Tiiiiired
Been a bit of a busy week really. I started off with the usual degree of enthusiasm and ended up on Friday spending the afternoon writing down the currencies and exchange rates of about 1000 countries. I wish I was making that up.
Flogging Molly gig.
Holy sweet mother of all things good and holy.
I think I can safely say I've never had so much fun at a gig. For those who don't know, Flogging Molly are a 7 piece Irishfolkpunk band of pirates who sing about being drunk, lost love, and various other things associated with Irishfolkpunk. Absolutely brilliant, and fucking incredible live - anyone who hasn't seen them should get that sorted, and the albums Swagger, Drunken Lullabies and Within A Mile Of Home are soon to be joined by Whiskey On A Sunday on the 24th of July, so get listening. I've introduced them to anyone I can and I have yet to see anything other than an enormous grin upon the faces of those listening to them. Happy happy music, intelligently written and brilliantly executed. I sit in my tour t-shirt now, as though I've ever taken it off.
Wednesday passed relatively uneventfully, with not even The Girl to gaze at. She's called Louise as far as I know, but until I can at least go up to her and say hello I shan't use her name. She seems nice, chatty and friendly and such, and she smiles every time I walk past. But then there's another The Girl who's probably more like me - rarely smiles at anyone and sits on her own not talking to anyone; I hear she's at uni studying to become a doctor. It's like God is taunting me. Put me in a boiling office with a prick of a boss and work that would make a Nun want to kill herself, and then put two beautiful women nearby, knowing full well my inadequacies at even making eye contact. Seriously, when I die, me and The Lord are going to have words.
Gave blood on Thursday. I've been meaning to do this for a while; I'm not sure if I've told anyone, but I had this dream where I went to give blood and in the little room this grey haired, thin man with glasses told me I was dying. So, since then I've been trying to muster up the courage to go and I finally did; it was only midway through the procedure that one of the nurses told me my blood then gets sent off to be tested. I was feeling all happy that none of the settings I found myself in were remotely like my dream, but now I know that it'll be tested later and therefore there's still a chance it could happen, I'm not feeling any better for it, my right arm feels week and I've felt knackered since. See, look how I spelled weak. Jesus.
And today was fucking horrendous, workwise. It was dress down day, so I went in my new long sleeved Flogging Molly t-shirt and jeans, and I don't reckon I looked half bad, which is unusual pour moi. But the day dragged and dragged, despite my music blaring in my ears (Fear of Music, Feeder and Flogging Molly). I just couldn't even pretend to be arsed by the end of the day and so copied out all the currencies from this page after setting £ sterling to 1. Did you know there are 186321.53 Zimbabwe dollars to the pound? I sure didn't.
And onto the weekend. Don't want to spoil the fun, but wouldn't it be brilliant if I started to come up with TraGic ideas again?
posted by Cos Ryan @ 11:03 PM
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