Killing Time

Whilst killing time in Cardiff, I visited my old address, 31 City Road. The building is empty now but it was once the centre point of one of the happiest years in my life. We occupied the first floor flat. My bedroom had a huge picture window, overlooking the Road. I arrived there after work one evening with all my possessions packed into a single taxi. Put everything away in what little furniture there was, made the bed and turned in for the night. I didn’t possess any curtains and with the window, not being overlooked by any other vantage points, they seemed unnecessary. When the alarm went off in the morning I stumbled naked out of bed and for a short while blinked uncomprehendingly at the window where the top deck passengers of a stationary bus stared back, just a couple of feet away.

That's Me Done.

I don't know why you feel the need to make a public show of your dislike for me. I've bearly ever spoken to you and even then, it was only because you were working as a bar maid and I needed a pint of Carling. I've not engaged you in the smallest of small talk. Just, "Carling please." that's it.

I do however, have enough confidence in my diplomatic skills, to talk through the issue and win you over. It's just that, I have this one stumbling block. Oh, it's not that I'm afraid I'll be wounded by, whatever the problem is, it's that..........

Well..... I sincerely, just don't care enough, about what you think of me.

It's Just So Fucking Great to be Alive!

It's just so fucking great to be alive. Especially when you consider the alternatives.

Drive home after my last night shift in my hot hatch listening to my favourite dance tracks. There's a bite in the air but the sky is blue and the birds are singing. Wend my way through the mountains and check my emails. I've got a few circulars as usual but this particular one's got to be shared with my blogger pals.

Actual dialogue of a former WordPerfect Customer Support employee.
Operator: "Ridge Hall, computer assistance; may I help you?"
Caller: "Yes, well, I'm having trouble with WordPerfect."
Operator: "What sort of trouble??"
Caller: "Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away."
Operator: "Went away?"
Caller: "They disappeared."
Operator: "Hmm So what does your screen look like now?"
Caller: "Nothing."
Operator: "Nothing?"
Caller: "It's blank; it won't accept anything when I type."
Operator: "Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?"
Caller: "How do I tell?”
Operator: "Can you see the C: prompt on the screen?"
Caller: "What's a sea-prompt?"
Operator: "Never mind, can you move your cursor around the screen?"
Caller: "There isn't any cursor: I told you, it won't accept anything I type."
Operator: "Does your monitor have a power indicator?"
Caller: "What's a monitor?"
Operator: "It's the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it's on?"
Caller: "I don't know."
Operator: "Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?"
Caller: "Yes, I think so."
Operator: "Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it's plugged into the wall."
Caller: "Yes, it is."
Operator: "When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one?"
Caller: "No."
Operator: "Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable."
Caller: "Okay, here it is."
Operator: "Follow it for me, and tell me if it's plugged securely into the back of your computer."
Caller: "I can't reach."
Operator: "Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is?"
Caller: "No."
Operator: "Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?"
Caller: "Oh, it's not because I don't have the right angle it's because it's dark."
Operator: "Dark?”
Caller: "Yes - the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window."
Operator: "Well, turn on the office light then."
Caller: "I can't."
Operator: "No? Why not?"
Caller: "Because there's a power failure."

Operator: "A power......... A power failure? Aha, Okay, we've got it licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?"
Caller: "Well, yes, I keep them in the closet."
Operator: "Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from."
Caller: "Really? Is it that bad?"
Operator: "Yes, I'm afraid it is."
Caller: "Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?"
Operator: "Tell them you're too fucking stupid to own a computer!"

Filth

MJ's post on auto erotica got me doing my own research. Every picture tells a story.

Back at Work.

Today's stupid conversations.

Councilor Big Nose- "What you looking for?"

Tickersoid- " A hammer."

Pips- "If I had a hammer, I'd hammer in the morning."

Tickersoid- "I'd hammer in the evening."

Pips- "Where would you do that then?"

Tickersoid- "All over this land."

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Councilor Big Nose- "What are all those wires doing disappearing into your trousers?"

Tickersoid- "It's my Tens machine for my bad back."

Councilor Big Nose- "Attached to your old boy more like, knowing you."

Councilor Big Nose- "I bet you've tried that, I bet you've attached the electrodes to your todger."

Tickersoid- "What kind of pervert do you take me for?"

Councilor Big Nose- "I bet you have."

Tickersoid- "You think that's the sort of thing I'd do?"

Councilor Big Nose- "I bet you have. Come on now be honest."

Tickeroid- "Of course I have!"

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Ed- "You can't really be angry at a 17 year old girl that's got her self pregnant. I mean, it'd be hypocritical, remember what we got up to at that age, or maybe we were just more careful."

Tickeroid- "When I was 17, no one I shagged got pregnant!"

Ed- "Now, you can't be absolutely sure of that can you?"

Tickersoid- "Yes I can, I was still at an all boys boarding school."

Toast

I'm scraping the carbon off my burnt toast when it occurs to me, why is there a setting on my toaster that burns toast? Why would anyone want that?

Tickers Bad Boy Racer.

Yo' wazzup dudes! Check out my naughty, bottomed, mummy, shagging wheels!
I was looking for an old banger to replace the existing automotive disaster, when I spotted this parked in a local street. Couldn't resist this classic 1980's icon. Slapped 600 notes in the owners hand and drove off.
I've taken to wearing a baseball cap on backwards with dark glasses and I now talk in 'Wigger'.
To finish the image, I play my sterio too loudly with plenty of bass.
Oh yes! Terry Wogan rocks!

If only I could get the brakes to work and turn off the wipers.

Floods.

Had to walk my sisters dogs on the road because large parts of Abergavenny were under water.
Driving home, I find the mountain road from the Waitrose roundabout, blocked due to flooding.
I follow the diversion sign.
It leads to the 'heads of the valleys' road and tells me to go East.
The road has a 30 mph speed restriction.
It takes ages but eventually I reach the roundabout for the main road to Pontyhotpant.
The main road to Pontyhotpant is closed due to flooding.
I follow the diversion sign.
It leads me back down the 'heads of the valleys' road.
The road has a 30 mph speed restriction but I only do 20 mph, because an agricultural vehicle is in front.
I'm further directed back to the Waitrose roundabout.
As I approach the roundabout, a sign says,
'Diversion end's.

Nice one!

One of the main advantages of living on your own, apart from almost unlimited access to your own genitals and the remote, which in effect means that, even if someone else were there, they wouldn’t want to use it, is being able to dismantle a combustion engine in your living room.

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Asked of the teenage girl training to mind the local convenience store,

“I’m guessing you don’t know if Diet Coke is as effective as regular Coke for washing down engines?”

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Tickers paying for tickets,

“This Moscow State Circus is dear. For the same money, we could have driven to London and seen Harry Potter get his knob out.”

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Saturday karaoke night.

One of two girls stood near by whilst I was strutting my funky bottom enquired of me,

“Excuse me for asking, but are you gay?”

“I might be” I replied, thinking I was enigmatic.

“Oh you’re gay alright, no straight guy could dance like that.”

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Karaoke night continued.

Tickers- “She just spanked my arse!”

Fellow drinker- “Don’t knock it, guys pay good money for that.”

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Fellow drinker- “So they taped me up like a mummy to a plastic garden chair and proceeded to carry me up the concrete stairs to the car. On the way up one of the chair legs bloke and I fell on my head. You can just about still see the mark look. Anyway, they dumped me in the road way outside Tesco’s front entrance. The traffic was trying to make it’s way past so I started to shuffle, best I could, to one side when the other front leg bloke and I fell on the side of my face.”