I've no time for idiots. You know the type, they put '-ers' at the end of a first name to signify to some kind of chummy familiarity.
For instance, I heard this one in the office the other day. "Hey Neilers, did you get that promo I sent over to you?" It made me grimace, like a particularly sour sweet.
Yes yes, I'm a miserable bastard. In fine spirits though, about to drink with 5X for the first time since a particularly cloudy session at Christmas. Then it's on to Blanchardstown to acquaint myself with two friends of Dorte's, over themselves for a debauched weekend.
It never stops.
Otherwise, I hope you're keeping away from yourselves. I was bitterly disappointed by Liverpool's defeat on Wednesday, and then proceeded to get over it five minutes later. I never get too upset about the 'fitba', you see, we'll take it next year.
Finally got my hands on 'Boxer,' and tickets to see The National again in November. Cheers to Ollie for that one. It's a spectacular album, with stand-outs 'Brainy,' 'Mistaken For Strangers,' 'Slow Show' and the masterpiece that is 'Green Gloves.'
I need a haircut. But when? Working all of God's hours!