Tuesday 10 April 2012

I emerged from sleep [1] to the harsh realisation that the four day homage to the murder of Jesus was over. Life was saying, “Get over Jesus, Phil – it was years ago, get on with it.”  Life was right: Jesus is dead and there is nothing being achieved from thinking about his message and lessons and turn as a ghost in a cave.

 The first part of getting on with it was getting out of bed and having a Wall’s Microwave Sausages muffin. I don’t mind admitting I love the taste of the microwaved meat sleeves: and as I was being hurried along by my partner (who was already dressed and ready to go) the 25 minutes I saved not cooking some none-microwave sausages were a real time-saver, not that it was appreciated that I went over my deadline for being ready [2].

 We drove to work – I do normally walk but am feeling lazy this week and so have decided to have a rest week.  Despite it being entirely my fault that we were a lot later then MJEA wanted to be, I got out of the car en route to the car park; meaning I arrived for work several minutes before MJEA. I pointed out the irony of the person making us 25 minutes later (me) – than she, alone, would have been had she not kindly waited for me – ended up being 5 minutes earlier than her for work. I don’t know what her reaction was as I didn’t look, I just laughed at the irony I had noticed.

 The office is relatively quiet as quite a few people are on leave, elongating their Easter holidays – a healthy amount of which to look after children (accidents or intended – and in some cases maybe even unknowingly not theirs). There is also slightly less phone calls and emails [3] to deal with as lots of other people around the country are resting/holidaying rather then ring us up.

On my dinner break I remembered that Mike Skinner’s chronicle of The Streets, confusingly titled The Story of The Streets [4] had been released this week and ordered it to my Kindle. Purchasing this made Amazon tell me that I could get Peter Hook’s The Hacienda: How Not to Run a Club for £1.99. I don’t really like Peter Hook. I have also read quite a lot about the Hacienda and its volatile life. I am also not that interested in it in the first place [5]. So, I bought the (e)book.

Post-lunch it was more of the same. Sat at a desk doing work. Intermittently we will stop and some conversation will be started by someone at random [6]. Today this included who would play us in films of our lives [7], the role of McDonalds in the conflict between Israel and Palestine and what we had all had for lunch.

 It is not hard to believe that after all of this I was tired when I got home. I was tired. I pretty much fell asleep the instant I walked through the door [8]. I woke up just after 7pm confused and disorientated; like I used to after staying with my granddad – the only difference was that tonight I didn’t have a sore anus when I woke up.

MJEA had suggested I have the Dr Oetzker pizza in the freezer for tea. It was a good suggestion – on face value. I let the oven warm up for a bit and then set about getting the pizza out of the freezer. After 6 or 7 searches through the contents of my freezer I was left to conclude that the pizza was not there. Then I remembered eating it drunk of Friday night – that HAD to be why it wasn’t there: it had been destroyed by my teeth and digestive system on Friday. Unlike Jesus the pizza was not to resurrect however, unless you count becoming shit as resurrecting. And I don’t. Without the option of pizza/resurrected shit pizza I had to think on my feet, especially under stress.

“How do you react under stress?” A woman once asked me in a job interview. “I don’t know, how do you react to stress, darling?” I asked. Needless to say the whole process was corrupt and therefore they gave the job to someone else. I can prove I know how to act under stress by the way I chose food. The scenario was: I needed food and it would be best if it used the oven that I had preheated so as not to waste the energy warming the heaven. Bang – quick as flash I had decided on some Birdseye chicken breasts with onion rings and an Uncle Ben’s Microwave Mexican Rice. Within 20 minutes I had a bounty fit for a prince [9].

 During meal preparation and eating I watched two episodes of Eastbound and Down. Then I played Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 online – pretending to kill unknown people by shooting them in the fucking head while they do likewise to me, it’s a laugh. In between games I was dipping in Tony Benn’s Letters to My Grandchildren. I fucking love Tony Benn and it only seems appropriate to be reading how twattish war/military action by nations is, while playing a game where I pretend to run around Africa throwing bombs at people for entertainment.

 When MJEA got home from her street-based work [10] we watched Mad Men. The new series is very good. My one quibble is that the episodes feel shorter and subsequently we are seeing less of the characters. As all the characters are fucking awesome this is a negative. Maybe they are not shorter and it is just because in the past I have watched them without commercial breaks. Tonight’s had a mad (haha!) bit in it that pyar shocked the bejesus out of me. I won’t be any more specific about it as I don’t want to ruin it for anybody. I am also getting really bored of recounting a day in my life.

Then we watched this week’s Friday Night Lights. I have watched the series all the way through already. I am enjoying watching it again though, as I have said before, the narrative and order of events always seems a bit different when I re-watch something. The narrative order of the coach’s daughter is still in order though – if you know what I mean! [11] I became mildly distracted 20 minutes in when, apropos of nothing I decided I really wanted the song Coming Around by Travis on my iPod playlist. I was surprised to find that I didn’t seem to own it – after rooting through all my CDs and iTunes. I am pretty sure I had the single at some point [12]. I ended up buying it from Amazon for 69p. I imagine I will find the CD single in a pile in the next few days when looking for a pen/notebook/theory on time travel.

Then I went to bed where I feel asleep listening to The Guardian’s Football Weekly podcast.

It is really interesting when I recount my day isn’t it?

WhatevZ [13]


[1] I sleep on the right of the bed: from the perspective of me lay in bed; from the perspective of a young Welsh man singing an aria at the foot of the bed it would be the left of the bed.

[2] My point was that she doesn’t like her job, so what’s the rush. Again the motion was not carried.

[3] Is it me or were the less commercial emails around over the Easter weekend? I am normally forever deleting emails from clothing companies, department stores, music vendors, Amazon and bookmakers but the only activity over Easter seemed to be me inadvertently being hacked and sending people junk mail unwittingly. I didn’t know why this was – surely it was not just because people were off for Easter; generating a mass email and timing it to send is no big job. Was it just the respect of Easter?

[4] http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Story-Streets-Mike-Skinner/dp/0593068076/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334146496&sr=8-1

[5] I mean this comparatively. I am interested in it relative to the buying and selling of a house process or what most people think about stuff; I am not interested in it relative to the contents of lots of unread books that I have.

[6] Yes, it is always me but this could still be random. A lot of people don’t get probability and chance. Just because an unbiased die has landed on a 5 three hundred times in a row still only means the chance of it being a five on the next throw are 1 in 6.

[7] I know what you are thinking: how fucking unoriginal is that? Well, for once, a conversation was started by someone else, namely The Drum. So if you, and remember it is you and not me, who is calling the person who started this discussion a boring, unoriginal duckweed then it is you who is calling The Drum a boring, unoriginal duckweed. Not me.

[8] The instant = after I walked through the door I smoked two Silk Cut cigarettes on the balcony, went to the toilet, read a few of Richard Herring’s blogs on my phone and then listened to a bit of an interview with Aziz Ansari on a podcast.

[9] A prince of a particularly rubbish council estate in 1960.

[10] Prostitution? Who knows? I am sure she told me about it once but let’s be honest, I wasn’t listening.

[11] I mean she is totally FAF.

[12] It doesn’t seem to be on any other album that the Singles Collection so must have been a one-off single: released at a time when I liked them and very good, I must have bought it. I certainly remember the video being on The Chart Show. I am almost certain it was directed by Adam or Jo from Adam & Jo.

[13] The capitalized Z is intentional: branding.

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