Growin' up in the 'hood

As someone born and bred in the UK is goes without saying that I grew up around white people. Therefore my thoughts, ideologies and opinions tend to be quite ‘white’ as my parents would say.

I once heard someone, a very very long time ago, derogatively call me a Coconut. It was only after a few days did it actually dawn on me what they meant - white on the inside & brown on the outside. I never really took offence to that – instead I wore it like a badge. I was a Coconut, and have almost always since that classed myself as a Coconut. Truth be told whether or not it was meant to be an insult - it describes me rather well. The other insult I’ve come across is being called a ‘Paki’. When I was young I use to explain to people calling me a PAKI – that I was (a) not from Pakistan & (b) nor was I Muslim – so I was definitely no more a Paki than he or she. It never worked obviously. There was always one distinction I wasn’t white and usually they were. So that meant I was a Paki (whether or not they knew what a Paki was).

I’m not stupid enough to think I’m white – a look in the mirror acts as a daily reminder (in the unlikely situation that I forget). But I was almost shocked to hear the word ‘Paki’ aimed at me when I walked pass a group of white guys earlier today. I’d thought more people knew the distinction now since 9/11 - Whether or not I was a Paki was ultimately irrelevant - if that silly little word was meant to insult me – they obviously failed. I’ve been called far worse before. I’ve even been spat at, had cold water poured on me, been given a black eye, had a knife held against my throat, kicked in the ribs and thrown in a filthy canal (all thankfully in my youth - I’m not sure I could bare the indignity of enduring that now). I grew up in Stonebridge – where the ideology is ‘If it don’t kill you – it makes you stronger’ – And I am much stronger a person having endured all that. Besides the truth of the matter is I did my fair share of retaliating – I recall breaking Michael’s nose with a well aimed punch (the guy responsible for the majority of those) - I’ve not forgotten those things happened but a lot has changed since then. People have become much more accepting. And it surprises me when I’m on the receiving end of racial comments now. I always face it head on just like I did back then.

I think I really surprised them when I burst out laughing. Me alone - them 4 white guys. Actually them 4 tonk white guys. I suppose they expected me to look down and walk on faster without looking back. Instead I stopped. And walked towards them, changing the direction I was walking. I was quite pleased with myself for holding my head up as I did so. And it gave me great pleasure to see one of them looking a bit worried, they didn’t have clue what to expect. I walked right up to them, stopped for a second as I checked my watch, continued walking, stopped again maybe about 30-40 yards away and tied my shoelace, all in all I think I added an extra 10 minutes to my journey from the change in direction but it was pretty satisfying nonetheless. I think they might think twice the next time they feel the need to call someone a Paki.

I don’t know if I wanted to get into a tangle with them coz I really can’t think of what I was trying to prove. Maybe that I wasn’t afraid! Maybe I just wanted to provoke them or maybe I wanted them to provoke me further. I think I wanted to punch one of them. Maybe just maybe that old Stonebridge gangster side never really went away like I thought it had.

Tug O' War

If you recall I mentioned some time back that I had a change in management, when Mr P from Harrow went to Wembley, and Mr G from Wembley came to Harrow.

I thought I was clever and aptly was able to avoid being caught in the middle of the resultant WW3. Well how stupid was I. It appears I merely delayed the inevitable.

I heard a rumour (these flipping things tend to have a element of truth) that I was being transferred to Wembley. Mr G (now at Harrow) as influential as he is managed to bring the best of the staff (Ms P) from Wembley to Harrow. Which wouldn't be the worse thing but now Mr P wants to take the best staff from Harrow to Wembley (I don't want to boast but that unfortunately is little old ME). Now Mr G having worked with me knows this and is resisting let's say quite forcefully. So what happened last night..... well I received a call from BOTH Mr G and Mr P. Both want me to choose their side.

I'm beginning to wonder what happened to my stress-free wonderful pre-planned Christmas enjoyment I was expecting after 4 gruelling months of hard work and exams.

Well I think I'm just going to not choose to take anyone's side and let whatever happens happen. I know what will happen though Mr H (Local Director) is gonna call and ask me what I want to do. Stay at Harrow or go to Wembley.

Oh well I'm just gonna make the comment that I live in Harrow so Harrow is convenient to get to. But that doesn't mean it's really difficult to get to Wembley either.

Oh fuck these God-Forsaken Christmas blues are back (and they went away yesterday - I brought a Nintendo DS - who says money can't buy happiness?)

Xmas Blues

I think I've finally 'caught' (do you see how I use caught as though I'm describing an illness?), I think I've finally caught this negativity regarding Xmas. I had the first of my Xmas workdos yesterday. I have NO hangover (I was driving), I have no voice & my throat aches (from all the shouting at the DJ for the crap he was playing) & I do no remember more than 8 songs I danced to (ALL WERE REQUESTED) - and the scary thing was that music started from 8PM until late - at 1.30AM I could not longer take the music and bid my farewells clearing 90% of the group with me.
These 8 songs were:
1. Don't Cha - Pussycat Dolls
2. Livin' La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin
3. Rock DJ - Robbie Williams
4. Reach - S Club 7
5. I Don't Feel Like Dancing - Scissor Sisters
6. Reach - S Club 7 again (he accidentally played it's intro & quickly changed it - announcing it was a mistake - so we moaned and groaned until he played it again)
7. Dirrty - Christina Aquilera
8. Hung Up - Madonna

So here I sit on Sunday morning trying to recall the most exciting thing that happened... I'm bringing absolutely nothing back. Which I think means FUCK ALL happened.
Even Emily who normally wears something barely covering herself up was wearing a polo-necked top with not even a boob in sight. I do recall about 30+ pensioners though - one who was dressed like a call girl.
So the morale if this story is: Avoid The Belair restaurant, Northwood, like the plague. A truly unspectacular evening. But if you're into pensioners and crap music well you'll love it.

My next Xmas workdo is on Friday here's to hoping that one is better.

With Co-Workers Like These Who Needs Enemies?

I’ve just returned to work after 5 weeks and I’m not pleased at all, especially since I was really looking forward to it after all those blasted exams. I got to work very much awake, full of energy and believe it or not despite it being only 8am I was smiling. That good mood very quickly dissipated and I turned into the cross-my-path-and-you’ll-be-sorry kind of guy that mows you down without blinking.

Firstly I discovered that some bastard has stolen the printer out of my office in my absence and replaced it with something that doesn’t even have a power cable or ink or paper – I knew I shouldn’t have left my key in the door. See how showing even a small amount of consideration for others bites you in the arse.

My slim LCD monitor had been replaced with a monitor from the early 90s - one that weights more than six times what I do. The indignity of it! I think this is the worse of it all.

My beautiful expensive photo-frame is missing. Although I wasn’t as bothered about this as I should have been.

And there seems to be a stain on the carpet that looks suspiciously like a vomit mark, either that or someone mistook the distance to the loo. Eek.

I’ve given my manager Mr G an ultimatum – if my office is not back to it’s original standard within 24 hours – I’m going to take his office instead. I can’t imagine the look on my face at that moment (I was so furious) because he didn’t dare even open his mouth to say anything. I think I may have come across dead serious for once in my life. He was always telling me to be a bit more assertive back when he employed me. I doubt he’ll ever say that to me again.

Hell hath no fury like a Gay Man vexed.

Meow Pussycat indeed

Neesh replied:

Smiley you are such a swine.

I spent absolutely ages deciding what to get for you. Everyone I asked suggested that and claimed it was good. But I guess you’re just not classy enough for them. It was a really good album. Had you given it a chance you would have liked it. Honest! I guess I should have got you a second copy of Future Sex Love Songs huh? I had your Aunt read me out what you have. You have absolutely everything that would have been my first choice. So I blame you for not leaving me with much choice.

I'm thinking she didn't appreciated the gift swap. I can’t seem to think of anything witty enough so I’m just not gonna bother actually commenting!

My reply:

Did you just email me? I just receieved a blank email from you. Was it important?

Smiley (",)

Her response:

Fuck you. I bet you haven't even brought me anything yet.

Meow Pussycats

Now that my exams are officially over I’ll not spare them even a shred of thought, until that is the dreaded 19th February 2007 arrives, when the nice people marking the thousands of transcripts will kindly inform me (via email – very technical) how badly I’ve done.

On a brighter note on my way home I decided to see if I could do something with that shitty present (Denim Boy - Il Shitto sounds about right) and lo & behold I now have a copy of the Pussycat Dolls instead. I must email Neesh to thank her for the Pussycats. A well picked present I think. I’m going to conveniently forget she dared to buy me something as dire as Il Divo. I also left with a copy of the Best of Girls Aloud and Nelly Furtado’s Loose too. Christmas just got sweeter. I didn’t have my Credit Card so I have to finish the shopping trip tomorrow, I have a nice long list of stuff I want. I was annoyed no-one has the Nintendo Wii. My Christmas presents first then I’ll worry about everyone else. Oh well maybe the DS will do fine until they have the Wii that is.

And all it just took a bit of shameless flirting with the boy on the counter. Who cares if he looked like the back of a bus – he swapped my Il Crappo for Il Pussycat Fabuloso – I now have the immensely popstatic ‘Don’t Cha’ blaring out my stereo and me dancing around in bliss. He asked me if I’d have a drink with him, after using him I felt obligated so I gave him my number but I did happen to very subtly let it slip that I might be seeing someone so it would be nothing more than drinks. Yippee me. Damn I’m so glad I’m a flirt.

Il Divo Il no-care-oh

I got my first Christmas present yesterday. Now I admire people who actually wait until Christmas morning to open theirs but no sooner had it arrived in the post did I rip it open. I knew it was a CD even before I had opened it. I also equally admire people who are able to get their Christmas shopping done before the middle of December especially when I'm to be on the receiving end. I absolutely love Neesh - she is so organised.

As soon as I opened the present I was gutted. It was a CD. It was by some random group of people I didn't know from well John Bladdy Doe. Now if it was Britney or Christina I'd be deliriously happy (despite having all known albums to exist) - but Il Divo - who the fuck is that? A quick wiki search and I realized they were a Platinum CD selling group created by Simon Cowell and is in the Top Ten right now - oh well at least it's not a £2 CD out of the bargain basket at HMV. So much for hoping to get something a little more poptastic. Instead I got a CD featuring non-english opera singers although they are all good-looking.

Next year I'll just have to make sure I send Neesh a PLEASE BUY.... DON'T YOU DARE BUY LIST.

A long long long forgotten communication

I woke up this morning to find two most unusual things:
1. The post has arrived before 9AM
2. That I had received a letter - not the normal array of 'post' (bills, bank statements, junk etc) but an actual letter - a hand-written letter.

I thought things like that died out around about when the dinosaurs did. Who in this day and age has time to take a pen to a piece of paper and write to someone.

I jumped to the end to see it was an old friend of mine - someone who I went to Primary School with - someone I'm quite surprised had a forwarding address for me. She started the letter with the lines... I hope you get this letter.

Not only had she spent time writing the letter but she wasn't even sure I'd get it. How sweet but equally weird. Thankfully she's enclosed a telephone number as well as her address, so I can give her a ring to acknowledge receipt and say hello - God forbid I might have had to write back - the last time I wrote a letter to someone was probably in the 80s when mobile phones were the size of briefcases. A lot has changed since then - I've replaced one of my ears with a mobile phone blue tooth.

Tax Fucking Tax

I had my Tax Exam today.

Not only am I expected to pay tax - I'm also expected to know tax and be examined on it.

Which ultimately won't be that bad - if the examiner was human that is. But I discovered today during my exam that bastard really needs to get in touch with his human side coz the exam he set... well... suffice to say it's gonna have a pretty high fail rate. Coz it was a real bitch.

There... that's my rant done. Time to revise for tomorrow's exam. Here's to hoping that at least that one goes well.

Distraught

I told myself I'd not blog until at least the 14th December, by which by exams will be over and I'd have nothing better to do. However yesterday night changed that. Once a month some mates get together at Nick's mansion (by mansion I mean inhabitable 1 bed flat) for MOVIE NIGHT. Normally this is quite enjoyable - the lads are always rowdy and fun always ensues. I made the fatal suggestion some weeks back that I wanted to watch Hostel (the idea of watching Jay Hernandez for a couple of hours is delightful) but didn't read what the film was about - I just knew it was Horror and rated 18. What I expected was jay Hernandez and I'm delighted to say he was definitely engaging, most especially when shirtless. Now at someone who watched 18 rated horror movies at 8 I'm pretty immune to horror movies. Hostel was not so much Horror as torture (slicing, sawing, hacking, burning, etc).

I can't get the image of the back of the guy's feet sliced in two, blood oozing out and him unable to walk. Or the scene where the guy uses a power drill to drill a hole in a guy's shoulder. Or Jay Hernandez's fingers getting chain-sawed off. Argh.

I was so shaken I refused to drive home (which normally wouldn't be a problem but I had borrowed my brother's car who who need if for work at 6AM next morning) - but I just wasn't in any state to drive. I for the first time in my life was actually wanting to spend the night at Nick's place. Suffice to say I couldn't close my eyes without picturing that blasted movie. And I'm dreading it happening all over again tonight.

But well at least every few seconds an image of Jay Hernandez pops into my head. That's makes the next few seconds of torture that much more bearable.