Boiling Bunny in the Oven

I wrote a post a little while back along the lines of ‘Holy Crap – I’m a busy wee bunny with all sorts going on and sure the likes of me, made entirely of snot and apathy, are not made to cope with all this stuffness’. Well this is that post mark II, and in the nature of sequels it’s all bigger and better and morer extremer and  also has explosions – mind yourself there.

Today I ambled into a builders suppliers with the practiced nonchalance of Roger Moore playing himself playing Bond, slapped down the credit card and racked up a mind boggling €1034 bill for timber, plasterboard and sewer pipe.

I didn’t even blink, neither did the suppliers which is fair enough because that’s pretty small fry for the likes of them.
But do I look like the kind of dude that can drop a grand and laugh it off as chump change? Do I fuck. Handsome and clever is how I look, but in a pauperish manner;  Johnny Depp playing Dan Ackroyd’s part in trading places when it all goes south and finds himself homeless drunk and homicidal, if you can imagine.
I’m very nearly unemployed and there are other pressing matters about to pressure my battered wallet.

That was a biggie, I’ll have to start working on the warehouse-to-gym conversion in a more seriouser manner, henceforth.

Also, and this is also a biggie, the missus was due yesterday. Not due to arrive or leave; due to push out my latest creation and officially put an end to my youth, which was dragging on a bit anyway. I’m thirty three now and I still dig transformers and wonder which would win in fights between various types of bears and big cats. None of that is likely to change so maybe I can balance some of that shit out with responsibility and, well, shit.


Told you there’d be explosions.

Also I’m now working three nights a week in a big city nightclub doing the lights for the dishko. Thank fuck for Microsoft. If it wasn’t for Vista, a cerebrally diseased  monkey could do the job, in fact a challenged monkey could still do the job if he could get all the programs that run the lights working properly when the p.c. starts up. But that ten minute technological Gordian knot workout at the start of every night keeps me valuable. I also put the stuff in the smoke machines, I do it in a manner reminiscent of Sean Connery playing Bond putting a suitcase helicopter together in Japan. Suave, but technically adept, but suave.

There’s other shit going down too, but I’ll save that so I some new shit to lay down in another post, y’all.

I like this separating text out into paragraphs separated by whitespace, I totally robbed it from another blogger who I won’t name because it’s obvious and also because I would have almost certainly have decided to do it myself eventually, probably. In fact, forget you read any of this well defined paragraph.

word, and shit.

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