Eclipse – Pink Floyd

I’ve had to crank up the requirements to post a comment here, it looks like the spammers are going nuts

Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here

It’s official, I’ve been made redundant. Fortunately I have 6 weeks payout, plus a month’s leave to be paid out, after that I have income protection insurance, so I’m not overly worried about starving on the streets just yet.

It’s very frustrating seeing an incompetent executive layer make some of the most retarded business decisions conceivable, especially in a company you genuinely enjoyed working for, surrounded by bright and interesting people. So for now, I feel liberated from the increasing levels of bullshit – never thought I’d be smiling after losing my job.

Alas, life’s journey continues. Maybe I’ll look at overseas employment for my next chapter.

Muse – Take a bow

I just found out that they’re reducing our team from 3 to 1. Chances are good that I’ll get the position, but just in case I’m now hunting for jobs, dusting off the CV and getting in touch with my recruitment agent.

I find out in a couple of weeks… September 11th actually, how ominous.

Only the music that’s in my head

They say that women tend to go for Mr Right Now and then later on go for Mr Right.

Why can’t they go for Mr Right, Now?

Roy Orbison – Crying

My cat Wesley was put down. He looked so peaceful in the box the vets returned him in. My parents house is eerie now, with no Duke and no Weasel playing good pet/bad pet with your bloodpressure.

I never thought it would go down like this – I’d always imagined that the kitten I got 11 years ago because the pattern of his fur matched my basketball shoes would be put down, several years from now, while I held him in my arms and said goodbye. Instead he was alone at the vets in Levin, and I was stuck in Wellington

You’ve probably noticed a lack of updates lately, it’s because for the last few weeks I’ve been getting up in the morning, coughing up a lung and then blowing half my brain out of my nose. I’ve been crippled by migraines, shortness of breath, over-productive coughing and the general feeling of fatigue – that grogginess that lets you know that you’re fighting an infection.

Turns out I’m fighting bronchitis this time. Oh joy. Needless to say the drugs I’m on to ease the symptoms are making me phase in and out of focus and conciousness, so things might be a little weird for the next week or so…

Concord Dawn – Broken Eyes

I’m angry again. Yesterday I attended the funeral service for Alessandra Joy, the baby girl of my friends Brick and Pop, who had passed away after 13 days of fighting some complications. It was a beautiful service, and I’ll never be able to listen to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s Over the Rainbow without thinking of that service.

Now, there are two reasons for my ire this time.

1) It’s unfair.

I am sick of seeing superficial hoe-bag women strutting about with prams, ignoring their children, latte in one hand and cellphone furiously txt’ing away in the other while wearing those super-goggle fake D&G sunglasses which have one advantage: It helps you to pick the morons out from the crowd. These ignored children, I sadly have to say, are increasingly often too old to be in a pram as well. I am not a parent, but I know that once a child can toddle, you get them toddling. Once a child can walk, you get them walking. Their bodies and personalities need to develop and they need to engage with the world around them ASAP to do so properly. If they don’t, they’re bound to grow up lazy and expecting everything to be on a silver platter. Regardless, I still feel sorry for these kids, as they are little more than fashion items used by wannabe idiots to prove they can breed.

Pop and Brick, on the other hand, have no such materialistic drive and genuinely deserve to be parents.

2) After the funeral we retired to the Upper Hutt Cosmopolitan Club, hoo-hoo, and we were beginning to warm up into some drunken debauchery with a couple of beer maids. My younger brother, Tamati, was getting a little rowdy and poured our drinks a little too fast without angling the glasses – resulting in, you guessed it, too much froth. Instead of leaving them to settle like he was told, he sucked the froth off.

Now, for those of you who don’t know what happens when you drink beer froth, it enters your stomach and bubbles and expands, leaving you feeling bloated and gassy. It’s also not a pleasant liquid to drink so you’ll feel sick too. Usually you can burp the gas away and you’re fine, sometimes though when you burp some bile and other stomach matter can follow through, probably due to a pressure change that I’m very sure would interest a physicist or biological scientist.

This is what happened to Tamati, even though we’d pointed out to him the close proximity of the Gentlemen’s room. And who was in the firing line of this otherwise impressive powerchuck? You guessed it.

Getting kicked out of the Upper Hutt Cosmopolitan Club at 5.30pm would usually be considered either a badge of honour or a badge of being an extreme loser. If it was any other day I wouldn’t care, because the Upper Hutt Cossie can go and get fucked, especially the bouncer who kicked me out for being thrown up on (after, of course, accusing me of being the vomitter.) However, this was a day where I was there to support my friends who had lost their baby girl. It was completely the wrong place and time to be biffing, and subsequently the rest of my night was ruined. By the time I had caught up with Brick and Pop in the early hours of this morning, I had polished off half a bottle of Jack Daniels but was still sobering up, I simply didn’t have it in me to drink the amount of alcohol required to catch up, so I jumped in a taxi and went home.

*sigh* Yet another reason to move to France.