Ramdom letters put together to form some sort of sense

So my stay in Carlisle is nearly at an end. I shall be embarking on the 18:14 train at the station to arrive in Liverpool around 20:45. I have kept my spending quite minimal, which was of course the purpose of the trip. But I get paid again next week, which will go some way towards paying off my overdraft, credit card, parents somewhat - although there is a very long way to go. Bugger!

Last night I indulged myself with Heineken and white chocolate maltesers, whilst watching some Champions League football. I nice quiet evening in, but I know of far better ways to spend my evenings. Get that plane ticket booked Lyla. Or indeed nick Joel's! I need to know soon what his plans are.

How on earth am I meant to get up at 7:30 tomorrow, when for the last week the earliest I have arisen has been 10:00? I also know that work tomorrow will be a pain in the arse as I will have to try and catch up with as many applicants as possible, but only in between driving around Liverpool city centre taking people on viewings. I must also get some food in my house. So many trivial things to do, so little will to get them done.

I must also try and make friends in Liverpool. My university friends aren't going to be there forever. My colleagues can be considered friends I suppose, and that's pretty much all there is. Then again, having friends is an expensive business, perhaps I should become a hermit, only until I find my financial feet of course. My Playstation will keep me company until people can be considered an afforadble option.

I might apply for a part-time position in Saskatoon now, as a leasing agent. I can do that. In fact, I do that, just not in Saskatoon.

There will be more random ramblings when I have access to the internet again. I hope you have enjoyed another rare insight into the workings of my deviant mind, and if yiou haven't, then you can just, you know. Fuck off!

Sly pints, balls and crisp sarnies

For the attention of Daniella:

A sly pint - this is the same as a cheeky pint. It is a pint (of ale) that one has when one knows you shouldn't really have it. In my situation I had been drinking the previous night. Around 1pm the following afternoon I decided to have a sly pint to perk me up. Not that I need alcohol to function in any way, shape or form. In fact Lyla has said on many occasions that alcohol affects me in certain adverse ways! Still, with a bit of concentration I can get the job done.*

Today, much the same as yesterday minus the productivity. The sport of kings is now on television (Snooker World Championships). Just to clarify, snooker is played with more balls than pool and on a much larger table (12ftx6ft) with smaller pockets. The object of the game is to score as many points as your opponent. At the start of a 'frame' there are 15 red (1), yellow (2), green (3), brown (4), blue (5), pink (6) and black (7) balls on the table. The number in brackets is the score that each pocketed ball is worth. In order to 'pot' a colour a red ball ball must first be 'potted.' Then if successful in the 'potting' of a colour a red ball must then be 'potted' and so on and so forth. Once all the reds have been 'potted' the colours are then 'potted' in ascending order of their points value. None of you are interested, although saying that I think that L might be. Just might.

Tomorrow night I'll be heading back down to the 'Pool. So there'll be one more blog and then probably nothing for a while as I can't get hold of a computer for love nor money in Liverpool. But once the phone line is installed in my flat and thus t'internet I can start blogging daily. Yay!

The last couple of days I have had salt and vinegar pringle sandwiches for lunch. The phenomenon of a crisp sarnie might be beyond the comprehension of the people that brought us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but believe me they are tasty, try it. Also try making your own chips (proper fat chips, deep-fried and then put them in-between two slices of buttered bread with a bit of ketchup. Take heed people, this is culture English style.

* ..."job done." This means 'ejaculate.'

Tiredness, hair-splitting and suck this bitch...

Today I have done nothing. Last night I slept for ten hours - the amount of sleep I have been getting recently is astonishing, considering that I haven't really been exerting myself too much. I'm quite sickened by the amount of sleep I've been getting, then again, it's only because I've got nothing to get up for.

When I say I've been doing nothing today, what I actually mean is that for the most part I have spent my time on the internet applying for jobs all over Canada, and when I say all over I actually mean Edmonton, Vancouver and Ottawa - no employers in Sasaktoon want me (if only they knew how much I actually like the place!) That is not meant to sound tongue-in-cheek, I do actually like the place. Honest!

The Blues won yesterday people, that means we only need one point from the last four games to secure a second successive promotion. Not that any of you care, but then again this blog isn't about what you want to hear, it's about what I want you to hear (or read as the case may be, but who's splitting hairs?)

I'm now going to go into something that I was thinking about before. Everybody kind of knows me well enough by now that I talk openly about sex. So why not type about it as well?

If you're Canadian stop reading now (we all now that Canadians don't discuss the topic of sex, let alone indulge themselves in the act(s) itself). Back to the point - I was thinking earlier about who enjoys giving oral sex more, men or women? I don't know. I like going down, in fact I love it (it's like a breath of fresh air!) Then again I can only look at sex through the eyes of a man/teenager! I'm sure women enjoy it too, otherwise why would they do it? Surely it can't just be because blokes want them too. Do blowjobs get women off? I'm not typing about this just to get girls talking about blowjobs - I'm not a pervert! I'm just curious about the 'politics' of a BJ. Is oral sex only performed in the hope that it will be reciprocated?

Martyn Bell likes good sex....and let's face it, even bad sex is better than no sex...bloody hell I need laid! Lyla, get that plane ticket booked!

Buggery, drunks and King Kong

My arms hurt like buggery. On Saturday I went over to my mate's house and he decided to buy a game for his eye-toy (just to clarify this for everybody, a web-cam type thingy sits on top of your TV and captures your motions and the game on the TV responds to these motions.) So we were playing boxing in which, if you are successful, involves four fights and three bonus rounds, lasting a total of around 15 minutes. So this means bobbing, weaving and hitting mid-air for a quarter of an hour non-stop. Needless to say we sweated like mo-fo's, and in true homo-erotic style we took our tops off, said "Fucking hell, I'm fucking knackered" quite a bit and rejuvenated ourselves by drinking beer.

The rest of the evening passed off quite quietly. A few more mates came round, including Mike whom has just got back from Australia after a year and a bit. We went to see some local bands play in the Brickyard, a very 'intimate' venue (must hold about 220 tops). The highlight being one guy who was so drunk decided to shut his eyes for the rest of the night and dance like, "A coma victim that has been forced to stand up and zapped with a cattle prod."

A sly pint yesterday first thing, helped my day get going. The rest of the day was spent watching TV, trying to avoid religious programmes like the black death and gnerally being lazy. So as a family we decided to sit down and watch King Kong (me Dad's pirate copy - Arrrghhhh Ha Harrrgghhhh!) It was alright, filled in three hours and also provided ' An Easter's Pointing Out of the Bloody Obvious Award Candidate." Whilst watching some humans run between the legs of Brontarsaurus', who in turn were being chased by Velociraptor's (evil bastarads from Jurassic Park), me Mam pipes up, "It's a bit far-fetched isn't it?" Well, no shit Mam, what do you expect from a film that's named after the leading character, a 25 foot tall ape! Christ...

So that leads me to today. Bacon butties in approximately 90 minutes will be followed by a walk down to Brunton Park, followed by me having a few pints and watching the mighty Blues take on the very first football team in the world - Notts County. A win would put us on the brink of automatic promotion, but I want the title. Anyway, if you don't check the BBC website for results I'll let you know how we get on here. Up the Blues.

JC, Rochdale, Electricity and Christopher Reeve

So today is Good Friday. Many moons ago, some guy was crucified - death to the infidels! It does seem strange that whilst Easter is a Christian festival nobody knows when to celebrate it. I know it has to do with the moon and all that crap, but when the fuck was religion linked to Astrology! The Pagans had it right, big piss up on the 25th December every year - then the Christians adopted it for their own, fucking do-gooders!

So anyway, I'm back in the 'Isle for a week or so, sponging off the parents, getting myself to a Carlisle United game, getting paid holidays, beer instead of chocolate - so can't complain too much.

For those who want to know, the job is going well, as is the flat, been getting some extra days but still need something a bit more concrete - but it will come. Liverpool is ace.

So Tuesday gone I decided to head to Rochdale - home of the co-op - to watch Carlisle play there. It has pissed down in Liverpool until 13:00 then cleared up, and with Rochdale being about 90 minutes away by train, which roughlt equates to about 50 miles I didn't think twice about the match not being on. So I set off around 17:00 to get to the ground for 19:00 so I can have a couple of pints before the game. Everything is going well, get tho the ground which is about a 30 minute hike from the station and fnd out the game has been called off due to a waterlogged pitch. (Now for those of you not from Cumbria, which is literally all of you,I'm going to use a new term which you can also use if you like!) I felt like a right pleb (iot, fool, tool - whatever.) So I wasted £11 on the train to go to Rochdale, for fuck all. Fucking cock-sucking weather. To make matters worse, whilst I was in Rochdale there were clear blue skies, not a cloud in the fucking sky.

So looking out into the back garden I notice that my Dad has eventually given up trying to mow the lawn with the electric lawn mower in the rain. To be fair though, he didn't start whilst it was raining. Maybe my Dad is invincible, maybe electricity mixed with water doesn't effect him! I'll find out later when he's in the bath and I'll throw an electric heater in there with him. Watch this space...

So the blog has not died, it was merely in a coma, a bit like a quadraplegic vegetable, being fed by a tube (think of Christopher Reeve - "Superman" my arse!)

Stay in touch for the Easter blog has just begun. Mwa ha ha, ha ha. Mwah HA HA (evil laugh to fade)