Solace comes in many forms....Richmond's ineptitude in this case.

Today signals potentially the last day off for the remainder of May, and although this doesn't fill me with a particularly warm and fuzzy feeling, it should be a fairly challenging and interesting time, so I'll try and take away something positive from the experience. I'm sure that during this month, I'll struggle to find anything to take solace and comfort in, and with that in mind, I think it's a good time to stock up now.

Something that hasn't really given me a great deal of joy over the last few years is Football, and I'm talking about proper football, of the Australian Rules variety. The reason for the lack of joy is because my team, Geelong, are a bunch of under-achieving prats and have a tendency to lose to teams they have no business to, like the Bell Post Hill Reserves, for instance. However this weekend, all this changed! The lads went out and absolutely destroyed Richmond, which anyone who is not a fan of Richmond will agree is a very satisfying experience! The final scoreline was 222 - 65, which is a beautiful thing; great for the sport, my sanity and humanity in general.

When I originally read the scoreline, I didn't even re-check it, because I knew that with Richmond, anything's possible, so I started reading a few reviews of the game; and I was heartened to read that this bunch of Tigers are perhaps the most hopeless bunch for the last ten or so years. Because I'm living in London, I really don't get to see much (any) live football over here, so to say that I'm up to date and familiar with all the league players would be somewhat misleading. Actually, I'm not sure that I would be over-emphasising in saying that my grasp of the game - and indeed the specific players - right now is similar to the US grasp of Iraq.

I checked out the stats - as is my want - and not only did I notice that Richmond were destroyed there too (no surprise) but I noticed half a team of nobodies that I'd never heard of before, I mean seriously, who the hell are these guys?

Is the guys name really 'Cleve Hughes' or is he just the son of a butcher, or a character that was cut from one of the recent 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' films???

Perhaps they'd be better off with the cast of 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' anyway. I mean, I doubt Geelong's hoards of under twenties forwards would be so effective if 'Leatherface' was playing in the backline. I'd suggest that perhaps the Richmond selectors and recruiters re-think their strategy, but given the sustained ineptitude of all and sundry at RFC, I'm glad that we have one never-changing constant to keep our spirits aloft!

All I can say is, Richmond, thank-you!

On another note, I've found it weird seeing footballers changing their names. First up, I've got no idea why Jarrod Rooke is now 'Max', aside from the bollocks reasons stated and apparently there's no more 'Peter Bell', it's 'Peter F. Bell' and there's a 'Matthew J. Lloyd' running around for Essendon. What is up with all of this? It's almost more inexplicable than the frequency in which people ring my mobile when I'm in the middle of a bowel movement, but that's a whole other corollary right there, and probably something for another post.

Travel Notes from Poland...

About 18 months ago I meandered over to Krakow. I've included the projected itinerary vs the actual itinerary....

Projected:-

Friday PM - Fly London to Munich
Friday PM - Fly Munich to Krakow
Friday PM - Meet BTLC and catch up for ales
Friday PM - Sleep @ Nathan's Villa Hostel (Proper Bed), Krakow.

Saturday Day - Tour Auschwitz & Birkenau
Saturday PM - Tour Old Krakow
Saturday PM - Sample the local nightlife
Saturday PM - Sleep @ Nathan's Villa Hostel (Proper Bed), Krakow.

Sunday AM - Finish Krakow & surrounding areas
Sunday PM - Fly Krakow to Frankfurt
Sunday PM - Fly Frankfurt to London (Lufthansa)

Actual:-

Friday PM - Fly London through the greatest turbalence ever,
Friday PM - Unable to land in Munich, circle for 40 minues,
Friday PM - Running out of fuel, flee to Nuremburg
Friday PM - Get stuck on the tarmac @ Nuremburg in massive storm
Friday PM - Beer runs out on Lufthansa flight
Friday PM - Refuelling takes an additional 45 minutes
Saturday AM - Arrive in Munich - No more flights
Saturday AM - Baggage services stop, luggage somewhere in Munich airport
Saturday AM - Told we have to stay in Munich
Saturday AM - Told there are no direct flights to Krakow later in the day
Saturday AM - Told a connecting flight in Warsaw is required
Saturday AM - Consider assaulting Lufthansa staff
Saturday AM - Arrive (230am) at hotel on outskirts of Munich
Saturday AM - Set off for Munich airport (630am)
Saturday AM - Arrive Munich airport
Saturday AM - Told that luggage 'should be' on the flight
Saturday AM - Take off on Lot airlines to Warsaw
Saturday AM - Arrive Warsaw International gates
Saturday AM - Cant get through to domestic flights
Saturday AM - Still can't get through
Saturday PM - Flight to board soon
Saturday PM - Almost to domestic flights
Saturday PM - Get through, run like buggery, get to domestic flights
Saturday PM - Flight's delayed
Saturday PM - Still waiting in departures
Saturday PM - Get the boarding call an hour late
Saturday PM - Get on transit (bus) to the plane,
Saturday PM - Plane has PROPELLORS!!!!! Wtf?
Saturday PM - Arrive in Krakow
Saturday PM - Happy days!
Saturday PM - Where's our luggage?
Saturday PM - Told it will be there at midnight....handy!
Saturday PM - Find transport to hostel
Saturday PM - Our beds have been given away
Saturday PM - Buy replacement clothes
Saturday PM - Check out old Krakow
Saturday PM - Buy alcohol
Saturday PM - Drink alcohol
Saturday PM - Continue consumption
Sunday AM - Hopes soar heading to hostel
Sunday AM - Luggage is there!!! Richard's at least!
Sunday AM - Rage about my luggage not having arrived
Sunday AM - Send abusive drunk emails to friends and random people (I know you're surprised at this)
Sunday AM - Head to bed (5am)
Sunday AM - Wake up with only a few hours opportunity to head to Auschwitz/Birkenau
Sunday AM - Find out my luggage is in Frankfurt (nice work there)
Sunday AM - Make it clear to staff that they need to ensure that my luggage remains in Frankfurt
Sunday AM - Make the mistake of letting Richard navigate
Sunday AM - Do a ridiculous 30 minute circuit, ending up back LITERALLY where we start
Sunday AM - Return to hostel
Sunday AM - Catastrophe, one of the biggest craps in history, no toilet paper.
Sunday AM - Make do...
Sunday AM - Get back on track, heading for bus stop
Sunday AM - Bus from Krakow to Oswicz
Sunday AM - Auschwitz/Birkenau lightning tour
Sunday PM - Bus back to Krakow
Sunday PM - Running out of time
Sunday PM - Running to the hostel, time runs faster
Sunday PM - Hungover, knackered, running from hostel to tram/bus
Sunday PM - An hour until flight, still waiting for bus
Sunday PM - Bus = 40-50 minutes (Minimum)
Sunday PM - Hail a cab
Sunday PM - Make mistake of using the words 'airport really fast' and ommitting the word 'safely'
Sunday PM - Watch helplessly as cab ploughs through a pedestrien crossing
Sunday PM - Point out a mother and pram about to be killed by crazy cab driver
Sunday PM - Get stuck behind worlds slowest driver and cops
Sunday PM - Realise the plane is due to depart in 30 minutes
Sunday PM - Beginning hyperventilating (ok, not really)
Sunday PM - Arrive at Krakow Airport
Sunday PM - Notice that everyone else in Poland is at Krakow Airport
Sunday PM - Pull the 'I'm Australian, I dont speak Polish or understand queues' routine
Sunday PM - Jump 175 spots in the queue - a new Polish record
Sunday PM - Get stuck behind a dumbar$e family sendoff at passport control
Sunday PM - Feel the urge to maim grow rapidly
Sunday PM - Run into departures
Sunday PM - Find out that the plane is late
Sunday PM - Miss another connecting flight
Sunday PM - Arrive in Frankfurt
Sunday PM - Find out that my luggage has been sent to Krakow, via Warsaw
Sunday PM - Watch BTLC get felt up by a chubby german guy at the airport
Sunday PM - Catch a BA flight to London

To understate things, it could have been a bit smoother or simpler, but such is life.

On the positive side, Krakow is a magnificent place, it's cheap as chips and if you are unmoved going to a place like Auschwitz or Birkenau, then I'd be very surprised. Amazing place, and one I need to go back to some day, that's for sure.

After the Polish incident it took a few more days before I received my luggage, as it went to Krakow, then back to Frankfurt. MUPPETS!!!

And so the jingle has changed...

"Football, meat pies, kangaroos and holden cars" There was a time when we Australians had simple tastes, footballers were 'ordinary' people and social justice wasn't necessarily an idyllic concept. My question is this; what's going on with the West Coast Eagles, and why are we suddenly surprised and interested in the events that have recently unfolded, or at least been reported.

In the early 1990's they were all on the juice, but the dominant drug of choice wasn't cocaine or 'Ice', rather performance enhancing drugs - making it absolutely no surprise that Worsfold just happened to be a 'Pharmacist', no doubt the perfect choice to take over the reins a few years later.

These days however, with ridiculous salaries being thrown around to kids in their early 20's, an ability for a Football club to keep any transgressor out of jail and a high society thriving on the illegal debauchery on offer, there's really no other route for these guys to take, is there?

Recently there was a number of surveys completed in London; one which sampled bank notes for traces of Cocaine and another that sampled sewage for traces of said class A narcotic - the results were somewhat staggering, well somewhat staggering if you haven't lived or partied in London. Otherwise, they're probably not particularly startling at all, but anyway....

Over 99% of bank notes have traces of Cocaine and it's estimated that water level traces indicate that over 150,000 lines of Cocaine are consumed every day and that 20% of Londoners freely admit to having taken Cocaine. Now typically there wouldn't necessarily be a link here, but if you've lived here, in South Africa or Perth, you'd see two very prominant links; Cocaine and a shit-load of South Africans. Sure, this may seem a bit far fetched, but have a think about it for a moment; the rise of the Eagles started to coincide with the South African exodus! Am I stark-raving mad? Absolutely!

But if you're earning 100s of thousands of dollars, you only have to work a few hours a week, your employer keep you out of trouble, your union ensure that you're anonymity is kept - even if you do test positive to Class A drugs that would otherwise have every day Joe in court, and there's a three strike policy to preserve 'putting the game into disrepute', tell me you're not going to be lining up the powder and giving the white-stuff a bit of a snort?!

What's more, it's really farcical that Ben Cousins is being used as the figurehead in this 'war on drugs' in the AFL, because it's a pretty well-known fact that he's been a fan of the Bolivian Marching Powder for many years, it's only now - when the Eagles have given up trying to control or censor him - that he's being thrown to the wolves. How come we didn't see him being thrown under the bus as he was winning a Brownlow or leading the Eagles to their 2006 Premiership? Simple stuff really, it's all about business these days and damage control of the product. Too late for Benny now!

I'd hate to think what would happen if they tested sportsmen over here in London, I'm sure that most teams would struggle to field a team, but that is another story entirely!

Two words: Robbie Fowler http://youtube.com/watch?v=czc5vKu5wqg

Resemblences - those I don't care for!

It’s been awhile since the last entry, but that’s more due to the fact that I’ve been busy, than the fact that I’ve got nothing to say or write about. The reason for me being so busy is quite simple, it’s because of a big fkn stadium and the associated work involved.

One thing that’s quite weird about work at the minute is that because I’m one of the few people that’s actually moved into the stadium, I’m subject to these weird fire alarms and an awkward tendency by the security staff to lock the office toilets very early in the evening – usually around 6PM.

Typically, this by itself wouldn’t perturb me, but for some reason it means that I have to use the disabled toilets, and it’s here where the anomalies start to crop up. Now, we’ve all been into a disabled toilet, but have you been into one in the last year or so? I mean a modern one?!

What the hell is going on in the world of the disabled these days and why do they use toilets that have more gadgets, levers, buttons and pulleys than a space shuttle. Seriously, I struggled to work out how the flush the thing! Is this the sign that I’m getting old or what? I have more troubles operating a toilet than I do modern-day technology.

I’ve also got another beef with Eastern Europeans! Another friend of mine accused me of reminding her of Chandler from ‘Friends’, what’s all that about?! I mean there are many mind-boggling and unexplainable things in the world, but me reminding someone of Chandler?! It couldn’t get any worse than this, right? Surely not, right?

Well it could get worse, it could get a lot worse.

Tuesday night, having a beer with a mate at a local pub, talking to a waitress when some random guy walks over and just stares at me, then points and says “you look like Mr. Bean!”.

If life wasn’t going so well right now, I’d really think that I’d have hit rock bottom, but it is, so it hasn’t.

2007 - The Year of Living Randomly...

Apparently, this year is the year of the Pig, and although I'm not the most innocent individual wandering the streets, I don't believe that I fall into the porker character, and rather than living in the year of the Pig, it's far more fitting to be living in the year of random-ness, because that is far more fitting.

We've only just hit March, so being only two months into the year, we haven't truly reached the pinnacle of our random potential, but in no particular order, 10 random things to date....

1. A good friend told me I look like Chandler from 'Friends',
2. A telemarketer telling me to fuck off,
3. Constant dreams in which I'm working as a 'fence' in Central Africa,
4. The realisation that very few drunk people know the square root of 225,
5. Being mocked by the English after they won One Day cricket
6. 'Whip it' --- Devo,
7. Dressing as a Venus fly-trap for fancy dress,
8. Singing 'It's raining men' whilst running scantily clad, up/down the street,
9. Joining a running club,
10. Meeting a Mongolian tour guide who takes English tours in Spain.

Random movie - 'Blood Diamond',

Random song - Fill My Little World -- The Feeling

It's going to be a big year, and one incredibly different than what I'd imagine 6 months ago.

May your own random moments bring you random joy.

World Cup - Tragedy in the making

Over the years, I've made some bold predictions about a number of Australian players and teams that have gone to battle in Cricket, and for most part I've been pretty much on the money, but one that I got wrong was Andrew Symonds, whose selection so angered me that I contemplated boycotting watching the games. Now, although the Australian team may not have felt my wrath had I carried out my threat, I was still pissed that Symonds got the call, and even when he single-handedly saved Australia from an embarrassing exit, I wasn't particularly contrite.

However, this world cup squad that has been assembled really fills me with dread, and I'm hoping that my doomsday blog entry will be enough to enrage the sporting gods and reverse our fortunes, which recently has been mired between 'downright putrid' and 'fucking awful'. So without further ado, onto my thoughts about the farcical squad that's been named to defend our title over there in the Carribean.

Ricky Ponting (Captain)
Arguably the finest batsman in the world, an improving Captain and a brilliant fielder.

Nathan Bracken
Averages around 22 with the ball in ODI's, but needs to stop being belted for six with rank full-tosses when the game's to be one. Selects himself with his average, but a little overated.

Stuart Clark
I'm still not sure why this guy didn't go New Zealand, perhaps he's seen as being too predictable?! At least he can land the ball within 4 feet of where he's aiming, the same can't exactly be said for the other Australians who were masquerading as bowlers in the 'Hadlee-Chappell' series, or whatever the hell it was.

Michael Clarke
It would be nice if Clarke could stand up for a change and show some consistency. With Martin out of the way, he's an automatic selection, but might actually need to get his act together and take the next step.

Adam Gilchrist
I would have personally induced his wife to make sure he was on the plane and available for the whole tournament.

Brad Haddin
I met this guy at the 'Embankment Walkabout' and he was a tool. He pulled the 'I play for Australia' card when I opined aloud that I thought Brett Lee was a wanker. When I informed him that I didn't really care who he was, he proceeded to show me his drivers license! Tool! Australian selectors, hang your head, wasted selection.

Matthew Hayden
Pretty safe selection, the type of guy that can win a game for you. 181* wasn't a bad knock, showed that there's 'still stuff left in the basement'.

Brad Hodge
I'll be honest here, Hodge gives me the absolute shits! He's batted 13 times; 2 x ducks, 4 scores under 10, 12, 13, 22, 49, 59, 97* & 99*. He'll either fail big time, or go close to winning a match. Seems like a poor man's Andrew Symonds to me, what's the point?

Brad Hogg
Even though he looks like 'MacGuyver' who I went to university with, I can't handle this selection. Yeah, he's not a bad fielder, he can swing the bad, he's not awful with the ball, but at 36 and with no real match-winning dynamic in his bones, he seems like another wasted selection.

Mike Hussey
All hail the great man! Pity he had to lead the rabble in New Zealand, but I guess someone had to. He didn't deserve that 'honour', it should have gone to Chris Matthews or someone.....

Mitchell Johnson
Everyone's in love with left armers and although he bowled alright in the Champions Trophy, I don't think 4-226 in his last four matches (incl. 3-81 off 10 in his last match) indicate that he's at the peak of his powers. If it does, then we're really screwed. Again, 8.1 runs an over in his last game, 1-145 the previous 3 games.

Glen McGrath
I'll be honest, I didn't agree with his selection initially, but given the efforts shown by the rest of our bowling stocks, I think he's got to be in there.

Andrew Symonds
I've written him off before in the world cup, and I'll think I'll do it again, hopefully with similar results! He's been pretty ordinary with the bat for over 12 months needs to deliver, but he is probably Australia's best fieldsman and is a handy bowler, so a no-brainer selection.

Shaun Tait
I met him at the 'Walkabout' with Haddin, and he wasn't nearly as bad a bloke as Haddin! I think he's a little bit too raw, but one of the few who might cause some problems on West Indian pitches. When I saw his selection, I almost threw up, but not it's a little more palatable (his selection, not my vomit).

Shane Watson
I'll be surprised if he doesn't get injured between now and the world cup, I'm sure that his bones are made of chalk! He's been touted as the saviour of Australian cricket for the last two years.... perhaps the world cup is his opportunity. Then again, with returns of 2-88 off of ten overs in his last hit out, probably not!

Diabolical selections...
Brad Haddin
Brad Hogg
Mitchell Johnson

Borderline at best...
Brad Hodge
Shaun Tait

Gutted to be injured...
Brett Lee

A third of the squad questionable, with three players seemingly completely out of their depth!

What's 'tall poppy' syndrome anyway??

Running, but not quite on empty!

It’s been a pretty crappy week or so for me in the sporting realm, with not only Liverpool getting their arses handed to them by Newcastle, Australia inexplicably losing to the rancid Poms, the Lakers losing to Isaiah Thomas’ horrendous Knicks and still no sign of Tom Hawkins on the horizon for the Cats. Now in an effort to purge my sporting frustration, I’ve decided that I’m seriously going to continue my running in a dual-edged attempt to get fit and to use as an outlet to channel my sporting frustrations. The concept of me and a ‘running club’ is almost comical, but I tell you, two weeks in, it’s looking good.

The typical plan is to do a circuit or two around Regents Park and then when we’re at the point of exhaustion, we chip in and cook up a feast. The first two weeks have been green curry laksa and roast vegetables. Running, with the motivation of good food at the end of it, I should have tried this years ago.

 We tend to meander along at a nice consistent pace, and although we aren’t likely to break any speed records, our first two runs (5km and 6.4km) are a far better return than my typical Wednesday night exercise – walking from the tube station! Next week, the distance is expected to be 7.5kms, ramping it up to 10kms by the end of March. If you told me 12 months ago that I’d be doing 10km runs around Regents Park on a weekly basis, I’d have called the men in the white coats.

What’s more, for the first time in living memory, I’m actually genuinely motivated to exercise. Seriously!

It’s interesting what you can use to help motivate you, and how it’s easy to lose sight of what’s important. I’m thankful that I didn’t, and I’m hopeful that others don’t as well, but above all else, I’m thankful of the friends I have. Outstanding!

Anyway, a slightly philosophical end to what’s really a grievance against the recent form of my sporting teams, but hey, what can you do?! You’d think that being Valentines day, I’d have a slightly more interesting story to tell. Not this time, and not in the near future either, but at least I’ve got my running for now.  :-)

Another day in ye olde London town.

I arrived in sunny London just under two years ago (Feb 23, 2005) and not too long after I arrived, I came down with mumps, which – if you’ve happened to read my thoughts on the subject – you’ll note was not my finest hour. One thing that I missed during this particular time (aside from normal sized testicles) was my National Insurance Number interview. In the UK, you’re required to get a NI number, and it’s a key requirement for both health services and taxation reasons, but given the physical state that I was in at the time, I was unable to attend my interview, and rather than organise an alternate time date, I let things slip by the wayside, as I so often do with anything remotely linked to tax.

For the next few months after, I was in a constant state of travel and I think there was a three month stretch where I wasn’t in the country for a full fortnight without jaunts overseas. Consequently, the whole National Insurance chestnut slipped my mind until just recently when some random casual payroll woman demanded to know where my NI number was. First up, I was going to tell her to smeg off, when I realised that I actually didn’t have one yet, and I’d been in the UK for the better part of two years. Normally this wouldn’t worry me, but given that if I didn’t get my act together my company was soon to be fined – and I’d probably be given the arse, I decided that the best course of action was to finally get off my ever-increasing backside and try and sort something out with regards to an NI number.

I got in touch with NINO (not sure if related to El Nino at all) in order to schedule another interview to try and get myself sorted out with an NI number, thinking that it would probably take a few days to organise something and he comes back with, “Ok, we have an appointment on February 29th and then the next one on March 13th”. Typically, I’m not necessarily the sharpest guy around, but unless I’ve unknowingly been in a coma for a year (like the Geelong football club have been for the last 40 or so) this isn’t a leap year. I asked him – half seriously – if I really had to wait until next year for an appointment, because I thought that was bang out of order. He indicated that, “No, it’s roughly two weeks away….” Yesterday was the 5th! Rather than getting into debate with this Mensa leader, I asked if there were any alternate locations where I could possibly have an interview, that wouldn’t require me to wait “roughly two weeks” nor that would take place in a leap year.

After a few minutes of consulting something (I’m guessing he was reading tea leaves at this point) I was informed that there were several vacancies at the Camden office, which happens to only be about 45 minutes away from work. This sounded good! Not as good as Hugh Heffner throwing me the keys to the estate for a month-long free-for-all, but good news nonetheless.
So I organise to leave work early today, and I end up heading towards Camden town and arrive in the office at 3:59PM for my 4:00PM appointment and as I walk in the door a woman asks if “there’s anyone for a 4:00PM interview”, to which I indicate I’m such inclined, so she; asks me my name, finds a form with my name on it, then sighs and carries on for 2 minutes without breath complaining how she can’t find my name on the register, and it’s not good enough and……and at this point I tuned out, stared at her blankly and said in a tone Dolph Lundgren would have been proud of “where do I need to go now?” That seemed to snap her out of her near hysterics, and she told me to report to the reception desk on level one. Easy peasy, I can handle this.

I wander upstairs to the first floor and I encounter an absolute shambles!
There must have been people from every country in the world in the room, except Slovenia – but purely because that’s a fairytale make believe country that doesn’t really exist! I shit you not, there was representation from everywhere, and that was just the staff working there!! There was even an Albino! Fortunately, he was there for an NI number and wasn’t chasing the Holy Grail, so there was less for me to be concerned about.
I grabbed a seat and settled in, expecting a bit of a wait.

At 5:15 I get the call, after listening to some Eastern European guy struggle for 30 minutes trying to understand the questions that were being thrown at him. I was getting more frustrated than the interviewer having to endure listening to it, and what’s more I was dead last to be interviewed. Usually, in other situations this is either really good or really bad, but at this point I couldn’t give a shit, I just wanted to get things over and done with so that I could think about heading home! My ‘interview’ took 7 minutes. Record time! And for the first time since I’ve been here, I really thought that the UK should not be a part of the EU, it just makes life so much slower and harder for us Southern Hemispherians, and let’s face it, it’s all about us!

A sign of the times...

I used to watch a lot of television as a kid, but it wasn't until I lived purely off TV, movies and the internet around the time that I was at university that I truly immersed myself in the wonders on show.

During this time we watched pretty much everything that we could, and it was prior to the explosion of the shit that clogs up our screens these days...reality TV, but let's for the moment live in Utopia and pretend that type of shit still doesn't exist.

During these days, we'd get a group of guys together, head down the local video store and hire 10 movies, then proceed to lock ourselves in a room and drink copious amounts of booze watching some of the most bizarre movie combinations - and indeed movies - in history.

To this day, I can still remember some of the absolute beauties that we watched in those days, two of which spring directly to mind...

1. Mutronics,
2. Robot Jox.

I doubt there's more than a handful of people that have seen both of these movies, and yes, there's a reason why.

I also recall - with both fondness and embarrasment - that we watched Rocky I - Rocky V in rapid succession, only pausing to change the tape or to take a piss. Many will argue that Rocky V never happened, but I can assure you there were five movies watched on this bizarre night.

Why am I reminiscing about some weird and wonderful times spent in front of the box? Simple really, I watched the second film in a row starring Leonardo Di Caprio and managed to finish my viewing without a) vomiting, b) wanting to punch him in the face and c) offering my soul to the devil to take me away from the viewing pain.

To say that I've never appreciated Leonardo's work would be akin to saying that Hitler never appreciated the Jewish people, and although I never thought to commit genocide - or indeed to use such an inappropriate analogy - it's fair to say that I usually avoided any movie with 'Leo' in it. I mean, have you even seen 'Titanic'? I'm not sure which was more disasterous, the original ship or the movie.

When I heard that 'The Departed' was coming out, I was actually checking the movie listings daily to see when it started at my local cinema - even though Di Caprio had landed a leading role. And you know what? I was impressed! However, after the film had finished, I rationalised that I was impressed because he hadn't totally sucked, and because everyone else in the movie was so bloody good, that it was easy to overlook his shitty acting. I mean really, even Mark Wahlberg was entertaining!!!! Yes, read that last sentence again, and no, I haven't actually sold my soul to the devil.

So I recently see a trailer for 'Blood Diamond' and it shows Di Caprio as a bit of an action guy, and although I giggle to myself, picturing him standing at the bow of a computer generated boat, I'm willing to check it out, because being a cinema member, these are the types of risks we take. I was also interested in the actual backdrop of the movie along with the main plot and a few sub-plots.

Now this isn't the first movie that I've seen in 2007 (I've seen Smoking Aces, Miss Potter and something else that I've already forgotten), but I've got to tell you that 'Blood Diamond' is something that I rate. Really enjoyed every aspect of the film.

So there it is in a nutshell, I'm now able to enjoy a film with Leo in it, but perhaps this is just yet another reason for me to go and add to a post from many months ago listing a number of reasons that could indicate that I am gay.

And no, because I've got a rainbow coloured bumper sticker that says, 'I love having balls in front of my face' does not make me gay! Referring to Di Caprio as 'Leo' however, well that might just be the straw that broke the Camel's back....... I'll let you decide.

Check the movie out though, it's well worth it.

Australia Day Eve...

Have had a pretty shit week at work; one of the deadlines that I've been working for (Feb. 12) was 
unexpectedly brought forward to January 31.  This did not make my week, and it's one of the reasons why it's taken me so long to put something on the blog this week, that and the fact that I'm a lazy and unmotivated smeg, for most part.  So I've decided to give you a quick insight into my day, as I'm already trying to forget the earlier part of the week.

The day got off to a pretty sloppy start, and because I'd been up half the night helping my mother out with computer stuff, I was dead tired and consequently hit the 'snooze' button a few too many times.  Fortunately, my first meeting was 9:30, so my 9:28 arrival to the office was - amongst other things - timely.

The first meeting was about training, and unfortunately my general "how fucking hard it is, why do these muppets need training" approach doesn't quite wash it, and I need to at least attempt to be a little more professional in these environments, but my meeting scared me, and after it at ended there was more apprehension as to our ability to deliver what's required.  Fortunately - for everyone - I'm actually not going to be training people.  Perhaps with this in mind, we do stand a chance after all!!!

A nice curveball was thrown at me, getting quotations for housing servers and applications and these types of exciting things, but since I was getting nowhere fast trying to obtain quotes from the various groups I'd spoken to, I was forced to engage in the help of 'google' and then start ringing people asking about there services.

Now generally speaking, i don't like talking to people unless I know them, they're interesting or I'm really, really drunk and there's a chance they might know of a party somewhere else, so calling a bunch of people and discussing server co-location and begging for indicative costings was not something that i really wanted to do for a minute, let alone the two hours that I ended up doing it for.

Because I'm such a good bloke and karma is always positive around me, the following task was a 3 hour site visit inside Wembley stadium, where I had to not only discuss the operational environments of the hospitality areas, but attempt to map out where things had ended up, and contemplate suicide given their actual locations versus their expected locations.  As Dennis Leary so aptly put it, "this is gonna suck!"

Yeah, three hour site visit.  Good one!  Sometimes I love being me!

Finished the work-day off by organising my transport to Norwich for tomorrow's festivities.  I'm heading up to visit my cousin, whose organised a night out with some of her friends.  Should be a good night, will be great catching up because she's a cool chick, will get to see another city and also meet some more people.  It's good to keep busy now, and given that work is almost all consuming, it will be one of the last times for awhile.

Tonight I was that sick of scrounging around the kitchen trying to create a masterpiece with the likes of an onion, some plain flour and some sesame seeds, that I decided that I'd head down the local High Road to my favourite London Indian establishment.  The place is called 'Kurdiris' and they do probably the finest Rogan Josh that I've ever sampled.  Sure, I paid £9.20 for take away, but at the end of the day, when you love food as much as I do, and it tastes as good as this curry, it's well worth the expense.

DJD decided to have some Chinese duck dish, and no, that's not a euphamism.

Actually, try saying that ten times really quickly.....

Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish
Chinese duck dish

I cut'n'pasted it, so that's really not a substitute.

Anyway, we're having dinner in the lounge-room and we're talking about stupid old television shows, movies and bad things of the 1980's and I remember Alby Mangles.  Alby Mangles was that dumbarse that used to make the 'World Safari' 'movies'.  If you don't know of him, then maybe you should.

Now I'm guessing that my mate DJD never had the fortune of watching any of the 'World Safari' movies...

"Wasn't she in 'Neighbours'"?

Now for those of you confused as the the identities, i've thrown something below for you to consider.  The not-so-great man, Alby Mangles.



I'm still somewhat unclear as to why he wasn't considered one of Australia's greatest sons, but he's a little different to the following hottie....



I guess you had to be there.

Needless to say, given yet more insight into the frightening individual that DJD, I definitely showed some bravery letting DJD cut my hair.  

At this point you'd think that I've hit rock bottom, but the fact that I'm sitting on the toilet typing this would probably usurp it.  The only thing worse would have been if I titled this 'Blog of a log', but I have some class..... obviously.

Have a great Australia Day.

Sunday recovery

Massive weekend has just come to an end, and part of me is welcoming the sobering prospect of work and a week of healthy living, because the last few days have been, in a word, hectic. Kicked off Friday night catching up with some mates for a birthday dinner. It all started off fairly soberly, with a few quiet ales in Clapham, but that soon changed later on in the evening due to a rendezvous with some other mates and a trip to a local Cricklewood establishment. After many beers, the final result was a 3am souvlaki and a bit of a sleep in.

Saturday afternoon brought some delirium in the form of a Liverpool victory over Chelsea, which aided the recovery process no end. By 7pm we were back into the swing of it, exchanging the beers and snakebites of Friday night for vodka and some horrible 58 pence soft drink that DJD has a tendency to buy from Sainsburys.

It wasn't too long before we found some effects, and we headed off to another mate's place, smashed down a few more bevvies, and headed to Piccadilly, to a high class establishment just off of Shaftsbury Avenue.

Prior to entering, we played as American tourists, getting some photos of Eros. Happy days.

We got ourselves in and began to get what is probably classified as 'very fucking drunk'. There was some fantastic dancing, including the crowd favourite, 'The Fruit-picker' which was once again an out and out success.

Ordering drinks was perhaps the toughest thing to achieve effectively, but we didn't let that stop our purposeful march towards inebriation. No, sir! We most certainly didn't.

There were countless interesting occurrences, although the one failure we will not omit here is the distinct lack of mathematical acumen within the place. People didn't even know their 15 times table. It's a crazy world that we all live in.

In the end, we all ended up back from whence we came at around 5am. Yet another successful sortie into Central London.

After some heavy slumber, bed was the scene for the recovery, being vacated at around 6pm, just in time to enable us to head to catch a movie. 'Which movie?' I hear you ask.... It was Balboa, or as some people know it, Rocky VI.

A big slow, a bit gratuitous, but hey, it rests easier than Rocky V, that's for sure.

A new beginning of sorts....

I doubt that I'll be able to get into the second paragraph before I start trivialising important things in my life and get aboard the self-deprecating train and castigate myself purely for the sake of it, but anyway, here are a couple of thoughts - and serious ones at that - which have been circulating in my head for the last few weeks.

Now, without getting into any personal or explicit details, it's fair to say that the last month has probably been the hardest of my life, certainly my adult life. It's been by far more mentally and emotionally draining than it has physically, but as anyone will tell you, the pain of the mind and the soul hurts far more.

I'm pretty much out the other side now, and although there are going to be some scars there for the rest of my life, I'm actually thankful - to a degree - that I've been through this. It's really confirmed so many things that I thought I knew about myself and others, and it's taught me countless other things, not that I'm trying to be philosophical in any way, I'm just trying to move on.

One thing is for certain though, when you have friends and family around you of the calibre that I have, there's never any doubt that things will right themselves in the end.

This is probably a weird post, given that most people wont have any clue to what I'm referring to, but I'm sure I've written weirder. If not, then I've got something to aspire to.

-Me

Expressing yourself...

Since the Ashes whitewash, and the following 20-20 massacre, I keep hearing/reading of the media, former players and critics putting a lot of England's recent putridity down to one thing; the failure of their players to 'express themselves'.

Now, if I was to say that this is one of the biggest loads of shite that I've ever heard, I'd hardly be exaggerating. I think everyone's got it wrong here. I actually think that they are expressing themselves, and it's actually the expression that's the problem.

Each and every English player are screaming out "we're fucking rancid" and I think that is the problem.

Let's face it, when you give someone like Michael Vaughan an OBE and the rabble that follows him MBEs for winning two tests, maybe you need to look at the forms of expression that are evident within your society.

The English and their cricket team make me laugh.

Fortunately, I don't express myself.