Tag Archives: holiday

Holiday pant time

I am now at the beginning of a week off. I have mentioned this a few times, one because I’m needy and crave attention, demanding you all know what’s going on in my pathetic little life. And two, because I’m actually relieved at this fact.

I’ve had time off, obviously, but I haven’t had proper time to just sit and do fuck all, with no responsibilities, outstanding work, travel, other such shite to deal with for a long time now. Not since about this time last year, actually.

Not that there’s anything wrong with taking time off to go to Groezrock, or Portugal, or visit people wherever, or go home for super fun time funerals. It’s just good to know that the only thing I have planned until the Monday after next are to probably go out tomorrow* and go to see Doug Stanhope on Thursday.

That’s all I have to do.

I still have to do these blogs though, which is seemingly quite difficult judging by the fact I was totally unable to do one yesterday. Fortunately I can blame beer for that, rather than laziness or the inability to come up with a totally inane topic to waffle on about for a few hundred words.

But yes, as I’ve stated elsewhere: I’ve been picking out my finest pants, in which I will be sitting around in all week. Who knows – I might even tidy my flahahahahaha I can’t even finish that thought. Ridiculous.

*My wallet already hates me, not like I can make it much worse between the two of us.

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And here we begin the first proper day of my time off – the first time in a long, long time I’ve had time off with nothing coming up: no work to do, no trip 12 hours after you get back from another country, no freelance pending, no stress, nothing to think about. There’s food in the kitchen (rice, mainly) and games to be played. There’s sleep to be had and a dressing gown (with many coffee and food stains on it) to be worn all day every day.

I am aware I am not an EMT, a stockbroker, a police officer, a shop worker, a vet, a bounty hunter, a space cowboy, a professional homosexual impersonator, a dog whisperer, a woman whisperer, a marmoset whisperer, a Quetzalcoatl whisperer or any other job that actually matters. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get tired out by it – mentally and physically.

So yeah, now the week of sitting, with a couple of parties, begins. If you get in touch with me, expect responses constantly mentioning that I’m in my pants. If you follow me on Twitter (@PlayMagIan), expect me to be tweeting a lot more, usually about how I’m in my pants. If you’re on my friends lists on PS3 and 360, expect to see me on there a lot more probably replaying Skyrim (also: in my pants).

Now is my time to shine – now is my time to show the world what I am really, truly good at: not doing anything. It’s what I was made to do, and one day I will find a way to be comfortable, or make a living, doing just that. YUSS.

(Thus concludes the batch of blogs I’ve written on the train. They will return to their normal velocity (and lack of quality) as of tomorrow. We’re almost in the home straight now)

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Na na na na na wasting your time, like how that Green Day song goes

How many of you waste holiday? As in, time off work. What do you waste it on? I really want to know this, as I am considering booking time off work in order to waste it effectively. My choices of how to waste it are limited to a few options, which I will list… in a bit. Maybe now.

No, not now. First I talk a bit about something else, like holiday. I haven’t taken it as regularly as I did last year, but I have taken it in big chunks. Damn Things To Do Around The World. I do, however, want to go back to Amsterdam, because Amstergoddamn that place was good. Also Groezrock, but not camping – in an RV YES I SAID RV. Anyway, I promised a list and I know you’re all on the edge of your collective seat.

So I’m not going to do a list just yet. Nah, I’ll talk about something else else for a bit. I haven’t even bothered with a long weekend in an age. I should probably do that. An extra few hours of sleep in a Friday morning is something I could do with. He says on a Thursday afternoon when he doesn’t have tomorrow off work. Damn it. LIST TIME! What I could waste my time on with time off:

  • Play videogames.
  • Read the (easy) books I ordered today.
  • Play more videogames.
  • Come up with longer lists of things to waste my time off work on.

That’s about it, really. Suggestions welcome. Like ‘making a fucking epic sandwich’, or something.

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Festive season? TIME TO STAY HERE

As it is November, discussions have naturally moved on to the Christmas break and what the hell everyone is doing over it. I, for one, have no idea. Naturally going home will be top of the list this time around, mainly because I have nothing else to do, but staying here on my own comes a close second.

Because dear shitting crikey is it cheaper and less hassle. I can:

Get a train
£100+ and about six hours of rickety, shitty carriages that I haven’t complained about nearly enough in the last few months. So I’ll do a complain now: they’re shit and I hate them.

Get a coach
Brings the cost down to £60, but also requires I both sit on two coaches for a combined eight hours and that I end up in Rotherham. I genuinely do not remember how to navigate from Rotherham to Swinton. I will end up dead on a local bus somewhere, surrounded by youths.

Get a plane
Stupid times, end up in Leeds, works out about the same as a train, bad for the environment, fear of death almost as overwhelming as when you’re in Rotherham – it just doesn’t add up.

Stay here
Get some relaxation time without having to travel anywhere. Sit, sleep, finally finish the pile of games that need finishing. Well, some of them. I can cook myself Super Noodles (with ham as a special treat) for Christmas dinner… in fact, this is clearly the perfect option.

Go to Zurich and roam the streets
Oh wait – I’m not a psycho. Repeat it with me – I am not a psycho. I am not a psycho. I am not a psycho…

I’m clearly going to opt for the ‘hang out, play Nintendo’ option, aren’t I? Ah well, Christmas is bum anyway. I’m sure la familia can manage – somehow, some way – without my rapist wit.

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Insect bites: the definitive review (7/10)

One of the things you tend to forget about when going to other countries that have lots of biting insects in them is the fact that biting insects tend to want to bite you. Well, maybe they don’t want to bite you because that would indicate they are capable of simple planning.

I don’t think biting insects are capable of simple planning. Correct me if I’m wrong. They probably can’t even write lists, the list-idiots.

Anyway, seeing as clearly everyone forgets they get bitten while on holiday, I too forgot. Not because I’m an idiot and everyone else actually remembers to protect themselves against the little shits. No siree. Not me.

Anyway, I was bitten about 300 times while in Portugal (which I reviewed earlier) in the town of Loule (with an accent on the ‘e’ which I reviewed earlier) and it was annoying. Mainly because I don’t like things itching itching ITCHING all the time.

But none of you would know that, because you clearly make sure you never get bitten. You bastards.

It’s not even like you can get any revenge. I mean, the little flying shits cause me mild irritation by biting me as hard as they can – a lasting annoyance that can sometimes be a bit worse. If I bit those twats as hard as I could it would lead to their instant, unavoidable death. No drawn out suffering. No real pain, as death would be instant.

It’s such a shame I can’t put them through what they put me though. Tossers.


10 of 14 catch up entries left.

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I am currently in that wonderful packing situation we all find ourselves in so often. You know the one: you have to pack to go on holiday tomorrow, so you’re trying to make a list of what to take in order to forget as little as possible. Halfway through writing that sentence you remember you need to take a plug charger. The list isn’t going so swimmingly as you’re half-watching the wrestling and playing Football Manager (hello, ladies). You’re also part-confused because you’re off to another place, this time for work, the day after you get back from your real holiday and you keep thinking to write things down that you don’t actually need until then, plus you keep forgetting you need to take some shit out of your wallet, lest you lose it in Portugal. You have freelance half done – it’ll get done, but it’s still sitting there not quite done. Then you realise John Laurinaitis sounds like the surrogate from Arrested Development (via Dan, naturally). Then you wonder if you left the batteries at work – but it doesn’t matter because you’re still at work tomorrow. You’re not sure if you should pack everything this evening, as you have time tomorrow before catching a 15 minute bus to some shack masquerading as an airport. And you’re still getting mixed up – a Dictaphone is not necessary for a holiday with friends. Friends and Jack.

We all end up in this situation on a regular basis, I’m sure.

Sod it, I’ll just play Football Manager until my eyes explode.

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Coming to America

I do still wonder if I’ll ever go to the US off my own back. Obviously I can barely afford gruel in my current situation, so a real holiday to somewhere that isn’t Cheap-o McCheerful is pretty much out of the question.

Unless you all want to club together and give me TEN BILLION POUNDS.

Anyway, this means I’m still not really sure how things work in Yankland. I’ve only ever bought a few things, all on card and mostly gifts, and I’ve never had to tip as I’ve never been in the situation where I’m the one tipping in a paying situation.

Christ this is thrilling. Leave me be, I’m fresh off the flight back and on the train – it’s hard to think of topics and then follow through with coherent thoughts.

I still have that whole thing that a lot of people seem to have of “one day I would like to live there”, because… well, why wouldn’t I? San Francisco is brilliant and I’d like to be able to see New York properly when not massively ill and on the verge of abject heartbreak. That shit puts a downer on tourism, I have to say.

But yeah, I can’t afford it, so it’s not exactly top of my priorities right now. I’ll just live in this weird bubble that this job puts you in, never leaving the safety of being provided for and ending up looking like a complete scummer in all the five-star hotels we end up in.

Plus I wouldn’t be able to afford premium economy seats, and I really do need those.


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