I hardly know where to start. On a positive, my Mum has been visiting, which is always nice and makes life more bearable (and i have more clean clothes, bless, once a mum always a mum)...that's it!! fuck off if you want positivity because i don't do that delusional shite, yeah I'm so hardcore (and sarcastic)but she's gone home again which is always sad.
Over the past 2 weeks (as my Mother can testify) many many things have got up my fucking nose, I think its a normal week on the whole but with the added irritation of builders and their fucking excuses, I've found it harder to calm down.
On the subject of builders.......oh my fucking god, I have never dealt with a lazier bunch of lying fucks. For those of you who don't know, we are currently renovating the family shack into the family home, not to go into too much detail but its very not cheap, in fact some might say its expensive (and only made possible by the passing of my Grandfather, Francis Smith, poor auld fella) Now this is being covered by my Mother using what little inheritance she got, and for that I'm beyond bloody grateful (yes i know I'm spoilt, fuck off) so when you've handed lots of money over to a builder and they cant even turn up to do what they promised to do by the schedule that they promised to do it by, my blood boils (in fact my blood boiled to the extent that i could feel my pulse in my eyes and remained psychotically angry for approximately 36 hours) If I decided to not turn up to work, didn't phone in to explain myself and only did so when i was contacted by my employer and then only deigned to explain myself via text message, I would be (and quite rightly) FIRED. Instead these lazy useless bastards take your money then go and do another job because for some reason the other job is more important, then get pissed in a pub on your dime, then coincidentally on Sunday morning (Sunday comes after Saturday night) they text you to say that the radiator in their brand new work van has "snapped off" . Fuck off, you lying hungover fuck hole. There is only so many times that I can hear an excuse of that transparency. You bastards are one stop away from thieves, and when they finally actually start to do the work, finally, its all good stuff. So why cant you just do what you say, when you said you would do it and everyone is happy and I wouldn't be incoherent with apoplectic rage?
Ive had a plumber that doesn't seem to want money or work (fair enough in this extremely healthy economic climate) and then it transpires that he has personal problems, ah fucking diddums, I couldn't give a fuck could I? nor should I? I highly doubt that he cares that I hate the place we are living in at the moment, that it's cold and I cant stand even being in it on my own because it's a damp gloomy turd hole (actually, it's OK, but I really like my house and wanna go home, I suspect that the plumber isn't overly concerned about that either), that I utterly hate my job, that I am sick and tired of being broke and that my back hurts almost all the time and will continue to do so until the disc in my back either actually ruptures or miraculously gets better, no, i'll bet that chubby faced toss bag couldn't give a fuck about my personal problems. The difference being though, that he's not paying me a very healthy amount of money for the amount of actual graft.
A carpenter, who while terribly nice, is seriously unable to manage his work load, and keeps disappearing to finish other jobs. Why not, and this is just a suggestion, why not just do one at a time?. Now I know that in these uncertain times (unless your a chubby faced plumber) you have to take everything that you can when you can, but, maybe if you give people a date that you can do stuff on and manage to stick to it then you may get people sticking with you because you're that great rarity, a reliable fucking builder. And when you didn't turn up that Sunday, I was cross, and I was most concerned that it may have upset my mum (you know how boys are with their mum), because that's my fucking mammy!! you don't get to bug my mum unless i get to gouge your eyes out with my thumbs. I think that's fair
I will say, in the interest of fairness that the work that has been dragged out of them has been excellent, and the electrician and plasterers have been a credit to their profession. I just get annoyed when we're 8 weeks over schedule, but hey! that's what my ranty blog page is for
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
My Family and other Vegetables
I have really weird family. Not weird as in skinning children or buggering wasps, but just odd. We have an odd familial harmony which can only really be acheived by not discussing almost anything of any actual importance, or for that matter, anything at all.
We dont really talk, which is odd because we all appear to rather like each other. Ive always assumed that the non communicative family, would be that way because they actively disliked each other.
So I met up with my brother and sister in law yesterday, which was lovely. They are both terribly nice people, both witty and intelligent and good company (I sometimes feel sorry for Liam because I'm a foul mouthed fuckwitt and often say fucking stupid nasty things in polite company, love me; love my potty mouth), they are about to adopt a couple of kids so we had a chin wag about that and it was all very informative. Later on though I discovered that my brother had an operation on his knee in January, which i didn't know about, infact, earlier on that day I discovered that they were moving house and i didnt know about that either. This doesnt make me feel bad, after all, it doesn't really make any difference where the guys live as long as they are well. And as for the knee, well its his knee and there is every possibility that i did it to him when we were little anyway.
Now i would think this is normal if it wasnt for Niamh. Her family hardly do anything without discussing it with each other first, its unusual for her to go a day without speaking to Mum, Dad or a Sister. They are all each others best friends, which i would normally think makes them weird, BUT they are not alone it seems. Nicks family are all terribly into each other, my Sisters family group are all very close, my mate Bart's family actively seek each others company out and have dinner together (even though they sometimes appear to want to slap each other).
So then sometimes I try to work out what our problem is, because for all my feeling slightly left out, i'm the worst culprit. I had an MRI scan and i haven't mentioned it to my parents and my brother only knows because we both like Twitter, there are whole relationships that my Father doesn't even know about, whole episodes in my life that no-one in my family knows about, and by episodes i mean periods of years. Im always really careful about what i say to my family and what information i give out, and i genuinely have no idea why.
Turns out its not my family, its me. Bummer.
We dont really talk, which is odd because we all appear to rather like each other. Ive always assumed that the non communicative family, would be that way because they actively disliked each other.
So I met up with my brother and sister in law yesterday, which was lovely. They are both terribly nice people, both witty and intelligent and good company (I sometimes feel sorry for Liam because I'm a foul mouthed fuckwitt and often say fucking stupid nasty things in polite company, love me; love my potty mouth), they are about to adopt a couple of kids so we had a chin wag about that and it was all very informative. Later on though I discovered that my brother had an operation on his knee in January, which i didn't know about, infact, earlier on that day I discovered that they were moving house and i didnt know about that either. This doesnt make me feel bad, after all, it doesn't really make any difference where the guys live as long as they are well. And as for the knee, well its his knee and there is every possibility that i did it to him when we were little anyway.
Now i would think this is normal if it wasnt for Niamh. Her family hardly do anything without discussing it with each other first, its unusual for her to go a day without speaking to Mum, Dad or a Sister. They are all each others best friends, which i would normally think makes them weird, BUT they are not alone it seems. Nicks family are all terribly into each other, my Sisters family group are all very close, my mate Bart's family actively seek each others company out and have dinner together (even though they sometimes appear to want to slap each other).
So then sometimes I try to work out what our problem is, because for all my feeling slightly left out, i'm the worst culprit. I had an MRI scan and i haven't mentioned it to my parents and my brother only knows because we both like Twitter, there are whole relationships that my Father doesn't even know about, whole episodes in my life that no-one in my family knows about, and by episodes i mean periods of years. Im always really careful about what i say to my family and what information i give out, and i genuinely have no idea why.
Turns out its not my family, its me. Bummer.
Monday, 27 June 2011
My new other job, yet again
Im in my blogging pose. Watching the desk at Hidden Jewel Tattoo in Carmarthen while the Mrs is causing pain (for the record, she is a tattooist, not a sadist), and i then think "ah, may as well do a blog while im here"....you lucky people ( both of you)
I started work for Allied health care 3 months back(ish), and they fucking shafted me royally. When i started i was meant to be 30+ hours, i was told that i would get 30+ and i expected 30+. Since then i have had 30+ hours once. I have had to manage on 15 hours a week, which after Allied continue to get my tax code wrong (something i ended up going directly to the tax man about myself) Ive ended up with fuck all, been sunk back into the debt that i worked so bloody hard to get back out of and found myself feeling very upset. The last time i felt that way was after i moved back from America and i found myself in my home town, alone and being maligned by people who were meant to be my friends, in a relationship that i didn't agree to (but was too mentally ill to escape from) luckily though she noticed that im not very pretty and started to fuck one of my friends, which ended that. God she was the most mental woman ive ever met; i digress. So as you may have gathered I needed a new job, or in the very least another one, which in these times of cutbacks and massive austerity in Britain, NON FUCKING EXISTANT! I apllied for thirty jobs in one week, and received two emails back. first one saying "thanks for applying" and the second one saying "thanks but no thanks". what the fuck? im over qualifyed, have worked in the releveant field for over ten years and i dont even get properly acknowledged. I can genuinely say that in all the years ive been working, all the jobs that I have had, i have only ever been given a job once (once!!) when i didnt know the person interviewing at all, a complete stranger (oddly enough Whittard of Chelsea, posh purveyor of coffee and its products) . I have always had to have someone put in a good word, a kind gesture and take a leap of faith in me. I always try to make sure that their faith in me is rewarded but there is often that nagging doubt; what if im just shit at this job [so and so] will look stupid. So despite my best efforts i've had to rely on my friends to save me. I have good friends,and 1 has saved me. infact he got me a job with a the company that everyone around here wants to work at, everyone except me. Its only slightly better than MacDonalds, but it pays well, is air conditioned and they treat the staff properly. For that i'm immensly greatful and will have to make sure that my work is THE shit. Its only 15 hours a week but then i can pad my time out with Allied (or as the staff call it "I lied"). Thank you Vinnie Bartley, its been years since we actually hung out together but you still helped a desperate man out, remembered who ya mates are and so i shant let you down.
I started work for Allied health care 3 months back(ish), and they fucking shafted me royally. When i started i was meant to be 30+ hours, i was told that i would get 30+ and i expected 30+. Since then i have had 30+ hours once. I have had to manage on 15 hours a week, which after Allied continue to get my tax code wrong (something i ended up going directly to the tax man about myself) Ive ended up with fuck all, been sunk back into the debt that i worked so bloody hard to get back out of and found myself feeling very upset. The last time i felt that way was after i moved back from America and i found myself in my home town, alone and being maligned by people who were meant to be my friends, in a relationship that i didn't agree to (but was too mentally ill to escape from) luckily though she noticed that im not very pretty and started to fuck one of my friends, which ended that. God she was the most mental woman ive ever met; i digress. So as you may have gathered I needed a new job, or in the very least another one, which in these times of cutbacks and massive austerity in Britain, NON FUCKING EXISTANT! I apllied for thirty jobs in one week, and received two emails back. first one saying "thanks for applying" and the second one saying "thanks but no thanks". what the fuck? im over qualifyed, have worked in the releveant field for over ten years and i dont even get properly acknowledged. I can genuinely say that in all the years ive been working, all the jobs that I have had, i have only ever been given a job once (once!!) when i didnt know the person interviewing at all, a complete stranger (oddly enough Whittard of Chelsea, posh purveyor of coffee and its products) . I have always had to have someone put in a good word, a kind gesture and take a leap of faith in me. I always try to make sure that their faith in me is rewarded but there is often that nagging doubt; what if im just shit at this job [so and so] will look stupid. So despite my best efforts i've had to rely on my friends to save me. I have good friends,and 1 has saved me. infact he got me a job with a the company that everyone around here wants to work at, everyone except me. Its only slightly better than MacDonalds, but it pays well, is air conditioned and they treat the staff properly. For that i'm immensly greatful and will have to make sure that my work is THE shit. Its only 15 hours a week but then i can pad my time out with Allied (or as the staff call it "I lied"). Thank you Vinnie Bartley, its been years since we actually hung out together but you still helped a desperate man out, remembered who ya mates are and so i shant let you down.
Friday, 17 June 2011
@fearington
I love Twitter. It amuses me, there are lots of people that i know on there, and lots of people that i admire. Sadly there are also some spectacular, world beating wankers on it too (i know i know, thats all part of life. Hey its my Blog and this guy is especially stupid)
From an innocuous retweet from Dom Jolly I got a small amount of grief, people who disagree'd with me, whatever, this is no biggie. Im an adult and not everyone has to agree with me and thats fine. But there was this spectacular wazz hole who decided that it was his job to persue me. It was actually quite funny for a while because A) he kept messaging me and taking the piss about being ginger!! i know, I have very little on top and what is/was there definately isnt/wasnt ginger. Having said that calling a ginger haired person ginger as an insult....surely thats not really doing the job insult wise? i also have two legs, so nobody better call me a two legged cunt. I also think that this man should maybe take the piss out of me being French because thats another thing that i'm not. B) this really kicked off when i suggested that watching MMA on sky didnt mean that you were actually hard and messaging MMA fighters (even the shit ones) and telling them you could kick their tits in because you dont rate their skills is frankly staggeringly purile, stupid and delusional. Even the un-succesful ones are trained athletes, skilled in the art of breaking limbs and that someone with even a meagre understanding of BJJ (Brazilian ju jitsu)would realise that to even suggest that you as a nasty little London shit with an attitude problem would stand a chance...well it beggars belief.
the little twat in question even went as far as to suggest that he was going to come here and find me and kick my head in! well, we wouldnt want that would we? this man is obviously the hardest thing in creation. I'm about to suggest that if you text me telling me your going to kick my face in you're a fucking bell end and a wimp, and that if you tweet me doing the same thing youre worse, because you know that i don't know where you are. Unbelievably cowardly.
I could have continued with our delightful correspondances if it wasn't for the frankly dreadful caliber of insult. He asked if my mother had fucked a wotsit...suggested that i had escaped from the biscuit tin (ginger nut, its a kind of biscuit. do you see what he did there? very clever isnt it) it got boring very quickly. I wasnt going to learn anything from this man, this master of insults, this accident of birth
never mind eh? i know lots of intelligent gobby fuckers already.
From an innocuous retweet from Dom Jolly I got a small amount of grief, people who disagree'd with me, whatever, this is no biggie. Im an adult and not everyone has to agree with me and thats fine. But there was this spectacular wazz hole who decided that it was his job to persue me. It was actually quite funny for a while because A) he kept messaging me and taking the piss about being ginger!! i know, I have very little on top and what is/was there definately isnt/wasnt ginger. Having said that calling a ginger haired person ginger as an insult....surely thats not really doing the job insult wise? i also have two legs, so nobody better call me a two legged cunt. I also think that this man should maybe take the piss out of me being French because thats another thing that i'm not. B) this really kicked off when i suggested that watching MMA on sky didnt mean that you were actually hard and messaging MMA fighters (even the shit ones) and telling them you could kick their tits in because you dont rate their skills is frankly staggeringly purile, stupid and delusional. Even the un-succesful ones are trained athletes, skilled in the art of breaking limbs and that someone with even a meagre understanding of BJJ (Brazilian ju jitsu)would realise that to even suggest that you as a nasty little London shit with an attitude problem would stand a chance...well it beggars belief.
the little twat in question even went as far as to suggest that he was going to come here and find me and kick my head in! well, we wouldnt want that would we? this man is obviously the hardest thing in creation. I'm about to suggest that if you text me telling me your going to kick my face in you're a fucking bell end and a wimp, and that if you tweet me doing the same thing youre worse, because you know that i don't know where you are. Unbelievably cowardly.
I could have continued with our delightful correspondances if it wasn't for the frankly dreadful caliber of insult. He asked if my mother had fucked a wotsit...suggested that i had escaped from the biscuit tin (ginger nut, its a kind of biscuit. do you see what he did there? very clever isnt it) it got boring very quickly. I wasnt going to learn anything from this man, this master of insults, this accident of birth
never mind eh? i know lots of intelligent gobby fuckers already.
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
my back is shite
Its a real concern that i just took a month off (i say took, was told by my doctor that i was to take the month off) due to having totally screwed my back up shifting massive weights up and down stairs in the interest of work. Because i felt so aggrieved that i was in this state due to my employers total staggering lack of interest in basic health and safety and the regards of the staff, I went and managed to get alternative employment within the health care sector (so they have no choice but to give a fuck about my well being) but this morning I woke up to a familiar nagging sensation in my back.
This scares me, because I simply cannot be one of those people on incapacity benefits. I don't want to be dependant on the state, I dont want to be a burden to the tax payer and i dont want to become one of the vile that sit at home and feel that they are owed a living. I cannot abide the physically able and mentally sound claiming incapacity benefits because its just easier than working, when staying at home is a genuine option just because you've adopted the the "why should i work?" attitude. If that makes me right wing then I guess right wing be I !. Soon i shall be taking care of seriously mentally ill people, people who are classed as 'end of life', pretty soon I will be back working with people who genuinely need care, some of them are just elderly and maybe need minimal support, a cuppa, a kind word or maybe even just company.
I think the thing that upsets me the most is the drugs. when my back was really bad i was on a cocktail of co codamol, tramadol, diazipan, diclofenac (in two different forms, one of which was to be stuffed up my arse in emergencies...actually that was quite funny) the standard massive ibuprofens, all of which had to be taken just so i could feel human. All i wanted was some form of empathy, someone to give me physiotherapy, someone to take me seriously and not just give me drugs; two of which are classed as dependancy forming. Instead i felt like a turd, crawling back for more and more drugs, constantly asking my doctor to help me, having to walk in such a labour intensive way that people openly made fun of me. I felt like John fucking Merrick.
So. I dont want the dole because i dont want to be dependant on the state, I feel unable to got to my doctor because i was made to feel like a sponger, and my back is bad and im afraid that i wont be able to work much longer and im afraid no one will take my griping seriously. This leaves me one option really, save up and pay for treatment myself, treatment that im entitled to get for free (you gotta love the principles behing the NHS, if not the execution), and if im sick noted then where will i get the money to save with?
Catch 22?
This scares me, because I simply cannot be one of those people on incapacity benefits. I don't want to be dependant on the state, I dont want to be a burden to the tax payer and i dont want to become one of the vile that sit at home and feel that they are owed a living. I cannot abide the physically able and mentally sound claiming incapacity benefits because its just easier than working, when staying at home is a genuine option just because you've adopted the the "why should i work?" attitude. If that makes me right wing then I guess right wing be I !. Soon i shall be taking care of seriously mentally ill people, people who are classed as 'end of life', pretty soon I will be back working with people who genuinely need care, some of them are just elderly and maybe need minimal support, a cuppa, a kind word or maybe even just company.
I think the thing that upsets me the most is the drugs. when my back was really bad i was on a cocktail of co codamol, tramadol, diazipan, diclofenac (in two different forms, one of which was to be stuffed up my arse in emergencies...actually that was quite funny) the standard massive ibuprofens, all of which had to be taken just so i could feel human. All i wanted was some form of empathy, someone to give me physiotherapy, someone to take me seriously and not just give me drugs; two of which are classed as dependancy forming. Instead i felt like a turd, crawling back for more and more drugs, constantly asking my doctor to help me, having to walk in such a labour intensive way that people openly made fun of me. I felt like John fucking Merrick.
So. I dont want the dole because i dont want to be dependant on the state, I feel unable to got to my doctor because i was made to feel like a sponger, and my back is bad and im afraid that i wont be able to work much longer and im afraid no one will take my griping seriously. This leaves me one option really, save up and pay for treatment myself, treatment that im entitled to get for free (you gotta love the principles behing the NHS, if not the execution), and if im sick noted then where will i get the money to save with?
Catch 22?
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
grrrrrrrr
How many times have i stated "i need a blog"?. Somewhere for the oppinionated like myself to vent and spew bile, somewhere i can call my own to feel superior, and when i get a bee in my bonnet somewhere to shout loudly (or as loudly as i can type) about how i fucking hate twats and bastards alike. And it turns out that something i hate is people that do Blogs, interestingly enough for the exact reasons that i stated above!
It always strikes me that people that have Blogs suspect themselves to either be A) smarter than the average bear (i cant fix my car, mend my plumbing or do my wiring) or B) feel that their opinions are so worth listening to that they need a forum to stand at and be a wise cracking genius, or finally C) just a twat (i like to think that i fall neatly into the final category, but then i may be being self depreciating to try and detract that i probably actually just think im very funny and terribly clever to boot)
Personally i think i may get bored soon enough and shut the fuck up, but for myself i intend this to be somewhere i can be angry about whatever injustice i see in the world (probably mainly relating to my bank account or lack there of) and then hopefully get on with my day without being a bell-end for the rest of my life. sweet.
There we are then, lets see how many i manage to do before i bore myself to tears.
thanks for reading, Donal
xxxxxx
It always strikes me that people that have Blogs suspect themselves to either be A) smarter than the average bear (i cant fix my car, mend my plumbing or do my wiring) or B) feel that their opinions are so worth listening to that they need a forum to stand at and be a wise cracking genius, or finally C) just a twat (i like to think that i fall neatly into the final category, but then i may be being self depreciating to try and detract that i probably actually just think im very funny and terribly clever to boot)
Personally i think i may get bored soon enough and shut the fuck up, but for myself i intend this to be somewhere i can be angry about whatever injustice i see in the world (probably mainly relating to my bank account or lack there of) and then hopefully get on with my day without being a bell-end for the rest of my life. sweet.
There we are then, lets see how many i manage to do before i bore myself to tears.
thanks for reading, Donal
xxxxxx
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