Monthly Archives: December 2004

leafing day

leafA pretty cool day to make like a tree and leave. The freezing winter onslaught abated, the thermal codpiece was left at home, the sun sang, birds shone, etc. and all was right with the world.

The day began with the discovery that my soon-to-ex-client has drafted in a replacement contractor already. I found him under my desk undergoing his wonky-faced transmogrification like in The Last Starfighter. Hence today consists of some minor handover effort (docs? what docs?) and lots of cheerio conversations.

My timing seems to be fortuitous anyway, as today is Xmas Gift day from the Murdochs. The hefty haul so far includes 2 bottles of vino, a cafetière, a Xmas cake (made with real Xmas) and some Ticketmaster vouchers (triple figures, unbelievably). Guilty? Me? Non!

ejectPlan for the afternoon is to choke down another helping of canteen turkey before hometime, hand in the security pass, and wave a final farewell with one hand while spraying my lovely business cards Gambit-style with the other. Then ditch the gear at home before some semi-trendy drink demolition and an epic lie in tomorrow.

*begins clock watching and playing N*

to eject in winter

coldIt’s finally getting Real Cold in Edinburgh. The trip into work this morning was amusing, watching the briefcased commuters flailing around on the glittering pavements like quadriplegics in zero G.

It’s a whole lot easier to tolerate the usual pish at work knowing there’s only a day left, I tells ya. Today we received our motivational message from the Big Murdoch himself, along with a goodie box. One last blag before eject, no complaints.

The pic on the right is sign language by the way, how’s that for educational? Not the sign for Mohammed Ali as you might expect, but actually for cold. This neatly depicts my likely frozen state this evening as I hack through the Visa-pounding crowds to frantically fulfil my Xmas shopping obligations. And probably illustrates my trembling limbs on 3rd January after the usual holiday indulgence.

Tomorrow is a big night out for a final cheerio drink with the colleagues: 6-8pm Candy Bar, see you there.

Oh and Happy Birthday TF – Dec 17th was the beginning of our third sordid year. Happy holidays everyone!!1

diary entry

This quote comes from Rear-Admiral Thomas Pasley, a straight-talking Scotsman who was regarded as ‘old school’ in the Royal Navy. It’s taken from his personal diary onboard the 74-gun Vengeance and is mentioned in my current read.

‘A very dull stupid Cruize this, not one Yankie on the Seas I believe – already out 17 Days and have not seen one – hard, very hard….’

‘At half past 4 our Stupid Rascal of a Pilot run the Ship’s stern upon the Crow Rock… The Shock was so great that it broke several Bottles in one of my Cases of Rum… I hope we shall be able without further disaster to bundle the Old Bitch into one King’s Port or other.’

xmas damage begins

orangemouthLast night we were taken out to Opal Lounge for our Christmas effort. A free bar, cordoned-off area and trays of horse’s duvets served by enthusiastically persistent, attractive young ladies. All in all pretty decent.

Got comprehensively tanked on Hoegaarden and some odd orangey lickers (pictured)… I remember everything except the walk home, which seems to happen consistently on big nights. I am now convinced that when you go to sleep in a state, there’s something in your memory-making software that deletes the previous 15 minutes from the record.

Apparently a highly attractive female wanted me to walk her home at the 2am finish, to which I charismatically replied, “East London Road..? Sorry but I can’t be arsed.”

Magic. [update: Danny boy enjoyed it too]

Off tonight to Dreghorn (really) as our agency is taking us out for further beers. Crimbo period, love it.

relax… *wince*

And breathe.

A thoroughly cathartic moment on Friday morning marked an end to the most stressful week of my life. My dissertation is now in the hands of those with a job I’d really not like to contemplate, leaving me with enough time to start coming up with something kinda pretty for the small matter of the degree show in err.. Whenever it is. It also means I can start thinking about fun stuff again, which will be most acceptable.

Nasty Accidents. I Win.

Think I might need to go to A&E, in a bid to sort something that makes fracturing my coccyx unembarrassing. Corridor skateboarding post dissertation. Fun and frivolity. Sat on skateboard. Fell off skateboard. Foot went in front of skateboard. Skateboard smacked me square in the lady bits. Losing blood by the pint. Looks like a car crash down there. Why do these things only ever happen to ME?!

Santa Owes Me.

A groovy leaf purse from lovely Orla
a ring from lovely Diana
wellies for my footses
And beans. Mmmyes.

Cant believe I just wrote that…. It hurts!

death metal

Something I always feared would happen has happened… a nutjob has gone postal at a concert and embarked on a killing spree. But what is most shocking is that it was a member of the band who was targeted. Shot multiple times in the head at point blank range.

I’m not the worlds biggest Pantera fan so I’m not 100% sure of the politics involved in the breakup of that band but reports are suggesting that the guy was a disgruntled fan who was apparently rather upset about the now deceased ‘Dimebag’ Darrell Abbott apparently breaking up the group… what a fuckin’ retard. Go listen to some Slayer and cheer the fuck up.
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tempus fugit

News in depth from the Bell camp.

hourglasstempus fugit

One of the things that nags constantly at my materially-oriented, newly-middle-class young professional napper is the perceived lack of time I have to do the things that I want.

Generally this irritation kicks in when I stumble in the door at 7pm of an evening, too tired or demotivated to do anything of consequence. The ticking awareness of what can be squeezed into 3 hours before it’s time to sleep for the day’s work tomorrow. Phone conversations; films; books; even computer games; Not Getting Done. Tick tock tick tock. Then the weekend arrives and I throw myself bodily into twin all-night supernovae, to emerge the other side with nothing further accomplished.

I realise that the situation is surely a failing of mine. A lack of time management – or institutionalised laziness – rather than any real difficulty presented by my situation.
Or actually more than that: I am certain this behaviour is an affliction, of mine, in particular. Witness my inability or unwillingness to spend time telephoning people when I probably should.

I am a Free Time Obsessive.

But regardless of self-awareness, the subcategories on the To Do List still fill up and become ever more unwieldy, and the general dissatisfaction mounts.
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More self obsessed twaddle…

Holy shit, dudes. I just got accepted into our masters/Mphil/Ph.D programme. I went to talk to one of the grand fromages at school about it this morning, as getting a proper haircut and a job doesn’t sound all that appealing. So she said she’d been talking to my course director about me, and would love for me to hide from the tax man under her wing for a few more years. So effectively what I could do is, ditch the whole teaching in schools thing, and lecture in DHTP (design history theory and practice) at uni, whilst getting paid to do my doctorate in something really gutsy and tangible. And I’d get to work with big advertising companies as part of it.

But ooh-aah. I’d have to stay in Dundee : /
But ooh-aah. I’d get to be Dr. Bean : )

In other news, Rob Morriss, your top dude at Citigate Smarts, Edinburgh sez I should let him have a skeck at my portfolio as Craig says i’m grate. Dear god. To be agent smith. Life is one big episode of change anneka atm, but ooh-aah. Things be happening. And it’s nearly christmas! All is well.