Greetings true believers. I have been very busy the last few weeks staging my triumphant return to the ring. Also, I've been humming the Rocky theme quite a bit. Though it's no biggie if I don't make it as a fighter, as I still have the options of guitar hero or bmx bandit waiting for me.
Found a decent enough restaurant but almost ended up staying the night. I kept trying to get the waitresses attention but she kept sailing past. I made a show of tossing my napkin down on my plate, audibly draining my glass for the tenth time. What else could I throw on the table to show her I was finished? Well, my fucking fist for starters, but I thought better of it.
I was heading into town the other day when a big guy on a moped offered me a lift, in exchange for some petrol money of course, but still cheaper than a taxi. The deal was struck and off we set, but ran into a detour which brought us miles away from the road we should have been on and into the sticks. I started to get a bit paranoid at that stage 'This is it', I thought, 'buggered to death in a field by some giant right wing fascist'. I hope they spell my name right in the paper.
Is anyone else pissed off with their parents telling them that life is no less 'unfair' for grown ups? I fucking am. As I smoked my head off on the roof an apartment block in town, watching the sun go down and chatting with friends I realised that this was a lot more fair than taking the garbage out on a rainy Sunday night, or doing homework while all the good telly was on. Even something as simple as ruining my appetite by eating sweets between meals has an almost perverse pleasure for me now.
Other than that I've been lashing into the training as hard as I can, though it's a struggle to get my fitness back up, now that the heat has gone up. Taking time off training is a slippery slope, much like a smack addiction. It starts as a 'once off' but quickly develops into a habit. It's a good time to get back into it as well as the gym is quietened down a bit at the moment, with people heading off and not many tourists. We even lost our resident London wide boy cockney. All guns and machetes. He rather reminds me of a guy I know in Dublin. He's a champion weight lifter, a security guard, a cage fighter, but mostly he's a bullshitter.
Anyway, I'm away. But I will return in a few days with my movie review of 2007.
Later squares
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
The Pacifier
Or the fucking blatant propaganda machine, as it should have been known. I watched this Vin Diesel classic the other day, and thought nothing of it until the near the end, when the bad guys turned out to be from North Korea. Of all the countries in the world it could have been, it turned out to be the the one that the Great American Warlord will probably be fighting in next. Call it a hunch, a bout of paranoia, women's intuition but mark my words, they are trying to get a generation of American to distrust the Koreans. And while we're on the subject of America, unless your name starts with an adjective and ends with an animal, you are not allowed to say word one about 'immigrants'. You ungrateful pigdogs.
Back training hard now, after a week on the beer with Kevin 'deathwish' Douglas. Not an entire week, but more than a couple of glasses of sherry, so I'm hurting all over. I will have to go back to the adult sweet shop, or the pharmacy as it's known locally. The law over here seems to be that if you can pronounce it, or point to it on a shelf you can buy it. Valium for instance, only comes with 2 questions; what strength and how many? God bless you drugs, you haven't let us down yet.
My last bit of news this week is a bizarre event that keeps happening. Infrequently mind you, but more than once or twice. When I take my shoes off to go in places (friends houses, net cafes etc.) dogs amble over and nick my shoes. This can mean only 3 things
1) I am part of an elaborate hoax, designed to make me think I'm mad,
2) I actually am mad, or
3) My feet smell like dog food.
I'm not sure which one I should be rooting for.
Anyway, that's all you're getting from me.
Bysies.
Back training hard now, after a week on the beer with Kevin 'deathwish' Douglas. Not an entire week, but more than a couple of glasses of sherry, so I'm hurting all over. I will have to go back to the adult sweet shop, or the pharmacy as it's known locally. The law over here seems to be that if you can pronounce it, or point to it on a shelf you can buy it. Valium for instance, only comes with 2 questions; what strength and how many? God bless you drugs, you haven't let us down yet.
My last bit of news this week is a bizarre event that keeps happening. Infrequently mind you, but more than once or twice. When I take my shoes off to go in places (friends houses, net cafes etc.) dogs amble over and nick my shoes. This can mean only 3 things
1) I am part of an elaborate hoax, designed to make me think I'm mad,
2) I actually am mad, or
3) My feet smell like dog food.
I'm not sure which one I should be rooting for.
Anyway, that's all you're getting from me.
Bysies.
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