Time once again for Fracas Monday Melee.
Be warned; the Man Who Loves Mondays(TM) is your host for today.
1: The Misanthropic.
(Name something - about humanity - you absolutely hate).
This week I have been mostly hating our fœtid and pathetic excuse for an outgoing Prime Minister and celebrating his demise.
It's thanks to him and his incomprehensible one man crusade to lick chimp arse that London is once again a target of terrorist bombs, and no thanks to him that they are so crap at bomb making.
2: The Meretricious:
(Expose someone or something that's phony, fraudulent or bogus).
People who don't like Mondays.
Miserable fuckers who want to shoo … oo … oo … oo … oo …oot the whole day down.
What on earth could anyone possibly find to dislike about Monday mornings?
For a start, there's no more housework or gardening until next Saturday.
Work is wonderful (I love my job). Hey, you've only got one life; if you're doing something you hate five days a week then for fucks's sake do something else!
Even on a rainy Monday like today, and with crap trains, the walk from the station to the office is somewhat splendid.
Here are a couple of shots I took this morning on my way in:
Jolly Old Father Thames rolling along.
Our sartorially challenged police enjoying a tender, hand-holding moment.So stop moaning, you joyless misanthropes. Mondays are lovely. Enjoy the fuckers!
(Name something you're unhappy with).
I'm not overly ecstatic about the summer cold I caught last week, which is lingering on with the hacking cough of a sixty-a-day smoker and bouts of explosive phlegm-flinging sneezes that leave the inside of the car looking like the aftermath of a bukake party.
ICK! If anybody needs any wallpaper paste I've got lungsful of the sodding stuff.
Oh, if you don't know about bukake, you really DO NOT want to know …
4: The Meritorious.
(Give someone credit for something and name it if you can).
Simon, our delightful structural engineer, for waiting until I had just finished a month's worth of work preparing the construction drawings for Heathfield School before telling me he wants to make every single internal wall 50mm thicker.
I am of course being sar-fucking-castic. The bastard is rather wisely working from home for a couple of days having left me a note to find this morning.
Get the fucking calculations right the first time, you cretin! It's what we pay you for. If you want to come back to a job on Wednesday it's gonna cost you a lot more than the grovelling apology I got on the phone this morning.
Twat!
5: The Mirror.
(See something good about yourself and name it).
I can't sing to save my life and I don't care. Morning walks along the Embankment are perfect for warbling atonally along to my iPod.
Today's screech-fest was Patti Smith's "Horses" album. Apologies to the poor folk passing by Cleopatra's Needle at around half-eight this morning who were subjected to my appalling singalong to "Rock and Roll Nigger".
6: The Make-Believe:
(Name something you wish for).
Every day to be Monday.
20 comments:
Yup. Touchy-feely police. And they wear those sexy yellow mini-dresses, too!
And bin days are a "bloke" thing. Bins are classed along with sheds as "bloke" territory. Tell hubby that not enjoying doing the bins is likely to get him picked up on gaydar. Yikes!
Nah he hates the fact that someone piles the rubbish up on top of the already full garbage bin.
It falls into the catagory of the certain things as a girl i won't do, put out the bins or mow the lawn.
"Someone?"
Okay, No. #2. I love my job(s). But I love stuffing about on weekends more. If there is a job that pays me to drink, act like an idiot and catch up with mates, let me know.
Musician.
You're sorted, Groover.
Taking out the garbage SHOULD be a bloke thing, but quite often it falls to me. If only I could trade that for the toilet cleaning--um, or the vacuuming, or the cooking, or the dish washing, or the laundry, or the dusting, or the dry cleaning, or the floor mopping, or the general tidying. Whew, now I'm mifted!
Dive, your description for the remainder of your cold is absolutely disgusting! and very creatively presented.
You know about bukake, Robyn? YIKES!
And some of us have to do all the "bloke" stuff and the "girl" stuff. I have to cram all my housework, gardening, shopping, car-cleaning, visiting and collapsing in exhaustion into my weekends as my commute means I am out of the house at 5 in the morning and not back until bedtime. That's the main reason I love Mondays. It's a nice rest!
Well, I like to shoot the whole day down, but I'm glad someone likes it. Hope you feel better---Tony's demise shoul be motivation enough.
Hey, Sassy.
I'm glad your talk worked out.
And yes, Tony is gone, but many years too late.
No, I didn't know what it meant until I looked it up. ew.
Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee …
and EWWW!
Robyn googled bukake? surely that wasn't in her mums medical book? Dive your evil.
I've said it before and I'll say it again:
Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.
Hey, Dive,
Just whack-on 25mm thick wall paper each side, mate.
Just trying to help.
Faïence; now was that not one of Hamlet's cobbers up on the battlements; Step-brother of Laertes.
He was a callow youth, probably 25mm thick.
Maybe apply some of that. It comes from Faenza, Italy.
Just trying to help again.
As ever, you are of inestimable help, Monsieur B.
Molto grazie, Dive
Looks cold there Dive - is summer over already?
Rich, this is what an English summer looks like. It's why we moan about the weather all the time.
Robyn googled bukake?
I'll be upset if my recent post about the Queen didn't turn up on that one.
I always get caught up on someones monday melee, this is upsetting.
Yup!
We got her to say the "F" word and now the poor girl joins the growing ranks whom Google will have on record as "looking up bukake".
I'm so proud.
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