It's not every day...

...that you find a genuine autographed copy of the Bible! And in a hotel room drawer too. Who'd have thought it?

What's wrong Laura?

What's that you say? The shinkansen is out of control? And Gojira is up ahead? OMG!

"...with all the karmic credits you have accrued through our friendship..."

A funny conversation from Facebook today. Some of the names might have been adjusted to protect the innocent, but you'll probably be able to identify the main culprits without too much trouble.

Gripton
has discovered a trend whereby whenever I post that something awful has happened to me, at least one person states it's karma. It's caused me to reflect on my life and my actions, and confront the truths these people have forced me to address. Following this period of intraspection I think I should address those people directly,

It's not a gym Clare.

Why are you doing press-ups here in the German Markets? You should take it easy on the training you know. Relax a little.

Bienvenue a Ventenac!

Dave O got my message – “Bring earplugs. Seriously.” – and complied. We pinged and ponged beside la cave as we talked over the problems he’d had buying his flat in Catford. A beer, two beers and a third, and the holiday had started. The fun had been organised thus:

On the top floor: Dave O and me; Vin and Olly; Dom and Julia.
On the middle floor: Hannah and Tom; the Lovely Colin and the Lovely Jane; Anna Mc, Chaz, Clarkey and Sally.
On the ground floor: Rob

“The Best Man that Gethin could find…”

We accepted the offer of a chance to hear Dunk’s speech at Hazelgreen. After all, we weren’t going to the wedding. I’d never heard a best man’s speech before; at weddings that I’ve been to, there hasn’t ever been one. If the average standard is as high as that Dunk put forward, I’ve really been missing out.

Cocktails, Steak, Lesbians

Date night! Caipirinhas! Yum! And then on to Torore. Quiet, but great food. A rib-eye steak for the lady? And a t-bone for the gentleman? Yes please! Tasty, fatty, delicious!

A lesson

"I can't believe she's taken the fucking tin opener to Kendal Calling!"

Ah, communal living... what a joy. I work a day job, and my flatmate works a bar job, so we don't overlap much. This means that both of us - when we're in - feel like that we have the flat to ourselves. However, we also both get that odd sensation that someone has been moving stuff around whilst we're out. Normally it's just a little odd, but sometimes it can really grind one's gears. Like now.

Mia-owwwwwww!!!

Look what Pervy found!

Date night

It's stolen from Woody and Clare, and from a thousand other lovers I'm sure: Laura and I decided to make Wednesday nights our regular date night. Tonight? DVD and dinner. We went to Asda to find ingredients for a red thai curry, and then to the big Sainsbury's in Salford looking for cheap DVDs.

Twice bitten by the same beast

Helen was at it again.

“Winnie, have you got any plans for the weekend?”
“No I haven’t, why?”
“Can you feed my cat?”

Again, poor Laura had been sucked into her trap. Laura texted me to explain it all, and again, my blood raged. "Feed it broken glass," I said.

It was half-term, meaning college was off, so my night was open. Laura texted.

L >>Do you have any plans later?
D >>No I haven’t. I thought about going for a run, but I remembered I’m injured Would you like to hang out?
L >>Can you look after my cat?

She’s hilarious! She’s so, so funny! *Swoon*

Making learning fun

I have never known an atmosphere like it at college. Never has there been so much laughter between the paving slabs of fact and discussion. I doubt that's because Theory X and Theory Y are a barrel of laughs, or that Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is an absolute hoot - far from it. It's the residual impact of the residential. I'm looking forward to the rest of the course now.

One thing I'm less enthused about, however, is our new tutor. Today she said the IQ stood for intelligence QUOTA rather than intelligence quotient. Yes, quota, as in a restriction based on specific quantity. Says it all, what?

I ♥ muff diving

Laura and I went for breakfast at the Chorlton Eatery. It’s a good sized meal, with quick and friendly service – of course the true test of service is how the weekend rush is handled – so why hadn’t I been before? I thought about putting it to Dunk and Kate as a possible venue, but didn’t check the veggie options before I left. .

Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?

"My parents are staying from Wednesday night until Saturday,” said Laura, “so this is the last time we’ll be able to spend the night together until the weekend. Would you like to come round for dinner?”
“Yes,” I replied, “that’d be lovely.”

No genital contact, honest

ARF!!

Eight visitors

“Knock! Knock!”

Two Police Community Support Officers. They ask how we’re coping with the burglary, and offer some advice. One Crime Prevention Audit later, a few stern glares at the entry point, and they’re away.

“Knock! Knock!”

Two Scenes of Crime Officers. They dust for fingerprints, take photographs of footprints in the snow. They smile a lot, then they go.

Humour and funny

A great post today from Prison Proxy about the difference between humour and funny. This is one of my favourite blogs: written wittily, insightful, and offering privileged access to an unfamiliar world - all of the reasons that I loved Belle de Jour. Today’s post demonstrates all of these things.

Due to an inclination toward mockery, much of my humor has a zero sum game element to it. And, possibly because I’m the object of my own mockery much of the time, many of my associates like my wit and impromptu dramatizations.

Le Fancy Dress

DTRMCR if you were going to a French-themed fancy dress party, what would you go as?
Yesterday at 11:58pm via Facebook Text Message · Comment · LikeUnlike

Tomos
cheese eating surrender monkey. easy. next
21 hours ago · Delete

Chelle
the moulin rouge!
21 hours ago · Delete

Jimbo
What would I go as? The funniest Brother I know....
Groucho Marx. I know he's not French but then its all about the walk and 'tache really.
21 hours ago · Delete

David 'king-of Daves' Skinner
a german
20 hours ago · Delete

Flying V

My train overtook a low flying V of geese on the way to St Helens. I saw them from the rear first, behind and to their left. As I overtook, I saw them in profile, and then looked to my front again as we accelerated past. I smiled, thinking of the Bluetones and Marblehead Johnson until the train pulled into the next station. The geese caught up, flew past, and arced over a barn in the middle distance.

A man paid, and got onto the bus at RNCM. “My bag!” he said, panicked, to the bus driver, “will you wait?” He dashed off the bus, and into the pub. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. He ran back on. “Thank you!” I looked at my neighbour. We were both grinning.

Break on through to the other side

Bleugh! After our heavy, heavy night in Chorlton, I had a spectacular hangover. Kate did too. Unfortunately, Kate had to go to work at 8am, and then go dancing to celebrate her own birthday that evening. I was able, thankfully, to stay in bed.

Lucian called, explaining that he was in town, and asking if I fancied joining him for a pint. Yes, I thought, why not? Because you feel rough as arses, and very dehydrated? Not good enough! We met in the Northern, and enjoyed a few pints in the company of Jamie. Jamie, a teacher, had raised two butterflies in his class at school. The kids had named one of them Michael Jackson. Pun king Lucian was soon riffing away - "It don't matter if you're Cabbage White." Jamie pointed out that these puns were amongst the least transferrable of all gags because they were so specifically tied to the concept of a butterfly named Michael Jackson. Four pints and many laughs later, we said farewell and I shot back to Stretford.

I don't know how Kate managed to push through her tiredness, but after some booze in the house, we were out again. In the Sand Bar, we ended up divided into two groups: Chaw's friends and Kate's friends. Danesh Ali, Miriam, the Padmores and several others showed up at once, which furthered the wedge between the two halves of the party. So it goes, I guess. When it came to moving to a dancing place, Chaw and her friends elected to drink at the Deaf Institute, while we trooped to the Tiger Lounge. Robbie was there, and Champ too. We danced and drank and danced some more. It was - I think - a brilliant occasion. I think, because my drunken memories are vague... Karaoke at 3am... Chips... Another hangover approaching...?