Late night memories…
Two important things I've learned through this sickness..
A. Craftmatic beds are up to 56% less expensive than other quality flat beds.
And.
2. Do not attempt to watch David Lynch's "Mulholland Drive" for the very first time when loaded up with Nyquil, Gatorade and Extra Strength cough medicine.
It makes the plot far too easy to work out.
OOoh, magic fingers, give up your honey to me...
I apologize once again for being tardy in creating gripping daily updates in my life, however, the grim reaper dropped in and took me by surprise last Wednesday morning, I'd had a few brutal days of what felt like the flu, with very little sleep, when, standing in the comfort of my own toilet I was floored, struck down by an invisible hand, bye-byes....to awake, confused, to my good wife screaming that she was going to call da amboolance man.
What the Hell?
Five days have passed and I could not have been a more miserable, sleep deprived, sick and flakey hobbit. No food, no booze, no sleep, pain, confusion, hacking, snorting and spitting. You name it and it's on my tee-shirt. I was actually thinking at one point I wasn't going to make it, yes, true, it gave me a few unpaid days off from work, but Maury Povich and Days of our Lives just didn't compensate for total boredom and hopelessness. Sickness, my invisible online friends is very, very tiring.
Sorry, as usual I'm going on, I'll pull my finger out and try to get better...
A half hearted rant begins…..
I have a sneaking feeling that the ship is sinking.
From my vantage point in the office here I can see that the company car park has more cars in it than ever before, yet, when I look around the engineering building, like the young lad in the sixth sense “I see dead people” or perhaps it is more a case of “I see a lot less of the sick looking bastards”.
I assume that all those new cars belong to the ever increasing throng of Human Resources consultants, Program managers and groupies who, by my reckoning, now have at least a full platoon, all costumed up and ready to engage the evil sith in the up and coming clone wars. It’s all part of the endgame, the ship is rapidly sinking and us workers will be the last to know, the corporate mandate being let’s not worry the little people with constructive engineering tasks, lets grind the living crap out of them by making them polish and Windex their workstations and color coordinate their binders and archives.
Not that we have archives any more, they’ve all been whisked away by the Stepford Wives/Administrators/Print Room Girls and put in a nuclear bunker somewhere up north, anything of the slightest use has been hidden and an awful lot of useless, trivial crap has been digitized and loaded onto our “intranet” by the hidden agenda gang, another group of oxygen thieves who demand ever increasing car parking facilities. They probably already know that we've hit the iceberg, life has ended and they’re just here to squeeze the last dollars out of the system.
I suppose that’s what we’re all doing. We’re hanging on as long as possible before the water rushes in, happy to endure all the corporate BS until the last minute when we all try to jump ship at the same time or float off into the sunset on a solitary deckchair.
It’s already happening, I’ve seen that several key players have donned women’s clothing and stepped into the life rafts on the starboard side, they’ve quietly moved on to greener pastures as the rest of us act like prehistoric flies, trapped in the aspic of the office, not noticing the slight list at the bow. We’re like a bunch of little green frogs languishing in a big saucepan on the stove, in water that will eventually boil and kill us all, too comfy in our apathy to do anything about it.
It's a frog thing.
Women, Engineers and Children first……!!
I'd forgotten in all the fuss about pushing text into the blog again.
Things continued to deteriorate here in Christmas card land when a truck plowed into the back of my wife's car, causing a slight $3000 damage on a ten year old car that's hovering around the $6000 value, fortunately, it went into the fixers yesterday.
It's one of those things, we almost lost a perfectly viable car for probably a $1000. The insurance company coughs up $3000 and probably would have totalled it if the repair cost was higher by a grand.
I woke this morning with the happy thoughts that the car is being fixed and was presented with the information that the airline "Jetsgo" went breasts-up last night, filing for bankruptcy. There's seven hundred bucks that we'll never see again, that's the trouble with booking flights ahead of time on a mickey-mouse outfit that don't even give you a bag of nuts on the flight.
It's another example of how life just keeps throwing rocks at you, I'm at the stage in life that it's all quite funny, I class the Jetsgo thing as small stuff, so what if the equivalent of 500 or more bottles of beer has left my wallet, never to return, we'll manage (as we say a lot). As the common phrase goes, "don't sweat the small stuff" and without all this stuff, life would be quite boring.
I was feeling fine at the start of the week and I can distinctly remember thinking that I was feeling fine, it was probably at that exact moment that my downhill spiral happened and here I am, on a Friday, feeling like absolute crap. I think there are over two hundred joints in the human skeletal system and every one of them is crying out for attention.
I have to apologise to my son, well in advance of his mid-thirties, for probably giving him this gift of Arthritis (my mum passed it to me and my dad had a fair old bit of it as well).
Most of the time I'm fine with the old SNR (signal to noise) level, it's something that over the last ten years I've grown quite fond of, often a reminder that I'm still here and I've learned over time to keep my feet warm and try to look after myself.
Often though, especially when I get too cocky about "how well I feel" I'll overdo things, simple things like drinking a little bit more than I should, staying up later, not getting enough sleep and just generally not looking after myself, especially in these stupid winter months (this morning was minus twenty again). So, I'm paying the piper as I type.
Things on this end are normal, for this time of the year that is. A large block of ice broke off my wheel arch and bust up the heat shield near my catalytic converter on the VW, the guy at the exhaust place took it off and said I didn’t need it but the car has a definite smell about it when it gets hot, sort of a sweet popcorn type smell, plus the centre console gets rather warm after about ten minutes driving, watch this space, I’ll let you know if it bursts into flames.
On top of my best mate’s dad kicking the bucket, my wife's good friend had a heart attack and was in hospital for a week, during that time her husband slipped on some ice and shattered his shoulder. It’s a barrel of laughs here I tell you.
I apologise for not posting over the last few months, if anyone actually noticed that is, but a strange sequence of events cut me to the quick and prevented me from blogging.
There was of course, the holiday season, lots of alcohol (although there is no need for a reason in my life to have excessive alcohol) and winter. There was Ghost Recon 2 on the Xbox and the building of a HTPC for my media excesses. However, the biggest culprit in the anti-blog reason top ten list was an Xbox game called Project Gotham Racing 2, which, an unsuspecting fool bought from a used DVD store. This game has consumed about 250 hours of my life in the last three months and continues to demand more from me.
So, I apologise and will try harder in the future, I say this with my fingers crossed behind my back as the new up and coming sequel to the anti-blog list is another Xbox game called Rainbow Six 3 Black Arrow, which is already using up a high percentage of my remaining personal twitter bandwidth.
Zharkov out.
Middle aged Man, trapped in a downward spiral of unproductive nostalgia and angst.
