(no subject)
Had to clean the house last night 'cos the estate agent is showing people (or one person - who knows?) around this evening. I stayed in work late yesterday helping to prepare for the Big Upcoming Event that's happening next week, so I only got home at about 8. I then sat on my arse for about half an hour eating cornflakes and watching The Bill (hostage situation on a bus - disappointing). Eventually I started cleaning each room in a random and uncoordinated fashion, as is my wont. Tried to lean out the upstairs windows to clean them without killing myself, and failed. They look all smudgy and streaked with years' worth of dirt. I hope there's no direct sunlight this evening when the prospective buyers arrive. Wouldn't want to give the impression that mine is a badly-kept abode, and drop €50,000 from the asking price. (I jest! For the record, I will in no way profit from the sale of this house.)
Anyway, I finished scrubbing at about 2am and went to bed. I was late into work this morning, but no one seemed to care, and anyway, I stayed late last night so they can shag off. (See how I justify tardiness?)
I'm working as an extra on the new Hilary Wank film tonight. I think I'll be a concert-goer, and probably won't be seen on screen when it eventually comes out. Apparently old Hil is an absolute wagon - terrible to work with, going on the anecdotal evidence. I get paid about ninety euro for tonight, apparently, but probably not straight away. They deduct tax and then send you a bank draft a million years later. The time I worked as a skivvy on a different shoot was much better - they handed me a fat cheque with no tax deducted at source, assuming that I was 'self-employed'. Ha, ha.
Why, oh why, did they include a vocal on that David Guetta/The Egg tune that's doing the rounds, both on the Citroën ad and in innumerable gay clubs, at the moment? It ruins what is otherwise a perfectly decent track, if you ask me. In part, I blame the heinous musical taste of mainstream gays, with their insatiable lust for new versions of the same old wafer-thin 'anthem'. Music in gay clubs should be loud, unapologetically hard and should not feature cheesy vocal renditions laid over the beats.
I need a shave. I had to sacrifice my normal extended ablution this morning in favour of a quick shower. Ugh.
Anyway, I finished scrubbing at about 2am and went to bed. I was late into work this morning, but no one seemed to care, and anyway, I stayed late last night so they can shag off. (See how I justify tardiness?)
I'm working as an extra on the new Hilary Wank film tonight. I think I'll be a concert-goer, and probably won't be seen on screen when it eventually comes out. Apparently old Hil is an absolute wagon - terrible to work with, going on the anecdotal evidence. I get paid about ninety euro for tonight, apparently, but probably not straight away. They deduct tax and then send you a bank draft a million years later. The time I worked as a skivvy on a different shoot was much better - they handed me a fat cheque with no tax deducted at source, assuming that I was 'self-employed'. Ha, ha.
Why, oh why, did they include a vocal on that David Guetta/The Egg tune that's doing the rounds, both on the Citroën ad and in innumerable gay clubs, at the moment? It ruins what is otherwise a perfectly decent track, if you ask me. In part, I blame the heinous musical taste of mainstream gays, with their insatiable lust for new versions of the same old wafer-thin 'anthem'. Music in gay clubs should be loud, unapologetically hard and should not feature cheesy vocal renditions laid over the beats.
I need a shave. I had to sacrifice my normal extended ablution this morning in favour of a quick shower. Ugh.