To The Left, To The Right
Its 5am on a Saturday and i havent been up all night. Rather i got drunk at work (Jamaicans and their Overproof Rum....), wobbled home (tho it mightve been the tube train doing the wobbling :D), then went for a 'snooze' at about 8pm.
Well i certainly feel refreshed. But whats to do at 5am except go back to bed? Well, having gone to the toilet, i found the state of the loo very much wanting, even by the standards of someone who explores sewers and in the end i left my first 'inter-house-mate-al note' on the wall. Now, i hate arsehole housemates who leave notes. They are usually over petty things like unwashed dishes and noisy music, typically condescending and patronizing, but in this case, shit just had to be said. So i left a note, taped above the cistern tank that simply read:
POO GOES IN THE BOWL AND NOT ON THE SEAT.
I dunno how the gross mu'fucker managed to get it that high up. Its not like you need to take aim or anything.
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This might sound prejudiced and shallow, but i kind of feel like an immigrant here in London. Simply because this city is so jammed full of first generation immigrants that you rarely encounter actual English people. I think this is what makes Manchester more fun... you can have a good laugh when you can understand whats being said. So far ive spent most of my time trying to decipher Indian, Jamaican, Czech, Slovenian, Nigerian and Polish accents, which makes for a lot of 'what did you say's and 'sorry i didnt understand you's. Australia is multicultural, but here in the UK, multiculturalism is newer, thus the ethnic diversity is barely up to its second generation. In this house i reside with three Indians, two Hungarians, a Spaniard and a Congolese. Doesnt make for great chit-chat since we can all barely understand each other.
Multiculturalism is great, but i think, like it or not that some racial assimilation within a country is necessary. Otherwise you have people living in one country physically, but trying to live in another mentally.
I think im just annoyed cos the house here stinks of curry powder to the point that i feel ill and the toilet seat has curry shite all over it to the point where i walk into the toilet and start gagging.
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The irony of this is the sewer exploration aspect. But underground in a river of soapy grey water theres none of the human element you encounter when faced with chunks on the toilet seat. I was down in the upper sections of The Fleet last night and was amazed by the intricacy and ingenuity of the place. Its really a shame that such a beautiful place gets used as a depository for the waste of so many fuckwits.
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Gah! Yes im in a foul mood. Yesterday we got raped at work, and i came so close to throwing something at some of the utter degenerates i encountered. Even the boss, a lovely Grenadian and regular churchgoer was uttering 'muthaafuckaas' like she was possessed by Samuel L Jackson. I just can never understand peoples pettiness over 10 pence; the way they cause a fuss over a roast potato; the way they never smile, only ever gripe and cant seem to cope with the most basic hindrance or inconvenience.
This is why i like working at the airport: Because your luggage is probably much nicer than you are.
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Curly has arrived in London; Nel and Controleman will be here on Sunday; on Monday ive gotta put Christmas decorations up... down the River Westbourne; on Tuesday its the Christmas party... down the Westbourne; on Wednesday my work ends for two weeks which is gunna leave me a bit tight cashwise and on Thursday it wont be Christmas Day because ill be spending it asleep and in a very scrooge-like fashion.
Tonight i might go to The Slimelight club. Get me some hard hitting EE BEE EM.
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I dont think ive ever listened to a White Stripes song all the way thru. Boriiiing. But Meg White alone looks quite... interesting.
Well i certainly feel refreshed. But whats to do at 5am except go back to bed? Well, having gone to the toilet, i found the state of the loo very much wanting, even by the standards of someone who explores sewers and in the end i left my first 'inter-house-mate-al note' on the wall. Now, i hate arsehole housemates who leave notes. They are usually over petty things like unwashed dishes and noisy music, typically condescending and patronizing, but in this case, shit just had to be said. So i left a note, taped above the cistern tank that simply read:
POO GOES IN THE BOWL AND NOT ON THE SEAT.
I dunno how the gross mu'fucker managed to get it that high up. Its not like you need to take aim or anything.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This might sound prejudiced and shallow, but i kind of feel like an immigrant here in London. Simply because this city is so jammed full of first generation immigrants that you rarely encounter actual English people. I think this is what makes Manchester more fun... you can have a good laugh when you can understand whats being said. So far ive spent most of my time trying to decipher Indian, Jamaican, Czech, Slovenian, Nigerian and Polish accents, which makes for a lot of 'what did you say's and 'sorry i didnt understand you's. Australia is multicultural, but here in the UK, multiculturalism is newer, thus the ethnic diversity is barely up to its second generation. In this house i reside with three Indians, two Hungarians, a Spaniard and a Congolese. Doesnt make for great chit-chat since we can all barely understand each other.
Multiculturalism is great, but i think, like it or not that some racial assimilation within a country is necessary. Otherwise you have people living in one country physically, but trying to live in another mentally.
I think im just annoyed cos the house here stinks of curry powder to the point that i feel ill and the toilet seat has curry shite all over it to the point where i walk into the toilet and start gagging.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The irony of this is the sewer exploration aspect. But underground in a river of soapy grey water theres none of the human element you encounter when faced with chunks on the toilet seat. I was down in the upper sections of The Fleet last night and was amazed by the intricacy and ingenuity of the place. Its really a shame that such a beautiful place gets used as a depository for the waste of so many fuckwits.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gah! Yes im in a foul mood. Yesterday we got raped at work, and i came so close to throwing something at some of the utter degenerates i encountered. Even the boss, a lovely Grenadian and regular churchgoer was uttering 'muthaafuckaas' like she was possessed by Samuel L Jackson. I just can never understand peoples pettiness over 10 pence; the way they cause a fuss over a roast potato; the way they never smile, only ever gripe and cant seem to cope with the most basic hindrance or inconvenience.
This is why i like working at the airport: Because your luggage is probably much nicer than you are.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Curly has arrived in London; Nel and Controleman will be here on Sunday; on Monday ive gotta put Christmas decorations up... down the River Westbourne; on Tuesday its the Christmas party... down the Westbourne; on Wednesday my work ends for two weeks which is gunna leave me a bit tight cashwise and on Thursday it wont be Christmas Day because ill be spending it asleep and in a very scrooge-like fashion.
Tonight i might go to The Slimelight club. Get me some hard hitting EE BEE EM.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I dont think ive ever listened to a White Stripes song all the way thru. Boriiiing. But Meg White alone looks quite... interesting.
