I had the longest date of my life this weekend. By longest I mean 440 miles long as I travelled to Liverpool and back. By date I don't know I mean as who knows what a date is these days besides "The sweet, edible, oblong or oval fruit of the date palm, containing a narrow, hard seed", but the term will suffice.

I haven't mentioned anything, as well, it all only got organised on Friday, and was one of those crazy, throw things in the boot of the car and hit the highway kind of things. Besides managing to chew off all my nails (nerves on the way up and wondering how dull I came across on the way down), I am really glad I did. I had a really good weekend. A bit surreal at times, although to be honest that was mostly my mate Dan (moral support and general craziness et-al)

And before you ask she was sexy cute, smart, funny, and let me watch the rugby.

So it Sevitz (1 of me) vs. The Coppers (At least 20 of them) last night in a Mexican stand off, Quintin Tarantino style. Ok thats a lie. There was no Mexicans standing off anywhere. Just me trying not to crap large style construction bricks.

Due to the train home sitting still for about 25 minutes I didn't get time to get food for dinner before my game of squash last night. And after squash we went for a drink. I had a pint and a half of Guinness over about an hour and a half. On my way to get some takeout, I pulled in behind a cop, and as always was a little nervous. Even though I knew I had not had much to drink, you don't really want to explain this to the coppers. But he went left and I went right so all was fine. The take away place was closed however, so I ended up popping into the BP service station 100 yards from my house to get some food.

While I was in the service station, and trying to debate over the piss poor selection of food, a cop comes into get some munch as well. As I didn't want to stand behind a cop smelling of beer and fags, I tried to act indecisive over what to eat. The damn cop took his time faffing with stuff, which meant I ended up dawdling more and more. As he paid for his stuff, another cop comes in and repeats the process. Eventually after wondering around the BP shop looking at crisps and other food, and acting really indecisive over the two pasta's they had, Cop 2 gets to the front of the queue and I join the back. I pay for my pasta (which tasted crap incidentally) and get into my car. Which I had parked in the paraplegic bay. Which I might add I never do. But it was empty and I was only going to be 2 minutes (till the coppers arrived anyway).

Lo and behold, their are not one. but two police vans filling up with about a million cops in each. Ok maybe 10 or so. Still not the view I wanted to be greeted with. After faffing with my seatbelt for a few seconds, I pulled out and headed home. The cops pull out and follow me. I pull into my underground parking and before I could turn the corner, they flash me. I shit myself. Large square construction style bricks.

I get out of the car and approach the coppers. Now when I get nervous (giving a speech, standing on a cliff, being pulled over by the fuzz) my left leg freezes up completely and my rick shakes uncontrollably. Not really the best state to be in when questioned dy the men in (black/blue? what is it) police vans. Fortunately Mr Cop Person was very friendly and nice and polite and didn't hit me with his night stick at all. He did however ask me if I had being drinking. I said that I had. He asked how much and I said a pint. He asked when and I said about a half hour ago. He then calls Mr Other Cop person over with a breathalyser. Basically my mind is now running scenarios of me being thrown in a dark place and being left to rot. Or at least loosing my license. However I thought bursting into tears would not help, and stoically tried to look calm.

The copper people then ask me if I had been smoking (I had) and if I had in the last five minutes (I hadn't). He then explains to me about the breathalyser and after clearing my lungs (of what I don't know) I blow into his tube (on the breath test jobbie). He then looks at a green light and says I passed. Before my brain can even process this, copper number 2 points to an amber light and says its still processing. My brain process this and goes back into generating scenarios of doom. Fortunately the little white box (not an iPOD which would have been a whole lot better) beeps and he says I am clear. My heart starts beating again, they apologise and start heading off. I enquire if I had been doing anything wrong and the police dude says they were just suspicious I had been drinking.

I manage to park the car, although am now suffering from a surge of adrenaline and head upsets to light a fag shakily and try learn what breathing is. As far as fun stakes I thinking its somewhere between a poke to the eye with a pointy stick and an poke to a pointy stick with an eye. A whole massive wad of non funness.

So the moral of the story is, taking 15 minutes to choose between two service station pastas looks highly suspicious. Next time I am just going to Maccy D's.

Speaking of sex, am I the only person who hasn't had sex on a pool or snooker table?

Dammit, i thought so.

I read that the average couple in their twenties has sex on average 150 times per year. I worked out my average (roughly) has been probably about 10 times a year for the last 6 years. Although this would be more of a flat line with spikes at 3 or 4 points than anything else.

This means to bring myself up to average while I am in my twenties, I would to have 850 or more shags before l I turn thirty. More or less. Assuming some poor misguided soul fell madly in love with me today, thats only once or twice a day. But then lets say I saw my girlfriend 3 times a week (hey she just met me, she isn't going to move in with me or anything. what kind of girl do you think I go for, huh?), That figure increases to 3 times a day on those days.

I figure I can manage that sort of performance. Even being out of practise I should be able to keep up that consistency. Although by August next year I am up to 12 times a day and may then be dead before I am thirty.

What it boils down to (since these things are averages) is that someone out there is having sex instead of me. If you wouldn't mind stopping it and letting the rest of us get a chance? Well just me. Thanks. Much appreciated.

Since sometimes the rhetoric gets boring, views like these are sorely needed to keep us from drowning in a sea of not so humble opinions (NSHO's). From the ever brilliant Neil Gaiman's website, his post in full (although slightly reformatted), as he still doesn't have permalinks on his posts.

In the Observer today we learn that...

US intelligence officials said there was now a high volume of back-channel communications with officials inside Iraq. American military officers were trying, often by telephone, to coax their Iraqi counterparts into surrendering.

"Often by telephone" is sort of puzzling in itself. Are they also using homing pigeons? e-mails? long personal letters? And how do you telephonically 'coax' your Iraqi counterpart to surrender?

AlHi. Mahmoud? That you? This is Al
MahmoudAh. Yes. Hi, Al
AlSo, you thought any more about what I said yesterday
MahmoudNot really. I’ve been kind of busy. We’re fighting a war, you know
AlHeheh. Tell me about it. So whaddayasay, Mahmoud – ready to surrender?
MahmoudNot, uh...
AlC'mon, man. You know you want to. Didn’t you get the flowers?
MahmoudFlowers?
AlYeah. I sent flowers. I dictated the card myself – to a Noble Opponent
MahmoudThat was you? They’re very nice
AlAnd the photos? You got the photos of the house okay?
MahmoudThe house? It looks lovely
AlIt’s a time share in Puerto Vallerta. We’ve got it for a whole month in September but you’re a general, who has time to go to Mexico and knock back the Coronas by the pool? I guess you know how it goes
MahmoudSaddam, he’s not big on giving us vacation time either
AlWell, listen, Mahmoud, you surrender, and I can tell you where you’ll be in September
MahmoudI have to go
AlHey. I hope I didn’t say anything wrong
MahmoudNot at all. But I’ve got an air force colonel on the other line. He’s been sending me pizza and boxes of candy. He says if I surrender his family are taking me to Disneyworld

It's probably not like that at all.

Twittered

    twittered

    webcam

    moblog

    About this Archive

    Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.

    unix and linux manuals at manls.com