Is it Wednesday already?

It's my dad's birthday today. He's 61.

On Monday I had another two and a half hours' work done on my tattoo backpiece. It's looking so motherfucking rad now, man. I really love it. Which is a good thing, cos it would kind of be a problem now if I didn't, wouldn't it?! According to my little black book, that puts the total time spent in the chair so far at 12 hours. And unlike some tattooers, Xam tends to be working the whole of that time, rather than taking phone calls and shooting the shit with passers-by. As a client I really appreciate the difference. He reckons we'll be pretty much done in about another two sessions, or around five hours.

This week's session was the most painful yet. There were times when I was thinking I'd have to stop. I've never experienced that before. But I kept saying to myself, "If I tap out now, it's another six weeks or so until I get back here." That was enough to spur me on and endure the discomfort.

What else...?

Oh yeah, I sent Shea a copy of the short film I made (whisper it) 11 years ago, coupled with a music video from the following year, I think. It'll be interesting to hear what he thinks of them. If I ever get around to it, I might even post them up on here someday.

I've set myself a small film-making challenge for this week, too, so I hope to get that started and finished in the next couple of days.

Italy went out of the European Cup, losing to Spain on penalties. That sucked, but they didn't play so great.

If you've not been over to my movie reviews (such as they are) in recent weeks, there has been some activity there, though I confess to having been a little lax. I'm trying to get on top of that shit, cos I'm watching some good films at the moment.

I'm sure I had some other stuff to write about, but it's gone clean out of my head. Oh well, probably wasn't very important. Not as important as me getting downstairs to deal with the washing up, anyway. So, off I go.

I think Mexico should become the 51st state of the USA

I can't take full credit for that headline; it was inspired by something Red said. Why? It was just a response to George "W for Wanker" Bush and his assertion that Turkey must join the EU. What the fuck does it have to do with that cock?

Turkey is fast heading towards being an Islamic nation. The current separation of church (or should that be mosque) and state is looking wobbly. And Meathead Bush thinks this is a prime candidate for EU consideration.

Why don't you go back to what you know best, Georgie Boy? Which is... oh yeah: fuck all. Do we come into your house telling who the fuck should be the next US state? No. Why? Because it's none of our business, just like Turkey being in the EU is none of yours. Dickhead.

In other news, the wife and I are celebrating 12 years since our lips first met across a crowded sofa after a day of sitting in the park chit-chatting and eating in cafes in north London. Twelve years! Awww.

And what better way to celebrate than to mourn the appalling performance of the Italian squad in the Euro Cup football tournament last night? 3-0 they lost to the Netherlands (or Holland, or the Dutch). Buffon is a buffoon. Maybe George Bush could have a word with coach Donadoni about who should be in the Italian goal...

Stuff, with a bias towards clothing

So, the weekend was nice. No need to work, which is always a bonus. Instead the wife and I shopped, watched films and football, chilled, and did a little bit of house-cleaning type of stuff.

I'd been to a work meeting in London on Friday, and whenever I get ready to leave for one of those I tend to lose my mind, realizing I have no clothes to wear. There are very few downsides to working from home 99 per cent of the time; the downsides come, though, when you remember that you don't know what real people look like in a business environment.

Fortunately, being in a "creative" industry means that most people (except managing directors and the like) tend to dress down. Smart casual, y'know. What a great catch-all, almost offensive term that is, right? Jeans are fine, a pair of Converse no problem. T-shirts even.

Except... because I've made the decision to tattoo my forearms, I tend to cover them for meetings at which I'm looking for work. This, in turn, means that, come the hot months, I have to choose lightweight long-sleeved attire. And that's usually my first hurdle when it comes to choosing my "meeting clothes". But like they say in Italy, "Volevi una bicicletta... Pedala." ["You wanted a bike... Pedal." Akin to our "You made your bed, you better lie in it."]

That problem tends to be overcome quickly (if not necessarily always comfortably). The great British summer poses the next hurdle. You never know if what you see through the window at 9:30am is anything like in the same ballpark of what might be happening 50 miles away and one hour later. It's likely, at this time of year, that it will stay warm (if it's already warm), but that doesn't mean you won't get rain, sleet, snow, or who-knows-what else.

So it came to pass that I went looking for a lightweight, mid-season jacket. And I got one, too. Which is a miracle, since when I shop with intent for clothing I'm usually left empty-handed. The best jacket I tried on was a Hugo Boss blazer. Very nice and an absolutely beautiful fit. You can't go wrong with a man who clothed the Nazis, but I wasn't thinking of spending £300 (US$600), so back it went on the hanger. Afterwards I wished I'd haggled. "I'll give you 200," I should have said. What's the worst that could happen?, as Dr Pepper might ask. I'll wait for the sales, perhaps.

In the end I bought something far less dashing but arguably more multipurpose for a third of the price. It'll do the job.

Anyway, I've gone on long enough about my sartorial woes. I'm gonna go have some breakfast and head off into London again. Today, though, it's pleasure not business, for it's time for my next tattooing session on my backpiece. Another three hours of fun.

Have a good week, amigos.

Sharia law in UK. And football outside of the UK

There's been some talk about Sharia law coming to the UK. It's "inevitable" says the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Um, no, it's not inevitable, you dumb fuck. It's totally fucking evitable. Jesus Christ on a bike, what is wrong with this country? We already have our laws, and they are perfectly abide-by-able for most of us, so why can't the Muslims be expected to live by them too? What's next, special dispensation for Jews? Atheists? Mormons?

"Love it or fucking leave it" -- that's the US motto [expletive my own] that I saw plastered all over New York when I went there in February 2002, just five months after 9/11. Sure, it might have been partly jingoistic xenophobia, but the sentiment is absolutely right. Live by our laws, or get the fuck out.

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And another thing...

How is it that the British government -- the same British government that has in recent months advised its citizens to holiday in the UK more to avoid adding to the pollution caused by so much air travel -- how is that they can even allow the British Football (soccer) Association to consider having Premiership matches played in other parts of the world, including New York, Los Angeles, and parts of Southeast Asia, among others. Okay, so it's not yet a done deal, but what the fuck?!

Again, it seems it's one rule for the plebs and another for the big guns. Cunts. They're all a bunch of cunts. Aaaaagghhhhhhh!