TheLoveMachine has gone and I’m driving a Vauxhall Astra Diesel. I’ve gone from sexy to family man in one easy exchange of vehicles….
…and I’m heartbroken.
I beat the shit out of some drums on Tuesday evening again and surprised myself with how good I sounded. I was so adrenalised and confidence-laden that I put my name on the ‘solo amateurs’ list at the studio before I left. Now I’m having daily panic attacks at the thought of someone phoning me and asking me to jam with them..
I think too much cycling may be causing me problems with my prostate. I’m pissing more often than a weasel and when I climb on my bike it feels like there’s half a grapefruit in my pants.
I got into a bit of trouble at work. At least - I think I have. I mean, I haven’t yet, but I’m thoroughly expecting to. You know that little filter you have in your head that intercepts thoughts before you get a chance to vocalise them? And you know those times when you’re tired or stressed or just don’t care anymore, and those filters stop working? I was spending a morning with someone from a company that is a new supplier for us. He was here to be shown around and to see where his products would be positioned and to get a good impression of the store and someone somewhere decided it would be a good idea if they left him with me. He had a slightly camp, slightly American accent and I was getting bored and distracted when he asked me how I would react if one of my staff members had set a display stand in a way I thought was unsuitable. I replied “I’d probably save myself time and energy by re-doing the bloody thing myself.” He then said “Oh, lovely. I like a man who rolls his sleeves up and gets stuck in himself” and for some bizarre reason that I don’t think I’ll ever understand I said - in a slightly camp, slightly American accent - “Really? I like a man who takes it in the ass”
That last one wasn’t really a ‘short descriptive burst’ was it? Ah, well - this blog is nothing if not an adaptive, ever-changing beast.
RC 12-7-13
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