Tales of nonsense and items of little interest, sometimes true, always poorly thought through. Less sophisticated than most newspapers and magazines.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

Fuck Me! It's a Fucking Meme

I swore I would never do this but since Foot Eater and Fat Sparrow both tagged me, and me being a polite, accommodating sort, I feel that to ignore them would be rude.

So, against all I stand for, here are eight items of biographical half truths about yours truly:

  1. I have a lifetime ban from all Tesco stores worldwide. In an embarrassing case of mistaken identity I stand accused of fondling fruit and of committing simulated sexual acts with vegetables during store hours.
  2. I am currently suing the National Hockey League for the patent on the modern day hockey puck which I designed on the back of a beer mat in 1998. The beer mat was subsequently stolen from the bar while I was in the bogs.
  3. As far as US immigration knows, I am also known as Sancho Robles de Oaxaca, a poor cobbler from Mexico.
  4. I once got kicked off "Stars in Their Eyes". My impression of Prince Charles was described by Matthew Kelly as "repulsive and sickening".
  5. I have never been to Barnsley.
  6. My application to join the Cheshire Constabulary was rejected when I answered "I do not recall" to the question "Have you ever taken illegal substances?"
  7. My own line of designer men's underwear "Eddie's", was withdrawn from sale after unfounded allegations of the use of child labour and further bad press regarding what "Which?" magazine called 'excessive gusset shredding'.
  8. I carry a forged 50m breast stroke swimming certificate with which to impress the ladies.
There you have it. Just because it seems I have to, I shall tag Ellie, Fresh Hell and Lord Milky and MJ who should be back from her lesbo holidays by now. Please accept my apologies...

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Feedback Welcome

So as I alluded to in the previous post, I was subjected to some training at work this week. Two whole days to be exact, 8 - 5 both days. What made this worse was that I didn't need the training. I already knew how to use the fuckin' web based tool for analyzing sales and revenues. In fact, I am one of probably about 5 people in the entire company who did know how to use it. I suspect that everybody else is happy to keep it that way and so I was one of the lucky ones who was instructed to attend.

The training was conducted by two lads, one of them, Mike was the owner of a ridiculously sticky out belly button. To ice the cake, his choice of shirt on both days was a polyester polo shirt that seemed about a size too small, exaggerating his disgusting belly button even more than was necessary. I swear that this thing stuck out like an inch and a half from his belly and was about an inch in diameter as well. So what the fuck is this guy thinking? Is he proud of it and wants to show it off? Is he deliberately fucking with us to see who pays more attention to his belly button? Does he just not give a fuck? What's the deal?

Desperate to get a second opinion, I say to the woman sitting next to me " You could hang yer jacket on that". She looks at me blankly and says "What?" I say "the belly button", she says "I hadn't noticed......ugh! You're right, thats nasty."

Hadn't noticed???? This thing was more noticeable than a deformed limb. You couldn't take your eyes off it if you tried. He may as well have been walking round the room with his dick out.

The feedback forms they passed out at the end of the second day were anonymous so I made sure to note that he should consider wearing looser fitting shirts if he was to command full attention from the trainees. I also rated the course way too long and gave him a poor for his knowledge of the course materials.

His assistant, an Indian( 7-11, not Native American) lad who claimed to be from Chicago but had far too thick an accent was equally useless. He said his name was Jonathan but there is no fuckin' way. It's like when you call your internet company for help and somebody who sounds like they rode into work on an ox or on a bus full of chickens answers the phone and says their name is Robbie or Nicole when it obviously is nothing of the sort. Yes they speak English but they don't UNDERSTAND English and say things like "You can be very welcome to be a loyal customer" and "I can be helping you with that" after every other sentence. 'Jonathan' was a vegetarian but had failed to mention it (probably on purpose) and so didn't get any of the lasagna that the company had provided for lunch. On the second day they provided cold cuts which included sliced cheese but he couldn't even have any of that because the caterer had alternated a slice of cheese then a slice of roast beef around the platter so that every piece of cheese touched a piece of roast beef.

On Jonathan's feedback form I put "Bring a packed lunch" and checked the box for zero when asked how many new skills I had learned as a result of the course. I had to amuse myself somehow...

Sunday, July 1, 2007

Weak Excuse

It's been a bugger of a week and I'm fuckin' tired. In addition to all the usual, everyday drama of life, love, work and the general nitty gritty of my incredibly spicy lifestyle the computer caught a virus on Friday night while I was at work and I although I managed to recover all the files, nudey pictures and secret surveillance dossiers I keep on the neighbours, I am still in the process of reinstalling everything and getting it working right again. I won't point fingers or assign blame here other than to say that Mrs. Waring is now well aware that we did not need that update to Windows Media Player that she was offered by that very official looking pop up.

I have stories from the week such as the IT trainer at the day job with the outrageous and very noticeable "outy" belly button and his Indian sidekick with the fake name, I also have a couple of very poor "Do you know who I am?" examples from the club but they will have to wait. I just don't have the time or energy to tell right now. I have a bottle of vodka in the freezer and have set the evening aside for it's consumption.

The 1976 FA Cup Final between Man Utd and Southampton is being shown on TV right now, it's funny how times have changed, not a foreigner on the pitch don't you know?