My shower drain had been blocked for a while, so over the weekend I Cillit-Banged the Bejeezus out of it. As I was luxuriating (again, not a euphemism) myself today, I realised I was missing something. It took me a while to realise that it was the feeling of scummy water lapping around my feet! Man it felt strange, like my ankles had been abandoned after a long, vaguely comforting relationship.

Radio 2 this morning played a song by somebody called something. But it had a line that went “I can dream about you”, which sounded like the guy had actually been denied permission to touch her, or even approach within 600 yards (a pretty standard ruling, I can tell you). Which makes you think; sometimes a thing can be pervy, and sometimes it is endearing and romantic. Let me give you chowderheads an example to make it clearer. In the movie Striptease (a fantastic storyline, by the way) this senator bloke sends his underling to fetch some lint from the laundromat that Demi Moore had just used for her washing so he can sniff it. And where I was going “Awww shoo shweeet”, apparently that was pervy! Confusing, innit?

History has been made, by the way. What we (I) keep reading about in science fiction books has finally come to be. No, intergalactic spaceships are not being built in lunar orbit, at least not that I’m aware of. But an accused barman made a court appearance by vidlink. Of course, in the books it used to be called something like GlobVid or CommLink or something equally obvious. And it hasn’t made much news because we’re so used to this kind of stuff.

Coldplay’s new song tells us we should never fight our ceilings. I’m sure it’s all well meaning and such, but I really don’t think squabbles with one’s dorsal wall is as much of a social problem as they make it out to be. Atleast not big enough to warrant a song of its own. Maybe a token mention somewhere in a paragraph of a song about social ills in general, but not an entire song. I guess all the real fights like drugs and alcohol have been done to death, so they were looking for something new. And don’t get me wrong; I’m all for exploring new frontiers in songwriting/music and suchlike. It’s just that I can’t honestly remember the last time I felt so cross with my ceiling that it warranted a verbal caution. From Coldplay.

P.S. Apparently it’s your feelings you shouldn’t be fighting. Well Yoo-Hoo for originality Mr Coldplay. It just so happens that at this moment I feel like downloading music for free, thereby cutting into your earnings. Do you still stand by your song??

My ego satisfactorily stroked, I now delay the inevitable death of this blog to appease my puny worshippers! But do not get lax in your offerings, for I am a wrathful, vengeful god, and demand ritual sacrifice!!!

Back to more mundane happenings: Yesterday on t’ telly I saw a news report (I think it was on Newsnight) about Iraq “War” veterans protesting about the goings-on, supported by some old Vietnam “War” veterans. And I’d like to pledge my full support to these guys for coming out and saying what they did at the cost of being ostracised by the very hierarchical community (the Army, dumbos) that they are part of. It reminded me of, and I will share with you, the time when, as a young child, I used to hate eating any veggies (still do), so I’d take my plate and go sit in front of the telly. I would then proceed to surreptitiously, morsel by morsel, shove the offending veggies down the side of the sofa (Oh come on! We’ve all done it). Of course said veggies would dry up and shrivel, becoming practically so much invisible dust. Eureka, I’ve stumbled onto something here, I thought. However, this process could not go on indefinitely, as the pile of assorted veggies (and occasional inedible meat) started growing considerably faster than the arms stockpile of a Cold War nation (especially considering how much veggie was forced upon poor ole me). Matters soon came to a head. The sofa was identified as the epicentre of the wafting odours. Punishment was swift and long-remembered. And I started resorting to chucking veggies out of windows while strolling around with my dinner plate. Of course, the curry-soaked near-misses resulted in some wondrous patterns on the white outside walls.
Anyhow, the morale of this story is that you can get away with murder, but not all the time, and now it’s time for the soldiers to come out and tell the truth about their “defence of America’s Freedom” (why the capital F??).

Have been too busy partaying to keep up this blog. It has become a huge drag on my resources; a millstone around my neck. I feel I am no longer able to satisfy my demanding public, hence I wish to tender my resignation from this public office of great honour conferred upon me by you, my people. I have no desire to continue this blog seeing as I cannot give you my utmost attention and love. I’m sorry, but this blog will be no more. Adios, my friends, and it was good while it lasted, but all good things must come to an end.

Nah, that was just a cry for attention! Where’s all the comments? Nobody seems to even notice/mourn my absence!

Yes, sorrying for keeping you waiting so long, but the results of my driving theory test are now available to you. Yesterday, I was at the DSA test centre near Picadilly station for about half an hour. In that time I managed to get 35/35 on my questions, and 63/75 on my hazard perception (I deliberately didn’t wanna be too good). I thought twice about posting my score, because I didn’t want to seem like a poser, but what the heck, I am that good!!

Jill, Ioannis, Shasha and I saw “Two for the money” on Sat. SOMEBODY mistook it for “The inside man”, which I was looking forward to. I knew there was a bank robbery involved, so imagine my disappointment when nothing of the sort happened!! I was trying to link the stupid plot to a desperate need for cash, thinking “Okay, so now he goes robs a bank”. Finally, the movie ended.

But highlight of the week had to be the bizarro goings on at Tracy’s Willy’s party. Tracy greeted me with an amorous (=drunk) hug at half-seven, and I knew things were fragile. These guys were so drunk, I’m amazed no untoward incidents flared up (if you discount of course Willy chucking a water balloon at 2 girls in the bus-stop opposite, and the Turkish guy crashing onto the floor, and Blake forcing his way into a poor terrified girls car to kiss her, oh!, and two strangers off the street talking to us and then blazenly trying to break into the downstairs’ neighbours’ flat, claiming they thought it was “The Rampant Lion” pub. What, and you enter that pub through the window??? ) The flat-mates (Blake, Tom, Kev & Willy) had the kitchen table taken outside and were playing beer-pong from 4pm. Basically, two people fill themselves six plastic cups with beer and arrange them in a triangle in front of them at opposite sides of the table lengthwise. Then they take turns chucking a pingpong ball at the other person’s beer. If it falls in, the other person drinks that. Simple yet so unelegant. Marissa played with glasses of G&T, and was not seen for most of the evening. There were empty cans and splashed beer all over the place, mixing with the effluent of people not bothering to go to the bathroom to pee. Adam was there in his role as friendly neighbour, watching these antics with eyebrows constantly raised. I turned up with some Chicken couscous and a litre of whiskey, one of which was sooo delicious we promptly set to work upon it. The couscous we saved for later The Turkish guy (“I’m from Cyprus”) tried to prove his manhood by downing half a plastic cup of whiskey (pocket change, dahling!) and promptly felt the kick. He was staggering all over the place. Even when he fell on his backside he was still walking, dragging himself around!! Then Jessy & Ioannis turned up with beer, and we promptly steered them into the living room, away from the mayhem. Tom was so stoned (even more so then usual) and I myself was barely keeping it together, so I was grateful that Miss X turned up after she finished work, so I had to limit my extravagances and act gentlemanly. There were no major hangovers the next day, thanks to that timely intervention. Oh, at some point I had to drag Willy off a neighbour’s car, where he “wanted to sleep”.
P.S things are coming back to me now.
1. Oh, almost forgot to say, someone copped off with someone in half-an-hour flat after introduction!
2. There was a large group of chicas who came in at some point (Marissa’s friends) but seeing nobody good looking, left. I, of course, was evidently already snapped up by some lucky person.

There’s something funny going on today, I see lots of people dressed as elves in green clothing drinking some black, apparently intoxicating, stuff from pint glasses. Anyhow, we should be swinging down to Tracy’s Willy’s place for some drinks, because it’s Friday night, nothing special.

Job hunt’s not going well; at the job centre yesterday, the “helpful” suspicious interrogator looked hard at his keyboard and found me a “job”. I shall describe it to you forthwith:

Business Support Manager
Minimum of 5 years administration experience in public sector. Proven experience of leading and managing a team. Must be Educated (yes, with a capital E) to graduate standard.
£33,110 p.a.

Much as I like the numbers, I told him no inconsequential number of times in no uncertain terms that I was fresh and wet-behind-the-ears out of business school. So he says, “yes yes, apply to that one!” Bloody quota-filling, chair-warming, paper-pushing public sector employees. He wouldn’t last long enough to refill his coffeee or clip on his hands-free headset (what the fuck’s that about, Mr. “Donald Trump”) in private enterprise.

Just finished reading John Steinbeck’s ‘Of mice and men’ as part of my “Naz learns the classics” drive. I just now managed to find a copy of the Beeb’s “Big read” list of April 2003 and intend to read as many as possible, apart from other good ‘uns not mentioned (and avoiding the thick ones (hello Tolstoy!) as long as possible). ‘Of mice and men’ comes in at a respectable No. 52. Even better, it comes in at a very respectable 100 or so pages!!! A really good read, reminded me a bit of Catch 22 in the use of American dialogue, very simple story that somehow engrosses you. Must read.

Guess who cost me that?? Phone calls to China, that’s what. Yes, February’s phone bill’s just come in. I choose to blame everyone but me. But that’s not it. Texting cost me £22 (I’m not calling them “squideroonies” anymore, because that’s a cute name, and I’m fuming!). And to top it, I was charged 17.5% ABOVE all this, which was a further £30! I wish I could name this super-cheat company, but I’m afraid of legal repercussions, so let’s just call them company, uh, say,.. Voxaphone or something equally random.

Sue Townsend’s fake diaries are something. I’m reading “The Wilderness Years” where the hero turns 24. Here is an excerpt from his diary.

Norman Schwarzkopf was on television tonight, pointing a stick at an incomprehensible map. Why he was dressed in army camouflage is a mystery to me:
a) there are no trees in the desert
b) there were no trees in the briefing room
c) he is obviously too important to go anywhere near the enemy; he could go around dressed like Coco the Clown and still not be shot at

Anally retentive persons are so funny.

It was Happy Women’s Day yesterday, although none of the men even batted an eyelid at it. We managed to do the shopping for Miss X’s House Warming PARTAAAY on SATURDAAAY!!! Also remembered that The Russian Speaker’s Society held a get together at a pub next to The Footage which I had planned to pop into after yesterday’s football. But forgot to. I haven’t met any of the folk so far, even though they send emails all the time!

Yep, that’s what it feels like to be in my shoes! That’s the feeling of being top cat, alpha male. Leader of the pack. Leather seats, mahogany desk. Havana cigars, 18-year-old scotch.

Gareth swung round to pick me up yesterday in time for the Champions League fixtures. We dropped in at Jessy’s to pick her up, but she was cooking something (always eating, that woman) so we went on ahead. Liverpool was on the big screen at The Footage. an eventful but goal-less first half later we were joined by Jessy, then Adam, then Miss X respectively. The pints were a-flowing, the peoples were a-talking and all was well with the world. Liverpool lost, and are out of the Champions League, Arsenal managed to hold Real Madrid and are through. Then headed home to feast on the fine chili con carne I had prepared earlier (in case we decided to go to Lara’s party). Went to sleep trying to watch ‘Mulholland Drive’ (I’ve only seen the lesbian bits) with a full belly and a sigh of contentment.

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Yesterday was boy’s day in, Ioannis and I watching Barcelona teach Chelsea and Morinyo some manners. What a sad loser he is! Whereas Ronaldinho was at his magnificent best, showing great discipline as well as skill, and coming up with a brilliant goal as he muscled even Terry out of his way! Fantabulousa! we had the fine company of Miss Stella (Maiden name Artois) and Freschetta pizzas that melt in your mouth.

Miss X and I might be going over to Lara’s for a Mexican Dindin party; her brother’s apparently gifted her something called a tepin or something which means flat grill to you and me. So it’s fajita time, burrito time and mescale time! It’s gonna clash with the Liverpool v Benfica AND Arse n all v Real Madrid matches though, hence I said we might be going over. I need to get the Hollywood game from Jessy so that we can play it at the party. If you haven’t heard of the board game, go out and get it now. Nothing short of an A-bomb (or Nana’s farts) can break up a happy family as effectively as that. Monopoly-Shomopoly. You have to travel across the board buying studios and tv channels, similar to “that other board game mentioned above” but there’s also an inner track you have to go round making movies, buying actors, actresses, directors and screenplays, and that’s how you make money. Terrificly bloodthirsty game.

I forgot to tell you guys that I booked my driving theory test this Monday. It’s due for the 20th, the Monday after the next. So I’m supposed to be slogging through the test books and whatnot, only, being a Mr. Know-it-all, I figure I’m going to sail through the whole thing anyway, so why bother? After all, I’m not likely to do a Jessy and fail, am I?

Oh, and I also forgot to mention Monday’s ground-breaking Chicken Alexander The Great Salad (patent pending). Somebody only wanted lasagne, but while it was cooking she had the chance to sample my special (not a metaphor).

Ingredients:

Required. Oh yes. Definitely. Becomes much more difficult without them.

Cooking method:

Open the packet of cooked chicken breast. Drizzle (you can pour if you don’t know how to drizzle) some olive oil into a frying pan and start browning the chicken pieces. Add croutons, or just tear up some bread, preferably the end slices because they are thicker. That’s what I did. Hovis medium, best of both. Keep shaking.

Meanwhile in another corner of the kitchen, open the packets of shredded lettuce and salad leaves. Throw them into a bowl (I used a cooking pot) and add pepper to it. Open the packet of grated cheese (ASDA sells a “Pizza and pasta cheese mix” with mozzarella, cheddar, pecorino and manchego cheeses). I had never even heard of manchego before, but it were brill! Toss them all together, and then chop up some pickled silverskin onions and chuck them in as well. I used around 8.

Jumping back to the chicken which you have been shaking all along, add some ginger and garlic paste, as well as a teaspoon of pesto. Mix well. Then dump the whole flipping deal on top of the rabbit food. Shovel some mayonnaise on top, as well as some balsamic vinegar and serve immediately.

Voila!! (French for “there you have it, you illiterate spawn of a good-for-nothing peasant”. Pronounced ‘Voy-Lah’)

Ioannis had a taste of it, and even though it was a day old he couldn’t help ranting and raving about the great taste. Go on Ioannis, tell ‘em like it is.

This morning, I woke myself up by playing a CD that my sister had compiled and sent me on the occasion of one of my numerous birthdays (every year, dammit! EVERY YEAR!). Song No. 7 (or 8, I’m not so sure now that I have to put my reputation on the line) was NOT by Weird Al Yankovic but by Bob Rivers and was a parody of AC DC’s song “Dirty deeds done dirt cheap”. This song was called “Dirty deeds done with sheep”, and had me rolling on the ground (I mean alone and in a totally non-sexual context). I was instantly reminded of a friend of mine (you know who you are, Rob ).

This is the middle stanza

“My friend Larry has a little lamb,
Her fleece is white as snow,
He keeps bragging about her night and day,
Someone should tell him no.
Look at the flock, they’re all in shock,
Here comes that mutton fan,
Knock off the fleece, give them some peace,
Don’t be a barnyard man.”

And then this the bridge.

“Velcro gloves, kneepads, late-night dates.
Done with sheep.
Warning signs, electric fences, high voltage.
Done with sheep.”

Yesterday Ms X, Jessy, Nalleli (Jessy’s housemate), Victor (Nalleli’s friend), another girl (who remained un-introduced so I don’t know whose friend she is) and I went to AMC to watch ‘Lucky Number Slevin’. It was a real rollercoaster ride of a movie. I was wondering how they were going to manage having such a large cast in the movie. The answer seemes to be: by killing everyone off at the first opportunity. The flick really grabs you by the gonads. There’s some really cool scenes, great one-liners. Basically a film worthy of Tarantino (Pulp Fiction) or Guy Ritchie (Snatch, etc.). And watch out for the psychedelic wallpaper everywhere!
My rating? 3 out of 10: A must see (I’m a tough customer)

What a weirdo-mondo dream I had last night/this morning! I was tossing and turning all night, and so went to the hall to crash on the couch with a book. When I finally nodded off, I had a dream where I had just landed in Manchester in an unfamiliar airport, and was waiting for Ioannis and Tracy to come along and pick me up, but then both of them spoke to me on the phone pretending not to have understood. To make matters worse, they said they were in the Footage expecting to meet me there. And to top it all off, I heard Johnny’s voice in the background laughing and having a good time. So I starting running with my bag, because I realised that the airport was in fact just around the corner from the Footage. But I was mistaken, so I turned back and saw this red Lada with a taxi sign, so I ran towards it. It already had an elderly couple in the back, but they waved me in to share the cab. I said I was going as far as Oxford Road and got in next to this unshaven East European taxi driver, who promptly began hurling his Lada around corners. The couple had also obviously got off a plane, so I asked them about it, and we started comparing notes on Prague. Then I look up and we were in Vienna! And I started worrying whther I had enough money to pay the taxi fare from Vienna to The Footage. I believe I said something like “He’s going the long way round” to the couple. Then the couple jumped into a boat in a fountain, and it’s all downhill from there. Oh, I think it might be of importance that I had watched ‘The Bourne Supremacy’ in bed. Cracking movie!!

Nothing to say.
Sunday’s a good day.
Slippery frost on the ground.
Chilly wind nipping around my heels.
But it feels okay.

I’ve been having a hectic life recently, what with all the legwork I’m having to do in order to find a job. Yesterday I had to go to the Post Office to buy A4 envelopes in which to place my CVs and cover letters. I also printed out my CVs on the same day! Talk about efficient management of one’s scarce resources. Ah, but then you don’t know me, my friends. Behind this calm, placid, almost bovine exterior is concealed the sharpness of wit and speed of action that a panda may well be proud of.

After gallivanting around town with Ms X, we had to rush home to cook the 5 fillets of chicken I had lounging in my fridge. (These fillets I had prepared from chicken I personally slaughtered, although catching them wasn’t half as hard as I thought it might be. The poor dears were definitely under the weather, maybe it was the flu.) WHAT? Did you really expect me to talk about chicken and NOT mention the flu??. That was made just in time for us to sneak a cheeky little dindin with Mom at Rusholme (where else?) and return home not wanting to go to Tracy’s Willy anymore. So all the Creamy Peppercorn Chicken con Asian Influenza A (H5N1) is still languishing in my fridge, although I did manage to make a considerable dent in it at around four in t’ morning.

Oh, great nail-biting victory for England against Uruguay yesterday, it was thrilling to watch. It ended 2-1, with the visitors getting ahead in the 26th minute with the goal of the year; a volley to the topleft corner from 40+ yards out. But England came back with Crouch, and then deservedly Cole got one in the 93rd minute.
Highlight of the match? well, apart from the spectacular goal by the Uruguayan Pouse, I really enjoyed watching Crouch and Wright-Phillips standing next to each other as they were waiting to be substituted. Crouch is 6’7″ and W-P isn’t an inch over 5 foot, I reckon. Haha, you can’t write such comedy!!

I had written this down in my notepad to share with you guys, but forgot. It might not be timely then, but it still is funny. The Italian Olympic 2-man luge (downhill sliding on ice) team was comprised of Mr. Plankensteiner and Mr. Haselreider. I’m not much of an Italian speaker myself, unless you count “What-ta good-a pasta, like-a my mamma make-a” (I know. Uncanny.), but surely those names are more Teutonic than Schnitzels und Lederhosen.

Two good friends of mine, Ana and Papitu (my erstwhile “Spanish Connections” in Manchester) are going to visit South America for a couple of months: Chile, Bolivia and Peru. I wish them loads of luck in their travels to the post box with postcards addressed to me with stamps of exotic fauna, and I guess I should say I hope they enjoy the rest of their time there too.

Viva! – The Spanish-and-Latin-American film festival is coming to The Cornerhouse, there are some nice films I wanna watch. I watched ‘Munich’ yesterday with Ms X again, a bit sentimental, but an admirable job by Stevie (Steven Spielberg to you) in keeping it neutral. Also the casting of the main character was inspired, they really got the right person. because it was in a way an historical recounting, it had to be shot in period settings. I especially enjoyed seeing Cyprus with Communist and Orthodox posters stuck on the walls.

I’m reading Mario Puzo at the moment, a book called Fools Die (how corny!). He has a mesmeric way of making you identify with characters; in fact, I believe the main man Merlyn is actually a less-neurotic me!!

I logged on to MSN thanks to a certain PhD student letting me in to her private office , and managed to chat with Helgi (an ex-MBS colleague from Iceland) after a long time.