Tuesday, October 25, 2005

And the water had become wine...that's magic!

Oh so Vic Reeeves is shit then?

The coming of yet another wave of new arrivals at the ole U E of A has me jibbering like a loon. On Sunday, I was working on the Grad Bar and I put on Paramount 2 and I put on A Bit of Fry and Laurie and then Vic Reeves Big Night Out (and I think you know how I feel about a certain messrs Reeves and Mortimer) and this lanky frat boy guy goes, “I see where A Bit and Fry and Laurie is funny, but that Vic Reeves show is like 15 years old and It’s not funny, yet Monty Python is 36 years old and it’s still funny. I’m a service worker so I can’t wallop him around the chops with a wet beer towel. So I grit my teeth…but…what I would have said is: “Oh! I’m sorry I’ve only liked Vic and Bob for 14 years…I must have been mistaken because according to you they’re shite!…my life’s been a lie I will now change all my tastes according to you…you fucking mook”. And where did this time limit for comedy shit come from? The bibble’s a few thousand years old* and it is still the funniest thing I’ve ever read.

How can you explain to someone the fact that Bob was saying that seeing a cherry on an ironing board was his dream and then Vic brought out an ironing board with a Brussels sprout on it and Bob goes…”Ahhh! but that’s my worst nightmare!”

*I don’t have have time to work out how old the bible is. I know its about a few thousand years since some lunatics were babbling about god or some shit, and then it took another few thousand years for some other lunatics to write it down and a few more for some more lunatics to wreck our heads about it.

A certain moral flexibility...

Monday, October 24, 2005

Time travel doughnut John Cusack dream….

At work I have to go and do the shopping every morning. So I have to shrug as I buy like 16 packs of butter and a five 4 pint bottles of milk and 3 loaves of bread at Tesco, as if I go home and roll around in lots of butter in a Marlon Brando stylee. Anyway, I usually buy some doughnuts for the kitchen staff for the craic and general sugar rush, as if we need it after all the sugary tea. It must be affecting my psyche. Last night I actually had a whole 8 hours sleep, like all in a row, not over two separate nights, and I had a dream involving doughnuts. Today when I was doing the shopping I had to write down a note on the reverse of my list to remember this fine dream, I wrote:

“Time-travelling doughnut dream, 1881, John Cusack time police…mention electricity”

It was a nuts dream. I had to travel back in time for some reason to sample some really fucking class-A type of doughnut that we, with all our modern clockwork bum-machines have forgotten about. So in a Douglas Coupland-style ‘wouldn’t it be nice to time-travel with all the right disease immunity shots’ way I started hanging out in this 1800s setting. These doughnut-makers were cool guys, some sort of anarchists or some shit. So I started hanging out with them. They were the underclass in these big stately homes and I was really appreciating their fucking doughnuts while fat stately home types where throwing them against the walls and leaving them for their hunting dogs saying ‘blaawwhh…these doughnuts are shit..’

Anyway, I was trying to cheer them up by telling them about all the cool shit that’s going to happen like electricity, DVDs and people really digging their doughnuts, and suddenly I see John Cusack all in black like he’s some sort of Timecop guy and he starts going “NO! you can’t tell them that!” and we starting fighting like that ‘Thanks for the pen’ bit in Grosse Point Blank when he’s fighting the stumpy Russian guy by the lockers.
Then I woke up, so I don’t know who won… I mentioned this to 'CS' one of our chefs and dead pan he just goes...'you watch too much sci-fi man'...

Monday, October 17, 2005

Take heart..your life may be shite, but at least you're not in Norwich 'band' Zoo....rock on!

A big bit of tofu shaped like a human head?....

There’s a thin line between having an interesting life and just fucking up a lot and making the best of it.

The advantages of kitchen portering are:

1. Working with great people in horrible situations, it's like being an army or something, you will kill for these people. I've wanted to walk out so many times but I couldn't do it to the next poor bastard that would have to do my work in the immediate interim. I have previously posted on the greatness of work humour. This week involved doing impressions rampant rabbit vibrators like in a kind of salute by wobbling one's head and flicking one's hand around as if to simulate the clitoral simular part. I did mention that you could swallow loads of marbles to simulate the beads, but it fell on deaf years

...like my suggestion in the kitchen to the question 'what vegetarian special should we have?'
and me saying...

"Why not a big bit of tofu shaped liked a human head?!?"

2. Extra money for obscure and erotic items and bizarre endeavors.

3. A finely tuned and deep-seated hatred of the rich, those who do PhDs or MAs because they don’t really know what else to do and their parents are gullible enough to pay for it....three years and counting at the grad bar...three years and counting on hearing exactly the same arguments and creative writing novel pitches: (year 1) ahh it's about Gauguin from the point of view of his mistress (year 2) it's about Toulouse-Lautrec from the point of view of his mistress (year 3) It's about Picasso from the point of view of his mistress...

4. Learning more about lesser-known Norwich. Like such top shops as Black Lace, a fine fetish shop around the corner from the resturant where I work. They had a flyer in there for Zoo '4 piece vocal harmony group', these guys need to play at my 3oth birthday, or funeral, whichever comes first. Yeah the manga enter page looks vaguely impressive, but click on 'enter' and see what these mooks really look like.

5. Swearing: the stress of kitchen life means that I'm constantly going ballistic with Irish and/or made up swear words as more and more dirty dishes arrive in the 'hoist of doom' …ahh for bollix’s sake…cunt nuts! Cocking fucking hell!! shitbox mcgoolgle fuck-knocker, ahh you fucking prick bastards...etc etc.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

Babes and Brutes

Pudding and porn…well, if people will ask…

A waitress at work was asking what I was doing… in my usual getting covered in crap and hot water voice I explained I was doing a PhD in superhero movies and was into comics and such. And she goes yeah, comics are good for hiding your porn and that. I’m there saying, yep totally, a comic collection is the perfect place to hide porn.

Little does she know comics are the best place to hide many types of porn, I mean by this: olden day porn. Porn what is held in magazine form not ‘FBI Warning’ style region ‘0’ DVDs or 'giz us your credit card number' jizz jockey Web sites, where your poor cpu explodes once you click on a word like 'pussy'. There is such an art to it: Color Climax and the small Euro pornos like Maximum Perversion* and Rodox and such are easily hidden betwixt American comics and Swank, Fox and other U.S. mags, Nugget say, are easily hidden within the folds of 2000 AD. It reminds me of when, back in the day, back in Belfast I would smuggle such filth within the fantasy across the border. When going through shopping centres like Castle Court as a teen and getting searched for possible bomb-making shite by a bemused security guard. I was scared that my sleaze would be discoved...as if a copy of Mayfair where a naked demi-wave woman covorted with saucepan full of rice pudding would be more of a threat to Belfast than a bomb?

I kid you not in liew of hardcore action English soft porn mags were reduced to displacement activites like a saucepan of rice pudding to 'spice things up a bit'. English porn is like and oxymoron...go to the east for cheap electronics....go to the U.S. of A (and I wonder what the A stands for?) for pervesrse pornography. Must stop ranting before I get in more trouble..by next Saturday...I will have working 4 full weeks in bar and kitchen work..every day a week...needless to say, I am not a throughly stable man :) . Mind you, I never was beforehand.

It’s funny how a pretty mindless job encourages me to be more open about being open about being a total ‘pervoirt’.I remember office jobs where It took weeks for the true dark side to emerge. Now it takes about five minutes.

For example, the other day I nearly had a fit because I ordered this two fine tomes…
Suicide Girls and Erotic Print Society's Young Lusty Sluts from Amazon. I was out, and a card that simply said 'Amazon' and a phone number to ring was shoved through the letter box. Upon ringing this number I found out that it was a random woman who knew nothing of any courier and even less about my mucky books. In a break in work, I rang up Amazon and explained my predicament to some poor Inadian call-centre guy. "What titles are they?", he asks. "Young Lusty Sluts and the Suicide Girls!"** I reply rather too loudly as the head chef bemusedly shook his head. "Are they for your work?" he asks..." they could be" I reply. I am, as has always been the case, a total pervoirt, but nice with it, you know...

*What is 'Maximum Perversion'? is like turning so far from the norm you are normal? this month's issue: A nonhorny slut gets some HOT TEA down her warm throat before she GOES TO MASS and swallows a bit of JC's supernatural flesh.
** This sounds like some sort of perverse version of an Enid Blyton romp!

“and later on, I’ll be telling you how to wear a bobble hat this summer…”

Keep holding on dude...

"Dude, keep holding on to her and don't let go for the rest of your life. She is about seven miles out of your league and you are never going to have tits like that in your mouth ever again (ever)"-Gavin McInnes

Hey monkey boys...you should be down there *all* the time!

What is it about guys with long hair? They can get away with fucking murder! There’s this girl, (“Dr. Pepper” knows of her) who works in one of Norwich’s attempts at an upmarket hairdressing hangout…ie it’s not called ‘The Hairport’ or ‘Curl up and Dye’. She’s Norwich’s answer to a Suicide Girl: shaven, dyed, pierced, tattooed, taut, tiny, and hobbling around on New Rock boots..etc etc. Anyway, I’m walking home during a split shift and I see said angel of depravity and then I see some long-haired guy following her. I mean, he looks like a lungfish that has had its face stoved in with a lead pipe. Is this a stalker? Is this a local Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast who mistakes her for an Orc?

Of course fucking not! He’s her fucking boyfriend, he’s catching up with her…he better catch up with her…she’s got 99.9% of the geeks of Norwich lusting after her. It reminded me of Gavin McInnes comment on one of his do's and don’ts in Vice Magazine.

“ Dude, keep holding on to her and don’t let go for the rest of your life. She is about seven miles out of your league and you are never going to have tits like that in your mouth ever again (ever)…”

It also reminded me of the bizarre system of fate that seems to pair ugly, hairy, stumpy, unfunny, boorish fucks with tall, willowy, beautiful, sexy, etc etc woman:
it’s the
“Apes and Angels Theory” recounted at length by myself and the Bad Brute (where be he? Who do that?) ….its collaries being:

Apes and Angels
Monkeys and Models
Gibbons and Girls
Chimps and Chicks
Lemurs and Ladies
Baboons and Babes
Primates and Pussy

That’s about it for now, but I’m sure I’ll think for more…why don’t yous suggest some?