Friday, November 18, 2005

La Dolce Vita

Friday night was party night at the Shropshire. And very good it was too. i really enjoyed myself, more than I expected. Merk sang pretty well. The hot meat baps were top drawer and the magician was infuriatingly impressive. But just how many girls have tattoos? Not a good look with a cocktail dress.

My whole week off, which now seems an eterntiy ago, was quietly great. I mainly just wathced films (Three Colours Blue, Un Couer en Hiver and Shaun of the Dead) and played games (mostly the bloody God of War and Football Manager - where I've just picked up Roy Keane on a free for AFC Telford - coincidence? I like to think not)

I think I've finally discovered my ambition. I want to move to Aberystwyth and shack up with an Italian bird and go into business with a Café/Restaurant. A proper European licenced Café bar, quite cheap and cheerful. Open late, cappucinos, panninis, Nastro Azzuro, house wines, Italian football on the telly, picture of Pope, Anita Ekberg in Trevi fountain poster on the wall. And a traditional Italian restaurant in another room. With chequered tablecloths. The restaurant would be called her maiden name (like Belucci's or something like that).

I have stepped up the operation to succeed in the above, by registering with an employment agency (the one i couldn't find when I was in Aber). I hope they find me something soon, the gloss has long worn off where I am at the moment.


Thursday, November 10, 2005

Little Yellow Spider

I'm far far far far too pissed to blog proper. I drank wine in the Crown. Much to the surprise of Fulla, Fella and Old Man Rich. It bit back though. I re-decorated the downstairs toilet with chewed ham, mushroom and chilli pizza. I feel a bit better now, but Merk cleaned it up for me, so I'm now forever in his debt. Who knows what depravity awaits your humble writer.

Here's the incomparable Devendra Banhardt:

And hey there, Mrs. lovely Moon, you're lonely and you're blue
It's kinda strange, the way you change
But then again, we all do too.

Don't worry about wasps Rich, they're bastards and they want us to know it. The fact that they are more closely related to ants than bees is enough to twist my melon, man. Fucking ants are the worst. Twats.


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Thursday, November 03, 2005

The Third Season

I share a love-hate relationship with Autumn. I love watching the leaves golden and fall like confetti. I love kicking them afterwards and feeling about 6 years old. I love the way the night closes in early and makes everything seem cosy. The office blocks lit up like cruise liners sailing on the shining grey carparks. But I hate being stuck outside work in the dark, in the cold and in the rain, waiting for a taxi freezing my taters while my parka and vintage Tootal paisley scarf are hanging up at home. I also dislike the way the early-evening darkness provides the over-eager with the perfect canvas to proudly, nay defiantly, display their tawdry Christmas illuminations days before Guy Fawkes Night is over.


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