Alcopoop

Some typical alcoholic beverages.

I would like to introduce a new word into the English language (assuming I’ve not already been beaten to it):

Alcopoop (noun) – the thick, turgid yet also somehow sloppy and always sweet-smelling shit that you have to force out of an arsehole that seems too small the morning after an excessive intake of alcoholic beverages.

Yeah, I had a good night. Much alcohol was downed and I even had a birthday “dinner” at the hotel. All the staff signed a card for me (that I’ve lost – it’s in the hotel somewhere), sang “Happy Birthday” to me and then we went out and got trolleyed at Bar’Dup.

I’m not that bad, surprisingly. But my credit card is still in the pub. And has been since Friday.

Great present, though – a 3-0 away win at Portsmouth. A goal from birthday boy Michael Owen, and it turned out that a guy I was sat with in the pub also had his birthday yesterday. As did his flatmate! We got free Jagermeister shots from the bar.

I generally don’t “do” birthdays, but I had a cracker this year in part mainly to hanging out with a great bunch of people. Thanks to them all!

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I am an uncle! Again!

From Indy in Auckland: “Just a quick email to let you know that we had our second baby today 05/10/07. Carys Ushani Silva was born at 0917am (NZST 🙂 ) and weighed 2.83Kg”

Thing is, I was tempted to get home and buy a flight to Auckland as I knew the second nipper was due in October, just not when. Money, however, kicked in as a factor. As did the fact that Lou’s fucked off over there just before I got back to the UK and I don’t want to end up seeing her there with her part-time boyfriend.

But fuck that.

*bounces* I is an uncle! Sod tradition, family trees and actually having to be related! Congratulations to all involved and for crying out loud, take a break before the next one…

A happy post

You know, there’s something that will always bring a big, cheesy grin to my face no matter how bad a day I’m having (not that I’m having too many at the moment), but…

Waving to a little kid who stares at you, smiles and gives one of those kindy of wobbly waves back. Makes me feel better every time.

Thing is, in Oz nobody thinks I’m weird because I wave at kids. Back home I’d probably be locked up for being a pervert. Which I am, in fairness. Just not that kind.

Someone please take this shovel out of my hands and stop me digging. Thanks.

The bookies won’t like this

White Xmas?
White Xmas?

Believe it or not, in the UK this paltry dusting of frozen water classes as a “white xmas”. At least, it does if the snow falls on a certain area at any point between midnight and midnight. In London, it’s a 3′ x 3′ concrete square on top of the weather centre that’s only checked once per hour. I assume therefore that if there isn’t someone up there at the right time and the snow doesn’t lie, then it doesn’t count.

Anyway, as I type this up there is the slightest of flurries outside. I suppose it counts as a flurry as I can see more than two flakes at once, but only just. So the first white xmas I can recall since I was a kid and there’s not even enough to make a snowball, let alone bury a corpse in to keep it fresh for a few days. I just hope it doesn’t get too bad and make my drive to Blackburn tomorrow too troublesome.

Actually, maybe missing the match would be a mercy.

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Sharon’s prezzie

Framed NUFC crest cross-stitch
Framed NUFC crest cross-stitch

As promised, here’s a pic of the present Sharon made me for my birthday. I’m sure most of those who know me know I don’t like a fuss made (I’m like Scrooge, only I do it for all celebrations. I’m a miserable fucker at heart) but how the hell could I not like this? It’s now mounted on the wall at the top of the stairs. If you click on the piccy to the left, you’ll get a larger one to admire. But I have the original so 😛