Month: December 2010

Getting my festive on…

Kruse Leave a comment

Has been a fair bit of the ‘festive’ or ‘jolly’ season going on recently.  Tuesday evening – am invited to a work function for a project which I’m not actually working on.  But – I go, and I have a few drinks – then leave relatively easy to walk the 5 minutes back to my apartment (have I mentioned how much I love my new location) to meet my new landlord.  He seems alright – except he’s a project manager.  And, unfortunately, I’m a bit prejudiced against project managers.  But – he reckons he used to do a bit of real work too, in fact – in my own field.  And his email address is a reference to a very very nerdy mathematical concept that I had to look up – so maybe he’s not all useless.  Anyway – we agreed that I was in fact useless, and that he would do all the decision making regarding replacing the venetian blinds – and then we parted ways.  Him – off to a presumably much large accommodation somewhere, and me back off to the work function – a brisk 5 minutes walk away.  I love central city livin’.  And then eventually the party kinda fizzled out, so I returned home again.  And thinking “I’m a little intoxicated – probably due to no food – but wonder if I will have to fit in an episode of some TV show, or even a short movie – to pass the time before I should go to sleep?”  And then realised that it wasn’t even 9pm.  I was really quite intoxicated, and home already – well before 9.  Not good.

And then it was Thursday – which had two functions.  First – a small one in the afternoon for all the people sitting in my proximity at my current client.  Just stayed there long enough for a few drinks – but even within those few, somehow managed to mix my drinks.  Not a good start.  But – did manage to avoid being forced to accept a ‘Secret Santa’ gift.  I used the premise that I’d let it go, in case they were short of gifts per people.   Sweet.  And that was all good – I left fairly early to walk past my place to see if any parcels had arrived today (having ordered a fair bit of stuff off the internet, in line with my new policy of trying to save for a big trip next year) – on the way to my 2nd function.  Because I can do that now – just go for a walk, past my place, and then onto the next function.  I love my location.

Anyway – next function was my actual company’s function.  And somehow I managed to get a little tipsy before we even left for dinner.  Also – managed to put my foot in my mouth good and proper.  It’s a long story – and I’m not sure I can really shorten it without losing some of the subtleties of the causes and possible ramifications of my conversation – but something like: a manager at my client had a discussion with about a job opening.  During this conversation, he intimated that he’d already asked my manager about the possibility of hiring me, but my manager said no chance – and of course it would be illegal for the client to hire me without agreement of my company.  So – I thought I’d clarify to my boss that I had had no part in this, and that when I’d had hints about this possibility a few months ago – I’d actually clearly stated that I wouldn’t be interested.  But – when I start telling my boss this, he claims to have never heard anything about such a proposition.  So now – I start explaining profusely that a) the client wasn’t actually trying to steal me, and had accepted that such a move couldn’t happen; and b) that I had honestly thought the client had already discussed this with my boss, and I wasn’t actually just telling him this in order to gain leverage with asking for more money.  All this, of course, while we had both already had a few drinks – so quite possibly my claims of innocence sounded too repeatedly insistent.  But – anyway, I guess all I’ve done now is create a situation where I can’t bring up the question of renumeration again for a while without looking like a mercenary bastard who actually did use the scenario for my own advantage – but on the other hand, when the renumeration question does come up again naturally, hopefully this does actually stand me in good stead.  Or something.  I don’t really know.

Oh – and I got a little off topic there – so, let’s go through the rest of my bad decisions that night.  So, I’m pretty much drunk before dinner.  Dinner comes out, I try to over-correct my earlier faux-pas by making a point of talking technical (read: talking nerd) to a techie guy held in high esteem by my boss, in front of my boss.  During this time, I’m mixing margaritas, wine, and probably whatever else was going (I think at least one mojito at some point).  And then Fred goes and buys a bottle of champagne.  Of course, I have one taste of it – against my better judgement – and then I’m off to the bar.  Where, for some reason, I decide to buy multiple bottles at once.  I don’t know if I was trying to cut down on trips to the bar, or what, but I arrived back to workmates carrying an ice bucket with 2 bottles of Veuve.  What – a – dick.  Also – I have a vague memory that at some point I pretty much cried on the shoulder of my team leader(?), confessing that I had had some personal stuff going on this year, and pretty much whinging about that for a while, without telling her what it actually was.  Idiot.  And then eventually escorted one of the ladies home – made sure she got home safe, and then suddenly realised that it was probably me that actually needed an escort home.  Because my mind’s logic went “I love my location! I can walk home from here!” – without ever actually bothering to figure out where I was.  And I just started walking.  And it was cold, and in the snow, and very slippery.  Finally I realised that I had absolutely no idea where I was, or where I was going – but I kept going.  And had the idea of calling somebody to ask for help.  So – I dug out my phone – and instead of starting up Google Maps on my phone, which would probably have been fairly helpful – I instead called Australia.  And had a very long conversation to Australia, on my workphone (which I have had hints about not being strictly ‘kosher’) – while stumbling through random streets.  And then a woman tried to befriend me.  This woman, once I’d convinced her that I wasn’t looking for anything other than my house – which I was most certainly going to enter alone  – was actually quite nice.  She led me for quite some time, until we found a main road – where I think she assisted in hailing a taxi for me.  And when, at some point, I mumbled into my phone something about “a midget black 50-year-old prostitute” – she wasn’t at all offended.  And when I asked her “Actually – where are we?”, to get her response – “Soho, dear.” – she merely smiled and nodded when I accidentally blurted out “So I guess that explains, well…. you… then, doesn’t it?”  So – I finally got home, and can’t remember if I have my midget friend any money for her assistance – but I hope so.

And then it was Friday.  And that’s when the problems really started.  Friday – it snowed some more, and was very very cold.  And I was still rather unsteady on my feet from the previous night.  And Dom had his leaving drinks.  I had a few wines, and I think I was in relatively good shape when I left the pub as early as 5pm.  But after the first couple of cartoon style “Whoa – there go my feet in the air, there I go landing straight on my arse, and that’s the back of my head hitting the concrete” – I was most certainly not thinking clearly.  And it was a vicious circle.  The more I hit my head, the less steady I was, and the more likely for it to happen again.  And it did happen again.  And again.  And again.  By the time I got home – I just had vague memories of wandering through central london, attempting back somersaults every 20 metres or so – and I think on at least one occasion, landing on my arse in the middle of the street, but somehow having enough awareness to immediately roll into the gutter to avoid being hit by a giant red bus.  I really was a mess.  I’m not sure what people must have thought – I probably looked like a circus clown doing tricks most of the time – and a completely drunken city wanker the rest of the time.  The truth, of course – being in the midst there somewhere.  I eventually reached home – and proceeded to make calls to Australia again.  Not realising, of course – that this evening it was very very early, and therefore the time difference was not being so generous to my drunken calls.  But – I managed to get Elise to agree to talk to me, only realising the next day that it must have been very very wee hours of the morning for her.  And midway through talking to her, I discovered a massive blood stain on my elbow.  I must have landed on my elbow during one of my spectacular fails – and cut it open pretty good.  A very large blood stain on my shirt had appeared, with blood actually dripping out of it.  Elise talked me through putting the shirt in the wash straightaway – which I’m thankful for, as that shirt came out the next day without any sign.  I also managed to fashion a rudimentary bandage for the elbow.

And then it was the weekend.  And I was mildly concussed, with a nonfunctional left arm.  But – managed to have a spot of yum cha in Chinatown, followed by a couple of hours at an open mic night at a blues bar – and then back to Chinatown for dinner.  And in the middle of all this – got a call from the nightclub I’d been at on Thursday night – they’d found my coat.  I hadn’t mentioned that previously, had I?  I left my very nice custom-made coat at the venue on Thursday.  So all my antics on Thursday & Friday nights had been without my normal additional layer of protection.

And Sunday – I did nothing.  Leading to today – when I made the decision to wear my brown boots to work.  My brown boots look utterly ridiculous with my suit – but they have tread.  And I’m willing to suffer looking ridiculous, to save one more crack to the head.  Even with sturdy treaded boots – I still had a few moments of panic on the way to work this morning when the feet slid a little.  There is no way I’m wearing my polished wood / leather soles on the snow ever again.

City-livin’

Kruse Leave a comment

Two gigs since the last update – within two days of each other.  First – The National.  Probably the gig I’d been most looking forward to – as they are definitely in my top 5 artists just now.  If you don’t know of them – definitely check out the albums Boxer & Alligator – as a start.  Absolutely brilliant albums from start to finish.  Anyway – the gig.  Justin had bought the tickets for this one.  And when we got there, we discovered he’d accidentally bought seated tickets in the Circle.  Oops.  But – I was fine with that – had actually considered buying a single seated ticket to one of their other gigs in order that I could sit back and enjoy.  And the gig – yeah, pretty good.  I think I rank it up there – but probably mostly because I just enjoy the music itself so much.  And – they did do one song completely unplugged acoustic-stylez – which was pretty sweet.  Oh – and they didn’t do my favourite song.  Which I was absolutely gutted about.  But – it highlighted the fact that they have so many excellent songs – they didn’t really need to play any filler – and still missed one of their best songs.  But – apparently they did play it the next night.  Bastards.  And the previous night, they had special guest Sufjan Stevens.  Us poor suckers on the 2nd night – nothing.  Except this, and this, and this.  I had actually forgotten, he did a stage-dive into the crowd.

And two nights later – it was the Arcade Fire – at the venue formerly known as the Millenium Dome.  But now named after a goddamn mobile phone company.  But despite the venue being pretty much a glorified shopping mall (I even got an email a week before, suggesting I turn up several hours early and do some shopping, have dinner, etc) – the gig was alright.  I’d accidentally bought 7 tickets – but managed to get 4 others to tag along, so wasn’t too out of pocket.  The venue was fairly large – but we managed to stake a spot fairly central, with a decent view.  Which made me furious when I noticed my eyes kept drifting from the perfectly visible stage up to the giant TV screens.  What is it about a shimmering screen that acts as a magnet to one’s eyes?  The new opiate of the masses.  Anyway – the Arcade Fire.  I’d heard very very good reports about their live acts.  And, although it might have been the booze, or the TV screens, or the large venue, or lethargy – but I was a little disappointed.  To be fair – it was a pretty good gig.  But – just not exceptional.  The only thing that stepped it up from a bog-standard gig was the drummers – who occasionally went absolutely bat-shit (that video clip is rather mild compared to some of their antics – at one point one drummer was holding a drum above his head while the other one just laid into it).  Anyway – here’s a clip of them doing No Cars Go, and Wake Up.

So – those were the gigs recently.  Last ones for the year, I’m pretty sure – and I might draw up a list of all gigs this year, in some kind of ranking order.  Because I like lists.

Other than rock’n’roll – these last 3 weeks have also consisted of watching little Malkie grow up a bit, and then moving house.  It was amazing – in the three weeks I spent squatting in Caro’n’Dom’s spare room, I reckon Malachy went from just lying there and waving his hands randomly – to semi-coordinated grabbing at stuff.  Did make me a fair bit wistful about all the stuff I’m missing with little Meiken back in NZ, and Shainee & Tylah.

So – I moved out.  And into my own place, in the city.  EC1 – central as.  Central as what?  Well – 5 minutes walk from St Paul’s Cathedral for starters.  So – if I finally manage to reconcile my issues with religion (which I would quite like to do, being the original opiate and all that – I just need a labotomy to remove my logic bit) – I’ve got quite an impressive church on my doorstep.  Also – a 15 minute walk to my current client site.  A 25 minute walk to my head office.   Which all adds up to… no more tube.  By all that’s good – that’s good.  Awesome.  I still get excited when I remember that I don’t have to catch the tube home after work.  I can just casually stroll through the masses of selfish pushing londoners who are trying to get underground as quickly as possible, through the hundreds of people barging their way past their fellow man to get into Liverpool Street station, and I’m home.  It’s actually not that bad – once I get past Liverpool Street Station, it’s relatively sensible.  And whenever I go for a wander, I still constantly see some shop or another, and think “sweet – I’ve got that just around the corner”.  As they say: “Location, location, location”.  I’m loving it.  Nearly worth my paying exactly double the amount of rent I used to.  The only problem is – I’ve got a choice of 6 gyms with squash courts to choose from.  And I’m no good at choices.  Which means I haven’t signed up to any of them yet.  If there had only been one – I would have signed up last Saturday, and I’d already be a buff gym-monkey.  But as it is, I am still an overweight wino with a hangover.

Anyway – if anybody wants or needs my new address – let me know.  If it’s to send me gifts to celebrate the birth of our lord, the baby jeebers christ – then let me know that too.  Because then I probably won’t give you an address.  Because I haven’t bought gifts for anybody – and I don’t want any gifts turning up making me feel bad.  I tried to buy some stuff yesterday – but the website went all broken, and I failed.  And then I hung my head, and haven’t rebuilt the courage to retry, or come up with new ideas.

One bad thing about my new place…  apparently I don’t get a phoneline, and therefore any of the internets, until mid-January.  So – I’ve got that excuse for lack of communication at the moment.  But I probably will risk the wrath of the finance department by making a few calls on the 25th – so if you want such a call, let me know where you’re likely to be on that day – yeah?

My own plans for doing something later this month consist of probably heading up to Edinburgh on the 22nd or 23rd – maybe spending the 25th volunteering at some kind of organisation doing dinner for folks – so I can act all self-righteous when people ask me “what did you do for Christmas?”  Oh – I’m looking forward to that.  I reckon being the schmarmy prick who says “Oh – not much, just worked at a soup kitchen for the needy” is probably going to be even better than the schmarmy self-satisfied “Oh – yeah, I’m a diver.  I go diving.” schtick.  Maybe – I guess I’ll find out soon enough.  Speaking of which – just bought my first piece of diving equipment.  Mostly so I can display it in a prominent place in my flat.  To prove that I’m a diver.  Because I’m a diver, you know?  (One has to play the part when living in Central London.  The part, of course, being a complete and utter douchebag.)

Oh – and by the way, I’m now ‘published’.  I realise that none of you will actually want to read what I’ve written – and if you do, you’re nuts.  It really is very very boring, and it turns out that the strategy that I’m proposing has actually already been done by lots of other people, and my idea isn’t particularly innovative at all.  Dumb.  Anyway – I’ve got a ‘whitepaper’ to my name.  So hopefully now google searches of my name will no longer predominantly return pictures of me in a gorilla/chicken/long-johns/kaftan/Evil-Knievel suit.  Speaking of which – does anybody have a decent photo of me which doesn’t fit into the category of costumed and/or drunk?  I’m struggling to find any such photo – and the marketing people would like a photo for my bio.  I’m thinking this one is the closest to appropriate.  Anyway – if you’re having trouble sleeping – you can take a look here.  And you can send me as much criticism as you like.  Pen has already gone over it with her editor’s eye, and found it lacking.  And I’ve got plenty of issues with it myself – all of which means I probably will end up writing another one, which will make the boss happy.