Mad Men is a bad influence on me, as I find myself wanting to do most of the things they do on the show. Namely, being sexist/racist, smoking a hell of a lot and – most importantly – drinking at work. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we were able to drink ourselves into a (working) stupor at a steady pace through the day?
One time, many years ago when I worked somewhere that will remain nameless (it’s not hard to figure out where), I visited the pub with a colleague in our dinner hour. As we were only realistically left with 40 minutes at the pub including time to get from and back to work, we drank quickly. Then we realised we had drank too quickly, so we had another. And another. And a double order. And a couple for the road.
Basically, in about 40 minutes – probably a bit more – we managed to get a suitable buzz on. I had ended up drunk at work by accident. And it was the best afternoon ever. Not because I was the most productive drunk, that I was friendly, outspoken and all in all the life of the party, but because I spent the entire afternoon on MySpace, in plain view of everyone.
Being drunk at work would be awesome not because it would make me better at my job in any way. Being drunk at work would be awesome because it would stop me from caring as much. Which is clearly the best way to be, right? Less care, less fret. Also: more booze.
I’m not very good with chilli. I’ve just been reminded of this as I have just eaten some take away with chilli in it, and it’s burning the fuck out of my mouth.
I never did understand the lure of eating the spiciest thin on the menu just to prove you’re a man’s man from Mansfield. But then, that’s understandable when I can’t actually handle spice like a MAN should be able to. I once had a madras and it left me worse for wear the next day, but other than that I’ve never really bothered with the proper spicy stuff.
I often (“never”) wonder if, when those there aliens from another planet make contact with us, if they’ll pay attention to the whole tribalistic nonsense of “eating stuff that’s hotter than the stuff your mates are comfortable eating”. I wonder if they’ll pay attention to that and take it on board.
I wonder if they’ll take it on board and analyse the social implications of such a tribalistic mannerism. I wonder if they’ll disseminate what this whole thing is about and truly boil it down to its apeish instincts. I wonder if they’ll do that, and then I wonder if they’ll blow the fucking world up.
But then, I am suffering from a burny mouth so I might not be in the best of minds right now.
When I were a lad I’d play in t’snow til three in t’morning in nothing but me bra and pants, then come inside and have to sit in t’fridge for a bit cos I were too warm outside. I’d eat snow to warm me cockles and strap blocks of ice t’me head when I got chilly. Which was never, as I never got cold. Same applies nah.
These pansy southerners though, wi’ their lah de dah “coats” and hoity toity “gloves” make me sick. I dint fight and die in t’World War II so these sods could prance around in oversized winter clothes. Some say I dint fight and die in any war, but who knows for sure? All I do t’know is: I’m well warm, me.
Seriously though, I love how the weather has taken a turn for the chillier. For some reason I’m naturally one of the warmest people in the world at all times. Seriously, feel my hands at some point and be amazed at how toasty they always are. And clammy. Anyway, a bit of a dip in the temperature means that while everyone else in The South puts their biggest coats, gloves and hats on, I can merely add one extra layer and be comfortable. Happy, in fact, as I’m no longer THE WARMEST PERSON EVER when I’m walking.
Hence, I like the cold. Or something. Also I’m northern and well ‘ard.
I will likely retract this statement in a month or so when it gets freezing.