Tuesday, 8 September 2009

Tuesday, 08 Sept 09

I'm awake a minute before the alarm clock goes off.

Protein shake (cappuccino flavour) and soya milk. It is cold and sweet.

Like shut the fuck up already.

I mean, part of me does care that the driver's bought a house in Mill Hill Broadway and that his wife works for someone who's just spent a million-plus on theirs in Westminster and - but mate, it's 20-past five in the morning.
Hush my beauty. Hush and drive.

And drive he did because we're now at work and sitting at our desk. For this is where we shall commit ourself today.

And what the hell was that all about?!

I'm sitting outside polishing a pair of shoes. Or not polishing them. Smearing show Tippex onto them - you know the stuff that you paint onto slightly faded white shoes to make them look unnaturally clean?

That and my little list of things to do.

In around 24 hours' time I shall be somewhere over France heading towards Johannesburg. Everyone gets those pre-flight nerves. They're like pre-clubbing anxiety - you know the feeling, when you get nervous and uneasy for no apparent reason.

I think in both cases it stems from the fear that death could be imminent.

Death as in the aircraft falls out of the sky or death as in you die a death on the dancefloor because someone has a better body than yours.

I think I'm fully packed. The only thing I don't have is er - we were laughing in the office today at the euphemisms for poppers.

No, I'm not packing poppers. I don't even own a bottle.

I'm just kidding I do.
No I don't.


Anyway. (I don't) So we were laughing at work about (I do...) what people call poppers.

(No seriously, I don't...)

Like "room odorizer" and "personal aromas" or "personal incense." Like who the fuck ever opens a bottle of "room odorizer" before guests come around for a dinner party.

"What the fuck, have you been painting your nails?"
"Jeez, that Glade airspray is really fucking strong."
"What the fuck is that smell? Fruits of the Anus or something?"

Not that I am mildly obsessive of anything but it was exactly 80 days ago that I was packing to head to Cape Town. Symmetry in time and space is so important.

Check - going out clothes (American Apparel, Energie, Issey Miyake)
Check - smartish clothes (Versace, DKNY shirts)
Check - normal T-shirty clothes (H&M, H&M, H&M, H&M, H&M, H&M, H&M, H&M, H&M)
Check - shoes (three pairs, 2 x Nike and Prada)
Check - underwear (boring and sensible black Debenhams jockey-style underwear that is just black)
Check - passports (UK & RSA)
Check - Booking ref
Check - laptop
Check - laptop lead
Check - socks
Check - phone (iPhone with a big crack, not of the bum variety)
Check - locks for suitcase (must remember to put them back on sling afterwards*)
Check - electric toothbrush
Check - coats (Nicole Fahri and Armani)
Check - gym kit + swimming gear
Check - jerseys (Armani)
Check - um... iPhone / iPod charge leads
Check - er - I think I have it all.

Can you think of anything glaring that I'm missing?
* = I don't have a sling. Well not one that is permanently installed anyway.

"Hello Junior - are you there? This is Madonna. Call me in Miami."

Oh god, speaking of embarrassing incidents...

If you have an iPhone and GarageBand do you know that you can make bespoke rings for your iPhone using songs in your iTunes?
(Apologies that this is so Maccy. Complaints to: foxycoxy AT me.com - my Mac address. HA!)

Anyway. So, like for one guy I know - who is rather rotund - his ringtone is a song that that weird man-eating plant sings in Little Shop of Horrors.

I know it's him whenever he rings because the phone starts yelling "feed me... feed me Seymour... feed me aaaalll night long!"

Of course you have these at your peril although thankfully no-one who has a disparaging personalised ringtone has realised this because they haven't phoned my phone while in the same room. Yet.

Carly Simon's "Your So Vain" features (he really is), as does the ringtone for Sally, my housemate.

When Sally phones, it rings "she's a naughty girl with a bad habit - bad habit for drugs." etc.

I don't know why I thought it would be cool but I decided to use some Missy Elliot lyrics to make a ringtone. I did it as a bit of a joke and just never bothered to actually use the ringtone, because I'm not sure where I would be where it would be appropriate.

Anyway, as you know I have cracked the face of my iPhone which is slightly annoying.

It also means that the phone gives me electric shocks and sometimes does some bizarre things.

Like how the hell did that bloody Missy Elliot ring end up becoming the default tone?!

I'm in the toilet so I do not hear it but I can imagine it.

Bobz's iPhone sitting on his desk, everyone else around working quietly. The room is still and peaceful.

But someone has decided to phone Bobz which is the moment the iPhone springs into action, piercing the tranquil office mood.

The ringtone is the first few words from the song "Pass That Dutch"...

Suddenly the only sound in the office is the noise from Bobz's phone.


Apparently it didn't go down to well with some of the other team on the bank of desks next to ours.

I need sleeps which means I am going to send myself to lulz-land waking up every hour panicking that I've forgotten something.

I'm practically asleep already!


chabang said...

watch out for those Prawns whilst you're down in jo'berg.....

Bobby Cox said...

Chabang: I know - and of course flying into the city means we will get to see that big round thing in the sky!

Jake said...

I don't really 'get' poppers. They smell disgusting. I was always a little mildly insulted when I was with guys who used them - it's like, you can't take it naturally? Man up!

Perhaps you'd like to explain the appeal? :-)

Have a good flight!

chabang said...

You should totally do some sort of voice-over/news report about it; i bet you've even got something memorised you could use?

fleetmonkey said...

Didn't see the gold budgie smugglers listed on the inventory this time