Friday, April 30, 2004
My 30th Year
I wanted to post this yesterday, but my net connection was playing up. Ho hum.
Birthdays are always strange days. This one was definitely one of the better ones though.
Lowlights
1. This one was a big one - my 10-minute argument, halfway through a 3.5 hour meeting, with the chairman of the meeting. I could have done without that.
2. My old manager finding out my work e-mail address and bombarding me with e-mails. OK, 2 is not bombardment, but when I've not spoken to him for 12 months, and I get 2 e-mails within an hour, it's not normal conversation either!
3. My last birthday beginning with a 2. Probably (but not absolutely definitely) ever. I can hope that AM(C=2050) will have a whole lot more rows in than AM 92 does!
Highlights
1. Goodlife singing in Marzano's.
2. The singer she took over from screeching like a strangled cat.
3. Giraffes.
4. The aforementioned singer arguing over the barman about how basic arithmetic was beneath her ("I'm not adding up our stock, that's not my job"), but being perfectly comfortable with collecting glasses and sweeping the floor.
5. My "29 today" cup.
6. Spending an idle 5 minutes trying to work out how many helium balloons it would take to fly me over the Minster.
7. Mojitos, and the significant labour costs of making them.
8. Springboks, and wondering (once again) how Baileys can be so nice but virtually anything else with alcohol in is foul.
9. Two meals in Pastiche.
and finally,
10. The poem written by Bertie, Goodlife, Flissy-loo, Badfriend and possibly someone else (update on 31/12/2004 - it was Jimbobjo). Reproduced here by kind permission of the authors (well, except for Mr or Mrs Someone Else)
There was a guy named Chris
Who went out on the piss.
Some girl wanted a kiss
She found a boy and it was bliss
She regretted to end it with a kiss
The dream faltered, the record stopped
The woman undressed and got on top
But poor old Chris was such a slop
He fell asleep inside the shop
And didn't wake until the cock sounded
(There's nothing else that rhymes around it)
Garlic breath and a beer-stained towel
Overflowing ashtray and smelly fowl
But Chris wasn't like that!
He wanted to eat like Jack Sprat
But he enjoyed his meat
And two vegetables floated in the sky
A cabbage and a carrot coloured orange
An orange, like the other serviette
Was found inside his neck
Beside his Adam's Apple
The Lord's work was done, but Satan had won!
Birthdays are always strange days. This one was definitely one of the better ones though.
Lowlights
1. This one was a big one - my 10-minute argument, halfway through a 3.5 hour meeting, with the chairman of the meeting. I could have done without that.
2. My old manager finding out my work e-mail address and bombarding me with e-mails. OK, 2 is not bombardment, but when I've not spoken to him for 12 months, and I get 2 e-mails within an hour, it's not normal conversation either!
3. My last birthday beginning with a 2. Probably (but not absolutely definitely) ever. I can hope that AM(C=2050) will have a whole lot more rows in than AM 92 does!
Highlights
1. Goodlife singing in Marzano's.
2. The singer she took over from screeching like a strangled cat.
3. Giraffes.
4. The aforementioned singer arguing over the barman about how basic arithmetic was beneath her ("I'm not adding up our stock, that's not my job"), but being perfectly comfortable with collecting glasses and sweeping the floor.
5. My "29 today" cup.
6. Spending an idle 5 minutes trying to work out how many helium balloons it would take to fly me over the Minster.
7. Mojitos, and the significant labour costs of making them.
8. Springboks, and wondering (once again) how Baileys can be so nice but virtually anything else with alcohol in is foul.
9. Two meals in Pastiche.
and finally,
10. The poem written by Bertie, Goodlife, Flissy-loo, Badfriend and possibly someone else (update on 31/12/2004 - it was Jimbobjo). Reproduced here by kind permission of the authors (well, except for Mr or Mrs Someone Else)
There was a guy named Chris
Who went out on the piss.
Some girl wanted a kiss
She found a boy and it was bliss
She regretted to end it with a kiss
The dream faltered, the record stopped
The woman undressed and got on top
But poor old Chris was such a slop
He fell asleep inside the shop
And didn't wake until the cock sounded
(There's nothing else that rhymes around it)
Garlic breath and a beer-stained towel
Overflowing ashtray and smelly fowl
But Chris wasn't like that!
He wanted to eat like Jack Sprat
But he enjoyed his meat
And two vegetables floated in the sky
A cabbage and a carrot coloured orange
An orange, like the other serviette
Was found inside his neck
Beside his Adam's Apple
The Lord's work was done, but Satan had won!
posted by Chip : 08:07
0 comments
Comments:
ATOM feed