobby Cox said...

Wayne: My real name is Sasha Fierce.

Fleets: Er... you add milk to a protein shake instead of? Milk? Did you mean water?
Water in protein shakes after 5pm.

Anon: Phwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrr indeed.