It's the end of the year as we know it...

In two days it's another decade, and more importantly it's when I have another year off drinking.

So until now and then I intend to get wasted.

See you in the New Year peeps. Have a great one, and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Like be sober.

Hic! :)

Concatenation...

Life is always a bit hectic around Christmas. There's always too much to do in not enough time. Therefore it's quite acceptable to take some short cuts here and there to save a bit of time.

Especially, I may add, if you've just been in a city-centre Target on the day before Christmas Eve. A deeply unsettling experience where you can only tell the zombies shopping from the zombies working there by the lack of zombie motivation in the Target staff. It's remarkably similar to certain scenes in Romero's original Dawn of the Dead - only with many times more less healthy looking, ruder zombies.

It is at this point, when you've fled capitalism hell and are both waiting for a subway train to take you home, that short cuts are not needed.

Specifically, when reminded that we have to head towards Coney Island and not Manhattan, don't concatenate the sentence:

"Don't worry dear, I'm not stupid."

to

"Don't worry stupid."

This is apparently 'not appreciated' and I think that the fact it took my brain two seconds to work out what my mouth had said was the only reason I'm not under a N train right now :)


Anyway, Happy Christmas to you all and may you each consume an entire turkey. Apart from those of you that are veggies, in which case I hope an aubergine suffices...

That's disturbing...

Following on from my recent Belle de Jour small-world experience, you can imagine my delight when I had another such episode on Sunday afternoon.

For who should be lurking at Heathrow Terminal 3 all afternoon whilst I waited for my delayed flight to take-off?

Stalker girl.

Airports are not very big places when you're trying to avoid someone. Thankfully a batch of the Barmy Army (England cricket fans) were gathering for a flight to South Africa for the test series, so I grabbed a pint and talked about Graham Onion's batting average with some seriously dedicated supporters everytime she looked like she might be approaching.


All of the above is my polite way of saying that I'm in New York again and will be here until mid-January. I'll try and keep up with all your blogs (59 posts in 2 days? You guys must be *bored*) but my commenting might be a bit out of date.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out a way to cook a whole turkey in a frying pan...

Festive season advice...

While we're on the subject of yesterday's post, I found this to be quite pertinent:

A Christmas tip...

Should you happen to find yourself to be a small lady wearing a pink woolly hat, I would suggest that shouting across a busy metropolitan shopping centre - to a group of men getting a round in at a German market stall - that you require, and I quote :-

"HOT MAN JUICE!!"

is not the wisest thing you will ever do.



We got her a gluehwein anyway....

Bleurgh.

I've had flu for the last 5 days (not swine flu, I had that when it was less fashionable - this is normal flu which I'm packing in pre-Christmas to be a trendsetter) and I feel like shite, so this will be brief.

I'm off at the end of the week to NY for three weeks to see Mrs RS and celebrate Christmas. She absolutely loves it and I absolutely loathe it, so we've agreed some compromises in order that neither of us is infected with Bah Humbug.

One of our compromises is that I dislike getting presents, whereas Mrs RS rates receiving them somewhere between chocolate induced orgasms and a month old puppy - so we've settled on me supplying lots of presents for her. Lots of win.

Her main present is possibly the best present ever. If I told you what it was (which I can't because she reads this) then you would (if you knew what it was) agree it to be the sort of present that would truly show the depth of my affection (it's that good). Even better, it's being made by my fair hands. Fantastic - deeply meaningful, personal *and* self-made. Could I be a better boyfriend?

Don't answer that.

Anyway, I started this the moment I got back from my last trip and have purchased all the raw materials, power tools and equipment that I will require. I've spent just about every weekend on it, and have tried to squeeze in a short burst after work every night before it gets late enough for the polite neighbourly knock of doom. All in all, I've spent about 30 man hours making it.

Until last weekend, when a mere two hours from completion it broke.

When I say broke, I mean 'exploded into a thousand pieces', 'destroyed irrecoverably' and 'crushed beneath the cruel hammers of fate'. My deepest affection was basically shattered.

And no, it wasn't a shoulder-mounted firework launcher. Although one of those would be tres cool.

Thankfully, occasional commenter Alfaman stepped in with a suggestion and lo! Like a non-flaming, un-birdlike Phoenix - the present lives again! Enough was salvaged from the wreckage to construct something different but almost as good, and I shall feel less like I'm turning up with no presents at all. Mrs RS tells me that the visit is back on.

Ewww....

Ready to feel nauseated?

Yes? If not, feel free to click elsewhere right now.



Okay, whilst having a conversation last week with a colleague about diets (and - concerning mine - a conspicuous lack of vegetables therein), we touched on the subject of fast-food.

I confessed a mild craving for a Zinger Tower meal from KFC whenever I pass one, and he told me what his usual McDonalds order was.

Brace yourself...

2 Big Macs
1 Chicken Sandwich
3 Cheeseburgers
3 Large Fries

and if they have them:

1 Apple Pie for desert.

All eaten in one sitting. I think I'd have passed out from grease-sweats halfway through the second Big Mac myself...