160906: We Could Have Been Indestructible
So, yeah, I was all intending to update last Wednesday, what with it being my day off and all that, but a kitchen-sized spanner was thrown in the works. A kitchen-sized kitchen to be more precise. On Monday night I got a call to say that the new kitchen I'd been expecting to take 6 months to come was coming on Wednesday. Yeah, I know it's a bit staid to get excited about a new kitchen, but I like nice things, and the new kitchen is very nice indeed. But in between helping the kitchen fitter get things up and down stairs, locking myself out, and trying to sort out the huge mess that we'd somehow conspired to create, I never got around to doing much of anything else at all. Well, except watching some Major League Soccer, but a man's got to relax, right?
Anyway, a new kitchen. All beech doors and black worktops. Nice.
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2003 UB-313 now has an official name. Previously it had been known, unofficially, as Xena (yes, after the TV show) but, stuffily, they've ignored that and it's now called Eris. Its moon is called Disnomia. I realise that this is two entries in a row that have discussed planets but that's the way I roll.
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I've become a tiny bit attached to ending up in the Chicago Rock Cafe. It all started when I promised my friend Rachel that I'd go out with her to her usual haunts. This, strangely for an educated and sophisticated woman, included the Chicago Rock Cafe. I had a good time, probably due more to the company and the continental fighting lager than the surroundings, but an important bridge had been crossed.
Since then, I've been another couple of times, at the end of a night out with the lads from my football team. They're, politely and respectfully, townies, so we drink in town - so far I've broken my duck at The Goose On Two Streets, Balloon Bar, Bar:[me], Revolution, and made rare visits to Edwards and Lloyds. I think I'm becoming one of them. So much so that, at the end of the night, when Chicago's is mentioned as a possible destination, I find no reason not to. Indeed, I'm loving it. It's half not caring about cool, and half sociologically-derived entertainment, I guess. I can dance to cheesy songs, and watch the old and desperate try to find sexual and/or romantic union with other old and desperate people.
So, yeah, I'm out and proud. Chicago is my kind of town if all of its cafes are rock....
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There's another RIMup on the horizon, this time in Glasgow in November. It's an early birthday party for Kenny, and a logistical nightmare. I never realised how far Scotland was. It's, like, hundreds of miles away. The plan right now is to drive, collecting Mikey and picking up Lister & Bobbs in Warrington along the way. Six hours, with music and chat. I like the idea. Bobbs & Lister are in, but Mikey's dragging his heels. Do it, Mikey, do it...
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My new football team, Spinney Hill Wanderers, play their third game of the season tomorrow. We're looking for our first win. We lost our first game 9-0 (though we're pretty convinced it was only 8), and followed that up with a 6-1 reverse on the worst pitch I've ever played on in over 500 games of football. The second-half last week was much better, though, and it looks like the lads are learning and listening, at least a little. It's tough, considering we're a new team and half the side have never played adult football before, but they're a great bunch and we can have fun losing as well, I'm sure. The last time I played, 6 years ago, I was one of the lesser-talented players in a very good team. Now, as captain, they're looking to me to provide inspiration and I'm trying, but it's hard not to get frustrated at the quality around me. I guess it must be like old pros that drift down the divisions (or would be if that happened anymore in this age of millionaires not needing to play beyond 30). Add to that me not being terribly fit still and it's going to be a long, hard season...
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Not for the Villa, though, who've gotten off to a great start. A new manager, a billionaire owner, and players who look like the class acts we always knew they were. That lot across town must be sick as pigs. Okay, they're top of the Fizzy Pop league but we look like we're finally in a position to capitalise on our good fortune. It would be very Villa if we didn't, of course, but I have a good feeling about how this one's going to turn out.
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I've become a Wikipedian. It started, as it probably does with most people, when I noticed something that needed correcting on the Villa page, and has snowballed from there. I'm trying to fill in as much information as I can about non-FIFA football, as well as keep the Villa page tidy and up to date. It's fun but frustrating, especially when other people - and they're mostly anonymous so you can't even talk to them about it - change entries for spurious reasons. Still, that's Wikipedia, I guess.
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Music rocks my world: I'm From Barcelona, the new Lemonheads album (album of the year, with a bullet), Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly, The Knife, Dashboard Confessional (so emo), and The Killers' new Meatloaf/Springsteen hybrid. Love it
Anyway, a new kitchen. All beech doors and black worktops. Nice.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
2003 UB-313 now has an official name. Previously it had been known, unofficially, as Xena (yes, after the TV show) but, stuffily, they've ignored that and it's now called Eris. Its moon is called Disnomia. I realise that this is two entries in a row that have discussed planets but that's the way I roll.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I've become a tiny bit attached to ending up in the Chicago Rock Cafe. It all started when I promised my friend Rachel that I'd go out with her to her usual haunts. This, strangely for an educated and sophisticated woman, included the Chicago Rock Cafe. I had a good time, probably due more to the company and the continental fighting lager than the surroundings, but an important bridge had been crossed.
Since then, I've been another couple of times, at the end of a night out with the lads from my football team. They're, politely and respectfully, townies, so we drink in town - so far I've broken my duck at The Goose On Two Streets, Balloon Bar, Bar:[me], Revolution, and made rare visits to Edwards and Lloyds. I think I'm becoming one of them. So much so that, at the end of the night, when Chicago's is mentioned as a possible destination, I find no reason not to. Indeed, I'm loving it. It's half not caring about cool, and half sociologically-derived entertainment, I guess. I can dance to cheesy songs, and watch the old and desperate try to find sexual and/or romantic union with other old and desperate people.
So, yeah, I'm out and proud. Chicago is my kind of town if all of its cafes are rock....
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
There's another RIMup on the horizon, this time in Glasgow in November. It's an early birthday party for Kenny, and a logistical nightmare. I never realised how far Scotland was. It's, like, hundreds of miles away. The plan right now is to drive, collecting Mikey and picking up Lister & Bobbs in Warrington along the way. Six hours, with music and chat. I like the idea. Bobbs & Lister are in, but Mikey's dragging his heels. Do it, Mikey, do it...
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
My new football team, Spinney Hill Wanderers, play their third game of the season tomorrow. We're looking for our first win. We lost our first game 9-0 (though we're pretty convinced it was only 8), and followed that up with a 6-1 reverse on the worst pitch I've ever played on in over 500 games of football. The second-half last week was much better, though, and it looks like the lads are learning and listening, at least a little. It's tough, considering we're a new team and half the side have never played adult football before, but they're a great bunch and we can have fun losing as well, I'm sure. The last time I played, 6 years ago, I was one of the lesser-talented players in a very good team. Now, as captain, they're looking to me to provide inspiration and I'm trying, but it's hard not to get frustrated at the quality around me. I guess it must be like old pros that drift down the divisions (or would be if that happened anymore in this age of millionaires not needing to play beyond 30). Add to that me not being terribly fit still and it's going to be a long, hard season...
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Not for the Villa, though, who've gotten off to a great start. A new manager, a billionaire owner, and players who look like the class acts we always knew they were. That lot across town must be sick as pigs. Okay, they're top of the Fizzy Pop league but we look like we're finally in a position to capitalise on our good fortune. It would be very Villa if we didn't, of course, but I have a good feeling about how this one's going to turn out.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I've become a Wikipedian. It started, as it probably does with most people, when I noticed something that needed correcting on the Villa page, and has snowballed from there. I'm trying to fill in as much information as I can about non-FIFA football, as well as keep the Villa page tidy and up to date. It's fun but frustrating, especially when other people - and they're mostly anonymous so you can't even talk to them about it - change entries for spurious reasons. Still, that's Wikipedia, I guess.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Music rocks my world: I'm From Barcelona, the new Lemonheads album (album of the year, with a bullet), Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly, The Knife, Dashboard Confessional (so emo), and The Killers' new Meatloaf/Springsteen hybrid. Love it