I want to swear a lot, and be eloquent.
I'm fed up.
I'm fed up of this fucking weather, of our wonderful British summertime. I've been telling people for months 'Oh, I dunno, I think we're gonna have a cracker this summer'. It seems that's right. I've been bigging it up so it's all big and shiny and like a present wrapped and waiting to be opened. The instant the time comes for it to be opened and present itself, there's a short, very bright flash of light, then a shitty disappointment when you discover what it actually entails. Rain. Lots of the fucking stuff.
This is supposed to be the highlight of our year for warmth, and for sunshine. Our fucking pasty white skin is supposed to be burning in the barely into the teens temperatures. What are we doing? Riding around like fucking giant sponges, getting soaked to the skin every time we want to go anywhere, then chafing like a right prat when we get there and have to walk around at work/around town.
I'm fed up of being wet, on July the fucking eleventh.
I'm fed up of banks. I want to manage my money in a way that allows me access to it when I need it, and allows it to be tucked away so that it's accessible when I need it. I want to know how much I've got, and how much I've just spent.
Can they do this? No they can't instead I have to put up with electronic transfers of imaginary money, the commands for which happen in nanoseconds, to take eight whole fucking days to process and go through. This means that my money vanishes out of my account, and then I have to struggle through eight days before I know it's gone into my other account and I can retrieve it in order to eat, and to fuel the bike.
The last eight days, my bank has stolidly told me I have £80. So I have used the money to guarantee I can get to where I need to be, and that I don't starve. Then suddenly, come payday, I have just about £100 in my bank, despite being paid over £200. Why? Because while my bank has been telling me I've got money, and I've been using it as I see perfectly fit, I've been going deeper and deeper into the red. Now, I've got £104 in the bank, and on the 15th, I know that £96 goes out to Direct Line, so I can't run my Rover for amother month, while it's being repaired. I also know I've got bike insurance going out at sometime within the next ten days, but I don't know when, so I'm just hoping it goes out after next Friday, when I should get the last paycheck from the Lion.
I also need to fuel the bike in the meantime, and buy lunch in the meantime.
How the f*** am I going to do that and stay in the black?
I would also like a new helmet, and a new fob for my Rover's ECU, and a new alternator, and some new ignition bits for the 214. I would also like to sort out the indicators I bought for the ZXR that it turns out are huge and won't fit. I'd also like to buy a new guitar, and an amp, as I've been missing playing for a while, and unamplified it's just not the same. These items are at this point, simply irrelevant and unthinkable, as I won't have cash to do any of them till the middle of next month, if I can sort my money out so that I'm not being driven into my overdraft each week.
I'm closing my account with Natwest. I've never had a problem with Nationwide before, so I'm going to give their Flex and instant access ISA's a go. Anyone with thoughts on these, lemme know.
I'm fed up of having a cold. And a chest infection. I've only just got over the fucking hayfever season, now I've got to put up with this toad? I've got a chance that I might have a nose that doesn't run, for perhaps a month between now and August 2009. I'm fed up of having to blow it, because people can't stand the sniffing, and I'm fed up of sniffing. I'm fed up of people saying 'you should blow your nose, you know'. I FUCKING KNOW I SHOULD BLOW MY NOSE YOU Camel, BUT IT'S GETTING MIGHTY SORE FROM ALL THE TIMES I DO SO, SO I WANT TO GIVE IT A BREAK, LEST I SHOULD WEAR THE SKIN OFF MY NOSTRILS AND BLEED TO DEATH.
Every fucking place I go, I've got a bogroll in my hand, so why is there never one even in the same room as me when I need it?
My chest is full of toad, and I'm struggling to breathe, every time I
![cough cough](./images/smilies/cough.gif)
I'm fed up of being asthmatic and needing the fucking thing anyway. I have to blow my nose hundreds of times a day, which wears me out, which causes me to be wheezy and short of breath, so I'm constantly feeling that a blast of Salbutamol or similar, or whatever the f*** they're calling it these days, would help me being more comfortable breathing, which, if I remember correctly, I need to do to live.
I'm fed up of twats on the road. I only just avoided broadsiding into a Golf today, as the stupid Camel driving it decided she was going to pull out on me, right at the last moment. My trousers need washing, and her head needs boiling. I locked the back wheel, just about controlled the back of the bike drifting about as I desperately tried to stop before hitting her. I wound up about half a foot from her rear nearside door, while she looked baffled as to what had happened. I even put my fucking headlight on full beam as I approached her because I suspected she was going to pull out exactly as she did, and somehow she didn't see me.
I love my new job. Two days in, and so far, they have felt like days off, it's been so relaxed, compared to the pub. And that's even with the Jazz Festival in town.
Someone find me a stress busting game, and fast.