Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Sunday, 21 June 2009
It's the day after the wedding. I am graphically unwell( I don't even
know what that means) here is a rundown if how the day went as best I
Bacon butties & beer!
Service sponsored by the Scottish parliment & god.
Off to the hotel, champagne champagne champagne beer beer beer beer
beer photos beer beer beer beer line up shakin hands beer beer wine
wine wine wine wine speeches andy asks " is there more wine?" wine
wine wine wine dance badly with alice wine wine beer beer beer beer
wine walkin on sunshine dance like a nutter wine wine dance dance
dance wine wine beer beer beer beer dance with marks mum dance vodka
vodka watch topless men dance vodka vodka tell Jonny how much I love
him! Vodka vodka check out autons mum vodka vodka steal a blond wig
bus to town sing song espionage vodka vodka vomit vomit vodka vodka
forum beer beer flash lots of people try singing closing time by
semisonic but change words to " closing time so fuck off" beer beer
beer casino vodka vodka try to gamble can't find seat vodka vodka pie
shop taxi! Wake up kevs house irn bru toad in hole nap
Pretty decent day
Friday, 19 June 2009
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
I’ve just seen an advert and it has enraged me! It was a charity appeal for pet vaccinations.
“Just 2 pounds a month can save a pets life”
and all that crap. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for charity and helping animals, I’ve always said I’d love to have a pet monkey.
But two things really annoyed me about that advert. First of all, if you can’t afford to give a pet its jabs, then don’t fucken own one.
Secondly, in the advert it has a montage of shots of various pets looking sick, like a dog, cat, rabbit etc, and then a horse showed up! A fucking horse!!! Who has a pet horse? If you own a horse then your probably pretty well off. I’ve never seen anyone going down to the pound and walkin out with a horse. A horse for fuck sake! So some rich bastard has spent all his money on caviar and wants me to spend 2 pound a month so his prize stallion doesn’t get horse flu! Well fuck that!! (the situation, not the horse)
I’ve never really had a pet, my old flatmate had a cat when we lived in rosemount, he sadly died on hogmanay, I was gutted. I just spent a tenner on catfood.
This got me to thinking about pets. As I mentioned I would love to have a pet monkey,I would teach it to do things and we would be like ross and marcel in friends. But sadly I don’t think this will happen.
So thought I better have a more realistic pet. Im thinking about a duck.
I think ducks are my favourite bird. Think about it, ducks are cool.
Here are some of the celebrity ducks
Ed the Duck
Definitely one of the cooler ducks out there. He lived in the broom cupboard with Andy Crane and Andi Peters (whatever happened to them?) he had a cool green Mohawk . click on the you tube link to see him attempt to fly a plane, this scared the shit out of me, why would you let a clearly irresponsible puppet duck pilot a commercial aircraft? Madness
One of the most famous Ducks around. He usually wears a sailor shirt and cap but there is no evidence he was ever in the navy. His birthday is apparently on Friday the 13th, this explains his constant bad luck. Personally I never liked him, I always thought he came off as a bit of an arse.
Huey, Dewey & Louie
The kid ducks, There Donalds nephews. they strike me as being a pain to look after.
He’s definitely in my top 3 ducks, He’s Scottish he’s like a gijillionnaire, he goes swimming in his massive pool of mney and was the star of Duck Tales, one of the coolest tv shows ever! According to wikipedia in 2007, Glasgow City Council added Scrooge to its list of "Famous Glaswegians", alongside the likes of Billy Connolly, Sir Alex Ferguson & Charles Rennie Mackintosh.
He always struck me as having serious mental problems, a very angry duck, always shouting at bugs bunny. Someone should get him some serious therapy.
A true duck superhero with a cool theme tune, number 2 in my top 3 ducks.
Orville the Duck
Everybody loved Orville the duck, although you have to worry that he’s not nappy trained yet. He was a bit of a pessimist claiming he couldn’t fly. Just give it a go, what are you, a duck or a chicken? It was also quite strange that he was bright green. What was up with that? Too much midori?
Howard the Duck
From the 1986 movie of the same name, he was a very cool Duck. He easily takes the top spot of number 1 duck! He accidently got sucked here through a wormhole from his home, planet of the ducks. He fought a massive space monster, shagged lea Thomson (Marty Mcflys mum) and played in a rock band. That’s one cool duck.
any thoughts? who is your favorite duck? got to be howard!! come on!
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
Monday, 15 June 2009
How’s life? Your lookin good! Well, to be honest you might look like shit, but it’s nice to be nice.
Well its been another fun filled weekend in the busiest tapas bar this side of Edinburgh. I fell madly in love on Saturday. She came in and sat on table 207, She had long light brown hair, brown eyes she was wearing a low cut top and had amazing boobs. One of the other managers commented her make up was too dark for her face, I don’t know what this means but as I pointed out to her at the time, I was not looking at her make up! I took her drink order, a bottle of white rioja, I made a joke about the size of the wine glass and she laughed, I knew she was falling for me then. In my head that was it. We were already a couple, one of those really coupley couples, the ones you see holding hands and kissing in the street who make you feel sick! We were the greatest couple in the world, we had similar taste in films and liked the same bars, we would go on nights out together, find a club and dance like a couple of nutters to “dizzy” by Vic Reeves and The Wonderstuff, Then hit the bar for a couple of drinks and run back to the dance floor when they started playing walking on sunshine( I think in this fantasy we are living in 1992) We were truly an awesome couple, she loves to cook and I love to eat, how is this not a match made in heaven! We would go to the cinema and hate the same bits in films, we would have lengthy discussions about who would win a fight between Indiana Jones and Han Solo, she would argue that Han would win but secretly agree with me that Indy would be the winner. We would eventually get married on a beach in Hawaii, she’s wearing a bikini to show off her magnificent boobs and I’m wearing Bermuda shorts to show off my magnificent legs! We would form a band and travel the world playing sell out concerts, then along come the kids, Andy Jnr and the girl, we would be the greatest family band since the Jackson 5. It would be glorious!!
Sadly while I was busy day dreaming, some mop haired twat came in and sat down with her! I tried to stop him, he came to the door and said he was meeting someone here. I told him that no one was waiting and to take a seat at the front door and wait there. My plan was to make her believe her boyfriend stood her up, convince her he was complete twat and then she would be all mine. Unfortunately he saw her sitting down and he didn’t seem to believe me when I said she wasn’t waiting for anyone and obviously he mistook her for someone else. Bastard!
Never mind, as I said at the time, She’ll be back, they always are. Plus I stole her handbag! (joke)
A Poem for the woman of 207
Oh pretty lady on table 207,
I look at your boobs and I’m in heaven.
Are they real?
I’d love to cop a feel!
Marks out of 10? I’d give them 11!
Anyway after my 10 minute imaginary love affair with the woman of 207 I went back to work, there was a well dressed family sitting in a booth, the 2 kids must have been around 6 or 7 and the young boy was wearing a kilt, he was opening cards and counting some money he just received. I assumed it was his birthday, when I asked, they said they had just been at the boys first holy communion. I have no idea what this is and can only assume they belong to some kind of cult. Well done on the cult leaders for recruiting them while they’re young, and for bribing them with cash incentives. I can only assume the kid will be forced to invest the money back into the cult to make sure he gets his place on the mother ship to take him to planet blisstonia or something.
So on with the day, in the middle of a busy lunch there was an issue in the kitchen, the gas went off, this meant we could not do any fried foods. Some customers went mental at this. I tried pointing out that this meant things would be a little healthier and then a fat man accused me of calling him fat (which I was).
After a couple of hours the problem was fixed and we went back to helping Scotlands obesity problem. Apparently Scotland has the second highest level of obesity in the world. Coming second to our American cousins. Having spent 5 months working in America I can confirm that they are in fact much fatter than us! That being said we are a close second based on the customers I’ve had in the restaurant lately. We had a booking turn up on sat afternoon that we didn’t have room for. So we set up a table upstairs and I served them myself. They were 15 women having a leaving do for some people who are pregnant, there were 4 preggos there and not one of them seemed interested in calling there kid Andy. I even offered them a free drink but they didn’t seem keen. The pregnant women were all quite large for obvious reasons, but some of there (non pregnant) mates were MASSIVE, I thought that maybe these women weren’t actually friends, the preggo’s just wanted to go out and look thin by comparison. It was quite dull up there and whilst they were all arguing over the bill I wrote this poem
Serving the preggos, sittin upstairs,
One woman’s so fat, she’s on 2 chairs.
Working very hard, hopin for a good tip,
Reminds me of when, I worked on the ship.
Now they’re arguing over the bill,
I just want them to leave, I’ve had my fill.
I’ve had enough of these pregnant bitches,
Eventually they left, but didn’t leave me any riches!
It was Paddy the american’s last day on Saturday. He’s worked with us for a few months now and we wanted to give him something to remember us by. So inspired by my recent camping trip to st cyrus, from around 5pm onwards any food that did not get eaten was put in a slop bucket. By 7:30 this bucket was almost full of all the left over crap, the chorizo sauce, the honey mustard sauce, garlic cream, mayo, ketchup, olive oil. When the bucket was full it was put aside for later. Paddy was very excited to be finishing, he was going to be done by 11, he was planning on sitting down and having a couple of beers while the rest of us finished up. We had been winding him up all day to bring a change of clothes, but he didn’t believe us. So 11pm came and a couple of the waitress’s asked him if he wanted to go for one final cigarette. They took him out the back, myself and Ailsa were hiding behind the bins ready to attack, as soon as we heard the accent we crept up behind him and chucked the bucket over him. It was brilliant! His face was a picture, he could not believe this was happening. Ailsa then threw a bucket of water over him, to wash him off. I did feel a bit guilty as this bucket was MINGING. I was nearly sick when I took it out the back. But Paddy took it all in good humour. After work we all went into town and had a few drinks.
I was quite sensible, after a few beers and an unsuccessful attempt to chat up the bar maid I headed home. The rest of the staff did not. Sunday was an INCREDIBLY long day. I’m fairly certain that a scientist somewhere has found a way to slow time and was conducting an experiment in our restaurant. Everyone was knackered and hung over, we did have a bit of excitement when the barmaid found a mouse crawling on the bar. We’ve had a bit of a mouse problem lately. We have code named them Rufus (because Mickey was too obvious) we have been laying traps for weeks and caught a few, but they only come out at night and they are crafty little buggers. This Rufus however was not, he was only a baby and was crawling along the back bar by the coffee machine, dunno how he got there without anyone seeing him tho. I theorized that maybe he was like Spider-mouse, he swung down from the ceiling to avenge the death of his uncle. Scott, The Asst Manager squashed him with a hammer the other day and now Spider-mouse wants justice. I scooped spider-mouse into a coffee cup and released him into the wild to fight crime elsewhere. I did consider running into the French restaurant around the corner and leaving him on a table but I did not want to disrupt Spanish/French relations. I don’t want to be held responsible for an international incident!
A Poem about Sunday
Its easy to grin,
When Rufus comes in,
Scuttling past your shoes.
But what makes it worthwhile,
Is when you can smile,
When all the staff are stinking of booze!
That’s all for now
Im off to bed. Im knackered.
Catch ya later
Tuesday, 9 June 2009