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What a couple of days. Full explanation coming up soon (probably start of next week), but I’ve been piling on the overtime. I’m technically “working” right now. While sat watching Buffy and hacking this crap out for you weirdos.

Today I have seen the wonderful sights of Oldham (which actually has a smegging big indoor shopping centre) and Rochdale (which doesn’t – though it is where the Co-Op was started. Whoop). I’ve moved servers, set up remote printing, reconfigured HPs, installed remote administration packages, patched 10 servers, re-patched three others, rebooted another (and just realised I’ve not checked it’s come back up again – eek) and still found time for the gym, 2 episodes of Buffy and 2 of Angel (so far).

Tomorrow promises to be as much fun.

I am, however, knackered and the weekend cannot come soon enough.

Minds out of the gutters, ladies and germs. When I travel to work, I tend to shove my sports/gym bag behind the driver’s seat. The car’s a 3-door affair, so the seat goes forward, bag dropped and seat clunked back into place. Sound.

Only today I got into the car on the way back from work and saw some white stains on the back of the seat. A quick sniff. Shaving foam? Aaaaw, bollocks.

When I’d shoved the seat back, it had crushed the top of a damn near full can of shaving gel, forcing the button down and holding it there for my entire drive to work. Net result, the end compartment of my bag was full of soapy bubbles.

Crap.

It’s still sat in the bathroom (as are the contents) drying out. At least my anti-diaorrhea tables are now most definitely hairless. Toothbrush tastes funny, though.

I went to the match at St James’ Park yesterday (probably my last match this season) and on the way stopped at the traditional watering hole – Wetherspoons near the Central Station.

There were a few of us and lunch was needed. I’m a stingy ****, so I wanted to split one of the “two meals for £6.39” offers with someone, but no. Sharon – cheeseburger and onion rings. Gill – the same. Riff – steak salad. Well, **** ’em. I wanted sausage, beans and chips.

Off I plodded to the bar to order. And was told that I couldn’t have my beloved sossies. They don’t do single meals from that offer – they don’t even have a price for them. It’s two meals or something off the main menu.

So I ordered two sausage, beans and chips. On the same plate.

And I finished my meal before anyone else. 36″ of prime pub-warmed sausage, a tin of beans and enough chips to choke a very, very, very small horse.

Does anyone still have to ask why I go to the gym? Except to stare at all the women?

Almost scary

Great one from a friend, this. She was at lunch with one of her colleagues who was talking about her 4 year old grand-daughter and how she’d written her first letter to Santa.

Top of the list: penis.

Understandably a little taken aback, they asked her what that was.

In a typical exasperated kiddy voice she shouted “Pennies!”

She’ll learn. Give her another 14 years and she can get a whole lot of pennies by sticking with what she already has rather than the male equivalent she’d inadvertantly asked for. Let’s just hope Santa’s dyslexic.

Coincidence…?

Anyone in the UK, have a shufty at a box of Cadbury’s Heroes. Spot the Fudge bar.

Is it just me or is it a little dubious that a finger of Fudge has Elton John glasses on?

OK, do you know the peak of my excitement so far today? Finding a shop in the market that sold the right kind of curtain hooks for my front room. That’s it. I’ve done **** all work (there isn’t any to do), but I have ploughed through this month’s Bizarre and a few pages of my Stephen Leather novel.

I’m expecting to get sent home soon. When I say “expecting”, I mean “hoping to”. Although at least the office is warmer than the house, and probably quieter. I may stay on for a while before going home via the gym.

Good grief, this is a dull post. **** off and go browse for porn or something else more interesting. Haven’t you lot got lives?