When life does a full 180

Time for an update methinks.

My last entry was a little over a month ago, and since then there have been some massive changes in my life that have been on the horizon for over a year now.

Time to spill the beans.

As you know I was made redundant at the end of February.  This was a little saddening and…and….oh who am I kidding; I was over the moon!  I practically cart wheeled to the tube station to catch the last tube home.

homer skip

I am not going to miss those hot, sweaty, vacuum packed metallic cylinders full of joyless, shuffling, mouth breathing vacuous twats.

So long, suckers!

Outwardly – to most – I was melancholy at the loss of my job, but the truth is I was relieved.  I hated my job and most of the people who worked there.  Not all, but most.

They ones I liked, know who they are…and I will genuinely miss working with them.

Unfortunately my wife still worked there, so I had to be diplomatic.  If the company had found out the following piece of news, they would’ve got rid of her quicker than a teenager hides porn.

keep-calm-your-mom-is-coming

Plus, we still needed money coming in…for now at least.

So why wasn’t I freaking out about having no job? Why wasn’t I worried about money?  Well, this is where it gets exciting.

My wife, as you know, is American.  The whole reason she came to the UK back in 2013 was so we could be together whilst we sell my house and arrange my US visa so we could move back to her home town of……..

……..LAS VEGAS!!!

las vegas

Yes, you read that right; LAS ‘holy shit, I can’t believe it’ VEGAS!

However, once we started the visa process it emerged that being married less than 2 years added complications and fees.

Bollocks.

So we decided to stick it out until our 2 year anniversary and then bugger off.  Our 2 year anniversary is this August so in three months, off we shall bugger.

My house sold back in February to an investor looking to buy a property he could rent out.  My estate agent was so slick he got the guy to view it BEFORE we even put it on the market.

First viewing.  Full asking price.  Boom!

He even agreed to rent it back to us until we leave for……..

……..LAS ‘Seriously, i’m so excited I peed a little’ VEGAS!

The tedious paperwork and legalities came to a head in April and we finally got the money from the sale.  My wife quit her job 20 minutes later.

In three short months we will depart these UK shores for the desert and I can honestly say it can’t come quick enough.

As much as I have loved England growing up, I’ve outgrown it.

I’ve outgrown the weather, the cynicism, the bad attitudes and the stiff upper lips.  It’s time for a new chapter in my life.

So stick with me people.  In August this blog will take on a whole new life as I share the trials, tribulations, frustrations and lunacy as a Brit in……..

……..LAS ‘Jesus, it is fucking hot’ VEGAS.

I can’t wait.

excited!

Fast food and unicorns

This morning on the tube I saw a man eating a McDonalds meal like a man possessed.  Well, I say ‘eating’; it would be more accurate to say ‘pushing his whole face into the burger that was resting on his lap’.

After he’d stop burrowing into his meal like he was bobbing for apples he emerged for air and I couldn’t help but smile; he had a piece of burger stuck to his forehead, just above his right eyebrow.

Hilarious.

But, after it had been sat there for a minute or so, I realised it wasn’t a piece of burger but a skin tag!  This wasn’t your everyday skin tag the size of a rice krispie, no this one was almost an inch long; like a small penis!

I tried to avoid looking at it, but I just…couldn’t…stop.

Every fibre of my being was resisting the urge to do this:

door stop twang

Let’s go visit your grammar

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything.  To be honest it’s been a hectic couple of months which I will no doubt write about in the coming weeks.

Aren’t you excited?

Anyway, to ease myself back into the habit of writing, I just wanted to share an interaction I had the pleasure of witnessing on the Tube this morning.

There was a couple.  I would say they were mid-to-late twenties and very posh.

How did I know?  Well…

He had immaculately combed back (and yet thinning) hair with glasses and was wearing cufflinks.  Yes, he was one of those people who actually wear cufflinks to work.

She had straight strawberry-brunette hair with enough make-up to choke a rabbit.  You could still see her freckles which gave her that posh ‘England Rose’ look. Her handbag looked stiffer than a Scotsman’s drink.

They were both wearing those long expensive coats you only ever see in magazine adverts worn by good looking people walking and laughing under trees in autumn.

Anyway, as the train filled up I was herded in their direction until I was stood inches away with my back to them.

This, they had decided, was the time to engage in a very posh and plummy conversation.

“I say, what time will you get to work?” she asked him with a voice that emphasised the ‘h’ in ‘what’.

“Not long now”, he replied, lacking any hint of enthusiasm; “I am so frightfully tired”.

“Mmm, yes me too” she said; “I ordered some new contact lenses but I ordered the wrong ones and they’re actually making me tireder”

There was a pause.

I’m sorry; did she just say ‘tireder’?  That can’t be right.  Surely it’s ‘more tired’?

A few seconds passed.

“Do you know; I don’t think tireder is a word” she said, emphasising the ‘h’ in ‘word’.

I smirked.

Neither is ‘twattiest’, I thought to myself, but I think I’m going to use it anyway.

stupider

The stereotype doesn’t match the stereo type

On the London Underground there were two black guys stood not too far away from me, both dressed virtually identically and both with shaved heads.

They weren’t travelling together, yet they had both hit the stereotype perfectly on the head with their choice of attire, hairstyle (or lack of) and the fact they were both sporting red Dr.Dre Beats headphones.

They were both casually bopping their heads to whatever they were listening to.

RnB or Hip Hop probably.

Is that a bit presumptive?

(Well, stereotypes exist for a reason).

We all got off the train and headed for the lift (elevator) to the surface, packed in tighter than a takeaway carton at a buffet.

The headphone twins both adopted the stereotypical swagger of someone with one leg shorter than the other, holding up their jeans with one hand and showing us too much underwear.

Like all lifts (elevators), it was deathly silent as we ascended, despite there being approximately 25 people in there.  It was at this point I realised I could hear music coming from one of our ‘gangstas’.

In the silence I could make out what he was listening to.

Shirley Bassey.

will the fuck

Occupeed

I finish work at 5.30pm, so at 5.25pm I thought I’d nip to the toilet to empty my increasingly aching bladder before the 2 hour journey home.

2 cubicles. Both in use.

Alright, that’s fine. I’m clearly not the only one who’s had that idea.

I waited for 3 or 4 minutes before deciding the occupants were clearly masturbating or dead and gave up. There are another 2 cubicles near the entrance to the building so I thought I’d use those on my way out.

Both also in use.

I waited outside for about 5 minutes, calling out loudly to my wife sat in reception that “I won’t be long as I’m just waiting for these people to finish using the toilet!”

Despite there being noises from within, including flushes and the washing of hands, they weren’t taking the hint or showing any signs of emerging.

“I think they’ve fallen in darling, they’re taking forever!”

Still nothing. I think I heard one of them re-sit down for another performance.

What were they doing in there?

I decided, with bursting bladder and a wife reminding me that we could miss our train, that we should leave the office.

A full bladder is one thing, but proving my wife right is another!

So we left and joined the throng of London commuters and their inept sense of direction.

I tell you, attempting to navigate heaving crowds and packed underground trains with a hairpin bladder is an adventure. A nervous, sweaty adventure.

We made it to Victoria station and straight onto the train. Unfortunately, because we’d left the office so late, the train was really busy.  Thankfully there were 2 seats available at a table, so my wife and I grabbed them.

I removed my shoulder bag and put it on my seat like a tourist with towel on a sun lounger.

“Watch my bag, I really need to use the toilet!” I said, hopping from one leg to the other.

I walked through to the other carriage and found the cubicle.

In use.

Fuck!

I waited.

I waited longer.

I looked at my wife in the other carriage in disbelief.

I even asked some kids I’d they’ve seen anyone go into this toilet (in case it’s out of order).

“Yeah, a girl went in there, innit”

Eventually, after 10 minutes I gave up and joined my wife.

We’re still sat on the train and the toilet is still occupied.  We’ve been on this train for 45 minutes.

I’m about to test the absorbency of these seats.

image

Getting your fear on track

This morning I saw a man on the London Underground accompanied by his wife who was dressed in a Burka.

Some people unfairly assume that, being a Muslim, he is probably up to no good like bombing the train or something equally insane.

This is, of course, ridiculous. It is an irrational fear created by the few extremists out there ruining it for the rest.

I have to say that I disagree with the oppressive nature of the burka, despite the excellent UV protection it provides.  Having said that, I do have Muslim friends and my experience has taught me that their religion is no more or less peaceful than any other (except maybe Buddhism).

Also, this dude had his wife with him.  There isn’t a man alive (or dead) who wants to be greeted by 72 virgins with his wife!

Unless that’s their thing.

Which I doubt.

So I wasn’t worried.

However, this guy was wearing a T-shirt that wasn’t doing him any favours whatsoever.

It read:

I must not think bad thoughts

I must not think bad thoughts

I must not think bad thoughts

 

Hilarious.

There were some uncomfortably sweaty people on the train this morning.

train-scream