The Black Star

A blog dedicated to the series of unfortunate events that always happen around me. Not so much unfortunate, more like funny.. but unfortunate sounds better.

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Friday, April 14, 2006

Perfect

Right, I have no idea where to start this entry. I guess I'll just do it in chronological order... that should work.

I did wake up on time, and I did get ready in time for all the errands I had to run (yes, the whole three of them). As it turns out, I did go into town to hop around with one bad foot... but I didn't do any of the errands. Why? Laziness, I guess. Well, one of them was to get my vaccines (yes, been here for 6 plus months and I still haven't gotten them...) so I understand why I was avoiding that... been finding excuses not to get the shots ever since I got here. My fear of needles has nothing to do with this...

On my way to the city centre, though, I run into this guy I know from the International Society (to which I haven't gone to any meetings in the past... erm... long time) who's part of the Greek Mafia but not really part of it (an outsider, if you like). So I say hi to him and whatever, and he asks me "Oh, so didn't you go to Venezuela?" and I'm like "Erm, no... not much to do there" but I desperately wanted to tell him "yes, I did... that's why I'm here talking to you... I'm a hologram." He then goes on to tell me that he didn't go to Greece either, to which I really badly wanted to respond "no shit", but I figured that not only would it be rude, but that he could've gone for a week or so and have come back for this week (possible as it's here in Europe). So well, there's my encounter with the Greecian.

When I'm walking across the uni, I happen to see these three ducks just chilling on the grass. Hmm, I'm quite surprised to just see them there... but, being the person that I am, take the long way around that part of the uni to avoid coming close with the ducks. Don't want to catch the bird flu (and since they say it comes from close contact with ducks... and yes, I know that I won't get it by just walking past a duck, but hey... what if they bit me!?). So eccentric me...

Well, I just fucked around for quite a long time to be honest. I did, however, stumble upon a sports shop and figured I could get a whole set of golf clubs for 55 pounds (with bag and everything) and decided it wasn't such a bad idea. I could easily pick up my game here, it's not like there are only three golf courses like in Valencia. So after that I came back to the flat and started to look for possible golf courses.

I used a golfing website and Google Earth for this. I've got to say, Google Earth--bloody useful thing! It did most of the work for me... well, nearly all of the work for me. Gotta love it. The cheapest club I found had a green fee of 18 pounds per round (this is weekday when it's cheaper... but since I have all of Wednesday afternoon off and all of Thursday morning off then it's doable) but it was in the middle of nowhere. Can't really get there unless I have a car. I found another one quite close, but it was close to 30 quid for a round, so I ruled that out. Then I did find a perfect one, one I can take the metro (might be weird taking my clubs on the metro... but hey, whatever) and is quite affordable... I think it was 23 pounds for the round. Obviously I wouldn't be able to play every week, but it would be a nice day out. I'm really pondering the idea, although the expenses could be really high... especially if there's water (oh, so many golf balls...).

Well, I then go out again--to the pub this time to watch the footy match. When I'm getting there, though, I realise that I could've left the main window open and perhaps even the front door open. Not that I opened them, but my flatmate likes his chilly environment (well, it's been quite warm, actually... teens) and why he leaves the door open (he just puts something on the corner to keep it open) is beyond me, but whatever. And he was getting ready to go to work, but I left without saying anything because I was in a hurry, so he might assume that I'm still in and leave everything as it is because, well, I'm in. I decide I'm going to ignore it as he probably said something and realised I wasn't there... but after a couple of minutes it really starts to bother me. What really worries me is that I left my room's door open and unlocked (which I rarely do when I go out) so if somebody does break in (well, walk in in this case) then they will have absolutely no problem going into my room and taking all my stuff, computer included.

So what do I do? I basically run back to the flat to see if I'm right. It took me a bit under 7 minutes to get here (quite fast, actually... in fact, very fast) and when I get here, everything's dark and the window is open. Okay, so one out of two. When I'm going to put my key in the keyhole to open the door I see that it is indeed open. Two out of two. Bloody hell, lucky we weren't mugged. So I run back and get there right in time for the match. But that was close... too close for my liking.


So well, Man Utd play a disgraceful game--nobody exempt--and I'm pissed off because the slight chance of mounting a title charge at the end of the season is over despite nine straight wins. So I run back to my flat and stop by at the liqueur store to get some Coke. What for? Oh, yes, still got the vodka I got at the duty free. So well, I just watch some Seinfeld and stuff and have a couple of pints. It should've ocurred to me that even if you serve a double in a pint glass it's a bit more than usual, but that thought didn't cross my mind at the time. So essentially, I was drinking quadruples. When it all finishes it's still early and there's nothing to watch... so I decide to go for the Led Zeppelin DVD. Must say, it was amazing. Now I know what people experienced back in the 70's listening to the Zep drunk or stoned or whatever... amazing music and that's an understatement. The only problem was that I had about four pints (make that pretty much a quarter of a litre bottle of vodka) and yeah, by the end I was pretty fucked. FUCKED.

I honestly don't remember the end of the concert (I mean, I know the songs and all because I've watched it before, but I don't remember singing along at all in this ocassion) and I sure as hell don't remember how I got to my room (easy, could've just stood up and walked in... but I don't remember doing that). Haven't been that drunk since the time Tiny and I drank a bottle of rum... and in that ocassion Calabria had to walk me up to my room. And then I get this fear. What if I passed out in the common room and my flatmate happens to walk in from work and had to help me in? That would've been terrible... passing out alone. What does that say about me? Shit, that is the worst case scenario. And my room's a complete mess, with clothes all over the place and my alarm clock in the floor half broken. The thing, though, is that all the things I had (the vodka bottle, the coke bottle) are right in the place where I would've put them... but the DVDs are on my desk... and the case actually has the DVD in it, which makes me wonder how I got it out of the PS2 and in there in my state, which is why I fear that he did it for me. Oh, well, I guess the only way to find out is to see if Oliver says anything to me... which is why I'm planning on avoiding him for the next couple of days...

Gotta say, though, it rocks to be in that state. Maybe the morning after and some parts of the night aren't that nice, but when you're that piss drunk it fucking rocks.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

From bad to worse

So, quite an interesting day because of no good reason. Just because... well, I messed up and I fucked up. Although, one of them is not my fault, I think.

So I set my alarm clock at ten in the morning. The reason for waking up at this extravagantly early time was because I had to run some errands, and I thought I'd do today as I keep putting them off and I barely have any time now. So well, my alarm clock goes off, and I snooze it for a total of ten minutes (after that I felt guilty, so I just woke up.

I turn on my computer in order to check my email (always do that), some selected news and, of course, the temperature. While I'm at it, I happen to stray my sight onto my computer's clock (you know, the one in the tray on the bottom right) and I see it's almost three in the afternoon. No fucking way... I couldn't have spent that much time on the computer, absolutely impossible. I look back at my alarm clock and it reveals it's half eleven. Interesting. I check my mobile for the time (you know, to see what time it really is) and it says it's almost two in the afternoon. That's three different times! Fucking impossible! I decide to check on the jPod next, just to see if it's possible to have four different times, and ineed, it's quarter to four! What in the hell is going on here? Am I having a mental breakdown? Possible... way too possible, actually, but still, I have to check one more source to make sure (and to know what time it is--I still don't know!).

I look for my watch and after I finally find it under a bunch of papers it reveals that it's three. Okay... so I guess that's the "real" time, two sources that finally agree. Oliver happens to not be outside for the first time since he arrived, and it's a shame really because as much as I want him not to be there I'd really like to know what time it is. But hey, I'll settle for three. But that's really bad news, as it means I pretty much slept the whole morning and now can't do anything I had to do. Great. Oh, well, definitely tomorrow... better tomorrow, else...!

I do have to take a shower, though, the night hasn't been good for me and I'm all sweaty, so I go and well... take a shower. On my way out (of the shower, not the bathroom) I keep on bumping into my soap's holder thing (a plastic thing that holds the soap) and it keeps falling to ground. It's really pissing me off. When I'm drying myself it falls again, so I just stamp on it once out of frustration. Then stamp on it harder. At this point, I know something bad is gonna happen, because nothing good can come out of doing something so stupid. But my frustration takes over (too much Footy Manager, yes) and I keep on stamping it--everytime harder. By the fourth, I hear a split and feel a sharp pain on my foot. No surprise. I finally leave it alone (I wasn't going to keep stamping with an injury... I'm not that stupid... plus, my guess is that I think that I wanted to get hurt subconciously... only way to explain it. I knew I was going to get hurt if I kept doing it, yet I still did it).

So I finish drying myself and decide to take a look at the foot. There's a pretty nasty cut, actually. I wasn't expecting that. I was expecting a scratch at the most, but it seems I caught it in the wrong place. Damn, this won't be good. But whatever, nothing major.

Hey, turns out that wound hurts more than you'd think. So much I actually have to limp everywhere now (which is why I didn't leave the flat all day long). Not exactly the best case scenario, as I have to walk around Newcastle tomorrow to get all those errands done! Ah, it's just my luck... and stupidity.

Later on I decide I'm going to make one of my famous bacon-sausage sandwiches with cheese (only that without the bacon and the cheese... I ran out!) so I limp my way to the kitchen to get my mobile (that's its new place... since I'm always using the countdown for cooking purposes, I just leave it there as I use it more as a timer than as a phone) and I happen to look at the time. Different from all the others! Fuck me! I don't know how I managed to get four totally different times in five total sources... that's perhaps the most bizarre thing that's happened to me in a long time. And when did all this happen? What if it's been going on for a long time? This could be bad...

I can explain the difference between the mobile and the watch. Daylight Savings. It's only an hour difference (exactly), so I must've forgotten to change it. The jPod... well, I'm not too sure, could also be daylight savings, but there has to be something else as well... the minutes were also off by quite a bit. And my alarm clock... no fucking clue! How it got so behind is beyond me. It's not the battery because I've been keeping a close eye on it for the whole day and it's been consistent. No idea how it happened, but that might explain some things this Easter...

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Walk All Over You

Sometimes you can only wonder...

I was surfing the web (i.e. bumming around) reading random stuff, and I came upon an article on the BBC about Tiger Woods. Here it is:

Paralympian Dame Tanni Grey Thompson has criticised Tiger Woods for using the word "spaz" to describe his performance at the Masters.

Woods, who has since apologised, came under fire for using the word in reference to his putting display.

"I think he was a bit stupid saying something off the cuff in that way," she told BBC Radio Five Live.

"It was a stupid comment but I won't get upset by it - there are bigger battles to fight.

She added: "My worry is people and youngsters seeing that someone like Tiger Woods is using this kind of terminology. If they think it's OK for him to use it, then do they think it's OK for them to use it as well?

"You know he's not one of the rough football players who's gambling and getting drunk and being in clubs, you know he's quite a straight guy.


"I don't think it is a nice word for anyone to use but I think we get upset by terminology.

"For example, in America, handicapped is an acceptable term which it isn't here - it's quite insulting.

"I don't think he meant to be offensive but nobody in his position should be saying it.

"I bet he won't say it again."

Woods's spokesman Mark Steinberg later said: "Tiger meant nothing derogatory to any person or persons and apologises for any offence caused."


So what's the big fuzz? First of all, do any of you know what "spaz" means? Okay, knew was "spaz" meant? I sure as hell didn't! In fact, I watched that interview live, and I didn't pick up on it. So what's the big deal? Some woman just wanted to get on the news. Fucking hell... what has the world come to? It's a bit funny, though.

In other news... there is no other news. I'm having a spaz of a time...

Monday, April 10, 2006

Untitled

Take my hand and drag me along,

I’ve go nowhere else to go.

I’m in desperate need of attention,

I’ve taken enough on my own.


The sun is shining outside,

Yet it is colder than before.

I need someone to warm me up,

Where are you hiding? I need to know.


Leaves follow the dance of doom,

Accept their fate gracefully and just let go.

Everything is dying around me,

But my hopes are still going strong.


The snow blankets all in view,

It has happened at last—a magical sight,

You’re not here to appreciate it,

But I haven’t given up on you yet.


The leaves, the grass, the flowers all flourish,

Everything is reborn again.

It’s like a second chance,

Like the second chance I never got.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Hibbot

So today was my sporting day, as previously posted. Three football matches, the golf Masters and some good old baseball. Damn, I was exhausted. But it was good.

Just two things to mention, though. The first thing that happened when I left my flat today (and I mean just as I left my front door) was that a black cat ran in front of me. Hmm, I didn't know if I should be superstitious and go back in my flat and stay there for the rest of the day or if I should just ignore it and keep on with my planned day. It took me about a fourth of a second and I just stuck to the plan.

It seemed as though I should've stayed at home later on, though, when Chelski came back from one goal down (and with one man sent off) to score four goals against West Ham and win an improbably match. Then Liverpool beat Bolton even though Bolton had been the much better and most dangerous team. Up next was Man Utd vs. Arsenal and I sort of had a clue of what was going to happen. But, much to my surprise, it turned out to be one of the best football matches I've watched in a very long time. Very exciting, very quick... a lot of tension. Great football. Oh, and I know I don't even have to say this, but Rooney's a fucking genius! Man Utd win 2-0 with a magnificent goal from Rooney and a magnificent assist from Rooney.

One thing, though. While I was in the pub, I witnessed this mother giving her daughter (say, about 21 years of age.. maybe a bit more) a fag. I had seen this before quite a while ago, and I think it's one of the most bizarre things ever. If I were a smoker and I had a daughter (or a son, whatever), I would most definitely not be sharing my fags with her/him. Not because I'm stingy, but because I'd be ashamed of myself... and because I wouldn't want my daughter/son to have that awful habit. But well, I guess that's just me.

I've got an update on our friend Calabira. He's been busy at work building a tower with only toothpics. I've got a photo on his progress. I've also got a photo of a 2.5 metre arch he made with just straws (ONLY straws.. no glue or anything). Enjoy Calabria's skills!



























Toothpic tower! 2.5 metre arc!