3 August 2010
Headless chickens
So its getting pretty close to leaving time now and things are fairly hectic. There's so much last minute stuff to do (as predicted) so its gonna be alittle frantic. Lots of goodbyes and rushing off to see people as much as possible and prowling the souvenir shops looking for anything that weighs under 5 bloody kilograms. Oh and packing. Well actually washing cause as I'm sure one can imagine (for anyone that knows me) I don't exactly get on top of my ever-increasing pile of dirty clothes. Nor do I wash them very often. Its funny cause I have a washing basket but a lot of my clothes get put in strategic positions around my room, just in case i get really desperate for a shirt or something - that way it isn't bogged down with the musk of other clothing in the washing basket. Just its own musk. Which I then proceed to bath in deodourant.
Why I am divulging these intimate secrets you may ask? No reason really. I'm just funny like that. Apparently.
Women
What is it with women and buying shoes that are uncomfortable? I mean honestly, buy some comfortable shoes - why buy the crappy ones if you can't walk in them to begin with? And if you really feel its worth the sacrifice to wear them despite the apparently agonising pain your going through every bleeding second, then don't go on about it all the time. I mean, don't put me through that pain just because you desired shoes which one might think has barbed wire in them.
A note on hypocrisy
I would like to note that I realise I'm hypocritcal in many, many ways so don't expect me to use the same logic when it comes to myself, on some, non-shoe related matter.
Hair
So Bert just cut my hair again. its considerably shorter but pretty good I reckon. The only problem with having a shorter cut for me is that I've put on a fair amount of weight here in Belgium, so I kinda look like a hampster. That said, its a hampster with damn nice feathered hair. The texture is amazing. And thats sober. Nevertheless I am somewhat streamlined. I'm sure there's a blonde joke in there somewhere - something about a blonde getting a hair cut so its more aerodynamic thus the plane flies her home faster. Or something. Adjustments definately required before I release that joke into the wild. Maybe I'll try get a sense of humour first.
HOME
If you've read this far (or luckily scrolled down to this point, skipping all my hard work), then you get to find out when I get home. I leave Belgium at about 17.00 on sat, and arrive in Auckland airport at about 11.00 Monday morning. Quite a bloody process isn't it? I'm guessing most of you back home will be working or at university at that moment so I'll have family time until later that day. Well. that night probably. Visitation rights start the next day I think. You can fight my mom on that if you want but my money's on her to be honest. Yes even Craig.
Man i just fully tripped out on Craigs name. It was like I was seeing it in a completely new way. You all know what I'm talking about right? right????
Will try for one last entry before I return to Middle Earth, so until then,
farewell my colourful infants
XOXOXOXO
Showing posts with label Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Night of the Irish barmen
WoOoOAh.....
Ok here I am.
Random rambling intro
I am currently wearing a fairly large pair of metrosexual sunglasses. The ones which all the girls love to wear but which also happen to have the side-effect of making their faces look like some mutant beetle (I'm not talking about a genetically modified John Lennon here). You all know what I'm talking about. Lets get this right out of the way. I'm well aware that you've all probably been aching to know if they're my glasses or not. But wonder no longer my good people. I have aquired these glasses through great treachery and deceit. (Ok so I took them when Karen left them in the office during her smoking break but thats not nearly as exciting). One must commend Karen on her magnificent taste in sunglasses. Perhaps they'll protect my eyes from the powerful glare of the computer screen. Or maybe they'll just give me a headache after a while. Only time will tell.......
Night of the Bartenders
Here begins an epic journey. On wednesday night me and Bert were going to see the movie Kick Ass. You know, a real man-date. We probably would have ended up drinking beer and beating our chests, shouting out manly things just to vent our great overflowing masculinity. That is, we would have, if we had ever gotten that far... We had some time before the movie started so guess where we ended up. THE PUB! (one has to say that with widened eyes and far too much intensity for a sane being).
Long story short, we missed the movie.
As I've mentioned before, we tend to frequent one pub in particular - The Irish Times, so we're relatively familiar with most of the barmen there. In fact last week he walked up to us and told us what our order was. Kudos to him, it was right. Although it definately made us think a little... I mean half the mind says "god we come here too much" while the other half says "awesome, they know us well, next step = drinks on the house." Without coming to any particular conclusion about that I'm going to resume my story.
One of the guys who usually serves us was in plain clothes having a drink with some friends (some more Irish louts presumably). Anyway, we got talking to him and eventually we ended up joining them. My presumption was spot on, they were a bunch of Irish louts. But great louts. The kinda louts I could hang out with and do lout-like things with (Manly things of course, wrestling bears and whatnot). Anyway, we were having a great time, they'd already had a few drinks so were very entertaining, as only Irishmen can be. As such, they were pretty generous with the drinks. Which was great. Obviously. Seriously though, completely made my night. I mean, the bartender were drunk and buying us drinks. Thats pretty cool right? I mean its definately a step up on the great Chain of being... A.K.A the Great Pub Hierarchy.
Apart from everything mentioned above, my main conclusion about the night is that I still need to go see Kick Ass...
Women (the creatures, not the song)
Something bizarre that I've noticed here in this giant pub of a country, is how much people use their bicycles. I mean, to get everywhere. Everyone does it too, rich, poor, whatever. So you get people in suits riding bikes down the street. My favourite though, is seeing business women, (could easily be a highly acclaimed lawyer judging by the clothing). I don't mean 'business' women, I mean wealthy professionals. Firstly; it is a little strange to see a very well dressed women cycling down the road in a tight black formal skirt. Strange, but I can get over it. What I can't get over entirely, what baffles my poor ignorant mind, is seeing them cycle in these massive high heeled shoes. I mean really. Apart from looking ridiculous, it must present some kinda safety hazard. What if the heel gets caught in the pedal and said women ends up breaking her face. I mean her expensive make-up would be ruined for starters. The facial lacerations wouldn't be that great either.
More on my captivating thoughts later... In a few days... lovelovelovelovelove
Ok here I am.
Random rambling intro
I am currently wearing a fairly large pair of metrosexual sunglasses. The ones which all the girls love to wear but which also happen to have the side-effect of making their faces look like some mutant beetle (I'm not talking about a genetically modified John Lennon here). You all know what I'm talking about. Lets get this right out of the way. I'm well aware that you've all probably been aching to know if they're my glasses or not. But wonder no longer my good people. I have aquired these glasses through great treachery and deceit. (Ok so I took them when Karen left them in the office during her smoking break but thats not nearly as exciting). One must commend Karen on her magnificent taste in sunglasses. Perhaps they'll protect my eyes from the powerful glare of the computer screen. Or maybe they'll just give me a headache after a while. Only time will tell.......
Night of the Bartenders
Here begins an epic journey. On wednesday night me and Bert were going to see the movie Kick Ass. You know, a real man-date. We probably would have ended up drinking beer and beating our chests, shouting out manly things just to vent our great overflowing masculinity. That is, we would have, if we had ever gotten that far... We had some time before the movie started so guess where we ended up. THE PUB! (one has to say that with widened eyes and far too much intensity for a sane being).
Long story short, we missed the movie.
As I've mentioned before, we tend to frequent one pub in particular - The Irish Times, so we're relatively familiar with most of the barmen there. In fact last week he walked up to us and told us what our order was. Kudos to him, it was right. Although it definately made us think a little... I mean half the mind says "god we come here too much" while the other half says "awesome, they know us well, next step = drinks on the house." Without coming to any particular conclusion about that I'm going to resume my story.
One of the guys who usually serves us was in plain clothes having a drink with some friends (some more Irish louts presumably). Anyway, we got talking to him and eventually we ended up joining them. My presumption was spot on, they were a bunch of Irish louts. But great louts. The kinda louts I could hang out with and do lout-like things with (Manly things of course, wrestling bears and whatnot). Anyway, we were having a great time, they'd already had a few drinks so were very entertaining, as only Irishmen can be. As such, they were pretty generous with the drinks. Which was great. Obviously. Seriously though, completely made my night. I mean, the bartender were drunk and buying us drinks. Thats pretty cool right? I mean its definately a step up on the great Chain of being... A.K.A the Great Pub Hierarchy.
Apart from everything mentioned above, my main conclusion about the night is that I still need to go see Kick Ass...
Women (the creatures, not the song)
Something bizarre that I've noticed here in this giant pub of a country, is how much people use their bicycles. I mean, to get everywhere. Everyone does it too, rich, poor, whatever. So you get people in suits riding bikes down the street. My favourite though, is seeing business women, (could easily be a highly acclaimed lawyer judging by the clothing). I don't mean 'business' women, I mean wealthy professionals. Firstly; it is a little strange to see a very well dressed women cycling down the road in a tight black formal skirt. Strange, but I can get over it. What I can't get over entirely, what baffles my poor ignorant mind, is seeing them cycle in these massive high heeled shoes. I mean really. Apart from looking ridiculous, it must present some kinda safety hazard. What if the heel gets caught in the pedal and said women ends up breaking her face. I mean her expensive make-up would be ruined for starters. The facial lacerations wouldn't be that great either.
More on my captivating thoughts later... In a few days... lovelovelovelovelove
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