jueves, 22 de julio de 2010
Inner-beauty does indeed count
Its obviously been some time since i sent some updates, i apologise.
Well, I got offered a new job about 2 months ago, i took it, now i’m working in ‘medical tourism’. I’ve shed this description out to a few of you, i like it, so i’ll use it once more….i organise/orchestrate/steer/engineer medical packages for people who are in need of an operation but are without insurance and can’t/would rather not pay the “truly formidable price tag of health care in the U.S”. So, i bring them out to here, Mexico, Thailand etc. and organise flights, hotel, operation and, should they choose, a short holiday to recover. Funnily enough, one of our countries happens to be Israel. I was pretty certain there was a war going on over there. Whatever.
Work is good, bit slow as the company has just started, a bit disturbing because one of the two people i share an office with continues to show me his personal porn collection. He’s 75 years old. That’s always how it is with that generation and computers, they start with WWII, “strategic battle games”…then they discover porn. Now, usually i wouldn’t have a huge (….medium sized-hopefull) problem with this, but he’s old, he does this every other day and he enjoys disguising it as other “documents”.
“Young boy(that’s what he calls me…pervert), you see new gym building down road? It’s using new technology…you should see, i have advert.”
“Oscar (his name…), I would love to, but i’m really quite busy at the moment. Furthermore, i’ve recently become aware that you just want to fill my pure mind with your collection of pornographic clips that should, and are in many areas, banned. So no, you horny antique, I’ll pass. Thank you.”
“Hey, seriously, you see this, it very important” (he says all this with a fairly pissed off look on his face…great, now I have an angry as well as horny old person to deal with, we all know what people do when those two moods are combined).
“Fine..”, i reply.
I’m then greeted by a clip of a gym, he wasn’t lying, but different types of machines though.
“Heeyyy, you like it eh. eh? It very nice gym, no? haha…verrrry nice gym. yeh?”
“Yes, well done Oscar, it’s porn, congratulations. Don’t you need to work, or die?”(having said that he’s had 2 strokes and a heart attack…shock horror. He says he can’t do exercise. I don’t think that’s the problem. His body bag will look like a tent.
My house is all well. My landlord is a greedy bastard…i told him this the other day, he nearly cried. He has mental problems, not like Down’s Syndrome, Tourrete’s or ‘Dyslexia’, but it’s more like a severe case of mental fragilty…his girlfriend had just left him as well. He’s bought a cat to compensate for her absence. Poor cat.
I joined a rugby club a couple of months ago. It’s nice, despite the monsters playing. One chap, who’s a farmer, weighs 140kg. Come shower time it’s demoralizing, although he needs to be careful really. He reminds me of Lennie from ‘Of Mice of Men’.Added to this, i’m trying my hand at coaching under 15s (boys rugby)…one of their girlfriends started hitting on me, said i had beautiful eyes (i do, she’s right) and a nice voice, then asked what i was up to that night….crazy eh…….good shag though. Only joking….she was shit.
What else, i’ve bought an old racing bike, which is without doubt the best thing i’ve bought, besides the Peruvian family that clean my flat. It’s very old, white and possibly meant for a woman (probably why it easy to ride..weyyy fookin lad!)…either way, it’s fairly fast. It also allows me to get away with many more things than i could previously: I can wear a head band, hang a chain across my back..basically adopt the London courier look. It’s a little bit dangerous though, turns out people don’t like cyclists, come to think of it, i don’t like cyclists….this is the reason i bought my chain, asides to stop it being stolen, it comes ( will come) in handy if i get in a situation requiring something more than a verbal exchange…having said that, when push comes to shove i know, you know, they know, that i won’t employ my chain…it’s there for aesthetic reasons. It really does look good though, all rustic, shiny and adorned across my well moisturised shoulders; moisturiser does that i guess.
I’ve stopped Tango, put it on hold. It’s far to slow, technical and takes a good couple of months of intensive practice before you can dance..’one’ can’t merely dance after a month, not like salsa, the sprinkler or big fish small fish cardboard box.
Weather is lovely and fresh, things are cooling down and i don’t sweat so much at night.
Spanish is better, but not progressing rapidly due to continually working in English and being injured from Rugby due to shower “chat”…..I’ll be bringing my own soap from now on.
There are more things to re-tale but they’ve slipped my mind for the time being.
I hope everyone is well, enjoying your final year, passed predominantly in the library. Tip: use the disabled loos, they’ve got loads of space, if you do get caught it’s no problem…they can wait…not as if they need to stand. Ooooo, only chin wagging…not all the disabled are unable to stand… .
Right, enough of that lark, I’m going to try and persuade someone with prostrate cancer that having his operation performed in Mexico, my some Tequila infused doctor with an equivalent of a GCSE in Biology and an addiction to life, is by far the best decision. It costs 1/4 of the price in the U.S….not including the tips.If needs be, your needs be, i am able to sort out some plastic surgery as well…our motto is: “Its not about what your mother thinks is beautiful that counts”.
Publicado por F.U.F en 7:55