The Mancunian Way
Sometimes mornings can just be so fracking cruel. I mean, what the holy ghost is 6.00am about? huh? whose bright idea was 6.00am?
This morning I peeled myself out of my cosy nest in the dark because I had an express train to Manchester. You see, I'm working on a rather exciting development up there, about which I am not at liberty to reveal to my masses of devout readers, so maybe in a few years time when my fame as a blogger spreads far and wide accross the English speaking world, I might post a little picture of it for you to go, oooooooo ....
Anyhoo, so I'm on the 8.04 train to Manchester, with my Boss. The BOSS MAN. Who is actually a lovely sweet man, funny as a circus of blind carnies, and really interesting, good looking and full of the best ideas ever to be conceived....
But really, no matter how wonderful your Boss is, they're still your Boss, and it's always a little difficult to be yourself in these situations, without them discovering that your an absolute charlatan - a fraud just waiting to be found out.
The other night at the GAYBAR we met ths most foul mouthed excuse for a pooflet, who insisted that not only did the BF's hair resemble a helmet then proceded to call him HOFF (a name only I'M allowed to call him), but actually to my face, said that I was BORING... yes, that was the word for it. BORING. I've been called many things in the past...oh don't even start on that, but never boring. At least I'm not a nasty BITCH!
You see, he spent the whole evening basically ridiculing us, firstly calling us Kiwis (shudder), then making comments about our clothes, our hairstyles, our work. And the sad thing was he actually believed he was being witty. Which he may have been if he resembled Brad Pitt or Jake, rather than Julian Clary. As soon as I retaliated with a comment about him not having much of a chin, his demeanour soured and the bitch turned like the proverbial death adder. HISSSSS. Love, if you dish it, then you take it.
So I'm on this train, with my Boss, trying to make idle chit chat about stuff'n'that and I think to myself, "am I boring?" Oh my GOD is it TRUE?
You see I think to be boring is rather like being plain. No-one likes plain people. I have often joked with friends about walking up to strange people and saying very smilingly and patronisingly: "oooh, my, aren't YOU plain...?"
Ok, so maybe I'M the BITCH.
...................................--------------------.................................
Diet Day 2:
Coffee
Coffee
Porridge
Beef Lasagne
broccoli and haricot salad
Sauted Salmon fillet and salad and coleslaw
2 glasses of a perky Australian Semillion Cardon-nay
Low fat lemon mousse dessert.
Oh lord, can I have fried chicken again now?
This morning I peeled myself out of my cosy nest in the dark because I had an express train to Manchester. You see, I'm working on a rather exciting development up there, about which I am not at liberty to reveal to my masses of devout readers, so maybe in a few years time when my fame as a blogger spreads far and wide accross the English speaking world, I might post a little picture of it for you to go, oooooooo ....
Anyhoo, so I'm on the 8.04 train to Manchester, with my Boss. The BOSS MAN. Who is actually a lovely sweet man, funny as a circus of blind carnies, and really interesting, good looking and full of the best ideas ever to be conceived....
But really, no matter how wonderful your Boss is, they're still your Boss, and it's always a little difficult to be yourself in these situations, without them discovering that your an absolute charlatan - a fraud just waiting to be found out.
The other night at the GAYBAR we met ths most foul mouthed excuse for a pooflet, who insisted that not only did the BF's hair resemble a helmet then proceded to call him HOFF (a name only I'M allowed to call him), but actually to my face, said that I was BORING... yes, that was the word for it. BORING. I've been called many things in the past...oh don't even start on that, but never boring. At least I'm not a nasty BITCH!
You see, he spent the whole evening basically ridiculing us, firstly calling us Kiwis (shudder), then making comments about our clothes, our hairstyles, our work. And the sad thing was he actually believed he was being witty. Which he may have been if he resembled Brad Pitt or Jake, rather than Julian Clary. As soon as I retaliated with a comment about him not having much of a chin, his demeanour soured and the bitch turned like the proverbial death adder. HISSSSS. Love, if you dish it, then you take it.
So I'm on this train, with my Boss, trying to make idle chit chat about stuff'n'that and I think to myself, "am I boring?" Oh my GOD is it TRUE?
You see I think to be boring is rather like being plain. No-one likes plain people. I have often joked with friends about walking up to strange people and saying very smilingly and patronisingly: "oooh, my, aren't YOU plain...?"
Ok, so maybe I'M the BITCH.
...................................--------------------.................................
Diet Day 2:
Coffee
Coffee
Porridge
Beef Lasagne
broccoli and haricot salad
Sauted Salmon fillet and salad and coleslaw
2 glasses of a perky Australian Semillion Cardon-nay
Low fat lemon mousse dessert.
Oh lord, can I have fried chicken again now?
Labels: Meaningless musings, Whinging
posted by Eddie Knittster at 7:00 pm
2 Comments:
dude,
are you like in love with your boss?
I was once brushed off by a (supposedly) interested friend of a friend with the line "I liked him... but he's a bit boring". Takes one to know one, is all I'm saying.
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