Weekend Plans

Someone shoot me. I've go another two hours of sheer boredom at work, it's Friday afternoon and frankly I could be doing better things with my time. That last comment is debatable.

This week has been a such a stop-start, half-arsed bitch of a five-day week. One second I've got plety to be getting on with, then it disappears as quickly as it arrived. To top it off I have to go to Ikea tonight to return some shelves which our wall refuses to accommodate. This is due to the fact that the wall is harder than Chuck Norris, Bruce Lee and John McClain put together. There will be 'Yipee-ki-aying' tonight dearest motherfuckers. However, I will invite Stella and Mary Jane to watch some TV with me later on.

Tomorrow will consist of me putting together some sort of Ikea bought unit to accommodate my DVD collection. I will also have to repair the damage to the wall that pissed me off so much last Saturday. I will then watch England vs South Africa in the Rugby Union. A game that is payed by gentleman, albeit gentleman in the shape of brick shit-houses.

I'm not playing football this Sunday. A shame really as we have picked up two good wins over the last couple of weekends, coupled with the fact that I've scored four goals in my last two games.

This weekend shall also be the last with our lodger. He won't be a great loss, in fact the peace and quiet will be a welcome addition. Although we will have to get somebody else in quite soon. We do need a washer/dryer you know.

How can one person be such a twat?

So L and I have decided to rent our spare bedroom out to a young chap for the sum of £300 a month. The extra income is very handy, but fuck me with a big stick the little cunt is making us work for it...

Before I go into a full-scale torrent of abuse. Let me put a couple of things out there:

a) He had to ask L how to use the tin-opener. Who the fuck does not know how to use a tin-opener?

b) He expects us to cook every fucking meal for him, even though we said we will be sharing the cooking.

c) After the meal (which we have cooked) he does not offer to wash up. He had to ask where to put the dirty dish, "Does this go in the wash bowl." No Alan you have to try and hide it in your fucking cheesy foreskin you inbred Smoggy bastard.

d) He has cooked once, it was alright, although it shouldn't take the best part of four hours to cook pasta in a tomato based sauce with a bit of cheese.

e) He invites his girlfriend round. This is fair enough, but just let us know so we know if we have to cook for one more. He could go one better and actually cook if his girlfriend is coming around, especially when he knew we were out at the fucking gym.

f) He's boring.

g) He should seriously reconsider his sexual orientation. Fair play to him though, he appears to have found the only person in the world whom also thinks he is straight. I might have mentioned this in a previous blog but I can't be arsed to check. I couldn't give a flying fuck if he is gay, in fact I would probably prefer it.

h) He talks through his fucking nose. I don't think I have ever met anyone whom speaks so nasally. Is 'nasally' a word? I can't be arsed to check, I need to rant.

I could mention more things. But there you have it. He is a fucking waste of space. Soon he will be a waste of aspace with nowhere to live as in luittle over a week he will be gone.

Unsurprisingly this has not put me off getting another tenant. Indeed I have already made tentative enquiries, although we should probably have criteria that needs to be met. This could include:

a) Can they use a tin opener? However I shall not take their word for granted, I shall ask them to open a tin of baked beans.

b) Can they cook? I shall then ask them to heat up the baked beans.

c) Are they boring? I shall ask them to recount a personal experience that has to keep me interested for more than three minutes.

d) They must, MUST have lived with other people that they are not either related to or had/having a relationship with.

What a fucking arsehole.

Apathy Lethargy

Rearrange that and you get 'Healthy Gay Prat'. Anyway...

...these are two things that I have felt a lot quite recently. This is not good considering the amount of work that our house needs. I think it's just because the jobs left are shitty little ones, or maybe because it's because I can't be arsed. Anyway, I'm a healthy gay prat at the moment.

On a slightly chirpier note I scored a hat-trick for my football team yesterday. I figured that this was my first hat-trick since the age of 17/18. I was substituted soon afterwards in which I felt (and was told my many of fellow players) like I was running in slow motion. Prior to this I didn't feel any tiredness in my legs but all of a sudden I just couldn't run. Maybe this healthy gay prat isn't so healthy after all.

In 66 days I shall be embarking once more across the Atlantic. This cannot come soon enough. I am in desperate need of a holiday.