"...but I like being lazy!"

Alright let's do this...

So this week has been interesting, so say the least. Last weekend was meant to be a cleaning/tidying/whatever around the new house, carpet cleaning and all that jazz. Instead, Steve's initial plan for "a quick pint at the King's Head" (our new local) quickly deteriorated into lots of pints, far too much money, and a bitch of a hangover on Saturday. Hence, no cleaning. It's ok though right, you've still got Sunday. Yeah there's me waiting in on Saturday night after Steve calls and says he'll pick me up on his way back from go-karting to go and watch The Raid over his. Sound, that'll be a nice chilled night, leaving us fully energised for tomorrow. Nope. I got a call at 3am saying he was drunk and not even home yet, and another at 9 to tell me he was on his way home. Well I wasn't about to do it all on my own, so I stayed in bed most of Sunday and watched Curb Your Enthusiasm. Much better.

Then Monday happened. Oh, Monday, you little bitch of a day, you. It's hard enough already, us working folks will testify, to deal with work on a Monday morning, let alone a text argument. I received a shitty text at like 11am from my flatmate, followed by a shittier one after my brief reply. All about washing up. I'm not gonna berate him by blog - that's cowardly and I'm not a fully innocent part in this, I'm generally a fairly useless person - but I just couldn't handle it anymore. With all the anal cleanliness (I hope you know I'm talking about someone being anal ABOUT cleanliness, not that he had very stringent rules on how clean bumholes should be - well ok I've never asked him but that never came up during the living arrangement), the generally not clicking socially, missing all my friends, still not feeling like I had a home, and having to shell out 800 fucking quid on rent and deposits this month, it was just too much for me.

So Dave at work (legend) drove me over to the flat, I packed up all my stuff, dumped it in the back of his car and drove it over to the new place, all within Monday's work lunch hour. Maybe over the top, but I just couldn't stay there anymore. I was honestly on the verge of tears just through being overwhelmed with shit. So...long story short, I now live at the new place. With no bed lol. Well ok the bed is coming, I have been assured despite being banned from my former residence, and after this weekend everything should be gravy.

Parallel to all this, I've torn my lab asunder. That is, I've split it between two rooms, one down the hall from where I've been. Which is great - I've had less than too little room for the last four months - but it was a grand ol' effort getting it in. It gave me a chance to be a man though, and I'm always grateful for that. Honestly, you've never seen someone so secretly chuffed that a tyre has punctured than me cos I know I'll be telling people the tale of my oily hands and being gruff and full of testosterone at the roadside.

So basically I spent Thursday, Friday, Monday and Tuesday at work hauling cabinets and workbenches and shit around, drilling holes in walls etc, and Monday onwards after work doing basically the same shit at home. I was exhausted. Seriously though, I lost so much water weight on Monday through sweating that I looked FIT by bedtime :P

It's been fucking knackering, but it will be worth it, now that some painting has been done, holes in the walls filled, carpets cleaned and crap thrown away. Mostly by us, even though we're paying rent every ruddy month. Grr, old ladies can be so lazy, can't they?! PLUS - no internet for FOUR TO SIX WEEKS! God damn! How am I gonna survive that? I'll tell you how - I'm gonna walk to the end of the balcony with my laptop and steal wifi from the pub we overlook. That's what I'm gonna do. Even if it's shit. I still win!

I realise this hasn't been hilarious, but it's caught you all up on my busy week and hopefully explains why I'm too mentally and physically exhausted to be able to manufacture jokes in the factory of funny that is my brain. You'll live with it. Because you don't have a choice - if you're reading this bit, you've already suffered through the crap and I win again! haha! Sucker :P

I'll think of something funny to chat about soon, and I'll try to get some photos of the new place up when it's shiny and lovely :)

Back in the Game

Okay, okay, so it's been a while. You missed me. I get it. I've been busy ok?

Stop laughing. I know anybody who reads this knows me and is well aware what a lazy sonofabitch I've been over the last few months but leave off - I was depressed. Not that that is a legitimate reason to stop laughing at the world, but it did make it harder to share things with you all.

But now...well I'm still jobless but I have at least remembered why I started this in the first place. Partly to craft new material for stand-up (yeah it's hardly going speedily, with me being such a wuss, but hey) and partly just because I love to write, especially like this. I don't have to worry about using clever words or using the correct sentence structure. Fuck that. I iz just gonna rite wot I want how I wants it. Blud.

Ok enough of that. But you get my point. I will at least endeavour to spell correctly with you all. Consider it a life lesson. Bad spelling ain't sexy. Well, not if you're trying to ensnare a wordy geek with sexy stubble and eyes you could get lost in, anyway. Ahem.

So on with the bulk of this thing. Not that I'm sure what that is. But I may as well fill you in on what's been happening in my life. I've done a lot of sitting. That was pretty fun. Sleeping is ace, truly. And my Xbox Achievments score has literally tripled. Take that, capitalist definition of success!

But aside from that, I did in fact work in a call centre for a bit. Yeah. Me. As I'm a freak boy I couldn't help picturing it as the brief for a slightly poor sitcom or film. "So yeah, you've got this guy, and he's all smart and stuff, and his life falls apart and he ends up working in a dead-end call centre with a bunch of orange morons and hilarity ensues. Then, by the end, he realises a few things about respect and not judging a book by its cover and walks out of the building on his last day with Don't You (Forget About Me) playing and, with the camera behind him, punches the air in silhouette." Fuck off, I love the Breakfast Club. It's an homage, it's not a rip-off.

That reminds me - everyone go download (or legitimately purchase...haha) Community season one. It's just genius.

So yeah, the call centre. It didn't start too well. We were training on Tuesday, with work starting on the Wednesday. Always a good sign. And apparently we were to be trained on inbound calling - this is for Debenhams by the way - and then the subsequent day, doing outbound calling. After not being trained. Yeah. I know it's not exactly rocket science, reading from a script, but we at least needed to be shown how to use the phone systems, you would have thought.

So I managed to annoy the two women "training" us before the end of the first day. I have that sort of talent. They were fucking idiots though. I wish I'd just said that to their faces. But I didn't I gritted my teeth. and then it got worse.

Fast-forward to Day Two. Outbound calling. It takes the techy team 2 1/2 hours to get everyone up and running, and thus, we are behind on our targets. Well, the management are behind on theirs, but, you know. So I'm making a call, reading out this fucking script about a new sale - yeah, we were calling Debenhams card holders to let them know there was a sale coming up, really - and this tiny little witch comes up and starts shouting at me to get my "wrap time" down. Now this is the time it takes from when you finish a call to the time you return to 'ready' and make another. In this time you have to 'code' the call -successful or otherwise - and click things in a sequence at just the right time to get back to 'ready'. If you do it too quickly, you remain in 'wrap' and someone comes and breaks your knees.

So I've bit my tongue about the first, ridiculous instance, and this fucking bitch won't stop. She decides that everyone is too slow - which is weird, because we're all so well-trained on the phone systems we're using - and makes us all stand up. Not to tell us off. To carry on working. Like a fucking concentration camp or some shit. Not impressed. We all have to stand until our combined wrap times come down to somewhere near 3 seconds. At this point I think you can imagine the sort of Itchy & Scratchy-style ultraviolence I wanted to bring on this woman. I'm talking Mortal Kombat rip-off-her-leg-and-beat-her-stupid-face-with-it levels of anger. But I managed to hold it in.

It was tough, but after that and her subsequent Worst Pep-Talk Ever, in which she stood up on a chair and said "I know it's been tough and manic and you've been getting to grips with it all...but it's not going to get better. It will only get harder." it was kinda hard to still be on her side. Mmmminimum wage :) Again, tongue bitten. Not sure how I still have a tongue really now, but thankfully I do. Otherwise this would be my only way of staying in contact with the world and, well, despite how grateful I am to everyone who bothers to read this, there aren't many of you, so I'd be quite lonely.

Ok ok so I'm basically just rambling...what are the chances?!...shut up schizophrenic sarcastic commentator voice on my life!

But I did meet some nice people. And some fucking morons. And drama queens. And orange people, lots of orange people. Though even if they were nice, they also did tend to come out with brilliant quotes. I don't remember them all but my favourite one revolved around a customer enquiring as to a possible delivery to Denmark. The girl calmly placed the customer on hold, turns to a few of us and casually asks: "Guys...where's Denmark?" ...pretty funny on its own, but ok, if you're talking specific location I don't really know. It's Nordic. It's Scandinavian. It's over there ->

But it was the next bit. Oh lordy. So we've had "Where's Denmark?" now follow it up, bring it home, fill us with joy..."is it in Sweden?"

BOOM! I laughed for a week. Seriously. Awesome ignorance. Just awesome.

Oh yeah and even though this isn't as funny I'm gonna share it before I go - a woman actually called up because she had bought something in a jar from Debenhams, and couldn't get the jar open. She didn't call a friend or neighbour. She called customer services. About opening a jar. That tickled me.

Ok so I'll try to do this more often for all your enjoyment, plus my own twisted sense of mind. I wrote some funny shit while I was there as well - I'll write it up later or tomorrow maybe. Get excited. It's actual jokes. No, really.

Much love.