MEDIAS RES.

Tuesday the 10th of September 2013, 2.47pm. I know the date will be recorded when I save this entry but it sounds better writing it as an opening. Makes it epic. One to remember. The opening line was originally: Tuesday the 10th of September 2013, 10.16 am. I deleted this whole page accidentally this morning. A lot has happened since then. I've had my lunch - Mozzarella balls with sundried tomatoes and a Peperami (hot n spicy) to flesh it out. With a can of diet Coke. I've also read some of David Peace's new book Red or Dead, a book I bought at the work book sale for 50p. I was going to buy it full price at the weekend as well. Sorry David. I'm enjoying the book very much, especially as it's an uncorrected proof version one of the writers upsatirs mut've been reviewing. It has their notes scribbled all over the pages in Biro. The previous post, which I began at 10.16 am consistened mainly in about three paragraphs on how I've managed to be unique in being the only person to work at the Scotsman and go down the pecking order. Most people leave or become managers. I've went from running recruitment ads and doing online editing and enjoying nice undeserved bonuses to taking calls for Births, marriages and deaths. Unfortunately it's mostly deaths. I've booked in five death notices and two In Memoriams since 10.16am.

Sharing a sauna with the All Blacks.

I'm trying to get fit. I'm trying to build muscle and I'm trying to do this with the minimum amount of effort required which is why I splash about in the pool across the road from work for 25 minutes until I'm bored. Of course, it's slightly uncomfortable when you share the pool with someone who works in the same building as you, it is when you are podgy, wet and wearing oversized red baggy shorts in the pool.
 Well, after 32 laps (in a 10m length pool) I decided that I had felt enough of The Burn in my limbs to deserve ten minutes in the sauna with the newspaper...Well,as I sat reading, three giants of men came in and squeezed beside me in what is essentially a hot steamy bus shelter. They were so big these men, the biggest men I've ever seen. Ever. Their arms seemed bigger than my torso and the scars on their torsos were bigger than my arms. As I sat reading fondue recipes in the Metro, I worked out that they were the mighty All Blacks rugby team. I got this from their accents and also from their shorts which read 'All Blacks'. Put this into perspective, rugby players are big muscly guys, professional ones even more so and the biggest of them all, anywhere on Earth, are the All Blacks.
I didnt even try to hold my stomach in, what's the point?  I just sat and listened to them talk about beating Ireland and Wales and snapping other huge people in half etc... One of them had quite an impressive beard on his giant Zeus-like head which reminded me that I'm in the early stages of growing a moustache for charity. One which can only be described as '80's teenager'. It was only then my masculinity took a tackle and crashed.
It was time for me to go get showered and dressed which I began doing so amongst the remainder of the team which seemed to be the Maori contingent, all muscles and tribal tattoos. It was only then standing amongst them I realised that the pants I chose to wear this particular day were a classy pair with 'I   ♥ VODKA' written around the waistband...

Saying the word 'onion' with a cold.

Canteen lady: What would you like in your baked potato?
Me: Cheese n' ngngn
CL: What?
Me: Cheese n' ngngn
CL: YOU WANT CHEEASE AND??
Me: CHEESE N NGNGN YOU STUPID CUNGT!

Honestly....How difficult can it be to work out that I wanted onion? I would be asking for cheese and boiled eggs in my potato would I? My theory is she was trying to dissuade me from getting onion as she had to go through the back to get some. When I sat down to eat it, the onion was basically halved then quartered and chucked dismissively on top. Bastards.