I missed a Wednesday, but luckily another one came along

What with travelling to London for work for the whole of last week and then buying a new (used) car and getting on top of my workload here, I haven't got around to posting in aaaaaages.

Anyways, hope you all are well, those of you who are still taking the time to come here and see if I've written anything new.

So, what's up?

Well, we have a new (used) car. Smaller engine and smaller body equals more miles to the gallon and greater likelihood of Red driving. Result! She's called Georgina.

There's some Gallows news, too, but I won't bore you all with it. Suffice to say: another gig, free, soon.

And a question: how is it possible to make a T-shirt that has no seams running down the sides? None at all. No seams on a T-shirt? Is this some kind of fucking wizardry? I'm very baffled.

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.

Confession

Readers, forgive me. It's been ten whole days since my last post.

Truth is, in that time I've done almost nothing but work. I don't even think I've watched any films.

I've not really got much to say.

We're holding on to a little hope that we may get some tickets for the Maxïmo Park gig next Wednesday. I'm still in two minds about us going to another Gallows show on Monday. I have shitloads of work to do, so I'll get back to it.

Sorry I haven't been getting round to any of your blogs either. When I'm busy, I'm busy. Even the weekend I worked till 7pm both nights, so it's not huge fun.

Anyways, it's 7am and I'm gonna go and start my 12-hour day. Wish me luck...

Post #795, wherein I make promises that I probably can’t keep regarding how soon I’ll hit my 800th post

Dudes -- I've been a slacker. Sorry and all that, but this week has turned into total fucking mayhem on the work front.

I really wanted to do some posts about Seville. And I will. But I had intended to chop together some video footage first, and that shit takes time. Time I don't have right now.

You wanna know how short of time I am? My tattooist called to say that I could have three hours on Friday cos someone had cancelled an appointment, but I had to turn it down cos I'm too damn busy. Believe, when I'm too busy to go and get tattooed, it means I'm FUCKING busy.

And it's some bad work that's keeping me busy. Proofreading is my least favourite of the strings to my bow. It's the being rooted to the spot for so long, so deep in concentration, keeping track of all the editorial style choices. And it pays the least well of the jobs we do, too. That said, this one is a good rate because it's a short-notice, 11th-hour kinda gig.

So, as alluded in the title, I promise to be back soon with some Seville stories before they all seem too late to write about. And some video clips. In the meantime, the missus is writing about it. But if you're really jonesing for a piece of my own words, don't forget you can always go check out my movie reviews (such as they are).

And anyway, my 800th post seems so damn insignificant now in light of Candy Minx's 1,000th. Not to mention furiousBall's 2,000th of a couple of weeks back. Pah! I'll try to get it done by Monday, though...

Sheeeeeeet!

Captain Birdseye
Anthony Minghella
Arthur C Clarke.

It reminds me of that week when Benny Hill and Frankie Howerd died. Weird when shit happens all in a bunch.

Been real busy with work lately. It's all good. But it wasn't supposed to be a busy time, so I had made other plans: work meetings, periodontist, and a tattoo appointment. Still keeping them all, which of course makes for being even more busy.

At least we've got the long weekend to get on top of work while everyone else is busy stuffing their faces with chocolate eggs.

Birthday girls and payment fascists

It's one of those times... those times when I'm too busy to post much or to get around and visit many blogpals. Those of you who check in at Such As They Are will notice my daily posts there have dried up for a wee while too. Time, time, time...

My workload... our workload, really, since the wife and I help each other with projects as the need arises... is like that. You can be doing very little for a few weeks, even months, and then suddenly you're snapped into 12-hour days and considering doing after-dinner shifts too.

"Can't complain" is our mantra at such times. "It's all money towards the mortgage." And it's true, we can't complain; it's all money towards the mortgage.

But some people don't pay on time. Some people take the piss when it comes to paying. I'm currently chasing an invoice for work we did in mid-November. It's annoying. Especially so because we are expected to continue delivering work on time for the same client. Gets my goat.

Pah!

But I'm trying to find time to play my Scrabulous moves, and mostly I'm keeping on top of that!

And I'm even getting birthday packages sent out on time. Today it's my niece's 10th birthday. Double figures at last! You remember hitting double figures, what a momentous birthday occasion that is? I bet she's super-psyched today.

I had the Devil's own time trying to find her the one gift she really wanted. Not to mention having to embarrass myself at three different shops: HMV, Zavvi, and WH Smith. What was it she wanted? The Pop Party 5 CD. I still couldn't get it. Prices ranged from £8 to £16 within just a few metres of each other, but the £8 shops were out of stock, and I sure as hell wasn't going to pay £16. Anyway, long story short, Zavvi ordered it for me at the £8 price, but who knows when she'll get it in the mail...?

Still, in the meantime she's got a T-shirt, a Dirty Dancing CD, and some badges to keep her happy.

Anyway, I dunno what else to write so I'm off to do some work. Ta-ra for now, amigos.

Post #750...

And yet I don't have much to say...

Yesterday I was in The London for much of the day for a meeting. It took an hour to travel the 50 miles from my local station to London Victoria and then another hour and five minutes to travel the 4 miles from there to just up past Old Street. I fucking hate going to London. It's a total shithole for travelling around, whether by bus, Tube, or car. I'm really so glad I don't live there anymore.

So I got to my meeting late, despite technically having left plenty of time to get there (under normal circumstances). And a late arrival means a late departure, so instead of getting back home at around 5:30pm, as I'd hoped, I got back just before 7:30. Grrrr.

Still, every cloud has a silver lining, and yesterday's was lunching at Fifteen, Jamie Oliver's restaurant in the Old Street vicinity. Better still, I didn't have to pay, since it was a work thing and my clients were treating me. Huzzah!

The selection of antipasti were nice to start off with and included two different meats, some chilli-laced mozzarella (I think!), some kind of broccoli thing, red onions, olives... Nice.

Then for my main course I ordered the gnocchi in a sauce of walnut, pear, and Gorgonzola, which was really yummy (if small).

It was all washed down with a 2003 Pira Barolo, which was very nice and smooth. Just checking the restaurant's website right now, I see that wine is priced at £93 (US$185) a bottle. Ouch. Don't suppose I'll be having it again anytime soon then...

---------

In other news, I'm still enjoying Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock and, on the whole, getting better all the time. The race is on between the missus and me, and although I'm a little further through the Medium stage than she is, it's nip and tuck since we both have songs that we are stronger on.

Despite initially thinking Dragonforce's "Through the Fire and Flames" was going to be totally impossible even on Easy, we are both now managing to get through it every time, consistently achieving four stars. Which is more than can be said for Slayer's "Raining Blood", which I'm not even sure can be called a song. (Or maybe I'm just getting old... It's kind of growing on me, though.)

I'll get some updated footage up soon, but if anyone else out there is playing (Camie, LUVM, Shea, Adam...), let's see some vids of your efforts!

Right, I have some washing up and vacuuming to do now, so I'll catch you up laters.

INTERMISSION

I am well aware that I can get carried away with my holiday blog posts, and while they are interesting to some for a couple of days, I can fully understand why comments drop off after post #4 and I still haven't finished Day One. Sorry guys, but I guess it's at times like this that we bloggers fully realize two contradictory things:

1. I blog for myself and want to put stuff up that is a reminder for me of stuff I enjoyed; BUT

2. Damn if I don't like getting comments, and so I have to please those peeps who show me the kindness of popping by.

Catch-22, right?

Anyways, so I'm up to my eyes in work right now, and haven't got time to do much vacaysh blogging or otherwise (especially since it takes a wee while to edit those clips [yes, they are edited!] and throw them on YouTube etc).

But I just wanted to say "hey".

Plus, man, my tooth is giving me some gip. I've got a fucking great swollen bit or maybe ulcer right next to where I had that root canal a couple weeks back, and it's getting on my tits.

Also, just two more days till my next trip to the tattooist, and I'm very excited about that. Three hours of needle time, yeeeaaaahhh!

But I'll end on the teddy bear Muhammad. So, the English teacher who was imprisoned in Sudan for allowing her young students to name a teddy bear Muhammad has been freed and is now back home, after spending eight days in a Sudanese prison.

The Sudanese people (or at least the militants among them) wanted her shot by firing squad!

I say, call your bears whatever the fuck you like, but don't be a dummy and not understand the laws of the land where you are working/teaching. Especially in these uncertain times when misinterpretation of Islam appears to make it an insult to the religion to name a fucking teddy bear after the prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

Personally I think it's a ridiculous crock of shit, of course. But she should have put her brain in gear and asked herself, "Would I call this bear Jesus or Moses or Abraham if I were in England?" Chances are, she probably wouldn't, so why not apply the same logic in a Muslim country. Silly old cunt.

Too busy to blog

Just so you know, y'know?

Also, Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it about now. We English don't celebrate it, but I know it's something to do with this:



Also, here's some video of me getting tattooed last weekend.

Wednesday miscellany

Some weeks it feels as though there really is no time to do anything but work and eat. Last night I left my desk at 7:40pm and headed down to the kitchen to start cooking. Half an hour later, Red joined me. One of the things she asked me, within about ten minutes, was whether I wanted her to help me that evening with A.N. Other work project that is sitting on the dining-room table. While the work has to be done, I hadn't even eaten yet and had only just finished a long day's work. It can be kinda depressing like that at times. (It doesn't help that this particular job came to me unannounced and unexpected as the final part of a job I finished six weeks ago, and of course they want it yesterday. I feel pissed off at them and not inclined to bust my balls doing it in the evening.)

Here's something I learned today: After making a bacon sandwich, wash your hands before going for a pee. Otherwise you might smell like you've been fucking Miss Piggy. I tried that lame gag out on the wife first. She was unimpressed. I suspect everyone else will be too.

I gotta give props to my man Shea over at Shea of the Dead. Some of my readers here will know that Shea makes films. I don't know the full ins and outs of the role he plays in the film-making process, but he impressed me yesterday with a two-minute showreel of some of the best bits of his output. You can see it here. Inspirational stuff, for sure. I believe you can even buy copies of his work, proceeds of which help towards keeping the movie-making machine in motion. (Don't you just love alliteration?)

What else? Well, you'll be pleased (no doubt) to hear that the wife and I made up after Monday morning's disruption to normal service. As far as I'm aware, all is now hunky-dory. Huzzah! (By the way, has anyone in real life EVER had make-up sex?)


This week is Jamboree week in the wife's Italian home town. Traditionally we head to her seaside childhood home every summer, and occasionally we catch a bit of the Jamboree, which is a 1950s-themed week of fun and entertainment. It's been running for just three or four years, I think, and people come from all over Europe to celebrate the '50s. It's really quite odd that this town was chosen -- maybe the organizers live thereabouts. And this year they have excelled themselves: not only is The Killer himself, Jerry Lee Lewis, playing there, but international burlesque superstar Dita Von Teese (above) is also performing. That's all happening this coming Friday and Saturday. It's a shame to miss it, but we have bigger fish to fry this summer.

Well, time's a-wastin', and I gotta get on and do some work. Hope you all have a rockin' Wednesday.

Smells like the beach

I say it a lot recently, but I really don't know where the time goes. I don't have time to blog; I don't have time to work (!); I don't have time to watch movies or write reviews. And I have had very little time to visit all my blogpals, so MASSIVE APOLOGIES to you all, but I'm trying to make good.

Anyway... today I will work. I have a lot to do. The frustrating thing about work is that some clients piss you about. And when you get pissed about and screwed over, it makes you feel like not working on people's jobs, y'know? But I've got to, so I will.

I must say, though, I feel a bit queasy. Last night I had Indian food for the first time since my food-poisoning episode. And we ate it with some Prosecco (Italian sparkling wine; Champagne and Prosecco go great with Indian, in case you don't know). This was also the first alcohol to have passed my lips in more than a week. I feel delicate. Not ill; not relapse stylee. Just "maybe I shouldn't have done it"-ish. But you gotta get back on the horse sometime, right? So I saddled up, baby...!

What a great weekend it was, though, here in the southeast of England. Red said to me on Friday night, "Let's go to Whitstable tomorrow, since it's going to be so lovely." I agreed. We often go to Whitstable on a weekend for a constitutional stroll to get some blood moving through our veins. What she meant -- and what I didn't fully realize until we got there (don't ask why; I'm an idiot. And it led to some degree of upset) -- was to spend the whole day. Like going for a day at the seaside. Despite my being ill prepared, we made the most of a bad lot and enjoyed it while we were there.


Since Sunday was due to be nice, we made a pact to do it again properly the next day. In the United States they have a great term that we don't seem to use here in the UK: "do-over". I'm a big fan of the do-over. Something goes wrong, hell, let's have a do-over, and this time we'll get it right. And get it right we did on Sunday!


We took the parasol from the garden, a couple of bath towels, appropriate head gear (Red's Yankees baseball cap and my trusty tattoo-style bandanna, instead of the shirt I used on Saturday, seen in the pic at top), swimwear, and just enough money to buy lunch, and off we set. We didn't take the camera because we wanted to spend some time in the water. It's a shame in hindsight, because it is nice having photos of when you're being dorks! It was a fun day out.

Whitstable's beach is a pebbly beach, and it is painful as hell walking to and from the sea. It's also amazing how shallow and deep the water gets. During the mid-morning we commented how safe it is for children, since you have to walk for miles in the water to get even your ankles wet; but after lunch it was impossible to touch the seafloor after just a few feet.

I had ice cream! And I wore my black Chuck Taylors in the sea (picture by Red below). I had no other footwear, and the pebbles were slaying me, man. Red says, "You can't not come in just because it's painful. Put your shoes on." She was right. (It's not just that it was painful. I have got the most sensitive soles of feet in Christendom, I swear. My feet cannot be touched. I will accidentally kick you in the face if you touch my feet. Accidentally, mind.)


So, two days on the beach. And I got a little burned, but only really around my feet, so that's okay.

On Friday I guess I must have worked some. I also watched the previous week's episode of The Shield in preparation for that night's. I love The Shield. And I finished reading my book (more on that soon). We also laughed about the dorks we made of ourselves with Eamonn at The Globe. I dunno what else...

Oh yeah, and here are some pics I promised from The Globe.


Desdemona and Othello alive and well and gettin' jiggy with it at the curtain call.


The stage at The Globe.


Eamonn humouring two adoring fans -- i.e., Red and me. (He's much more smiley over here at Red's blog.)


An autographed programme.

Where’d the week go?

Forgive me, reader, for I have sinned. It's been four days since my last blog post...

It's been one of those weeks where not much seems to happen worthy of writing:

1. Watched a couple of movies (16 Blocks and le dîner de cons), so they'll make it over to Such As They Are sometime in the distant future. Latest review over there at the moment is the highly recommended Manon des Sources.

2. Been working -- same ol', same ol'.

3. Got the year's expenses receipts organized for the accountant.

4. Bought some jeans from The Gap for £13.59 ($27), which was a total bargain. They were discounted anyway, and then I had a further 20 per cent off for a missing button on the fly!

5. Heard some disappointing news from my brother in his bid to get on The X Factor: in short, he didn't make it.

6. Watched more episodes of Seinfeld. Wife and I are working through all the episodes on DVD in chronological order. It opens it up to a whole new level of brilliance, seeing how the storylines run through entire blocks of shows. Genius.

7. Bought an aerial lead so I could get the Freeview channels on our TV. That way we can now record one channel while watching another, a luxury we haven't been afforded for years. Sure, I know there's fuck all on TV, but you can guarantee that, like buses, two good shows always come along at once.

8. I haven't shaved.

So, that's it. A week in the life of a 30-something self-employed man who blogs.

What will next week bring? Well, among other things I have the series finale of Heroes to look forward to. That's on Monday night. Beyond that, friends and loved ones, it's a blank canvas. Wish me luck...

Running around like a blue-arsed fly

That's a particularly fun turn of phrase, don't you think? Anyways...

You know that song "These Boots Are Made for Walking" by Nancy Sinatra? Whoever wrote that had never spent a couple of hours pounding the streets of London in a pair of Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars. And I don't care how much you love David Tennant as the Doctor, there is no way any being, not even a Time Lord, can spend his entire life wearing them, not with all the running and galaxy hopping and Earth saving he has to do.

But wait, this morning I had a pretty damn good idea. I removed the padded inner soles from my trainers (or sneakers or tennis shoes, if you prefer) and put them inside my Chucks (or Cons or All Stars, if you prefer), and hey fucking presto I suddenly have some footwear fit for wearing on my feet.

Cos today I had to pound the tiled floors of the mall to grab some T-shirts and stuff, so I didn't want to make my feet even more blistered than they were yesterday.

Speaking of yesterday, the dental hygienist was very gentle. Never has a dental hygienist been so gentle with my mouth. I think it's because she's more accustomed to working with special-needs children. And you know, my eyes didn't water once either, so (although I certainly won't admit that I ever cry in the dentist's chair) I'm beginning to wonder if the pain of the hygienist somehow makes my eyes water (not cry, though).

She said... Well, what didn't she say? She is quite the talker. But she said I was doing well and to keep up the good work. I love when the dentist or hygienist tells me that. Over the past six or seven years I have spent a lot of money on my teeth -- more than I've spent on tattooing in 17 years -- and although I still don't treat them as well as I should (who does?), I wouldn't want to go back to those dark days of poor upkeep and infrequent check-ups.

For those who don't know what The X Factor is, it's an American Idol type of show in which there are three mentors, each of whom has a bunch of artists: one has 16- to 24-year olds; one, over-25s; and the last, groups. After all the usual audition rounds and eliminations that these shows go through, the viewers at home get to vote off one artist each week until only one remains. So, it's a singing contest, rather than a Britain's Got Talent type thing.

I'm slowly getting out from under my hectic workload. It's fun watching as the number of projects reduces, ready for a slightly less manic summer. But before long, as is the freelance way, we'll soon be worrying that we have no work. I vow not to do that until August, though.

Stuff and stuff

Sunday: Worked all day, but found time to do a little post about shaking my spear, below.

Monday: Worked all day, despite it being a holiday in the UK.

Tuesday: Worked until lunchtime, then headed out to the tattooist for some recolouring on a tattoo that I never got finished. It's two years since it last had any work done on it. Now I think it's finished. Though I can't help but feel it still needs a little sumpn sumpn.

Wednesday: Worked all day and got mad pissed off with some people we're working for. What is with people? I know not all people are cunts, but sometimes... sometimes it sure seems that all people I have to deal with are. I also found time to update Such As They Are for the first time in a month. I made a silent promise to post a new movie review over there at least once a week. And Lord knows I have a backlog to wade through.

Thursday: Started the day, as we do most days at the moment eating breakfast while watching an episode of Seinfeld, the show about nowt after which this blog was named. We've been working our way through the DVDs while waiting for Season 5 of Scrubs to get released. Then we headed out to Asda to do most of our weekly grocery shopping. We couldn't find the tofu. I knew it was a mistake but I thought I'd ask a member of staff.

"Excuse me, do you know where I'd find tofu?"
"Uh, find what?"
"Tofu."
"Toad food?"
"No, tofu."
"What is it?"
"It's ... [I tell myself not to mention beancurd or allude to anything 'foreign'...] It's a meat substitute for vegetarians."
"Oh, then it's probably in the meat aisle."
"I don't know," I say. "You carry other products by Cauldron, and they produce tofu. So I thought it might be in the freezer section."
"Oh... I'd better find someone who'll know. Come with me."

I follow her. She talks to another staff member. She too looks confused by the word tofu. I suggest that it could be in the chilled section, rather than frozen.

"Let's have a look there, then," says the second woman, and we walk towards that section. "It's not something I've been asked for before."

We stand there looking at the shelves. My eyes alight on the Holy Grail. I reach for the tofu. "Here it is!" I exclaim gleefully. "I'd better check the sell-by date, since no one knows you sell it!" It's all good. "You'll know where it is now next time someone asks," I suggest. Fortunately they don't kill me. You never know in this neck of the woods. And Asda.

“My inspiration has run dry”

Venice: Unlike me, not dry.

What better title for a post than a Natalie Imbruglia lyric? That's right, folks, nothing is right, I am, y'know, torn and shit. Yup, I’m as dry as a nun's cunt, as we used to say back in my old hometown.

The reason for this desert-like state of bloggy being is, as it always is with me, a valanga of work. (That's your Italian lesson of the day. Valanga [literally "avalanche"] is used to mean "shitload".)

Saturday morning I started working at 6am and I finished at 8pm. In between, any breaks I had were used to eat lunch, go food shopping and to the post office, and start clearing out the kitchen.

Sunday I started work at about 8:30am, having had a bit of lie-in, and I finished at 6pm so that I could do some more work clearing the kitchen and have my dinner. I then went back to work at 11:25pm for an hour.

What's with all the kitchen clearing? Well, this week is the week we are having our new kitchen fitted. Everything is changing (except the cooker and washing machine, and I think we are beginning to regret that we didn't decide on new ones of those, too).

So for most of this week we will be without a cooker, oven, and hob, and we also won't have a kitchen sink. Red spent much of her "free time" at the weekend preparing some delicious Italian dishes that we can throw in the microwave, rather than resorting to takeaways every night.

Yes, a fun weekend was had by all. We're into equal-opportunity misery in this household. Even Cat gets a piece of the action. He has been put in a cattery for the week (we call it a spa retreat when he's nearby). This is because the last time we had workmen in (for the bathroom a couple of years ago), he got so freaked out that he legged it out through the back door and we never saw him for hours. When he finally returned he was very quiet. And at about 11pm we realized that he had cut open almost the entire length of the lower part of one of his back legs. Midnight trip to the vet. Severed the ligaments. Hit or miss whether he'd ever be able to use it again. But Doctor Jim was a fucking total genius and you'd never know now from pictures like this the extent of the original wound. We don't want to go through that shit again.

Right, it's 9am. I'd best get to work. I hope to get round to some of my blogpals and check out what y'all have been writing in recent days. Toodle-oo.

“Back to life / back to reality”

Ah, don'cha just love Soul II Soul? I had their debut album on one side of a C90 tape back in the day, and on the other side was Soft Cell's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret. Good driving-round-town tape that was.

Anyways, back from Italy to a whole fucking shitstorm of work. Add in yet more offers of work and a schedule that has been shortened during the one working day I was away from my desk (how the fuck does that happen?!), and it looks like yours truly is going to have a busy couple of months.

Suddenly having the kitchen done, going to the dentist, and a tattooing appointment all seem to be happening at a bad time...

Well, onwards and upwards.

I'll try to visit all my blogroll peeps and get a few pics and maybe a video clip up in the coming days, but work has to take priority, unfortunately. Hope to catch up with you all really soon...

Elvis said it best

In the film G.I. Blues, Elvis sang a song called "Didja Ever?" In it, he asked:

Didja ever have one of those days, boys?
Didja ever have one of those days
When nothing goes right
From morning to night?
Didja ever have one of those days?

Well, it looks like I'm having one of those days right now, Elv, ol' mate.

So far, essentially, today has cost me £531 (that's US$1,064 or Can$1,193 or €779 or Aus$1,276). Now that, my friends, is a whole hunk o' cheese.

First, I turned on my e-mail to see that Paypal, cunts that they are, in their infinite fucking wisdom, have decided to reimburse one of the people I sold some tattoo magazines to on eBay. Why? I don't know... I sent the mags to a confirmed address SIX WEEKS AGO, and she left me positive feedback, so I know the mags got to her. And now she's requested -- and been given -- a full refund. So I'm out of pocket to the tune of £19, and I no longer have the goods either. What the fuck?

Second, I get my Visa bill. Yes, the one I had paid in advance yesterday. And I see I've been charged £12 for missing a payment. A discussion with my Visa card provider ended in me discovering I will not get the £12 reimbursed, despite the fact the bill never came to me last month. It also ended with me advising the girl that, therefore, I would like to cancel my account, asking her why her company treated its customers like cunts (freezing my credit card because I missed a payment of £5 despite the fact that I pay it off in full every month), and telling her to fuck off when she gave me her shitty standard excuses.

Third, a job that I have lined up, which is proving to be a complete ball-ache: I've negotiated them taking a part of it back, but of course that means my fee gets reduced by £500.

Okay, so the last one is fair enough, I suppose...

... But if the proverbial fool and his money are easily parted, I guess I must be the prize fucking sucker right now.

Back in the saddle

So, that's Easter over and done with then. At our house, Easter meant taking a couple of medium-length walks on Friday and Sunday, going out for Sunday lunch, and eating a Kinder Surprise chocolate egg each. We also watched a few films, which will someday get reviewed when I catch up with my backlog...

Other than that, it was business as usual. What we've found, over the course of almost six years of working from home, is that public holidays are the best times to get on top of our workload. These are the days when we are often at our most productive. See for yourself:

• No work phone calls.
• No work e-mails.
• No work meetings.

So, while all of our business contacts are kicking back and enjoying themselves, we are sat at our desks making money off of their lazy asses. Heh heh heh. Wait up, that's not funny. It's sad, is what it is.

It's also a quiet time in blogland, so there are fewer distractions from those people on our blogrolls. And you know how easy it is to get distracted by blogs.

But after three days of not posting, I'm dry. My spring has been blocked by some evil Frenchmen. I did shoot some video footage in the woods on Friday, though, so I may get around to editing that in the coming days. And I'm going to the tattooist on Friday. So there's stuff happening. Maybe I get inspired soon. Or at least I can get on top of those movie reviews.

And whaddya know? No sooner do I take advantage of a quiet moment in my day than my e-mail pings, informing me of the arrival of some more work. Better get to it, I guess...

Some stuff

We are in a slightly unusual situation at Casa AsteRed right now: Red is rushed off her feet, juggling at least five projects; and I've currently got hardly anything on.

That's not quite true about me, since when I have no work on, that usually changes within minutes. In the meantime, though, I am of course helping out the missus with her workload. Especially cos she's not feeling very well still.

Also, look out for some fun stuff coming this way in the next few days. Should that say "even more fun stuff"? Well, whatever...

It's my niece's birthday today: she's nine. Awww. Happy birthday, C. xx

People who are into David Lynch can head over to Such As They Are to check out my review of his movie Lost Highway.

Thinking about things, like a walk in the park, things, like a kiss in the dark

Actually, I'm not thinking about things like that at all. Well I do occasionally go for a walk in the park, and that's nice. I'm enjoying walking more often. And it's the best way to explore a new city when you go away for a break.

I'm not thinking about a kiss in the dark, either. Although I do occasionally have kisses in the dark. Best not say any more about that, though ;-)

What I am thinking about follows.

1. My birthday. It's only four weeks away today. In four weeks -- that's two fortnights, twenty-eight days, etc -- I will be 37 years old. It's weird, because just yesterday I was thinking that I was 38. So realizing I'm not even 37 yet makes me feel even younger. Maybe this is one of the greatest things about being a toy boy: you already see that being older is not so bad.

2. Valentine's Day. It's only one week away, guys, so don't forget to buy something nice and/or make a special effort for the loved one in your life. At the risk of sounding like a brown-noser (or should that be "pussy-whipped wuss"?), I try to do nice stuff year round for my woman. Sometimes I fail, though. It seems I criticize more than I ought to. I don't even realize I'm doing it, so I'm gonna make a real effort to fix that.

3. Work. Face it, we all gotta do it from time to time. It's taking me away from blogging as much as I'd like, too. Oh well. Actually, that's not strictly true. I somehow find time to write a post each day, but I'm struggling to find time to visit all my fave hangouts. Sorry to you all, but I am making efforts to rectify that too.

4. The weather. Apparently we're going to be hit with a shitload of snow over the next 24 hours. Brrrrrr. The logs are in the cellar ready for a nice open fire.

5. Spring cleaning. Yes, I know that's a bit of a girlie thing to think about, but our cellar is a damn mess. There are two DVD players to throw out (they don't work) and one 24-inch TV, which I suspect no longer works because it's been in the cellar too long. There's also a huge stack of videotapes to sort out, and a big box full of paper to recycle. PLUS we have to sort out the lounge because we have a new piece of furniture coming soon, so we need to make room for it.

6. Cat. He hasn't blogged in a long while, and I fear his few readers are losing patience. It's not through want of trying; he just never gets a look in on the computers these days. He sends his apologies.

7. Films. I am loving watching movies again recently, so much so that I can't keep on top of my reviews (such as they are).

8. The new David Lynch film Inland Empire. This is the film I am most looking forward to this year. Tomorrow there is a screening in London, with a Q&A with Lynch afterwards. I entered a competition to win tickets, but I doubt I'll get them. And even if I do, with the impending snowstorm set to paralyze the nation, I'm not sure I could get there and back...

Anyways, I think that's all I'm thinking about today. Oh, and you, of course.