"I had a chalk penis drawn on my back ... ask yourself two questions; how and why?"
Things have been so hectic recently I haven't had enough internet time. Schnizzle. Write that down.
The last few days have been spent doing those grown up things that we all hate --> paying the mortgage, balancing the accounts, taking the dry cleaning in, tidying the house. How utterly boring.
I've just sat and watched CSI : Grave Danger, it's the one that was written and directed by Tarantino. It was fucking excellent. I also have The Hitchikers Guide To The Galaxy and Wolf Creek to watch later. Cash Back.
Top five things that ALWAYS happen to me on holiday
(1) I will get searched at the airport
Happens every time I go on holiday. Somehow I always manage to set off the metal detector. I can have empty pockets but they will still insist on searching me. I must obviously look like a terrorist. This always provides much amusement for anyone I'm travelling with, but is just a cocking annoyance when I'm on my own. At least I'm prepared for it. I do have a sneaking suspicion that my parents dropped me as a child and had to have some kind of metal implant put in to fix it. Maybe a bionic leg or something. That would explain it.
(2) The flight will be terrible
It's probably karma. Five years ago before a long haul flight to Canada with my sister I made her sit and watch Final Destination the day before we left. It was the first time she'd flown and I thought it'd be funny. Then during the flight I freaked her out by telling her that the wing was on fire. It was hilarious until she freaked out and had to be put on oxygen. I haven't had the pleasure of a decent flight since then.
(3) I'll break my no drinking rule
A large proportion of my holiday will undoubtedly be spent in a Spanish bar called 'The Abbey' that specialises in Belgian beers. Cheap Hoegaarden ... mmmmmm. Sat looking out into the sea with a book and an iced pint glass. It's heaven. Just wouldn't be the same sat nursing a mineral water. It'd kill the holiday spirit ... no pun intended.
(4) I'll get lost
I have no access to a car for the first four days so I'll be doing a lot of walking. My apartment is hidden away in the hills somewhere and I am bound to get lost at some point. I'll have to make sure that I have multiple pieces of paper in my handbag with the address written on. Maybe I'll write it on myself in both Spanish and English. That and a polaroid of the villa. It'll be like Memento. I just hope that there's no weird guy called Teddy ... get a real name cock wad. Guns would be cool though.
(5) I'll be detained at Malaga Airport on the way home
I don't look anything like my passport picture as it was taken many many years ago. It isn't helped by the fact that I also look nothing like my drivers license photo. It usually takes a bit of persuasion to get them to agree that it's me and let me on the plane. Keeps me amused at the airport for a while.
I'm thinking of looking for a new job when I get back. It's not that I dislike my job ... in fact I rather enjoy arguing with people for a living and knowing full well that I'm in the right. It's nice to stop a bit of crime every now and then. It helps to feed my cocky side.
The problem is that I hate my office and the wankers I work with. Life's too short to spend the days surrounded by fucking dimwit tossers who think that their stupid office job is the BEST thing ever.
"Ooooh look at my new mouse mat"
"Oooh why don't you go shove that up your own fucking arse, then sit on it until you're in so much agony your head actually swivels round on your neck, and then explodes into tiny tiny little pieces which will then vapourise, so that I never have to listen to your whiny shit again."
No amount of staplers in jelly can save me.
"I used to combine the card with the handshake. Had a bad experience once. Gave a paper cut to a man from Nestle"
Things have been so hectic recently I haven't had enough internet time. Schnizzle. Write that down.
The last few days have been spent doing those grown up things that we all hate --> paying the mortgage, balancing the accounts, taking the dry cleaning in, tidying the house. How utterly boring.
I've just sat and watched CSI : Grave Danger, it's the one that was written and directed by Tarantino. It was fucking excellent. I also have The Hitchikers Guide To The Galaxy and Wolf Creek to watch later. Cash Back.
Top five things that ALWAYS happen to me on holiday
(1) I will get searched at the airport
Happens every time I go on holiday. Somehow I always manage to set off the metal detector. I can have empty pockets but they will still insist on searching me. I must obviously look like a terrorist. This always provides much amusement for anyone I'm travelling with, but is just a cocking annoyance when I'm on my own. At least I'm prepared for it. I do have a sneaking suspicion that my parents dropped me as a child and had to have some kind of metal implant put in to fix it. Maybe a bionic leg or something. That would explain it.
(2) The flight will be terrible
It's probably karma. Five years ago before a long haul flight to Canada with my sister I made her sit and watch Final Destination the day before we left. It was the first time she'd flown and I thought it'd be funny. Then during the flight I freaked her out by telling her that the wing was on fire. It was hilarious until she freaked out and had to be put on oxygen. I haven't had the pleasure of a decent flight since then.
(3) I'll break my no drinking rule
A large proportion of my holiday will undoubtedly be spent in a Spanish bar called 'The Abbey' that specialises in Belgian beers. Cheap Hoegaarden ... mmmmmm. Sat looking out into the sea with a book and an iced pint glass. It's heaven. Just wouldn't be the same sat nursing a mineral water. It'd kill the holiday spirit ... no pun intended.
(4) I'll get lost
I have no access to a car for the first four days so I'll be doing a lot of walking. My apartment is hidden away in the hills somewhere and I am bound to get lost at some point. I'll have to make sure that I have multiple pieces of paper in my handbag with the address written on. Maybe I'll write it on myself in both Spanish and English. That and a polaroid of the villa. It'll be like Memento. I just hope that there's no weird guy called Teddy ... get a real name cock wad. Guns would be cool though.
(5) I'll be detained at Malaga Airport on the way home
I don't look anything like my passport picture as it was taken many many years ago. It isn't helped by the fact that I also look nothing like my drivers license photo. It usually takes a bit of persuasion to get them to agree that it's me and let me on the plane. Keeps me amused at the airport for a while.
I'm thinking of looking for a new job when I get back. It's not that I dislike my job ... in fact I rather enjoy arguing with people for a living and knowing full well that I'm in the right. It's nice to stop a bit of crime every now and then. It helps to feed my cocky side.
The problem is that I hate my office and the wankers I work with. Life's too short to spend the days surrounded by fucking dimwit tossers who think that their stupid office job is the BEST thing ever.
"Ooooh look at my new mouse mat"
"Oooh why don't you go shove that up your own fucking arse, then sit on it until you're in so much agony your head actually swivels round on your neck, and then explodes into tiny tiny little pieces which will then vapourise, so that I never have to listen to your whiny shit again."
No amount of staplers in jelly can save me.
"I used to combine the card with the handshake. Had a bad experience once. Gave a paper cut to a man from Nestle"
VIEW 25 of 28 COMMENTS
Sometimes I wonder if my lack of short term memory might be one of those defence mechanisms designed to stop me engaging with the numb-nut dip shits I employ. Not remembering any of their names makes it easy to fire them when they fucked up their piss easy jobs. Fuck heads. Clearly you'd be better off rising to some meglomanic position of authority, rather than have a job change. That way you could cull the the lot of them. Unfortunately you'd also find out that getting replacements who can at least find novelty mouse mats ironically amusing, is near on impossible. 99% of people are like zombies on prozac at work... and the only cure is a Romero double barrel to the brain.
Elsewhere, on holiday, I like to bask under the only cloudy spell **whereever** has had in months, whilst getting food poisoning and being hit on by she-males with hands bigger than my own. Trying to take the latter as a compliment I get all nostalgic about the flight, and the 20hour torture garden of inhaling 400 peoples shit and piss at 3 minuite intervals, everytime the incontinent fuckers open and close the lame excuse for a toilet door that I always get assigned a seat next to. Probably because I've specifically asked not to. Then I realise that getting a full-body frisk at the departure gate was always going to be the highlight of the entire expedition. Should have turned around and walked straight out of there... quit whilst i was ahead. Like a two week break was gonna soothe my soul. Idiot.