Further to my post 2 days ago - I spent the better part of yesterday and today doing some major damage control. Have you ever wondered just how fast and far a rumour can spread? Well I think I may have discovered just how much. Considering I spoke to someone about it on Wednesday I wasn't surprised to discover by Friday morning someone in Cardiff rang me to ask if it was true. I didn't even know I knew anyone in Cardiff. Ouch... not only was this spreading - the bladdy thing was spreading with my name attached. I've managed to convince a few individuals that I know nothing about this. So maybe fingers crossed I might be ok.
As far as I know I'm still invited to the wedding. Though alot can change by the end of December. By then maybe news of her pregnancy might have left the UK.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Opps
I may have accidentally, completely inadvertently, totally by mistake, mixed up my words and formed the sentence 'She's pregnant' in front of a complete stranger.
Which in English translates to... I so enjoyed telling someone who knows both me and pregnant workmate that pregnant workmate is exactly that pregnant. Opps! Well I lasted from Sunday to really late Wednesday - which is quite an achievement I think.
Now assuming that gossip breeds faster than both the Asian & Chinese population combined, I expect everyone who knows her to know in exactly an hour. Dear oh dear. My bad. Oh I hope I don't get my invitation to the wedding retracted. Even if I can't go - I'd like to think I was still invited.
Which in English translates to... I so enjoyed telling someone who knows both me and pregnant workmate that pregnant workmate is exactly that pregnant. Opps! Well I lasted from Sunday to really late Wednesday - which is quite an achievement I think.
Now assuming that gossip breeds faster than both the Asian & Chinese population combined, I expect everyone who knows her to know in exactly an hour. Dear oh dear. My bad. Oh I hope I don't get my invitation to the wedding retracted. Even if I can't go - I'd like to think I was still invited.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
He's Coming
I’m fairly new to the world of blogging, so I often wonder what I’m gonna write about… but every time I’m thinking that something just falls into my lap. Take yesterday for example. I’m walking home from the station when a woman practically attacked me. At 8PM, outside Harrow & Wealdstone Station (the back exit) its dark & people are scarce, so psycho woman who approached me scared the shit out of me. Grabbing hold of my jacket with both hands she practically shoved her face into mine (so close she actually breached my personal space) and looked into my eyes shouting ‘He’s Coming!’ Now I may laugh at this now, or look at it in jest, but last night if I didn’t have such good bladder control I may have wet myself I was that freaked.
I quickly looked around and saw no-one. I visibly relaxed. As she was so close I noticed she was actually fairly attractive under the grime – a bath would have done wonders for her. But right now she looked completely out of it (blood shot eyes) so I instinctively knew she was full of shit… but the gentleman in me got the better of me and I thought she might have been followed by some lunatic… So I asked ‘Who? I can’t see anyone!’ If nothing else I’d walk with her back to the Station and leave her in the hands of one of the station staff.
‘JESUS… of course’ was the answer I received. Now at this point alarm bells were ringing in my head so I thought it best to walk away. But the sarcastic queen in me reared its ugly face and I responded accordingly ‘Well say hello for me’ and wrestled out of her man-like grip. Having released myself I carried on walking. Looking back I saw she was not following but heard her shout ‘He has suffered enough. Don’t turn your back on Him. Open your heart to Him instead!’ I refused at that point to say anything she wasn’t following and I didn’t want to risk changing that.
So I thought I’d share that with you… apparently Jesus is coming. Don’t say you were caught unaware.
I quickly looked around and saw no-one. I visibly relaxed. As she was so close I noticed she was actually fairly attractive under the grime – a bath would have done wonders for her. But right now she looked completely out of it (blood shot eyes) so I instinctively knew she was full of shit… but the gentleman in me got the better of me and I thought she might have been followed by some lunatic… So I asked ‘Who? I can’t see anyone!’ If nothing else I’d walk with her back to the Station and leave her in the hands of one of the station staff.
‘JESUS… of course’ was the answer I received. Now at this point alarm bells were ringing in my head so I thought it best to walk away. But the sarcastic queen in me reared its ugly face and I responded accordingly ‘Well say hello for me’ and wrestled out of her man-like grip. Having released myself I carried on walking. Looking back I saw she was not following but heard her shout ‘He has suffered enough. Don’t turn your back on Him. Open your heart to Him instead!’ I refused at that point to say anything she wasn’t following and I didn’t want to risk changing that.
So I thought I’d share that with you… apparently Jesus is coming. Don’t say you were caught unaware.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Residual Pay Day Joy
I’m happy. Which makes a welcome change. Normally I’m the one singing ‘why does it always rain on me’, although ironically I was singing that yesterday on my way to the dentist when I was soaked to the bone in rain. But the sun was shining behind those blasted clouds and I could almost feel it. Even the rain couldn't keep the joy at bay. Why you ask? Two reasons… First and most important yesterday was PAY DAY (why? I don’t have a fucking clue but am always paid on the 20th of the month – excellent around Christmas). And secondly I had just recently discovered Russell Peters. A comedian. An Indian comedian actually (it gives being Indian some credibility & hope that life isn't just wife, kids & money). What's not to be happy about?
Ps: Check him out on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPn34sUCpd8
Ps: Check him out on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPn34sUCpd8
Monday, November 20, 2006
TFI... Monday!
This weekend was tortuous… I had so many near misses I think I’m starting to believe in a Higher Power, but not in a good way, I think it’s out to get me.
First was Friday night when I had a work related leaving party at Sorrentina where my fate took a turn for the nasty. I was approached by an absolutely fucking sexy guy in the middle of dinner with all my workmates off whom only none know of my sexual preferences, so when he asked for my number I cursed Lady Luck for turning up at my door at precisely that moment. Now anyone who has been approached by someone out of his or her daydreams knows that this is exactly the kind of thing where you lose the ability to coherently form a sentence, your face turns a red shade, your knees weaken and your stomach inverts itself forcing the last thing you ate out – in short tragedy strikes – the kind that Steps sang about years ago. Now thankfully nothing came out of my mouth (my stomach will never eject food – every bit counts especially when only 1 measly calorie enters my body mass a week from the tons of chocolate and cakes I live on – the remaining calories are burnt off breathing – I swear that’s it – I don’t even exercise).
I’m not even going to put into words how embarrassing the next 30 seconds were. All I’ll say is even if I had given him my number I doubt he would have called. Suffice to say he’ll never be wearing those clothes again, in public. Nor probably ever visiting Sorrentina’s again.
Saturday wasn’t much better. Friday night before going out I must have been searching for something at the back of my ‘tarting-up shelf’, some anti-winkle cream probably, when I must have unconsciously placed my tube of KY Jelly on my computer desk (which is conveniently right next to my wardrobe that houses my endless array of cologne and skin care products). So on Saturday whilst entertaining some guests from New Delhi, when my 2 year old niece came into the living room carrying the tube of KY Jelly I almost fainted. Now if I ran across the living room - all eyes would have been on the girl with the lube in her hand. So I hoped she would walk towards me and I could disarm her discreetly. I smiled at her willing her to walk towards me. She was. Success. Midway across the living the man from New Delhi grabbed the poor girl and that hope quickly dissipated. “What’s this you’re playing with little girl?” he asked taking the lube from her hand and inspecting it. Thankfully he was as ignorant as a doormat and couldn’t read English. My mother managed to naively save the day “It’s toothpaste” she said, finally looking at me she said “Go put it away in the bathroom”. No sooner than it appeared in the living room did it disappear. Thank God for naïve parents – that could have resulted in a very awkward moment and an even more awkward question – what would a supposedly virginal Indian lad be doing with lube?
Alas, my assumption that Sunday couldn’t possibly be worse was obviously incorrect. I discovered that a girl friend of mine is getting married on the 30th December and I’ve been invited (a day of course when I’m at work – a day where getting a replacement is not difficult but impossible – who the fuck wants to work on the 30th of Dec?). Obviously I wasn’t supposed to know she was pregnant (I assume the reason why the hasty marriage at such short notice) but overheard a conversation that I’m sure she wished I hadn’t. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t either. How the fuck is a melodramatic queen that strives on gossip expected to keep that to himself? She’s pregnant and no-one knows, except I assume her and her husband-to-be. I’m hoping complete social isolation and having no credit on my phone may do the trick. That leave’s just one thing – email. How does one dismantle his modem without doing permanent damage?
Oh and I didn’t win the Euro Millions on Friday either.
Thank fuck it’s Monday. I never thought I’d say that. Well bad things come in threes – so maybe that’s the worst of it.
First was Friday night when I had a work related leaving party at Sorrentina where my fate took a turn for the nasty. I was approached by an absolutely fucking sexy guy in the middle of dinner with all my workmates off whom only none know of my sexual preferences, so when he asked for my number I cursed Lady Luck for turning up at my door at precisely that moment. Now anyone who has been approached by someone out of his or her daydreams knows that this is exactly the kind of thing where you lose the ability to coherently form a sentence, your face turns a red shade, your knees weaken and your stomach inverts itself forcing the last thing you ate out – in short tragedy strikes – the kind that Steps sang about years ago. Now thankfully nothing came out of my mouth (my stomach will never eject food – every bit counts especially when only 1 measly calorie enters my body mass a week from the tons of chocolate and cakes I live on – the remaining calories are burnt off breathing – I swear that’s it – I don’t even exercise).
I’m not even going to put into words how embarrassing the next 30 seconds were. All I’ll say is even if I had given him my number I doubt he would have called. Suffice to say he’ll never be wearing those clothes again, in public. Nor probably ever visiting Sorrentina’s again.
Saturday wasn’t much better. Friday night before going out I must have been searching for something at the back of my ‘tarting-up shelf’, some anti-winkle cream probably, when I must have unconsciously placed my tube of KY Jelly on my computer desk (which is conveniently right next to my wardrobe that houses my endless array of cologne and skin care products). So on Saturday whilst entertaining some guests from New Delhi, when my 2 year old niece came into the living room carrying the tube of KY Jelly I almost fainted. Now if I ran across the living room - all eyes would have been on the girl with the lube in her hand. So I hoped she would walk towards me and I could disarm her discreetly. I smiled at her willing her to walk towards me. She was. Success. Midway across the living the man from New Delhi grabbed the poor girl and that hope quickly dissipated. “What’s this you’re playing with little girl?” he asked taking the lube from her hand and inspecting it. Thankfully he was as ignorant as a doormat and couldn’t read English. My mother managed to naively save the day “It’s toothpaste” she said, finally looking at me she said “Go put it away in the bathroom”. No sooner than it appeared in the living room did it disappear. Thank God for naïve parents – that could have resulted in a very awkward moment and an even more awkward question – what would a supposedly virginal Indian lad be doing with lube?
Alas, my assumption that Sunday couldn’t possibly be worse was obviously incorrect. I discovered that a girl friend of mine is getting married on the 30th December and I’ve been invited (a day of course when I’m at work – a day where getting a replacement is not difficult but impossible – who the fuck wants to work on the 30th of Dec?). Obviously I wasn’t supposed to know she was pregnant (I assume the reason why the hasty marriage at such short notice) but overheard a conversation that I’m sure she wished I hadn’t. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t either. How the fuck is a melodramatic queen that strives on gossip expected to keep that to himself? She’s pregnant and no-one knows, except I assume her and her husband-to-be. I’m hoping complete social isolation and having no credit on my phone may do the trick. That leave’s just one thing – email. How does one dismantle his modem without doing permanent damage?
Oh and I didn’t win the Euro Millions on Friday either.
Thank fuck it’s Monday. I never thought I’d say that. Well bad things come in threes – so maybe that’s the worst of it.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Will You Be My Wifey?
I've always considered myself fairly lucky. I got dealt a shit hand at birth - a practically non-existent father who couldn't care less that we lived in a cardboard box (not quite but close enough) - but I got the next best thing I ended up with 2 mothers (not a lesbian thing) a biological mother and a god-mother. When things got rough at home I moved into my aunt's place (for all intensive purposes she was like a mother to me anyway)
Time slowly trickled away and here I am 20-something years later with not one mother but two, both whom now are looking for potential wives for me. And my father who mostly absent is also on the scene now (also in tow with potential wives of course).
Now its not that I'm an ungrateful child - but rather I'm an ungrateful gay child - what I am to do with a wife? But how to explain this? Informing them that I'm gay would be akin to being a vampire and stabbing yourself in the heart with a wooden stake (not a very clever idea).
I spoke to a couple of mates about this - one had a fantastic idea - find a lesbian Indian chick who needs a husband for her family and come to a mutual arrangement. Sounds good... but where to find such a lady? On the internet of course! If interested please get in touch my ad reads:
Handsome gay Indian seeks a pretty Indian lesbian to make a wife who herself is looking for a husband, into major family deception and fake martial arrangements. If interested please contact Soul Seared Dreamer at http://waitin4life.blogspot.com/.
Time slowly trickled away and here I am 20-something years later with not one mother but two, both whom now are looking for potential wives for me. And my father who mostly absent is also on the scene now (also in tow with potential wives of course).
Now its not that I'm an ungrateful child - but rather I'm an ungrateful gay child - what I am to do with a wife? But how to explain this? Informing them that I'm gay would be akin to being a vampire and stabbing yourself in the heart with a wooden stake (not a very clever idea).
I spoke to a couple of mates about this - one had a fantastic idea - find a lesbian Indian chick who needs a husband for her family and come to a mutual arrangement. Sounds good... but where to find such a lady? On the internet of course! If interested please get in touch my ad reads:
Handsome gay Indian seeks a pretty Indian lesbian to make a wife who herself is looking for a husband, into major family deception and fake martial arrangements. If interested please contact Soul Seared Dreamer at http://waitin4life.blogspot.com/.
Benefits Vs Working
Now anyone who knows me even slightly will know I'm always game for free money. I drowned on about it in my Lotto Rollover post so even those that don't know me will know that. Which brings me to my next point... state benefits.
I'm glad to be in a country that looks after its subjects but is it me or does the current state of affairs make you wanna call for the abolishment of state benefits for so-called jobseekers and fraudsters.
Now I'm in my twenties and I can proudly say I have never claimed any benefits (ok excluding child benefit which my parents claimed on my behalf)... now I can remember a time where I was jobless and income less... I still never joined the queue for the B word. I was too proud to do so. So I actually made the effort to find work (albiet it wasn't the best job but it paid money every month) and I found it... or rather the closet-case (look who's talking) manager that employed me found me.
Yesterday I was sitting at a local cafe up in Harrow when I was eavesdropping on the 2 people sitting close by (I'm not ashamed to so say I quite often enjoy it). She was telling her friend that it is better for her to work 15 hours than full-time, that way her benefits continue, she doesn't pay tax on her income and she gets free NHS prescriptions for her and her husband, using her napkin and a pen to show her friend numerically just how much she is better off.
I quickly swallowed the remaining tea in my cup and quickly made my escape. Coz I felt my blood pressure rising, my eyes began to see slightly red and I was begining to fight down the need to get up and tell her to have some diginity and get a job, as her last words were... "that's if I can be bothered to actually get a job"
Oh well at least I now know exactly where most of the taxes I pay end up... financing her midday tea-breaks from her luxurous lifestyle of home-benefit office benefit office-home.
I'm glad to be in a country that looks after its subjects but is it me or does the current state of affairs make you wanna call for the abolishment of state benefits for so-called jobseekers and fraudsters.
Now I'm in my twenties and I can proudly say I have never claimed any benefits (ok excluding child benefit which my parents claimed on my behalf)... now I can remember a time where I was jobless and income less... I still never joined the queue for the B word. I was too proud to do so. So I actually made the effort to find work (albiet it wasn't the best job but it paid money every month) and I found it... or rather the closet-case (look who's talking) manager that employed me found me.
Yesterday I was sitting at a local cafe up in Harrow when I was eavesdropping on the 2 people sitting close by (I'm not ashamed to so say I quite often enjoy it). She was telling her friend that it is better for her to work 15 hours than full-time, that way her benefits continue, she doesn't pay tax on her income and she gets free NHS prescriptions for her and her husband, using her napkin and a pen to show her friend numerically just how much she is better off.
I quickly swallowed the remaining tea in my cup and quickly made my escape. Coz I felt my blood pressure rising, my eyes began to see slightly red and I was begining to fight down the need to get up and tell her to have some diginity and get a job, as her last words were... "that's if I can be bothered to actually get a job"
Oh well at least I now know exactly where most of the taxes I pay end up... financing her midday tea-breaks from her luxurous lifestyle of home-benefit office benefit office-home.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
It's A Euro Millions Rollover!
I can never fully understand the craze behind a rollover. Surely the fact that it's a rollover - goes to show how next to near impossible it is to win the bladdy thing in the first place. No... correction it means MORE MONEY. PLAY PLAY PLAY.
Don't get me wrong I'm definitely not anti-Lotto, the amount of money it raises for charity is really amazing. A truly amazing thing. Oh fuck who am I kidding - it's the fact that it gives millions hope, me obviously being the most important.
There is something alluring about being given money, money for doing absolutely nothing - being given money for sitting on your arse. Something alluring just doesn't do it justice. It's what makes day dreams worthwhile.
Like they say... you've got to be in it to win it... It's a colossal £120m... I've got mine... have you got yours?
But most importantly what you gonna spend it on? I don't want it all JUST half a mill - that'll do me fine. Till next year anyway (",)
Don't get me wrong I'm definitely not anti-Lotto, the amount of money it raises for charity is really amazing. A truly amazing thing. Oh fuck who am I kidding - it's the fact that it gives millions hope, me obviously being the most important.
There is something alluring about being given money, money for doing absolutely nothing - being given money for sitting on your arse. Something alluring just doesn't do it justice. It's what makes day dreams worthwhile.
Like they say... you've got to be in it to win it... It's a colossal £120m... I've got mine... have you got yours?
But most importantly what you gonna spend it on? I don't want it all JUST half a mill - that'll do me fine. Till next year anyway (",)
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The Eternally Dreaded E Word
It's that time of the year again. Exams. 3 weeks and counting... I swear there seems no escape. I told myself that after I finished my degree I'd never ever have to study or take any bloody exams ever again. How wrong I was. I started work at Lloyds TSB shortly after. I discovered University for Lloyds TSB - what is it? A computerised learning and test system. Ouch. Shortly afterwards I found myself on a computerised accounts course (SAGE 50) - how do they test you're competent before they certify you - an invigilated exam of course. Then I did a financial course CeMAP (certificate in mortgage advice and practice) which had 7 invigilated exams. Now finally I get to my current exams ACCA (Association of Chartered Certified Accountants) which have 14 exams. I'm 8 in, and have 6 left. Now I wonder what's left... something with 20 exams maybe!
The only thing that keeps me going is future career prospects - and by that I mean a £50k salary after qualification. Well it's that or I can always give up and go back to being a poor bastard. Besides I mean to test the theory 'money can't buy happiness'
The only thing that keeps me going is future career prospects - and by that I mean a £50k salary after qualification. Well it's that or I can always give up and go back to being a poor bastard. Besides I mean to test the theory 'money can't buy happiness'
Monday, November 13, 2006
Acting Straight
I was almost appalled when Eric my straight mate gave me a straight porn movie: Sunny & Cher.
To be honest its been a fairly long time since I watched straight porn, the last time was probably in my teens when anything was potential wank material. Things have evolved since then - the wonder that is a credit card, internet shopping and discretely packaged deliveries have meant that well Gay Porn is only a click away.
Now Eric is one of the very few straight mates I have - 'that know I'm gay' so you can imagine how hard it was to not bitch-slap him and act completely like the queen I am.
After I demanded what the hell he was implying - he said gently that I should watch it and see - winking he added I might learn something - (at that point I was convinced he was in it). Shocked but not willing to give the DVD back (if he was in it I definitely wanted to see it) - I feigned disgust and walked away. At the least I thought there would be at least one bloke in it.
When I inserted the DVD I was surprised that the star was not white but an Indian chick by the name Sunny Leone (I think). She began to well the best word to describe it was touch herself up. Now I watched for a minute and the camera refused to zoom in, annoyed that this clearly wasn't doing anything for me (obviously thinking how stupid the camera man is when a naked woman is touching herself up on the screen is evidence enough I'm not straight) I was about to eject the disk but wait for it... I felt a tingle, a very mild one but a tingle none the less. I wasn't hard and I definitely wasn't limp. This naked woman was having a most surprising effect. Gay as I am, I can definitely hands down say this is a fucking gorgeous woman. Enthralled I continued to watch, the screen moved on. She got dressed and went to a bar, where really fake dialogue ensued. Within a few minutes this hot Indian honey was fornicating with an equally attractive white girl in a toilet. I'm not ashamed to say I was enjoying this. Most especially when a nice looking man entered the toilet and got his knob out. The rest I'll leave to your imagination.
If Eric asks me how I found it I'm not sure how I'm gonna reply but I sure as hell intend to make him pay by watching gay porn. Maybe I'll wink and say... hey you might learn something.
He was right though I did learn a few things... nothing in the world is ever black and white. Sunny Leone sure is fit. Eric wasn't in it. And I'm going to need an excuse to invite myself over to Eric's and politely ask to see his porn collection... and maybe even steal one or two.
To be honest its been a fairly long time since I watched straight porn, the last time was probably in my teens when anything was potential wank material. Things have evolved since then - the wonder that is a credit card, internet shopping and discretely packaged deliveries have meant that well Gay Porn is only a click away.
Now Eric is one of the very few straight mates I have - 'that know I'm gay' so you can imagine how hard it was to not bitch-slap him and act completely like the queen I am.
After I demanded what the hell he was implying - he said gently that I should watch it and see - winking he added I might learn something - (at that point I was convinced he was in it). Shocked but not willing to give the DVD back (if he was in it I definitely wanted to see it) - I feigned disgust and walked away. At the least I thought there would be at least one bloke in it.
When I inserted the DVD I was surprised that the star was not white but an Indian chick by the name Sunny Leone (I think). She began to well the best word to describe it was touch herself up. Now I watched for a minute and the camera refused to zoom in, annoyed that this clearly wasn't doing anything for me (obviously thinking how stupid the camera man is when a naked woman is touching herself up on the screen is evidence enough I'm not straight) I was about to eject the disk but wait for it... I felt a tingle, a very mild one but a tingle none the less. I wasn't hard and I definitely wasn't limp. This naked woman was having a most surprising effect. Gay as I am, I can definitely hands down say this is a fucking gorgeous woman. Enthralled I continued to watch, the screen moved on. She got dressed and went to a bar, where really fake dialogue ensued. Within a few minutes this hot Indian honey was fornicating with an equally attractive white girl in a toilet. I'm not ashamed to say I was enjoying this. Most especially when a nice looking man entered the toilet and got his knob out. The rest I'll leave to your imagination.
If Eric asks me how I found it I'm not sure how I'm gonna reply but I sure as hell intend to make him pay by watching gay porn. Maybe I'll wink and say... hey you might learn something.
He was right though I did learn a few things... nothing in the world is ever black and white. Sunny Leone sure is fit. Eric wasn't in it. And I'm going to need an excuse to invite myself over to Eric's and politely ask to see his porn collection... and maybe even steal one or two.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The Singleton
My answer was quite simple (in my head anyway) – If I knew WOULD I be single you dumb fuck?
But there isn’t much truth in that answer, if I’m being honest with myself. So I’m glad I didn’t voice it out loud. I am a poor liar and every time I’ve attempted to cleverly disguise one it’s always blown up in my face. Thing is I wouldn’t go as far as claiming I’m single out of choice. I’m not. I’m human. I have feelings. I feel the lack of companionship. But the truth is I think I’m afraid. Afraid of shouting out I’m gay to the world. Afraid of letting down my barriers. Afraid things will spiral out of control. How can someone who beats himself up about something stand up and ask others to respect it? So maybe that’s unconsciously why I haven’t discarded by singleton ways. How can I expect someone to love me when I don’t love myself?
Note to self: Learn to love thine self
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
The Dentist
I woke up this morning when my mobile phone alarm went off earlier than I was expecting. When I half asleep got to the phone the flashing message read: DENTIST APPOINTMENT. With exactly 30 minutes till the appointment my normal tarting-up routine was thrown out of the window. It gave me enough time to do 5 things. 1. Take a piss 2. Brush my teeth. 3. Splash some water on myself (normally I’d call this – taking a shower). 4. Throw some clothes on. 5. Leave. I had to forgo having breakfast, actually having a shower (30 minutes minimum), flossing my teeth, using mouth wash, gelling my hair, putting my contacts in, using a moisturiser, ironing my clothes, and saturating myself with Jean-Paul Gaultier’s Le Male. For an image conscious homo that is just torturous. Pain might work with straight men – but denying hygiene products works wonders for gay men… I’d tell anyone anything for some hair gel, no matter how secret/important it is.
Anyways getting to the point I was therefore pleasantly surprised when my dentist didn’t cover his mouth with that mouth cover thingy – he either had a bunged up nose or he didn’t think I had dragon breath (for obvious reasons I’m thinking it was the latter), yet equally disgusted – I shouldn’t have to endure his breath - thankfully he was a dentist so bad breath wasn’t an issue - which is just as well because I probably won’t have said anything even if he did have dragon breath – my teeth are far too important – I’d hate for him to have retaliated on my smile. I am so vain, I can’t even imagine having a crooked smile. [I QUIVER IN FEAR]
As if that wasn’t enough to get my mind racing, sitting in a dentist’s chair, he lightly informed me that I’d need a filling – after he subjected me to actual pain (gay men and pain don’t go hand in hand) whilst cleaning my teeth – which was probably the only thing keeping me from screaming like a girl and running around the room in hysterics (nice smile = clean white teeth). Wait for it… he then asked me if I wanted a metal filling (that would stand out like a turd on my spotless red carpet) or a concealed white one. Is that even a question worth asking someone as glamorous as me (OK I accept today I looked like a tramp than Jason Behr with creased clothes, a touch dried face, glasses and flat hair but still duh…)
I still haven’t recovered and it’s been 5 hours now. He booked me for a white filling on the 20th November – now I just need to find some way of funding my vanity – apparently it costs more… much much more. Oh well at least I’ll have a white smile over the festive period.
Anyways getting to the point I was therefore pleasantly surprised when my dentist didn’t cover his mouth with that mouth cover thingy – he either had a bunged up nose or he didn’t think I had dragon breath (for obvious reasons I’m thinking it was the latter), yet equally disgusted – I shouldn’t have to endure his breath - thankfully he was a dentist so bad breath wasn’t an issue - which is just as well because I probably won’t have said anything even if he did have dragon breath – my teeth are far too important – I’d hate for him to have retaliated on my smile. I am so vain, I can’t even imagine having a crooked smile. [I QUIVER IN FEAR]
As if that wasn’t enough to get my mind racing, sitting in a dentist’s chair, he lightly informed me that I’d need a filling – after he subjected me to actual pain (gay men and pain don’t go hand in hand) whilst cleaning my teeth – which was probably the only thing keeping me from screaming like a girl and running around the room in hysterics (nice smile = clean white teeth). Wait for it… he then asked me if I wanted a metal filling (that would stand out like a turd on my spotless red carpet) or a concealed white one. Is that even a question worth asking someone as glamorous as me (OK I accept today I looked like a tramp than Jason Behr with creased clothes, a touch dried face, glasses and flat hair but still duh…)
I still haven’t recovered and it’s been 5 hours now. He booked me for a white filling on the 20th November – now I just need to find some way of funding my vanity – apparently it costs more… much much more. Oh well at least I’ll have a white smile over the festive period.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Ties That Bind
The thing about me is that I’m just too much of a dick to know what’s good for me and what's not. Now when you have to face a big decision and you know whatever you decide will haunt you for the rest of your life, or at least a fairly large portion of it, you’d think I’d really consider what I was getting involved in before making that decision.
Well obviously not.
Let me explain… earlier this year I made one of the biggest decisions I have or probably will ever have to make. I took out a mortgage… that’s not it however. I took out a mortgage for someone else. Why? I hear you ask. Well it was to get my niece out of Stonebridge (where I was brought up) and into Harrow. It was also intended to help my mother live happier in the last few years of her life. In short it was to help my family out. Obviously those aims have been achieved give or take a few minor details. But what that now means is financially I am completely debt-laden (in short fucked). OK so the truth is I have some savings albeit it’s not enough to live on for eternity but it is enough to start a life elsewhere. Hard work and a very limited social life are required to attain this but it is feasible, however the mortgage changes that. I can ill afford a second mortgage. It’s a given that I’m not paying the mortgage I have, but rather my brother is (niece I mentioned – her father). Lenders may be willing to lend to 5 times someone’s salary but how about a second mortgage on a salary based on a 5 hour a week employment. I don’t think so. Why am I bringing this up? Only because things have been crazy at home. I find myself at ends with my Aunt (whom I live with). I haven’t spoken to her properly in over 2 weeks now, it stemmed from her calling me nothing but a pile of rubbish (on a normal day I’d agree but that day I was an emotional wreak and it penetrated the stone wall I’ve built around my heart). And now all I want to do is leave this shit-hole and live the fantasy I’ve been dreaming about for years – and be someone free from the bleakness that is my life, not someone to has to take it lying down when compared to rubbish. If only I had a stone heart and refused this whole helping the family in need. Since it’s not possible to go back and change that I guess I’m going to have to learn to live with the cards that are dealt. And suck it up. Hell the mortgage only has 24 years and 6 months left. Damn those family ties that bind.
Well obviously not.
Let me explain… earlier this year I made one of the biggest decisions I have or probably will ever have to make. I took out a mortgage… that’s not it however. I took out a mortgage for someone else. Why? I hear you ask. Well it was to get my niece out of Stonebridge (where I was brought up) and into Harrow. It was also intended to help my mother live happier in the last few years of her life. In short it was to help my family out. Obviously those aims have been achieved give or take a few minor details. But what that now means is financially I am completely debt-laden (in short fucked). OK so the truth is I have some savings albeit it’s not enough to live on for eternity but it is enough to start a life elsewhere. Hard work and a very limited social life are required to attain this but it is feasible, however the mortgage changes that. I can ill afford a second mortgage. It’s a given that I’m not paying the mortgage I have, but rather my brother is (niece I mentioned – her father). Lenders may be willing to lend to 5 times someone’s salary but how about a second mortgage on a salary based on a 5 hour a week employment. I don’t think so. Why am I bringing this up? Only because things have been crazy at home. I find myself at ends with my Aunt (whom I live with). I haven’t spoken to her properly in over 2 weeks now, it stemmed from her calling me nothing but a pile of rubbish (on a normal day I’d agree but that day I was an emotional wreak and it penetrated the stone wall I’ve built around my heart). And now all I want to do is leave this shit-hole and live the fantasy I’ve been dreaming about for years – and be someone free from the bleakness that is my life, not someone to has to take it lying down when compared to rubbish. If only I had a stone heart and refused this whole helping the family in need. Since it’s not possible to go back and change that I guess I’m going to have to learn to live with the cards that are dealt. And suck it up. Hell the mortgage only has 24 years and 6 months left. Damn those family ties that bind.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Taking sides
I think I may have made a fabulous Greek in the Ancient Times. I can imagine myself sitting elegantly in ruby red gold lined suit in the front row of a colosseum watching the carnage between a Gladiator and a ferocious lion. I love conflict. The man fighting for his life and the lion for a snack. However when the conflict starts nudging towards me - that's when I prefer to take a step back and observe in a completely impartial way. However the last few days I've found myself right bang in the middle of a war that whomever wins I reap the benefits. Not the worst kind of conflict. But the dreaded petition screwed that up big time.
I'll explain... I was informed by my current manager Mr P that he is being transferred to another area and I was getting a new manager. Crap I thought I get away with murder here and with you. But before I could say anything, or collapse to the floor in tears, he announces his replacement is Mr G. Oh I think.... Mr G as in Mr G who employed me 2 years back? Mr G who I can get away with murder with. Oh well that's not too bad I think - but say 'No, that's so sad. Is there anything we can do to stop it?'. To my horror I find that the rest of the staff are in the process of signing a petition. Now anyone who knows anything about politics would know that signing such a petition for me is a sure fire method of getting crucified in the long run. I can't not sign it because that would look real bad on Mr P and I can't sign it because that would look real bad on Mr G. Fuck I think - I need a way out. I've managed to stay busy everytime someone has mentioned it. Now I'm hoping it gets sent off to Head Office quickly. And then I can make a big song and dance about no-one bothering to give me the chance to sign it. Fingers crossed today might be my lucky day.
I'll explain... I was informed by my current manager Mr P that he is being transferred to another area and I was getting a new manager. Crap I thought I get away with murder here and with you. But before I could say anything, or collapse to the floor in tears, he announces his replacement is Mr G. Oh I think.... Mr G as in Mr G who employed me 2 years back? Mr G who I can get away with murder with. Oh well that's not too bad I think - but say 'No, that's so sad. Is there anything we can do to stop it?'. To my horror I find that the rest of the staff are in the process of signing a petition. Now anyone who knows anything about politics would know that signing such a petition for me is a sure fire method of getting crucified in the long run. I can't not sign it because that would look real bad on Mr P and I can't sign it because that would look real bad on Mr G. Fuck I think - I need a way out. I've managed to stay busy everytime someone has mentioned it. Now I'm hoping it gets sent off to Head Office quickly. And then I can make a big song and dance about no-one bothering to give me the chance to sign it. Fingers crossed today might be my lucky day.