Moans and Bones

More? OK, as I've had next to no feedback from you bastards about the blog I thought I should carry on regardless - gives me something to do, at least. Still living in CC right now and it's not too bad. That's not to say that I'm not desperate to live in my own room soon - I've been on the bottom bunk with some Spanish guy (Carlos - predictable) for the last four days and am getting sick of his constant fidgeting above me. It's as if there's some kind of WWF tournament going on up there half the time and the mind boggles as to what actually is happening. Shudder. Plus it means that I know he's been wearing the same underwear for the whole period (as I get a face full of it as he descends from his lair) and that's just information I could have happily lived without.

Job searching highlights of the week have been my attendence of the recruitment agency interview I think we discussed in an earlier blog. This was fine (although 8:30am was a little unnecessary) but it showed me I really don't have many computer-based skills - as if I didn't know this already. I said I was perfectly well-equipped to use Word, but that I needed work on my Excel skills - turns out I was rubbish at both of them. But as mediocrity is an entrance level qualification in the world of business, this didn't really make any difference and they said I should hear from them in a few days as to my placement. I imagine them seeing Manchester Metropolitan University on my CV was enough to open plenty of doors out here anyway. We all know the kind of weight that carries.

I remembered something from last week in the Global Village, which I thought might raise a Bronx cheer with you all. In hindsight, after an extended period without it, maybe I shouldn't have taken a trip outside with a Canadian and Irish guy to sit on the roof of a garage and smoke a fatty boom-batty after several bottles of beer. It was an intense time, that's for sure. Everything came crashing down on top of me and the ease with which I used to conduct myself in front of these relative strangers began to evaporate - fast. A standout moment in this colossal freak-out was when said Canadian guy began showing off his kick boxing skills on the street - literally on the pavement next to the road. He was flying around like some kind of Tekken character and all the while verbally introducing each move completely straight-faced and with not the merest hint of irony. I would have been impressed were he not using the top of my pulsing head as the target for the martial arts demonstration. To be fair he never actually kicked me in the face, but the rushing wind from his passing feet and hands combined with my intense high was enough to make the blood quickly drain from my face and for me to become reduced to a wobbling, green mess. I made my excuses and, feeling like something out of a Hunter S Thompson novel, took my throbbing head up to the dorm where I crawled into bed shivering and listened to some comfort tunes on the iPod. Full on. After a track or two, though, I managed to talk myself down from the terrors and went back into the common room area where, it turns out, I was able to conduct myself with surprising competence. Plus, let me tell you, I have never in all my life played pool as well as I did that night. The focus was astounding and I really believed I couldn't miss a shot. Now I know what Ben Johnson must have felt like at the Olympics.

Here's something that made my eyebrows Roger Moore - maybe it'll do the same for you. Apparently, in the good old US of A, if you've been in the UK for a year or more you're not allowed to give blood. Can you believe that?! It's all cos of the BSE scare we had ages ago (although the last reported case was in 2004, according to Wikipedia - hmm) I mean, talk about not letting something go. It is the nation of fear of course, as we all know, but this is a little excessive even for them. I think it means that we should really revise our laws when people return from a stint in the most hated country in the world. The only equivalent I can come up with is that we shouldn't let people read when they came back to the UK after a year-long trip to the States cos they may have caught stupid. Plus, isn't just being an American a risk to your health these days anyway? Who'd have thought I'd care so much about blood? I don't really. Anyway, while we're on the subject of the Yanks (who, I should probably add, were all really nice to me when I was there, but they're such easy targets) I saw a guy on the bus the other day with a cap on which read 'Ground Zero 11.09.01' and carried a smoking rubble motif. Is it me, or is that in incredibly bad taste? He must have gone there afterwards and got his cap from some seller on the street next to the smoking ruins. Surely that's just sick? What's next, a t-shirt reading: 'My brother took 3 in the face at Virginia Tech and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.'? People, I implore you.

Anyways - that'll do for now. Do keep writing (or start writing) You can even leave comments on the blog, if you so desire. Until next time, my friends.