Myspace transfer

Below is a selection of blogs that I have previously posted at www.myspace.com/adamhotrod. It seems nobody uses myspace anymore, so twenty minutes of cut and paste later and I've transferred my life to be a 'Blogger'. I'm so happy I could wee.

Bumps and Bans

It's fair to say I've had a fairly eventful four months, not necessarily in a good way either. Those of you who know me, and I think you all do, seem to revel in my repeated mishaps. Good for you, I'm glad you can find some pleasure in my misfortune, it's what I live for. Have another helping courtesy of me.

This summers' tale of tribulation began back in May with a bit of gentle vacuuming, I'm a bit of a clean freak as all virgos tend to be, so what better way to spend the day before a canoeing trip than to give the stairs a once over with Henry the endlessly smiling sucking device. I vaguely remember getting about two steps from the top, then nothing but blackness. I woke up at the bottom of the stairs with a sore head, a battered left wrist and Henry desperately trying to extract my balls into his greedy little dust bag. I recovered from these injuries physically, if not psychologically (damn you Henry, you'll haunt my stickiest dreams forevermore) in a matter of a few weeks, but it was a major pain in the arse to not be able to play the guitar for a month. Driving was fun too, I found out I didn't have the strength in my wrist to get the car in reverse until I was parked up against a wall. The people didn't stare too much at the funny man crying in the car though.

I was just about better a month later though, just in time for a trip to Corwall to go surfing, YES! Jan-ys and I were cruising down the A30 and I was playing a new fabulous game I invented called "Shave two minutes off the Sat-Nav destination time by driving like a fucking loonatic". Needless to say, PC Twattybollocks wasn't nearly as impressed with my time saving technique as me when he pulled me over doing 111mph. I took the lecture and somehow resisted the temptation to ask him why he had his cock out when he told me the conversation was being recorded in the car as evidence. The magnitude of being faced with a driving ban when I drive for a living was quite intense. Ever the optimist though I thought he might lose the form, forget to submit it, take pity on me because I was cute looking or maybe he'd bleed to death in a freak bumming accident with a 6ft black man called Tyrone (Don't just dismiss it, it could happen)… But no, he was ever the efficient do-gooder and had me up in court on the 6^th of August. I'm not condoning what I did, speeding is a very serious matter and all that shit, but the Magistrates at Liskeard looked at me like I'd violated their inbreed children. Mr Hudson you are a despicable man and we hate you, you will be banned from driving for 21 days, do you understand what this means? Erm… Let me think about that, erm…that I can't drive for 21 days? Is that the right answer? Did I win!?

Fortunately for me, my work let me take annual leave for the disqualification period and I was bound to my recently and intuitively purchased bicycle for the duration. No biggie I thought, get fit, save some cash and play the guitar for three weeks. Unfortunately the driver of a Skoda Fellatio had other ideas when he decided to pull out in front of me while I was merrily cycling along in a dream world with my headphones on. He looked straight at me it seems and thought, 'All clear, just a completely obvious 6ft surfer type cyclist wearing day-glow clothing and a silly hat, so I'll pull out now'. I didn't have time to ditch my fag and grab the brake, so I turned the wheel into the curb and began a slow motion superman impression over the bars. My natural instinct to protect most of my vital limbs by landing on my head came to the rescue yet again, accompanied by a cry of 'HOLY FUUU… CRASH!'. Needless to say I knocked myself into enough of a daze to give the Skoda driver a wave and a dopy smile as he drove away rather speedily.

Since this incident I'm less enthusiastic about cycling places, purely for my own wellbeing. Tonight as I write this though, I have 58 minutes of my driving ban left. I'm going to get ready now and stand in front of the garage door for the final countdown. 5…4…3…2… Vroom.

Life guide for a single man (or woman)

Only now do I feel qualified to write this, after a fairly extensive period of singledom I can offer the single man (or woman) a way to ease his (or her – What is this, Python?) pain and boredom becoming a better person. Wait! Hold the vomit, this isn't going to be all gooey, it's a (very)rough guide. Also most things here, or at least a version of them I've found in books. Some things i've lifted from friends too – You know who you are.

Wallow a bit – Go on, get over it. Cry in your pillow, sit in the bath listening to The Cure, buy take-outs because you can't be arsed to cook and leave them because you're not hungry anyway. Be a recluse and be miserable… for a little while, a fortnight tops. Then get the fuck over it, move on you big wuss.

Friends – Talk to your real friends, this means anyone who you think would house you if you were homeless. But not too much, they'll listen to how you "Just want someone to love you for who you are" maybe a couple of times before you're crying on their lawn while they pretend to be out.

Rebuild – Start to enjoy life again, it's highly tempting to develop a fetish to do nothing but play on the PS2 and wank yourself into a stupor watching Hollyoaks, but "that would be bad" as my dad would say. Turn the damn telly off, it rots your insides. Really do find a thing to do, mine is playing the guitar, it's a passion that fills time for me. Read loads too, books make you feel intelligent and kill hours. If you find you do nothing but check your email and phone every five minutes to see if someone wants you, then get help quickly, loser.

Don't rely on your ex for emotional support – Again, I was very lucky here with a very grown up break ..erm up. But if you're a bit of teary type for gods' sake, hide your mobile when you're drinking. You might just decide to 'Shotgun' your ex with texts. The last thing you want to do is read your sent folder in the morning to find the first message sent of the night says "I really miss you and still love you x x x x x x x " through 48 other messages to the last one which says "STOP FUCKING IGNORING ME BITCH!!" That also, would be bad. Maybe break some ties if the feelings are that sour. My friend Tracey had a good bit of advice about staying friends after a break up – "It's a bit like your parents telling you your dog is dead, but great news, we're going to let you keep it!"

Be happy on your own – easier said than done. I'm lucky enough to have always enjoyed my own company. It's never bothered me eating out alone, going to a gig on my own and going on day trips somewhere. Other people are more uncomfortable for me than I am myself when they realise I've been somewhere alone. It's a blessing though, eat what you want, go when and where you want and listen to whatever music at whatever volume. If for a minute you feel a bit lonely, ring that miserable attached mate for boost. Chances are he is in Ikea listening to screaming kids and buying something crap he doesn't want just to keep the peace.

Say yes more – A blatant Danny Wallace rip off here, but it is good advice. It's easy when someone invites you out for an evening to say that you're busy, when really you just can't be arsed and will probably just be scratching your balls (or your lady garden) in front of Eastenders. Just say yes to everything,… well within reason, if a woman says to you "Do these jeans make my arse look big?" think very carefully before saying anything. Avoid comedy answers too, like "No, it's the fat that makes your arse look big". She will kill you.

Last but not least, be stupid once a day – I have never gotten over how great the feeling is when I put on a towel cape, a quickly fashioned gel ridden quiff and Elvis shades. Then I put music on full blast and dance like a silly bugger. My good buddy at work, Oliver, also introduced me to a quicker and easier feel good vibe. As he says, "It is impossible not smile while you're doing the Snoopy dance" Ask me next time you see me for a Snoopy dance demo if you're unsure.

Oh yeah and also, but it might just be me come to think of it, eat lots of cake because cake is wonderful.

The Scarlet Pimpernel

I was talking to a guy at work about embarrassing incidents the other day. This is something I seem to be quite good at. I know it might seem hard to believe, but I do tend to get myself into more than my fair share of cringy moments, although one that came to mind deserves writing about.

It was a Christmas shopping trip with Mandy a year or two ago, I'm not fond of Christmas shopping really but being bored always brings out the silly side of me, mostly because you have to dress up warm and fight the large crowds. After a drudge around Nottingham centre we found ourselves in WHSmiths in another large queue to pay, my boredom levels were eating away at me. As we got near to the counter there was a large pile of clearance books there and one was 'The Scarlet Pimpernel'. This got me thinking that I could be like that, a secret hero rescuing poor people from the Guillotine, especially as I had my big long coat on that day... It just worked, it was like a sign from above, everything was clear to me, I was a modern day Scarlet Pimpernel. Although I was well aware having the coat alone wasn't going to convince many people, I needed to prove the point if I was to be a true Pimpernel. So I pulled my coat up over the bottom half of my face so you could just see my eyes and whispered almost under my breath as I started to turn around to Mandy "I am..." then flung my long coat open dramatically and held my hands up in the air in an 'overacting back and white movie' kind of way, nearly shouting "The... SCARLET PIMPERNEL!!!", looking very confident and proud of myself. If I'd have slapped my thigh it would have polished the moment of perfectly. I looked down to check out how impressed Mandy was with my new alter ego, but it seems she chose a few moments before that to go and check out some book called something like 'Chicks are great, all guys are arseholes', I may have paraphrased a little. In the space where I expected to find her was a poor young whimpering bloke who looked like I'd just told him I was Jesus. I really didn't want to lose face at this moment, I was a courageous hero! So I looked him square in the eye and gave him a reassuring wink, just so he knew I meant business.

I'm spending some time trying to remember other times when I've completely humiliated myself in public, it may take a while to compile. Right I'm off to do some shopping... Woo ha ha ha.

Water and Wee

There are not many things more worrying for a home owner than a central heating problem. My hot water kept tripping my electric off which was very worrying, but thankfully I have an electrician living next door. Ian's eyes must roll everytime I knock on his door because he knows I want a favour. Anyway he agreed to take a look at it for me bless him. 10 minutes later the conversation was going like this.

Ian - Oh, there's a small leak on your water cylinder, I'll try tighten it.

Me - Well spotted, we'll be sorted in no time, what a team! (I was holding the torch)

Ian - Didn't work, you now have a big leak.

Me - I'm fucked aren't I?

Ian - Errrrmmmm... Yup

It's a surreal thing standing watching 55 gallons of water about to piss gently through your house. We both stood there for a minute shrugging at each other with shell shocked looks before we thought it might be a pretty good idea to shut the water off and get a hose pipe to drain the tank. After an hour of panic and running about the house was free of all water except the puddles on the carpet. Ian helped me find a plumber to come the next day and start sorting out the mess... I could see the bill already. Kerrching!

So I took the next day off work to wait in for Walter the plumber, so I thought ah.. no stress! Watch some DVDs, chill out and read, BLISS! Then it occured to me I couldn't do many of my favourite relaxy things with no water, drink tea, have a shower etc.. and some things that are vital like flush the toilet and wash my hands. Yuck! I found some sterile wipes to scrub up with after having a pee, which I do A LOT. I have a bladder the size of a peanut, apparently. But what if I need to 'Lay a Cable'? can't flush it! You know, if it's yellow let it mellow if it's brown flush it down. I'll worry about that if I need to I thought (Ha ha ha said my bowels).

I was feeling a bit gloomy waiting in at home, as you do when you don't know how much cash or how much time something will take to fix. So I thought I'd cheer myself up by reading my new book "The Heroin Diaries" by Nikki Sixx. Don't get me wrong it is a superb book and I read it cover to cover in a (long)day, but... When your trying to cheer yourself up, reading about someone so screwed up on Heroin they're injecting into their penis, doesn't bring out many happy smiley moments. Anyway I'd just finished the book, the plumber is due in an hour-ish, and I felt 'the rumble' AH! I can hold it, he'll be here soon... Ohh no, feels like labour pains... think I'm gonna have a FOOD BABY! No I can't hold it! Five minutes later I was driving to the Supermarket (Driving because I couldn't walk) for what at work we call "a natural break". I was desperate...

I got there and found a parking space near the door "YES!" reversed in and began to open my door. I was beaten to it by an old lady getting out of her car next to me, and her disabled friend. I am a patient person, but they were sloooowwwwww. All the gear had to come out, wheelchair, neatly folded tartan blanket, bib, nappies... They kept looking to me apologetically, I just smiled back like I had all the time in the world... Then dived out the passenger door before I filled my pants. I ran like a man trying to hold a wet fish between his thighs into the supermarket, avoiding the stupid 'Do you use credit cards sir?' woman, and into the loo, slam the door, quick check seat for wee stains, check for toilet paper.. and begin. BLISS! everyone else in the toilet went kind of quiet when I let out my shouting sigh of relief from within the cubicle... simple pleasures.

Anyway, back at the house Walter the plumber did turn up on time and was a very jolly chap (I'd be very punctual, and also pretty fucking jolly for £50 an hour). But bless him, he had a new water cylinder fitted and tested in 2 hours and 10 minutes (DOH!!! 3 hours labour). But fuck it, it's only m m m money.

So today I was feeling better, basking in the glory of having running water and heating again... and I was just about to pop out for a few minutes, I grabbed my phone and headed for the door. As was instilled into me by my parents from years of nagging, I thought I better have a wee before I go. So in hindsight I could put my phone somewhere sensible to do this, a pocket, a shelf, you name it really, but nah, I'll hold it between my teeth! I was just finishing off and it rang, I instantly in surprise said 'Oooh' and dropped it straight down the bog. It teased me by bouncing off both sides of the pot first, but no, down it went. This leaves you thinking "Do I put my hand in there for it or.." mmm. I grabbed it with a pipe wrench and rinsed it off, it's fucked. Ah well, at least it's my work phone rather than my personal one :-). Incidentally this is the second time in my life I have pulled exactly the same trick on an innocent Nokia, I never learn.

Some days I really should not stay in.

A Sad Day

Today is a sad day, I found out my boss is getting a new job. This might sound like a strange reason to be sad but you really don't understand what it means to have a boss who lets you get away with murder. Don't get me wrong, I do my job well enough, but he takes such abuse from us in his stride and he's never sacked any of us yet. Some things that SHOULD get you into trouble normally are;

1. If your boss tells you in the queue of a sandwich shop he's staying in tonight and making a cake, shout "GAY" at him.

2. He tells you in meeting that we're £10k short of target, say "£10k? I'll do that spinning on my cock"

3. Ask him if he's a bummer tied to a tree, when he says no, run away shouting "BUMMER ON THE LOOSE!!!"

4. At a sales conference in front of the general manager he says to the team "I want to see you all in my room in 10 minutes" say "Oh no, you won't make us touch your winkie again will you?"

5. If he tells you he's been on a date say "Did you sling one up her?" (This wasn't me by the way, thanks Rich) he says "No, I'm not like that" say in unison "Mmmm, you're definitely gay"

6. Put two bananas up the twin exhaust pipes of his new BMW.

7. Hide dubious magazines in his official sales presentation folder.

8. When he says hello to you in head office, with his manager by his side, introduce yourself and pretend you've only just met him. Even though he's been there for two years.

9. Change the language on his mobile phone to Turkish... actually we do this to everyone.

10. When he's presenting to an important group, sit behind the important group and make dim crossed eyed faces at him.

I'd like to take credit for all these things but it really was a joint effort, I'm sure there's loads of other crap he's put up with over the years but it escapes me now. God I hope we get another cool manager.

A New Form

Those of you who know me will know I buy and sell a fair bit of guitar equipment. I don't earn much out of it, the odd deal goes my way, the odd one doesn't... shit happens. It's a way off replacing my full time job but I get to play with shed loads of great guitar gear I couldn't otherwise afford, meet some cool people and I love it. However after the experience my poor mate Mark and I have been through over the past two months, I've devised a new form I must fill out with everyone I buy a guitar from.

1. Can you count?

2. Are you delusional?

3a. Will you invent a parallel world in which to live where you're in a famous band called N***** D****?

3b. If I suggest that they're on tour, playing in Indonesia tonight and are probably on stage ...errr fucking right now, will you just change the subject?

4. Have you ever eaten paint?

5. Are you mental?

6. Re-answer question 5 (and 4 actually), I don't believe you.

7. Do you know there's a new fangled thing called "The Internet", and I can check things?

8. Even after your slightly sticky answer to 3b will you still invite Mark and I to join the band/get us backstage passes/offer to send us free Mesa Boogie Amplifiers?

9. If I try and sell anything I bought off you with an honest description will you threaten to "Do that cunt in!" for suggesting untruths and/or imply you'll set an infamous biker gang on me?

10. Do you think phoning someone 16 times in half an hour leaving 6 answerphone messages is a touch... oh I don't know how you'd put it, fucking mental?

I'm aware this rough draft of the form might look a little bit constructed to fit one specific type of person, but I'm going to use it from now on just to be safe. Please accept my apologies in advance to anyone I buy anything off who isn't a window licker.

Nice tits, fancy a f*ck?

Current mood: optimistic
Category: Romance and Relationships

It's miracle people get together at all these days. This is a conversation I had with a good friend of mine a couple of weeks ago;

Him - I really like (Name withheld to protect the innocent)

Me - Cool, have you told her?

Him - No, a few messages and stuff but it's building... slowly

Me - Can't you just ask her out?

Him - Jesus No! Can't do that, it'll scare her off!

Me - Well she either likes you or doesn't genius boy, she won't say no if she does.

Him - It doesn't work like that Adam, you have to fanny about pretending to be indifferent, but generally friendly for a while first.

Me - So how long will you be fannying about for?

Him - A month, that's the rule.

Me - Don't you think there's a good chance if she does like you, she'll lose interest or find a different genius boy to flirt with, because she thinks you're not interested?

Him - That's the risk you take, I don't want to come across like a stalker or summat.

Me - For fucks sake...

The totally tragic thing about all of that is deep down so much of it is true, why can't he just ask her out? Because I've seen it time and time again, two people like each other, neither will do anything about it because they want to act cool and collected. We'd rather follow the stupid relationship rules instead of saying "Hell, we get on great, Let's spend some time together!" "Great Idea, I'll get my coat!". Just what exactly is it about people speaking their minds that we find so socially unacceptable?

I suggest we have "Tell whoever it is that you really have the hots for them" day, and it is Friday every week. Tomorrow genius boy, either you tell her or I do. I'm not known for my subtlety either... Ner ner ner ner ner.

Take me up the milk aisle

Today I went to the supermarket and witnessed someone almost completely die of embarrassment. I was standing choosing my milk, minding my own business when a middle aged woman who wasn't quite looking what she was doing put her arm around my waist and rested her head against my shoulder... I was a bit shocked but in a moment of inspiration I just thought it was someone I knew trying to wind me up, and the hair looked just like a woman I worked with so I kind of went with it.

Woman - I just don't know what to do, do you think it'll be alright?

Me - Errrrmmmmm

Woman - I know it's a lot to ask of you but I just want to know for sure.

Me - Errrrmmmmm

Woman - Well we'll find out when we get in won't we?!

She chose that point in the one sided conversation to pull away slightly and look me in the eyes. I have honestly never in my life seen someones face go from peachy red to DRIP white in such a short space of time. All was revealed when another tallish, blondish, slimmish bloke in a black suit appeared infront of us with a multipack of Muller Fruit corners and a confused look on his face. The poor lady had to sit on the floor to recover from a mixture of embarrassment and uncontrollable laughter.

But now I've no idea what he was going to find out "when they got in" or even what they were getting in. I bet it was fun though.

I should have stayed in bed yesterday.

I should have known yesterday wasn't going to go quite as planned when I sprayed my hair with Air Freshener instead of hair spray (yeah I use hairspray, I'm in touch with my feminine side okay). So I was already late for an appointment before the day even started because I had to rewash the mop to remove an Air Wick glue cobweb. The appointment was to see my crankiest, grumpiest miserable sod of a customer, and it's 20 mins away. No time to eat anything, so I thought to cure the rumble in my stomach I'd take a banana flavour milk energy drink with me to sip while I was driving... I stopped at some lights and took a big swig, it went down the wrong way (whatever that means, but you get my drift) and I felt the muscle spasm pushing it back out again. I stabbed at the electric window button, but in my panic forgot the car I'd had for 6 months now has it's buttons in a different place to the old one. Sploosh! I neatly covered most of my window with a yellow splat, much to the amusement of the people in the car sitting next to me at the lights.

A quick wash up in the garage and I looked clean, but wet through. It was raining anyway so I could pass that off easily. I finally got to the place and into reception to be greeted by his daughter, with whom I normally have a bit of banter about how miserable he is;

Me - Morning, I'm here to see Terry.

Daughter - Oh... He's not here.

Me - Really, Where is the miserable old git then? Hiding?

Daughter - Hospital, he's had a heart attack, it's a bit touch and go.

Me - Can I go out and come in again?

I think she was okay about it, although she normally insitaged the banter. We chuckled about it, but even so, it was still a horrible moment where I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Second only to the time I pulled a freaky 'tongue out' face to some miserable people in a limo going past me, then I saw the matching hearse behind it.

The rest of the morning went without incident, so I went into our Nottingham office to eat lunch. There was another guy from my team there who's fairly new and a bit too 'keen', but a nice lad. Our boss had sent out a crappy file to him that he had to forward to all of the 9 people in our team. He was eating, so asked me to use his laptop to send it... woohahaha. It instantly occured to me that whatever I sent from that laptop would be from his email address. I started writing...

FW: Monthly File for focus account.

Dear Team,

Here's the Excel file we've been waiting for, any questions please ask... By the way, I've taken a liking to wearing ladies tights, they feel lovely against my botty.

Kiss Kiss - Russie the Nylon Wonderboy

PS - I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention the tights thing to me personally, I'm a bit shy about it.

SEND.....

Right then a lady from HR in charge of disclipline in the workplace walked in... That was it, my face went bright red, tears of laughter filled my eyes and I couldn't breath or explain myself without looking like a mad man. I rushed out the room murmering about food trapped in my neck. I think I escaped without arousing too much attention.

They all new it was me, the phone calls came in minutes later;

Team - Hi Adam, just got an email from Russ, it's got you written all over it

Me- Email? Why, what did it say???

I can't keep a straight face to save my life. That one could have been kept us in a good mood all year... bugger.

Cheer Yourself Up

Here is a proven list of things you can do to cheer yourself up if you're feeling down.

1. Answer the home phone with a Swedish accent saying 'Yays?'

2. Phone cold callers - Stop them dead, tell them they sound lovely and ask what they're wearing.

3. Door to door cold callers - If they ask if you're the home owner, say 'Homo what?! you beast!' and slam the door.

4. In a lift - Cling to the wall and whimper like a puppy.

5. In a car - At traffic lights take a small toy character and make it dance along the bottom of the window, but keep a deadly serious face.

6. In a department store - Put on the biggest, girliest, pink fluffy hat you can find, and look for the most attractive sales girl you can. In a deadly serious tone, ask a question about the location of supportive underpants.

7. While sitting waiting for your partner to try something on in a shop, have a conversation with a tiny person in your carrier bag 'Are you okay in there?'.... 'Yeah I know, not long now, mummy needs to feel special too you know'

8. Adjust the underwear on the female mannequins, but look official when you do it.

9. Be noticeably upset when waiting to pay for your parking, but joyous when you've paid - Kiss the ticket and shout Woohoo! then skip back to your car.

10. Buy a Sombrero to wear when someone is upset with you, every time they say something bad say 'Ahhhh Gringo!' until they desist.

Textual Frustration

Something has changed in the dynamics of relationships over the last few years, I'm not altogether sure it's healthy either. When I was 18-19 and seeing a girl, you agreed times, places to meet in advance. Maybe you'd get in from work and there'd be a message written by dear old mum saying could you ring your latest squeeze for what was normally a pretty good reason. Then you'd arrange the next time to see each other and maybe speak a couple of days later.

A couple of my friends keep telling me now about how their partners just don't care anymore... 'Why, what did they do? Cheated? Lied? Caught them spanking the monkey in the bathroom? nope. 'I've texted twice this morning and still no reply!' oh, really that's really erm... bad, I think. Or I didn't get my 'Good Morning Babes, miss you lots ;-) x x x x x x x' text this morning, or a 'Good night sugar pie snuggle bum ;-) x x x x x x x x x x' text last night either... bummer, he's like totally evil isn't he.

But it's more than that, it's an addiction. I've been on nights out sitting in pubs with people reaching for their phone every few minutes and see their eyes light up as "1 Message Received" illuminates their face, then it's frantic high speed texting back. Jesus! we're on a night out here can't they leave you alone for a few hours so you can relax and enjoy yourself? I've resisted the urge too many times now to drop someones mobile into a pint of beer, I'm going to start doing it as of now, be warned.

It seems to me that relationships deteriorate more quickly now because you have instant communication at all times. How many drunken texts have you sent and thought afterwards, shit, I shouldn't have sent that. But you can't take it back once you see "Message Sent". But why bother? Another lad and I at work thought it'd be hilarious to go through someones phone that was left on a desk. I only wanted to change the language to Turkish which is always very funny, but we looked at the inbox too. Here's the incredibly exciting information we found 'Miss you hunny!!!! xx", "What you up to babes? x x x", "Good Morning Sugar! xx", "Ahhh, me too baby! x", "Good Night Sweetie! x x x", "I'm bored sugar, cheer me up... pweeeze! x x" I think there were more messages but at that point I was sick all over the phone so I didn't want to go any further.

Now, I'm not being Mr Totally Grumpy anti-text here, whatever two people feel the need to text each other is a lovely thing. But if you're the sort of person who's heart sinks from seeing just the operator logo on your phone then get some help. I would say certainly don't judge the love and devotion of another person by the number of 'x's at the end of the text, or the number of minutes you waited for a reply (Where were you?? - Having a poo, it took some time and I thought I'd cope without my mobile for a few minutes).

Maybe you should turn up to see them, give them a dirty great kiss and tell them what they mean to you? It's a radical idea, but I live in hope - Message Sent...

Where Indeed?

Somebody asked me today where I wanted to be and what I wanted to be doing in a years' time. I can honestly say for the first time in my life I have absolutely no idea and for a moment I worried slightly about that. But then it occurred to me that everything else in my life has happened regardless of where I wanted to be previously, and I wouldn't change a bit of it.

We spend far too much of our lives planning what we want to happen, rather than enjoying what is happening now. If we have a predetermined idea about what we want, we could be ignoring things that come our way that don't "fit" that plan. Somebody once said (It was Steven Tyler actually, I just remembered... but come to think of it they probably weren't originally his words - Oh get to the damn point Adam!) "Life's journey, not a destination". Wise words indeed, although he did also say "Pink is my favourite CRAYON!!!" so there's a chance it could just be the years of eight-ball abuse talking, mmm.

Anyway, the argument isn't whether ole big lips (Fave Aerosmith line - "Don't give me no lip, I got enough of my own" aha!) is some kind of prophet, it's whether the whole "Life's a journey" thing was right or not, and I think it was. So from this point on, take a look at what's around you now and enjoy the crap out of it. Go and show your family you love them, spend quality time with them. Make contact with every friend you have and love them for who they are. Everything else is just a distraction to your life...

So in answer to that original question - I just don't know, or care. If I did it would spoil every minute of getting there.

Emulsified

I finally found the will power to start some decorating, I've booked the week off and started in earnest. Jumped fresh as a daisy out of bed bright and early at 11.15 am and had a shower, then some breaky, read the paper, scratched my arse... oh bugger, off to Wickes, £20 for a couple of cans of paint should do it... Oh and some brushes, some filler, and that scrapy thing, oohh and gloves great idea. To the check out - £74.68 please... Ouch.

It was nearly 2 O'clock before I actually started doing anything. First thing to do is cover everything with sheets to protect... oh stuff that I'll just be careful, I hardly ever spill anything.

I painted one wall in a half-arsed fashion and it was looking way darker than the highly misleading sticker on the can, mmm should have got a tester pot, but they're for wussies, it'll be reet, plough on. Eight hours and three coats later it was looking great, for a camoflaged refugee camp. I know! I'll do the chimney breast in 'Plum Crazy' to liven it up a bit. Not my best ever idea I'll admit, and as I sit here covered in a fine mist of emulsion, aching all over, i'm ashamed to say that I've made my living room look a bit like an accident in an ice cream factory. I'll have to rectify it tomorrow, or lie to everyone that sees it and say some burglars did it to be cruel.

I finally pulled off the best April fools day prank ever, on myself it seems.

A large portion of relief with a side order of guilt

This is part two of 'Next doors effing dog' If you read part one you'll have an idea how bad the noise was from next door, and after nearly eight painful weeks of it today was a mixture of emotions for me. Now Julie from next door was at the end of her tether with 'Sam' the evil noisy dog too. In that short time it had;

Chewed a brand new leather suite, ripped electrical cables, destroyed a DVD player and surround sound, punctured all the tyres on their bikes and jumped onto the cooker top and started the gas somehow, which flowed freely for about two hours until they got back.

This is just what I know about, but she reckoned it'd cost them about £4k in broken stuff. Somehow a little noise for me to put up with seems a bit insignificant now, but it reached a climax this morning. I was standing on my doorstep having a smoke and taking in the rays when I saw Julie coming out looking a bit grumpy. The conversation went like this;

Me: Morning Smiler!

Julie: The dog has eaten the front door (I'm not quite sure what she meant, and the door was still mostly there, but it seemed inappropriate to pick hairs)

Me: Crikey that sounds erm... awful. Any joy perhaps, maybe finding a new owner (who lives out of ear shot) for little Sammy? He does still seem to be quite upset about being left on his own, but there's still time for him to settle I suppose, it's only been 7 weeks 4 days and 16 hours he's been here.

Julie: Noooo, but I'm taking him to the vets to be put down this afternoon.

Me: Oh, erm, that's terrible I'm really sorry (in my head - DO - NOT - SMILE - YET- WAIT - UNTIL - YOU'RE - BACK - INSIDE - THE - HOUSE)

Now I know it's bad to take comfort in such an unpleasant thing as this, and in reality I would have much preferred Sam to go to a happy fluffy dog sanctuary with open fields so he could roam free, but I can't help but think he's better off than being trapped in that house all day. Although now I'm waiting to see what the next ghostly noise in my house might be...

Five things you might not know about me

List five odd/unusual things about yourself in your blog, then post a bulletin telling your friends to read it... get them to do the same.

1. I almost always wear a hat of some description... noooo, really???

2. My favourite sandwich is bacon, peanut butter and jam. Toast the bread and shallow fry the whole sandwich in butter. These were a contributing factor in Elvis' death but god I think it's worth the risk.

3. I used to wash my hands 20-30 times a day, bordering on OCD behaviour but I've been alright for a few years now.

4. If we had one less vertebrae in our spines, men could orally pleasure themselves and wouldn't go out, ever. In fact, you wouldn't even be reading this now.

5. My new game when I go to a friend's house is to secretly organize all their tins of food into order and make all the labels face outwards. But alas, so far only a couple of my friends think they're actually going mental.

Next doors' effing dog!

I am a compassionate person to a large degree, two weeks ago my next door neighbours father died, it's a highly traumatic time for them, funeral to arrange and the general period of grievance. However, poor old Mr Neighbours Dad left a 12 year old highly spoilt yappy dog for them to inherit. To be honest, while they're in the house it's nothing to worry about, but as soon as they leave the little spawn of Satan on it's own it yaps constantly for the entire time they're out, and I know you're thinking 'yeah, it can't really be constant' but god it is, non fucking stop yapping.

But here's the difficulty, they are the best neighbours you could wish for. Always friendly, but not overly in that clingy way. They'll keep an eye on the house for me, let me know if the alarm goes off, he's an electrician and is going to sort out my 1940's fuse box and wire my garage for me. They really are lovely, but I just can't cope with that damn dog.

I consider myself a lover of animals in general, I don't condone any cruelty to them, ever. Although after two weeks of it I'm seriously considering increasing Nottinghams gun crime statistics.