Saturday, July 17, 2004

June 22 (Tuesday): Irregular around the margins.  Today the worm has turned, no more hot shitty weather, now it’s all about wet shitty weather.  So how does today begin?  With me waking up more tired than how I went to bed.  What are my big plans for today?  Just don’t upset anyone!
Nothing really happens today.  Sarah texts me to ask if I can change cinema plans so that we go tomorrow (Wednesday) instead of Friday and would I like to go with her to a works do.  Guess so, I say yes.
I do spend too much of the day asking my fellow workers “which hand do you wipe your bum with?â€� replying “I use toilet paperâ€�.  I’ve been watch the Leonard episode of That Peter Kay Thing much too much.
Other than that, the day passes and in the evening I want to make the most of my first night off in a very long time.  I think I had agreed Saturday to go round Allen’s tonight but I am too knackered.  I balls up though.  I have a permanent slow moving flat tyre and after posting some swag CDs, I go to pump it up.  Mistake!  After waiting about 20 minutes to get to the pump anyway (meaning I miss the beginning of Italy v Bulgaria anyway) as soon as I attempt to pump the tyre up it only deflates instead of inflate.  This is bad, suggesting that the tyre has finally given up and that the puncture may actually be in the valve.  Like a fool I fuck around with it moronically for about half an hour to the point I am jacking up the car to put the spare on (the spare looking like a polio version of the alloys ahoy).  One problem though, the wheel bolts have been put on with one of those drill guns and a mortal man (me) cannot possibly loosen and them get them off.  And honestly, this is not me being a wimp, I am actually standing/balancing on the wrench and the bolts still are not budging (the wrench instead choosing to bend itself). I’m fucked it seems.  In the end, about an hour later, like a fool I squeeze some air into the flat to get it home, doing god knows how much damage to my motor.  Fucking cars.  I do however first stop by Asda to get some onion bhajis for dinner to comfort eat.
By the time I get in the football is next to finished.  ITV showed the wrong game in Italy v Bulgaria, Denmark v Swedan was always going to sound infinitely better.  Turned out what I had missed was Denmark taking the lead against Swedan in the first half and Bulgaria actually finally scoring, their first goal in the tournament.  The games appeared to have picked up in the second half big style with Larrson equalising for Swedan around the same time Italy equalised against Bulgaria.  Denmark would later go on to take the lead in their game.  All the drama happened at the end when Swedan and Italy both scored in the 90th minute, the knock on result of this being Italy initially thinking they had done it and were going through until they find out about Swedan’s goal.  Just like Eurovision, the Scandinavians appear to be doing each other a favour, especially with their “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yoursâ€� knock about in the dying seconds of the game.  It’s a funny old game.
Just before turning in for the night Sarah hits me on MSN.  She’s all right.
np: Green Day – Geek Stink Breath


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