The Unstated Assumption

Don't you hate it when you have one of those days when everything seems to be going fine....then BAM! Embarrasing moment number #350,003 rears its ugly head. All I was doing was sitting at my desk, minding my own business when Simon, a work colleague, came up to go through something on the PC screen. As he reached over, he somehow miscalculated where he was putting his hand and managed to pass it, brushingly, across my crotch. It was one of those moments when no matter how often he said sorry, it just didn't ease the awkwardness of the situation. I could have gone for the comedic route and responded with the goolie claw of death whilst screaming "how do you like it then 'eh?!" but what can I say, I can't pull off wearing a pink shirt, let alone that!

But on the plus side, I've just invested in a Remote Control Dalek......Back of the net!

Before I start recapping on the weekend events, does anyone else find themselves sitting infront of the TV until the wee hours, with a warm brew in hand, watching Michael Barrymore and Pete Burns bitch and joke continuously? I don't know what it is, whether it's the cat-clawing of Pete, the situational humour or just the comfort of watching two people who seem to enjoy each others company, but it's highly addictive viewing.

Anyways, Saturday proved to be a highly productive evening with a night of indie styled frolics in Wolverhampton. Beforehand, I gave Chris another sound whoopin' on RAW vs Smackdown. Just to top the glass of 'here's your punkcard, biatch' to the brim, I did it whilst using the Trish Stratus character who, on paper, is a far inferior choice to his personally modelled creation. Will he be able to claw some dignety back and make a Triple H comeback from a string of losses, or shall he dissapear forever in the similar veign of Big Van Vader? Find out, this Sunday LIVE on PPV...Sorry, got a bit carried away there.

To save those precious pennies, a Bus trip to Wolvo was in order. Crammed to the brim with tracksuit wearing twonks, the endless journey did provide a couple of memorable moments, most noteable when an elderly woman took a jilt of the bus as an opportunity to cop a feel of some unfortunate young man's leg as she made her way to the door.

The early start gave us the opportunity to grab the comfy sofa's in the Royal London before making a pleasent stroll to the Little Civic, where on the way, Chris recited a story of his friend, who lives close to Steve Coogan, who once witnessed Steve getting into a domestic with his wife outside. As the suitcases flew onto the front lawn, cries of "A-haaaaaa!" from passing strangers we're bellowed at the unfortunate person's direction.

From the Little Civic, we made our way to The rather bigger Civic for the traditional saturday ritual of Blast Off. Suprisingly, there were no sarcastic comments from the Bouncers on this occasion. That's right - no valuable advice on how to organise my wallet or recommendations on upgrading my mobile phone! The chosen tracks we're rather good, although it did get a bit Britpop-ish near the end.

Overall, a rather enjoyable night. Now I wonder what the upcoming week will hold in store....

With Celebrity Big Brother fever sweeping the nation, I must admit I've become quite hooked on the household frolics of Pete Burns, Michael Barrymore, George Galloway and the rest of the argumentative band of celebs. But the real entertainment value always comes from the office-based conversations of who should be evicted, who's annoying and who's a twonk. The mix of Big Brother, a boring Friday afternoon and a Photoshop license can be a dangerous mix ... especially when someone who shall remain nameless (Jo!) admits that they hate Pete Burns!

The icing on the cake came when Sue, oblivious to the methods of how we put the photo together, came out with the classic line - "What have you done, just stuck the lips on her head?". Donations for her upcoming hospital bills are more than welcome.......

It's funny the little differencies between two countries. We say Colour, the Americans say Color. We call it a lift, the Americans call it an elevator. We have Sod's law and the Americans have Murphey's law. No matter what we both call it, they're both the same thing, especially the last one.

Murpheys/Sods law is something that never fails to rear it's ugly head. Especially for me. Take, for example, this weekend. I'd made plans for both the morning and evening, but what happens? Not only does It decides to tip it down with snow, but the skyline shows no end in sight. I go to bed late, and some drunken lout decides to sing a track from old blue eyes himself from the top of lungs whilst staggering down our street.

Would anything else like to go tits up for today? A power cut maybe? Or how about a hurricane to rip the roof of the house off? I sometimes wonder if the good ol' lord almighty is sitting on a cloud (a snowy cloud) somewhere up there, thinking to himself - "Gheez, I wonder what else I could do to piss him off today?".

Phew, thank the sweet lord that week is over with. I don't know what it is, but how come a 4-day week seems to last longer than a usual 5 day one? It's like one of those deceiving eye puzzle thingies...either that or a goverment cover up.

You never really realise how boring an office can truly be until you're stuck in the department by yourself, like I was today. If matters couldn't get any worse, I had one of those terrible 'cubicle' moments when popping to the ol' convenience room. You all know the drill - you walk in there only to be greeted by THE most appalling smell. You take a leak in the cubicle and someone else comes in. You don't want to walk out just incase you're blamed for the slightly unflattering odure. Well just my luck, I have to time it exactly to the moment when a meeting ends and there's an endless stream (no pun intended) of Jimmy Riddlers. 10 Bloody minutes I was standing in that cubicle waiting to make my break for freedom.

The upcoming weekend is more than a welcome one, being topped off with a well earned night of indie-frolics at Blast Off in Wolvo with Mr Propaganda himself. As for tonight? I'll be settling down for a night infront of the TV to watch if Michael Barrymore can out-do the wannabe Z list celebs in the good 'ol Big Brother house.

By the way, did anyone clock the unintentionally hilarious sign in the crowd last night - "I came for Barrymore"? Classic!

If there's one thing I hate more than spending most of the holiday season ill, it's getting back to work only to be subjected yet again to all the virus' and colds it's just took me an entire holiday to shift.

It's just a ticking time bomb of lemsip and beechams, ready to go off at any moment, and it's not helped by those generous office folk who feel the need to share such charms of the winter season with the rest of us. I am, of couse, talking about those fellow staff members who cough and splatter all over the place without a care in the world for anyone else.

I lost count of the amount of times today I had to remind a 'certain person' to put their hand over their mouth and face the opposite direction when attempting to cough a lung up. Usually with everytime being greeted with a comment of "You won't catch anything". In the end I actually had to resort to pulling articles off the web about the subject and highlighting the "how its spread" section before that 'certain person' would take notice.

Now I could have tried to get my own back ... well, actually I did. Not anything nasty mind you. I didn't spray her seat with mustard gas or anything, I just merely sat there for the majority of the day wearing a cut-out gas mask. Hey, it was the first day back - you aren't expected to work...right?!

After contemplating and pondering what to do (like a newly crowned D grade schoolie on exam results day), I've finally gone ahead and done it - yes, I've started a blog! I've meant to for a while now, but as always lacked the umph and the get-up-and-go to actually go and do something about. So with this new year now officially up and running I figured why not! Granted, we are already 3 days into it, but what the hell, eh?

So I hope you'll enjoy the occasional rant that may grace this site, and if not at least look on the bright side - it aint cost you a subscription fee ;o)

Paul