Been surfng too long at Jay Pinkerton’s, now running out of credit. But I’m alive and well; worry not.

I have decided to do some volunteering work while I’m searching for jobs/waiting to get called up by Bill Gates. So I went to Do-it.org, which is a very easy-to-use, fast and efficient way of searching for voluntary work. It looks good on your C.V., you get a chance to give instead of take,take,take like it usually is with you guys, and it also gets you into the rhythm of getting up and moving your ass to work. A win-win situation if I ever saw one!
Haven’t heard from the big presentation/interview yet, but the other company (B) sent an e-mail saying they didn’t want me. They called me at 9 in the morning when I was preparing for the presentation I had to give to the other company (A), and expected me to answer their “Competency-based interview” questions. Anyhow, they (B) were useful to me as preparation for the other interview (A) later that day! (While I was setting up the laptop for my presentation (A), I made sure they saw I also had saved a folder with the name of the other company (B) so they realised they (A) were competing against another, bigger company (B) for my sweet tooshie. Manipulate: [verb] influence or control shrewdly or deviously; “He manipulated public opinion in his favor”)

I have really been enjoying the football these past two-weeeks-and-whatever days. I especially enjoyed the fights that some of the less-appreciated nations put on; there were great displays of courage and national pride from some teams that weren’t expected to do well. I feel sorry for Ghana (thanks for knocking out USA!) that they now have to face Brazil so early on; England will be expected to have a much easier ride. But then again, Ecuador is showing itself to be a typical South American team; difficult to play and with flair in bucketloads, and beating Poland and Cost Rica soundly. I really do wish Japan and South Korea could have done better; for all the effort they put in and nifty footwork, they just don’t seem able to finish the move with threats in the box.
But no country is playing “typically” any more; as coaches drift from continent to continent, the styles of playing have really mingled until it seems that only the match on the day and the opponents decide what manner of game wll be played by any country, and even Germany is now playing attacking football!
The game I couldn’t tear my eyes away from, so far, has been last night’s amazing Argentina v Mexico. I was rooting for Mexico as soon as I saw the way they came flying out of the block. Even mighty Argentina seemed nonplussed and staggered in the early minutes. If only Borgetti didn’t head that own goal in (yes Crespo, we saw it wasn’t you, thanks to a few of the billion cameras around that stadium), things might’ve really been different now. As it was, Maxi scored an absolute blinder in a nail-biting extra time finish to edge Mexico out.
Let’s see what today’s matches bring: England v Ecuador and Portugal v Holland.

Great interview, looking verrry hopeful. Might well be employed soon! Going to walk around town with Sha and Ioanni, then play table tennis; more later.

Tomorrow is a big day. First, I expect a telephone interview at 9 a.m. from one of the companies courting me. I shall already be shaved and dressed to the nines to jump onto the bus after the phone call, then catch the train to Preston, where I shall have to give a presentation at 12 to the other company courting me about Testing and where it should fit within the Project Lifecycle.
The slides are prepared (almost), the speech is written (almost), the tickets have been bought (not) and my driving license is with me (err…).
I don’t foresee any problems whatsoever.

I was musing over today’s sudoku in the Metro newspaper (completed in just over 4 mins) when I happened to glance at the horoscope section. I’m Libra, and the one before me as well as the two after me had the same advice in more-or-less the same words – “If something is nagging you, it’s because of what happened in December”. That’s really shoddy work, no effort at all. I looked at the rest, and he/she must have simply looked at the weather report and gone – “They’ll all be bloody miserable today”.

Better news, my kid sister has been accepted at London’s Drum-Tech School so you’ll soon be hearing about her manic exploits and what-not.

Oh, and my phone is back from surgery; I have to go pick it up and nurse it back to full ruddy health. Although I’m paying insurance every flipping week, it’s gonna cost me £25 ‘excess’. Considering that I’ve been paying £7 into their kitty for 7 months now, and that the phone unit must cost them less than £25 to buy, they’ve made a minkey out of me AND made £50 in the bargain. Hats off to Vodaphone Anal Intruders Limited.

I am a fan! Instantly hooked!! I love this one where he describes how he would make Lost In Translation a better movie with some additions to the plot.

Ina’s email brought up the subject of sleeping on an island in my mind. Hence, Death by Coconut as you sleep under the trees. Here’s a great pic from Flickr on that topic.

This is a flippin’ great song by Pearl Jam, brought to mind because the two companies that I’ve set my sights on, and that are responding to my advances, both have their Preston offices next-door to each other. Hence, they are rivals for my booty!

Oh, but the song actually seems to be about the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Because of the references to Red Sun, explode, both barrels (2 bombs), unspeakable, chemicals, etc. Basically the whole song.

All my rivals will see what I have in store, my gun…
I’ve been harbouring fleets in this reservoir, Red Sun…
And this nation’s about to explode

Your disciples are riddled with metaphors, well hung…
Better pony up and bring both your barrel-fulls, not one…
As we release this unspeakable toll…

How’s our mother to damn these contributors…with mud?
How will the man who made chemicals difficult…shed blood?
How’s our father supposed to be told?

Would the driver of a black Fiat Punto please shrivel up and die? He suffer with many big voodoo curse on his back. Much bad will come out of this. Very bad juju. The manes of his ancestors refuse to protect him.
Ah, the driving test. It has taken me a long time to talk about it. I managed to get one serious offence because the afore-mentioned driver shot out of nowhere (even Miss High-And-Mighty Test Conductor didn’t see him) as I was emerging from a side road and then overtook me dangerously. So that’s my fault. Apparently. That cunt of a driver is currently suffering all the agonies of a multi-religious, non-sectarian hell that I can cook up in my mind. A comparitively minor irritation that added to my grief was that I got 10 minor faults; 3 of which for “undue hesitation” and 2 for “improper speed”. I was only going slow because that fatso was weighing the car down, as well as intentionally trying to catch me out by giving last-moment instructions! I was wincing as we went over the bumps because I thought I’d hear the undercarriage scrape. Hmm, maybe fatso took offence to that? Plus, in my blithe smugness, I already told one company that I have a driving license, and they’re gonna want to see it pre-e-e-tty soon. Not to mention me having to scrape around for some cash to book another fucking test, to which was later added the news that the last two hours of driving I used that I had considered paid-for, are apparently not!
I was really out of it these last couple of days. Miserable as fuck. Could anything else go wrong, me wonders?
Only my phone could break down, giving me some more mental anguish as to whether it’s covered for by the £8 funneled out of my account by Vodaphone every month for insurance, or somehow I was going to end up suckered again! (Admittedly I contributed to the breaking of the phone by hurling it in rage at a wall. Surprisingly little damage, considering).
Anyhow, time to pick up the pieces once again. Snakes and ladders, ladders and snakes.
I had a good time at Jessy/Ioanni’s BBQ yesterday, which considerably lifted my morose spirits. Pictionary / Dumb Charades with the gang was really fun, although it did give me some insights into some people’s minds that I’d've been better off without. And the Frogs couldn’t beat South Korea, which is always good news.

Just managed to pick up his book again after finishing ‘Waiting for the wild..’. This one is called ‘Words’ and is autobiographical. There was some difficulty wading through the beginning, as he describes his paternal and maternal families in a rich and droning manner reminiscent to me of Dostoevsky’s ‘Brothers Karmazov’. But now the rich prose is getting better (and I’m geting more used to it) it’s quite enjoyable. Also enjoyable is the fact that it’s only got 150-odd pages, albeit densely packed, and once I’m done I can claim to have an opinion on French writers! I’ve only ever read Alexander Dumas (not pronounced Dumb-Ass) before.
Yes, here comes the quote. Sartre is a child in his learned grandfather’s study, surrounded by mystical things called books.

I used to touch them in secret to honour my hands with their dust but I did not have much idea what to do with them and each day I was present at ceremonies whose meaning escaped me: my grandfather – so clumsy, normally, that my grandmother buttoned his gloves for him – handled these cultural objects with the dexterity of an officiating priest. Hundreds of times I saw him get up absent-mindedly, walk round the table, cross the room in two strides, unhesitatingly pick out a volume without allowing himself time for choice, run through it as he went back to his armchair, with a combined movement of his thumb and forefinger, and, almost before he sat down, open it with a flick ‘at the right page’, making it creak like a shoe. I sometimes got close enough to observe these boxes which opened like oysters and I discovered the nakedness of their internal organs, pale, dank, slightly blistered pages, covered with small black veins, which drank ink and smelt of mildew.

Fascinating imagery of a boy awakening to the written word.

Been busy with applications. Driving test is coming up in two days; I shall know around 13:30 on Thursday whether I hold my head high or hang it in abject shame.
Nowt much to blog, so I’ll give you some quotes from a very colourful book on African (un)politics, basically a guide book on how to become, and remain, dictator. The book is ‘Waiting for the wild beasts to vote’ by Ahmadou Kourouma and is very distinctively written. The style of narration runs thus: A singer-poet praising a “great” hunter (who became dictator for life of a West African nation) has a court jester at his side who tells us the real story in hints. This is over the period of celebration of seven nights, thus the seven chapters of the book are called the Seven Vigils. Some colourful, Confucian-like excerpts at the beginning of each chapter are

“The drum which does not punish the crime is a cracked jug”
“A fish-hook is useless to catch a hippopotamus”
“It is he whose impotence you cured who steals your wife”

and what has to be the best

“A man does not forget the shrub behind which he took cover when he fired on an elephant and hit him”

I had this great brainwave while lying in bed. Unfortunately it flooded my memory bank!! I thought of locating my old school on t’web. Frankly, what I’d like to have seen was a map of the school building and some photos so I could remember where I ran around as a wee nipper, so I was a smidge disappointed, but I did manage to register myself on the alumni database. So here without any further ado, is New English School, Kuwait. “Ex oriente lux” was our motto, which I think means light from the Orient, which is kind of pointless. The uniforms seem to have changed, but then it has been 20+ years!!
I couldn’t find my school in India, St John’s High School, on the web, but then why am I not surprised? I am however shocked that my college, St Joseph’s, is not on the web either. However, to entertain you I must link to this photo Google dragged up from Flickr. It’s of a first year class, St Joseph’s College, year ’81-’82. At the height of Indian summer fashion!!!

You can vote for the worst buildings in Manchester at a website called “pride of Manchester” although i couldn’t vote for any because Manchester is all beauty. Can you imagine they’ve even nominated the Bridgewater hall???
And didja know that the best building in manchester is on Daisy Bank Road??

Having nowt to do except wait for a large multinational to send me an email confirming, nay, doubling the amount they want to pay me, I’ve been browsing blogs. Rachel’s hypo-allergenic cat article took me to a website about pets, where I found this headline “Pet-eating predator reappears in Mass.” Little was I to know that Mass is Massachusetts (of the Bee Gees song fame). I expected, and quite frankly was looking forward to seeing, a demonic stalker and devourer of pet poodles lurking in church and confessing for sins committed and forthcoming.
While doing this I also uncovered a must-read blog with articles about Origami gadgets from New Scientist.com’s Inventions

Yesterday evening I left the telly running while I was rustling up some Indian veggie food in the kitchen. Imagine my surprise when an advertisement (that’s all I pay attention to) for what appeared to be “Tropicana g-strings for kids” could be heard blaring in my living room. Now, let me inform you, my dear reader, that I am if anything a liberalist at heart, and far be it for me to stop anyone from enjoying their rights. But surely this was one step too far? We’ve thrown little make-up sets, barbie dolls, fashion glitters, and what-not else at kids (as any afternoon viewer of telly like meself knows), but the line must be drawn somewhere! G-strings indeed!! I had really worked myself up by the time I reached the living room!!
What it actually said was “Juice drinks for kids”.
Oh well, this missionary can wait for another cause to come along!!

I have just given the finger to spam!! Thanks to my own ingenuity and nothing at all owed to V!
Something in the newspapers botheirng me. Twice over the last week I have notices journalists using the word “phase” instead of “faze”, like “Nothing could phase him when he had a duty to do”. What a sloppy level of journalism!!! Really gets on my tits!!
P.S. I made some deliciousa pancakes yesterday with lovely meaty fillings!!

Reuters, UPI:- Last Sunday, the 4th of June, three cars separately made their way from Manchester down to Uttoxeter. Little would anyone of the onlooking, unsuspecting public realise that these three cars, in fact, held co-conspiring members of a very carefree and socialist alliance. These nutters were, in fact, out to realise a dastardly plan, hatched and realised by a most devious individual only known to interpol as “Tinks” a.k.a “Tinkerbell”. Rumour has it that this woman acquired this moniker due the hellish and monstrous tattoo around her bum region.
The mainstay of this plan was to bankrupt a large Western company that runs the entertainment park called Alton Towers. They aimed to accomplish this by going on as many rides as possible, therefore making it impossible for this free-trading company to make any profit from the £20.70 this heinous group had paid in advance. Another part of the plan was to jam up all the queues to increase public disgruntle-ness and spread Anti-Altonism.
Fortunately for the park, one pimply-faced employee amongst the many thousands that work there cottoned on to this plan, and they were named and shamed after having only been on 10/11 rides each! The members were The Black Corsa Pirates- Ioannis, Naz, Jessy, Yannis (with a predominance of Greeks, this group was well-versed in sea piracy), The Silver Polo Corsairs- David, Simon, Shasha, Bessie (this group contained the masters of infiltration), and The Maroon-ish Escort Marooners- Willy, Jilly, and the kingpin herself Tinky.
The rides that had been victims of their dastardly attemps were: Oblivion (twice), Air (twice), Nemesis, Climbing Wall, Katanga, The Flume, Spinball, Rita the Speed Queen, and Corkscrew. A splinter group also attacked the arcades and the Teacup ride.

Got to check out snap.com which searches websites, and displays a screen shot of the site so you can see if you wanna visit it!
Thanks to Autology for this heads-up.

What do I get Shasha for her birthday?? She’s getting on a bit now, the old girl, maybe a stairlift from Stannah? The new Sofia looks real nice and elegant.
She’s bought “The Timewaster Letters” from Fopp, and it really is hilarious. Ioannis was over for Stellas (thanks Ioannis) and Black Bean Beef din-din (thanks Shasha) last night, and we were just roaring with laughter at some of the letters this guy has written to some of the most idiotic and self-important societies throughout Britain. He tells the British Colour Foundation that he invented a new colour “greem” that he says he can’t really describe, but then proceeds to. I’ll get the quote for you tomorrow, an absolute laugh!!
I watched Jet Li’s unleashed, quite moronic story with good action scenes. Hoskins was back as a English gangster, but nothing like his great performance in that lovely film the name of which I can’t remember now so I’ll have to google it. Ahh, “The long Good Friday”. Great!!
Also I hear Mahesh and Ina are set to tie the knot next April, we should get down to Mauritius to help the lucky couple celebrate. Or we should go there anyway!! Haha

—-Later—
Sha has kindly sent me the quote, so you won’t have to wait till tomorrow, you lucky sods!! So here, straight from Robin Cooper’s book, is a description of his new colour greem.

“Greem is like a field of undiluted emotion, cut clean with steel scissors, wielded by a fragrant farmgirl who has just written a ‘Belated Happy Birthday’ card to her dearest nephew.”

Then he went on to say:

“I hope this gives u a clearer picture of what greem looks like, but if you would like to see a sample of my new colour, please write back – enclosing my membership card to your organisation.”

Well, I had a mock driving test arranged that both me and my friend/driving instructor coolly forgot about. So we’re put-putting around town, chatting about this and whatnot, when he gets a call from an irate instructor who’s been kept waiting! Uh-oh!! I race to the test centre, much to the alarm of my instructor, who only knows me as my meek, courteous and mild-mannered alter-ego. The istructor was really curt, not un-friendly but very business-like, and I suppose I got my money’s worth in terms of a close-to-real-life simulation. I got 9 minor faults, 3 because I signalled before looking (an old habit from my happy driving times in India!!) and so I passed. I’m aiming to reduce my faults down to zero now, because I’ve got precious else to do!!
Oh, and Jill’s sent an email with a game about parking! I had to park, he said within two car lengths, I did it in about half the space and in 30 seconds!! Was he impressed?? Well, if he was, the git didn’t show it!!
I saw ‘United 93′ in a sneak screening that only Tinsel Town’s elite were invited to (cheap student-types, that is). I thought it was United ’93, as in Manchester United. When I saw the plane on the billboards, I thought it had summat to do with the plane crash with United players (the Busby Boys). It could’ve been ’93, for all my knowledge of football stats can say! The movie was gripping, apart from the odd questions my cynicism gave rise to (how many people remember the number of their flight?? I don’t!!). But the time really flew!!