The Return of The Dan (once again)

So, welcome back Me! Nice to see you again.

Thank you Me, that’s very kind of you to say. But I think you’re a bit of a douche.

Sorry to all (both?) of my regular readers for this taking so long to get around to. I’ve been shit. I have no real decent reason to excuse my absence. I’ve been busy…ish. This new job is fairly hectic. Actually that’s a lie. It’s just taken it out of me, mentally. For a while it really was hectic. I spent an entire week with some Chinese colleagues which was fun, but tiring. Up to Sheffield, back down the next day, meetings, tours, talks, training, dinner out each evening. That made it better. I actually had steak five nights in a row. Needless to say, I’m getting a bit fat.

But anyway, that passed. Well, after the Poland trip it did anyway. That was interesting, but just really quite Polish. You have to wonder why you’re in a meeting when the people on the other side of the table can’t communicate with you. But I was. So I just sat there and looked polite, all the while trying desperately to stay awake.

Now, though, it’s all got shit. They don’t like me, basically. They think I’m lazy and uninterested. Which I suppose is fair…mainly because I’m not that interested. And I’ve always been lazy. But aside from that they should really appreciate me, no?! I’m double-layer awesome, whatever that means. I’m like an awesome sandwich…with salad…and mayo…and…I think I ruined it.

So I had a disciplinary, where they basically wanted to sack me. Which is always nice…especially when you’ve just started to feel like you’re doing some half-decent work and starting to feel a part of the team. But oh well. Woe is me. I told them that I was depressed – which I am – to explain matters, and it’s down to the company doctor tomorrow to determine if I’m a big fat porky teller. That, and if they fire me, can I sue them under the Disability Discrimination Act 1995. That’s right bitches, I’m disabled now! I might try and get into the Paralympics next year. I reckon I could take a guy with no arms in the swimming, something like that.

Not really sure what else to say. I’m not gonna go into everything that’s happened. I wanted to write about Nick’s wedding and the Weezer gig but too much time passed really and it’s not at the front of my mind. Brief recap then: I Best Man-ned the shit out of the wedding. Totally knocked it out the park, and looked sharp in my suit. Fuck yeah. And Weezer – well, the ticket got delivered to the wrong address. So instead of it arriving at work the day before the gig, it arrived in Portsmouth. So I had a choice. Do I discard my beloved ticket to my beloved Weez or do I act like a fucking madman and shuttle run to Pompey to fetch it?

…So halfway down the motorway, having taken a half-day at work, I start questioning how ludicrous this all is. But hey, gotta do it right? I went to the post office, grabbed the ticket, high-tailed it to Richmond, train to Vauxhall, Tube to Brixton…bit of fried chicken, couple of pints…and then they came on.

And boy did they ROCK! My lord…just…incredible. They opened with Undone. That beautiful little drum start…mmm…I might have made a small mess in my pants. Then it just continued getting better. And better. Jonas. Scorcho. Pink Triangle. The Greatest Man That Ever Lived. Then, just as I thought it couldn’t get any better…Only In Dreams followed by fucking PARANOID ANDROID! Yeah I just about exploded.

Ok enough of me geeking out. For many of you the previous paragraph just contained an awful lot of random words placed next to one another with initial caps, but to me it was simply one of the greatest nights of my life. Worth all the day’s driving. Worth the £50 petrol, the £10 train ticket. The overpriced beer, the sweat making my t-shirt stick firmly to my man-bosoms. It was all just amazing. If I could live that night again I would do so until the day I died. And I would die happy. Sweaty, but happy.

Ok this hasn’t been that funny but I’m gonna try to get better with that. Hopefully these antidepressants won’t dull my genius sense of humour. That would just be punishing the world needlessly. And the world didn’t do anything wrong, did you? No, you’re a good world. There’s a good world! I might have lost my mind. When I find it I’ll let you guys know.

Peace and love.

New Life v2.0

Ok, so let's give this thing another go. It's been a little while, hasn't it? And hopefully now I'll actually be capable of making this funny again, rather than simply bitter and twisted. Well, we can but hope. I'm still me, after all.

So I'm now not in Portsmouth. Nope. No more wonderous nights in Scandals or evening pool at the Poli. I will miss the Poli. I already do, to be honest. But it's fine - I've made some great friends down there and I'll visit regularly. I think you can all tell what I'll be doing when I'm there as well, seeing as those two things I suggested as examples of things I miss do basically revolve around getting hammered. I'm still me, after all.

So...Cambridge baby! Well, Royston, actually. Yes, like Royston Vasey. But I'm not actually living inside Roy Chubby Brown (not that I'm saying there's not enough room. I think you could house at the very least a medium-sized Polish family within that man). Nope, this is a ickle town/village/thingplace with not a lot going on. Very quaint, but just not much there. Like a town version of Boris Johnson, really. But less funny.

So I'm in a B&B, which is....boring but fine. I do get pub dinners every night which is just lovely. Can't complain at that. Though my waistline is starting to. It's not so keen. It likes it when I don't go near pubs. I hate how we fight.

New job as well, obviously the reason I'm here. I'm sat in work right now actually, just finished and wondering what to do with my night. I'm trying to talk myself into, and then out of, going to the gym. I know I should, but I sort of don't want to. I've only gone once since I joined last week, so my body hasn't adjusted and I know it will hurt if I do a big workout. I'm basically just lazy to be honest, but hey. I don't care. I am missing football Thursday evening though, which sucks, so I should go do something. That way I can at least justify a big fat meal or two the next couple of nights.

Ah damn it. The sun has come out again and it's tempting me outside quite badly. I don't want to fight the urge for much longer, so I'll keep this brief for today and fill you guys in properly (ooh er!) sometime soon.

I've made a couple of new friends, seemingly. Which is awesome. A guy and a girl from my office who both seem very nice. The guy got me into the football game - instant best mate, in guy terms. Give me football and I give you my heart. And the girl and I had a pint yesterday and a bitch about the world. and those of you who know me well know that's a sure-fire way to get me to love you as well. So it's all good.

Right, I'm gonna go get a burger, methinks.

Laters, bitches.

Ah I'm an idiot

Just generally, you know? Always shooting myself in the foot or shoving my foot in my mouth, or shooting my foot while it's in my mouth and blowing my brains out. Metaphorically of course. I'm not that flexible!

I'm just sick of being a gullible twat with women and not having enough self-confidence or self-respect. But that's only because I'm a twat, so it's understandable.

So yet again I fucked up another "thing" with a girl. I say thing because they're never relationships. I never get that far. It's always a case of "yeah, you're lovely, but I'm just not in a 'relationshippy place right now' and all that shit. And I sort of try to believe it, because in the short-term it's easier than hearing: "It's because you're shit in bed and clingy."

But in the long-term, that shit would be helpful, you know? A bit of brutal honesty which would help you become a better catch for the next person who comes along. But it never happens. Well, maybe it does, but only if you get into a bit of an argument about things, and no girl ever does that with me, because I'm too nice. Fuck being nice, I totally need to learn how to come across as a callous knobhead who only wants them for their abilities as a semen receptacle. Those are the guys they stick with.

And I know it's not just girls...guys are bad at this too, probably worse. Because we fear the tear. Not a tear like you get with paper...well, unless you have a particular gift from nature in your pants, but like tears, out of your face holes.

Guys are absolutely terrified of the tears because we don't know how to deal with them. It's never really been a factor for me - no woman ever wants me enough for me to have to break up with them. Result.

But wouldn't it lead to a better world? Wouldn't you appreciate it, in all honesty, if somebody you had got close to told you exactly how you fucked it all up? I've been single for about 7-8 years and I know I would. I'm clearly a fucking nightmare to put up with and if that could be tempered slightly, it would possibly reduce my chances of ending up owning 14 cats and living in my own filth.

I know it's not really going to happen and I do know a number of the things that I've done to fuck things up by simple deduction and reading between the lines. I come across as too interested too soon, which is only exacerbated by the fact that it's been so long since someone could stand me. I end up clawing for their adulation almost regardless of how fantastic they are. I can know that it logically is going nowhere, but I just end up becoming so desperate to be the one in control, the one who is adored and chased-after, that I accidentally push it too hard too fast, almost demanding confirmation of their feelings before I've fully formed my own.

Meh it'll be ok. Maybe therapy would help, but then again, those of you who have read a few of these will realise that it didn't quite work out so well for me last time. I want proper tv-style therapy. I want a fucking chaise longue dammit!!

I'll work on it, and I'm planning to move - if things go well in my interview on Monday then maybe to Cambridge - and I think that will help me. Getting back into a proper job will resurrect my confidence and self-respect - even if it doesn't fix my self-loathing. Then I can get into a city where 90% of the women aren't orange by their own hand. A city where the idea of a good night out doesn't generally involve glassing someone. A city where an educated man isn't seen as a threat. That would be a novelty.

Ok I'll end this one there. It got some shit off my chest, even if it wasn't that funny, so thank you very much if you managed to make it to this point. I'm genuinely flattered that any of you would read these at all, and all comments are ridiculously appreciated - they keep me going. You know, unless they're from my brother.

I'll have a bitch about being back at that shitty call centre next time - maybe that will be funny. Until then, be good. And if you can't be good, at least steal me a present :)

I've been Dan, by the way.