Some things I've been wondering today

Why do people wear scarves loosely draped over their shoulders in the office?
Why, when asked how they are, do people tend to answer 'not too bad'?
Why would anyone want to listen to The Smiths?
What does the scroll lock button on a PC keyboard actually do?

Noises

Whenever my missus hurts herself, she shouts 'Ow', just like they do in Enid Blyton books. This goes for any pain she suffers, but the volume and repetition of the word is relative to the amount of pain suffered.

I discharge different sounds depending on the situation. For instance, if I am cold, I will say 'Ooo, brrrr' then shudder my shoulders. If it's hot, I'll puff my cheeks and exhale sharply. If I bang my toe / shin / ankle / elbow / head, it's normally followed by a short sharp 'shit'. If I cut myself (this happens so often I'm sure my wife thinks I'm a self harmer), a gasp of 'fuck' is not far behind. If I think I have hurt myself but there is no pain, I suck air through my teeth, adopt a pained expression which disipates gradually as my brain realises that there isn't anything to worry about.

On Monday, I discovered that I squeal like a girl when I burn my nut sack on the oil radiator in the bathroom.

0-5

A shocker for Coventry over the weekend, getting knocked out of the FA Cup, losing 5-0 at home. I've had better days. However, the disappointment was short lived when this little beauty paid off. Huzzah for hunches and hot lunches.

Another open letter...

...to all those people who think they will hurt my feelings if they vacate the seat alongside me and sit somewhere else when the train empties. You won't. In fact, I would actively support you in your relocation. Now piss off.

Sniffers

For some reason I seem to attract sniffers like lightbulb attracts moths.

Blossom

To all those trees that think it's time to start blossoming, it's February for God's sake. Stop being so stupid.

Beer

A friend of mine was ina pub last night. He was driving, so asked the barman for a ginger beer. The barman said 'We don't have ginger beer, we only have Stella and Heineken'. Bless.

The meaning of life

I'm reading this book about philosophy. Now before you cuss and think that I have 'turned', it is a fiction book that bangs on about philosophy a bit. It's got me wondering though, mainly that I have never questioned the meaning of life or asked why are we here. As I write this I'm thinking of it for the first time, and can only offer that life means nothing more to a human than it does to a puppy, cockroach or grape. Why are we here? We just are, deal with it. I mean, where else are we supposed to live?

Maybe it's my Christian upbringing, and more specifically, Catholicism, that prevents me from pondering the big questions. When you are brought up as a Holy Roman (or a devil worshipper as a dear friend of mine refers to it), you are disuaded from questioning. Never question the work of God, a mere mortal cannot begin to understand God's plan, and so on.

'Does God exist?' is another biggie. To me She does (my vicar friend reliably informs me that God is female, and he should know as he's got a direct line to heaven), but I'm unsure as to whether that is true faith or a result of brainwashing. I suspect the latter. Again, I have never questioned the existence of God.

And then there's fate. Those that do believe in it will never lose an argument with those that don't. For example;
I missed my train home the other night. I was about to leave the office, when an email from my boss arrived so I stopped to read it in case it was important. 12 seconds later I saw that it wasn't, but read it anyway. I went on my merry way. As I got to the Southbound Bakerloo platform at Oxford Circus, a train was just leaving. Next one was 6 minutes away. When I got to Waterloo, my train had just left, I missed it by 2 minutes.

Now if I hadn't read that mail, I would have caught the first tube. I would have caught the early train home and I wouldn't have got into shit with the wife for getting home late.

A believer would say it was fate that I read that email. Who's to say it's not? I reckon it's just me being unable to have an unread email in my inbox.

Ater considering all that, I have come to the conclusion that the big questions for me are along the lines of 'should I have fries with that?'

Lip up fatty

I'm not one for new year's resolutions, but this year I vowed that I would lose weight. I've always been festively plump. Except for a hiatus between the ages of 16 and 21, when thankfully I managed to get some sex in before my weight caught up with my overdraft.

Promising myself, and more importantly, the boss that I would have a flat tummy sometime this year was one thing, actually achieving it would be quite another. I decided that I needed help so I signed up to Weightwatchers. The online version, not the 'get your gut out in the local primary school gymnasium' humiliation.

It's actually pretty good. You can eat what you want, you just have to tot up the points assigned to the food you eat and keep within a daily limit. It's fairly easy to follow and there is an online diary widget that you can enter your sins into.

There is also a forum where you can ask and answer questions, get advice, and for those completely lacking any self discipline, get encouragement from other horizontally challenged sad cases. The first (and last) time I visited it, the first 4 topics were all related to chocolate cake. I had to chuckle. Although I have to admit that the only reason I went to the forum was to see how much beer I could drink in a day. Not much, was the painfully dissapointing answer.

So will you be seeing a new superslimskybluesnowysoon? Will you fuck, knocked it in the head after a 6 hour Saturday sesh followed by cheeseburger and chips down the local.

Pretty woman

There is a very pretty girl who gets on the train at Egham, and off at Vauxhall in the morning. I noticed this morning that she has cut her hair and it really doesn't suit her. I shall have to have words.