ask for training in...

I can now help you out in...

• Low ropes
• challenge course
• Archery
• Problem solving
• survivor!

Not a vast list I'll grant you, but at least its more than you can do! Cue a little dance by me before I realise that not one of you cares. So I suppose I should carry on.

I've been having great fun sio far, everyone here seems to be really cool and funny and the activities I can do I am confident with. soon I'm hoping to be able to do the abseiling and high ropes courses, and although I could have been trained on quad bikes I am glad I missed it. Why? Because the poor souls who were trained started at 9 in the morning and finished at 9 at night, with only minimal breaks. And that is not much fun for anyone. But it was for me because me and Elfy went into Torquay and I bought a watch.

I realise I'm rambling, but I'm in that excited phase that many of you have seen me in, where I can't quite sit still becasue of over-stimulation. I'm trying to calm down but its hard, its really really... difficult.

Still, I want to see you all, expecially you. yes! you! I mean you! didn't that make you feel special. So once my phone has been fixed I'm going to start the mass texts. But for now I'm gouing to the bar becasuse people are buying me drinks because I'm so super.

and they owe me for certain services. I'm a dab hand with a screwdriver

Stay as happy and fullfilled as you are

Phil

listen for the quiet giggles

I think I might just enjoy this job. I am now in the pub after commiting an intensive ha! you all say, you dont know the meaning of the word, to which I throw this back in your faces, laughing as I do.

Wake up at 8. start learning (if you can call it that) at 8.45, finish at 20.30, just about. Maybe later. So that is a rather intense day, you realise. After 4 days of this I'm finally able to soar, to fly, to glide like a moose.

there was a crazy moose,
who drank a lot of juice,
THEEERE WAS A CRAZY MOOOOOOSE
WHO DRANK A LOT OF JUICEEEEEE

I hope you all realise that I will return home with more songs and puzzle than will fit in a small bag made of pigs, and that I will annoy you all with such questions as:

How many invisible bunnies do I have in my hand at the momment?
How many times did I turn the box over?
How large is my penis?

The last one was a little joke, we don't tend to ask the kids that. It gets us in trouble apparently.

So I'm going to go now because I'm running out of money and also creating a little audience, which is cery annoying. Think its annoying when people READ over your shoulder? Imagine them reading as you write. Tres irritating, to say the least.

AND YES I MEAN YOU.

Stay happy you sexy beasts

Philty

it must be Christmas

Well its not. Hell not. Its just the last blog that I may be able to write for a while, what with my PGL adventure starting soon. So I began to wonder about what was going on in my life realised that apart from the obvious comments (not a lot) there was a few other things going on.

then I realised that most of those achievements involved either facebook or Football Manager, so decided that I wouldn't share those with you (oh by the way, in 2011, Aston Villa will win the Premiership if I become manager). So instead I thought I'd write something completely ludicrous with no basis in the real world whatsoever. Then after writing that I realised that it was, surprisingly, a suicide note.

I took a step back from the computer. Well actually it was more of a slide, because the chair I'm sitting on has wheels. The dog yelped as I nearly ran her over. Did I really want to kill myself? Then I realised my earlier comment. I'd been writing something "completely ludicrous".

I also realised that the note was from someone called 'Mark.' My brother? Did I want my brother to kill himself? Then I realised that second part of my earlier sentence. "with no basis in the real world whatsoever" So whoever I wanted dead was probably a made up character. I have no stories where the lead character is called Mark, so I decided to make one up.

A Lonely Christmas

One day Mark (no relation to me) wrote a note with the pen his dog had dropped at his feet moments before. Realising that it was in fact a suicide note, he decided to kill himself. And so he tried. He ran the water in the bathtub to the top, then took the toaster from downstairs and plugged it in in the bathroom. He closed his eyes and dropped the toaster into the water he was sitting in (fully clothed).

Unfortunately he had not disconnected the earth wire from the plug, which meant the fuse blew and cancelled the electricity. So he decided he didn't want to die and was too silly to do it anyway. But as he stood up is anyone actually reading this? Do you think I've lost my mind? The problem with boredom is that it can take over your life to such a point where you pretty much leave your sanity in the bed you wake up in every day.

I've learnt that in the last couple of weeks, the only time I have felt excited was when my phone started vibrating because a debt collecting company wanted me for something. So from now on I will do something exciting every day, even if it just means writing a completely ludicrous blog with no basis in the real world whatsoever. Apart from that last bit. And this bit. And that bit. And that bit. And that bit.

And this next bit.

Love you all

Phil

head to Devon

Not heaven. That would imply I'm dead, which I'm not. I really can't think of anything funnier to say to begin with. So I thought I'd rhyme one word with another and make a bad joke. It seems to work when Graham Norton does it, although maybe without the wink and outrageously gay oooooooo the joke doesn't work. Plus all his jokes are about penises (peni?) so I'll stop right now and concentrate on what I really want to say.

Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen and frogs and toads and other assorted pond scum, I'm moving to Devon. Consider this an exclusive, although most people know already. I'm going to be a PGL instructor, which seems like fun.

Despite the fact that I have been told I should be working for Acorn I'm going to live in a chalet on the south coast for a good 1-2-3-4-5 Five months! Which will see me down there learning new skills and dancing around like a drunken loon, as well as earning a pittance, reminding myslef that 'its the experience that counts.'

I know I should get a real job. I know I should stop pissing around and making you lot all jealous (because I know you are) but I just can't seem to sit still. And its not because of piles or asteroids or any other horrible yet amusing arse disease. I've just got itchy feet.

Maybe I'm searching for something. Maybe I'm searching for someone. Maybe I'm just too fidgety.

But its exciting. I run around and don't stop and get worried (not stressed, I don't do stress) when things look like they won't work out, I marvel when they work out perfectly. Its probably that rush of trying new things that is keeping me away from you all, and I apologise to all of you that feel neglected (especially people in Leicester, I never seem to be able to get to you lot).

However, this summer I'm only in devon. And it's not even five hours from most of you, so I feel that you should all come and bloody see me. I realise that this may seem presumptuous, as I haven't even met the poor sod who will be sharing a chalet with me and he might not like it, but I say fuck 'im, no one likes him anyway (wanker) Come and say hello, and I promise we'll have a larf.

Larf is so much more fun to type than laugh.

Stay jumping

Phil

eat the best breakfast sandwich ever.

Since time began there has been debate over this. What makes a great breakfast sandwich? Is it the bread? Is it the bacon? Or should you use sausage as well? What about eggs? Well sit down, preferably with a notepad and pen, becasue here it comes, the real reason for getting out of bed in the morning.

You will need.

• 3 rashers of ASDA smokeless bacon (the sort that comes in the £5 deal) - this is the only part of the recipe that can be changed, you may (although it is not recommended) substitute the bacon for smoked bacon.
• One large egg
• Two slices of processed cheese
• Two slices of Hovis best of both bread
• Tomato sauce

You will also need a George Foreman grill for this one.

1. preheat the George Foreman for FIVE MINUTES
2. Add bacon and begin to time FOUR MINUTES
3. After one minute, break egg into frying pan and stir it for ten seconds until the yolk is fully immersed in the white
4. Whilst waiting for two minutes, read newspaper
5. Flip egg
6. Wait one more minute, isn't the weather nice/horrible today?
   
7. Take bread.
8. Add Bacon in following order - one piece facing north, one facing south, one facing north
9. Add Tomato sauce - this is important else the sauce will spill everywhere
10. Add Cheese, overlapping slightly in the middle
11. Add fried egg.
12. Cut diagonally. This will ensure that the taste is evenly spread.
13. Eat.
14. Mumble about how good that was and marvel that your hangover seems to be fading.
15. Go for a walk - need to burn off that fat you just inhaled.
    

So there you have it. It's tasty, its fulfilling, its the best sandwich ever.

My God what is going on? Am I that unemployable? Or have I just missed the boat?

I don't like boats. I get seasick when I'm inside. If I'm on the deck I'm fine but otherwise it takes a lot to keep the contents of my stomach where it belongs.

I think that in general the type of job that I really want (something in the tourist industry-preferably also entertainment based) was snatched up around January time by 16 year old tarts with 'degrees' in Travel and Tourism that they only acheived by sleeping with teacher. See, another reason why I want to work with them! Its just not fair.

So I may have to get a proper job, my Canadian money (such as it was) is running out faster than when MC Hammer asked 'what shall I spend my money on?' in a room surrounded by expensive whores and drug addicts. The exchange scheme doesn't help either, $600+ turns itself into a meagre £250. Oh its all well and good going on holiday, but try returning to the country you love and your up that brown coloured creek without a paddle.

So still no job, still hideously bored (although I do have something of an evil plan to banish that) and still... well... happy. I know I shouldn't be, but when I look at it I've got precious little to be unhappy about, so I suppose I shouldn't be unhappy without something to make me unhappy. Surely that's reason enough to be happy.

Oh my. If you followed that last statement then well done. In my topsy turvy world I promise it makes sense.

Engines ready people, its about to get exciting in here.


Phil

talk to him!

There is something depressing about coming home after such a long time away. You have to catch up with people, find out so much (and so much can happen in six months) about them. Sometimes its easy to do this, and you can fall happily back into the routine you left.

Alas I can't do that. Two of my best friend's phone numbers had changed, a decent job is looking more and more difficult to find, and my Dad is warning me that I'm in too much debt (as if I didn't know that). Luckily I managed to find my family all right, and we had a maximus partius on Saturday night, which was somewhat spoiled when the bbq ran out of gas. Then the replacement bottle was the wrong one and... well.

But it was all good. It was also good to go out drinking with my little bro and catch up on six months past, although going to the once respectable JD's in Sutton and seeing people sniffin up the coke in the bathroom and then dancing around the only respectable girl in the establishment was rather funny in a - I hope no-one starts anything - kind of way.

The Station was pretty cool though, if a little sentimental. Must find new watering hole.

Sod it. I'm back, I better get used to it.

Love you all.

Phil

listen for the quiet sobs

I hate packing stuff up. It makes everything seem to final, cramming all that rubbish into two bags. I suppose it's supposed to seem final because it is final.

Yes, tomorrow I leave Whistler for good (for a while) I'm coming back at some point in the next few years to have another rocking time. As I sit here rather bored with my hands on my keyboard and my mind already flying home (It's a new method to avoid jet-lag) I can't help but wonder what, if anything, I've learnt about myself in the six months I've been here...

a) Once positive with women - stay positive. I really shouldn't get tied down with a stupid crush, missing any other chances that come my way.

b) Take chances. I've been doing that so much more since I've been here. It's great to do something, whether it's chatting up the pretty girl at the bar or a black diamond run. After all, you've always got insurance covering your back.

c) Don't like it? Change it! I wasn't really happy with my old flatmates, or my old flat. Yet I stayed for ages, only moving when most of the season was over. Since then I've had a whale of a time.


And now the honour roll. I've missed people off here, but that doesn't mean I don't love you too. Ouch, double negative. I'm going to raise a glass and toast...

Matt - to moderatly attrative women!
Carleen - My favourite Aussie
Toby - You like? I like Uncle Phil!
Rob - Canucks vs Kings and the drinking that followed!

And of course, the ultimate toast that I heard only a few days ago yet I feel sums up Whistler and everyone's attitudes.

Suck it up Princess!

At least it's clean.

just... wait.... a little longer

WARNING! SPOILER ALERT! UNBELIVABLE PLOT TWIST!

No, its not the part where I spoil the episodes of 24 the British Isles haven't seen yet (although I was tempted to). This is the blog when I reveal my homeward bound date. Prior to previous blogs and notes and thoughts, I am in fact home in a little over a week, on Thursday the 26th of April.

I hear screams, I hear moans, I hear cheers all wrapped up into one unbelievable mess of noise.

Why the change of heart? I hear the moaner's ask.

Well moaners, I have no money, and rather than fudge everything up still further I'm going to come home and plan for another trip, probably in 12 months or so.

When we will see you again? I hear the screamers yell.

I have no idea. Due to lack of funds I will be extremley skint for a while, and hopefully will get some proper writing done. If anyone wants to offer me a job feel free.

Whats the average land speed of an African bull elephant? The cheerers shout.

Shut up.


See you soon mother folkers.

Phil

Its important you read this

Wow. What a immense four days. That is all I can say, and yet I know you lot won’t take that as a proper explanation. So here goes. I suppose that we really need to go back in time…

Two weeks ago I read something in the Staff newsletter about a charity head shave. Now at that point my head was ridiculously long and getting in my eyes. Numerous people had told me to get a haircut. You can see where this is going, right?

$400 worth of pledges later I’m sat in a bar in a chair having my hair ceremoniously shaved off. I was amazed, not just at how cold it was, but rather the atmosphere that was floating around the place. Everyone in that room was having fun and raising money for a fantastic cause, BC children’s hospital. So it was in this spirit that I asked Rob if he would buy a raffle ticket for me, more to just give more money.

When the dude read out my number I was surprised. I was still cold, but when a pair of tickets for the Vancouver Canucks were pressed into my palm I considerably warmed up. Of course I invited Rob to join me as it was a combination of his and mine good luck that won them. I was amazed, I would never been able to avoid the $85 tickets and had resigned myself to not seeing a ice hockey game, but here was my big chance.

‘Who are they playing?’ Someone asked.
‘The Los Angeles Kings.’
‘Awesome. When?’
‘The 3^rd of April. Oh. That’s Tuesday.’

After calling in a few favours we managed to get the time off work, thank you Mat, Erin, the supervisors for being so understanding and everyone else who covered us! Straight from work we jumped onto a coach heading to Vancouver with nothing more than tickets and money in our pockets.

The seats were amazing. The game was good (I’m still a football fan). And then came the fun decision. We had missed the last coach back to Whistler, which we had pretty much expected. Rob had to work at midday the next day.

So the only option was to get the 5.15 bus the following day, just to ensure that Rob would get back in time. And the best way to spend your first night in Vancouver?

1 - Find a comfy Hotel/hostel and settle down for the night.

2 - Attempt to drink throughout the night.

I’ll take a 2 please Bob.

Ha! We managed to find Granville St, the main pub area in Van. And once we had sampled beer in 5 different bars (including Leffe, about bloody time I had some decent booze) Rob and I had a evil plan.

We would document the night through pictures. Of people touching my newly bald head. The reasons we used for the rest on night varied, and I think that the fact I was wearing my t-shirt which had the charity on helped, but I now have pictures of about 30 people touching my head for luck. This includes, but not limited to…

• Barmaids
• Pretty girls
• Not so pretty girls
• Soldiers having one night out before being moved to Somalia
• Random dudes who asked what was going on.
• The LOS ANGELES KINGS ICE HOCKEY TEAM
  

Ha! What a night! Then we staggered to a take-away (Rob almost threw up) then to a 7-11 (I broke the drinks dispenser), then back to the bus station (which we found without too much hassle and with only a couple of strange people following us). Time arrived, 4.45. We waited for the coach for a half hour, and then got on and both fell asleep, waking up upon our arrival in Whistler at 7.45.

All this from wanting a free haircut and raising some money for charity.

Whistler officially rocks.

Photos will be forthcoming, I just need to find a USB thingy.

read this update on my life!

Its going well. I'm too tired to come up with something witty.

hear this apology

Sorry people. Sorry for me being in Canada. Sorry for still being in Canada, and sorry for staying in Canada. I'm sure those of you in Canada don't mind and those at home can live without me for a while. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Fonder and fonder.... I see that I may have trouble keeping people - especialy women - away from me when I get back. So, for those back in the UK, as your heart grows fonder and fonder of me should be aware of these following points:

• I'm not losing weight (some of my flabby bits may have turned to muscle)
• I'm not any more confident with women (which probably leads to the next point)
• I'm not falling in love (but I still get objects of affection)
• I'm not a professional snowboarder (but I'm decent)
• I'm not so much of a pushover (you want me to put that where?)
  
• I'm not any taller (in fact I may have shrunk)
  
• I'm not cutting my hair properly (why bother, I'm a no-good hippy traveller)
• I'm not becoming a gentleman (you should hear some of the smut that I've been saying)
  

So there you go. After a few months of your heart growing fonder hopefully that will knock your opinion of me down a few pegs. After all I don't want to come home and have to live up to all your expectations. After all, I'm only human.

The point

Self-centred? Oh no, you've taken that completely the wrong way. I've not become a egotystical self-absorbed dickhead. It's just that for the last few days I've been trapped in a evil downhill slump that has made me look at myself with a ridiculously critical light. I almost cried, before realising that I do in fact have some good points. And if I looked closely I could see good points in the negative points. I think that if we use too narrow a window too look at ourselves then we miss the true splendor of the landscape.

I think that the last of these points was driven home today on the mountain. So sorry Carleen for moaning all day on the hill, and sorry to anyone who has just read this entire blog and realised that I've not actually said anything of importance. But then, I think that you should read it again.

Still waiting for you

Phil

stop celebrating for no reason

The people who live next door to me had a little shin dig tonight to celebrate st. patricks day. Now that is fine enough. It's not for me to put people who are having a good time down, or to stop people partyingHowever when I walked past the door this pissed little tart with a green hat on and some green tinsel wrapped around her waist leans against the frame and asks;

'Are you coming to join the party?'
'No thank you,' I politely reply.
'Oh. Oh ok, you lot hate us paddys don't you?'

I do not hate the Irish. I do not really hate anyone (with a few exceptions) What I do hate is little Canadian/Austrailian/British/American retards like this little cow - she was Canadian - pretending that they are Irish as an excuse to get drunk. I do not need an excuse to have a good night out, and this lot running around like fuckwits just makes them look like walking advertisments for Guinness. I could have continued this conversation but it would have gone something like this...

- That's strange little girl, you sound Canadian.

'Oh but I have a Great-Grandma that was part Irish on her cousin's side.'

- Well whoop-de-fucking do. Have a hat. But are you Irish?

'I'm part Irish.'

- But are you Irish? If you were ever selected for a Olympic team, which one would it be?

'Canada.'

- So you're not Irish. So why are you celebrating St. Patricks day? What makes you want to go out and get absolutely drunk to celebrate a country that you have no real connection to?

'It's a party. Besides there's this cousin on my Grandma's side.'

At which point I would have thrown a rather large turnip at her and chase her until she or I expired from exhaustion or turnip concussion (and that last one would have better odds for her).

Do't get me wrong. I love the Irish. But I don't see why we should celebrate a day of someone we don't really know about (did you know he was Scottish) for no real reason other than you desperately need some way to make that alcohol abuse you so hate yourself for indulging in a little bit more respectable.

Sorry, I needed to get that orf my chest.

Tits to you all.

Phil

fetch some medicine!

I'm bastard ill again. Bastard Whistler bastard illness all the bastard time. My head hurts and my nose is blocked and my eyes hurt and my throat is sore. I mean, who gets a cold just as winter is coming to an end? I'm going to blame Canada.

Times have changed
Our kids are getting worse
They won't obey their parents
They just want to fart and curse!
Should we blame the government?
Or blame society?
Or should we blame the images on TV?
No, blame Canada
Blame Canada
With all their beady little eyes
And flapping heads so full of lies
Blame Canada
Blame Canada
We need to form a full assault
It's Canada's fault!
Don't blame me
For my son Stan
He saw the damn cartoon
And now he's off to join the Klan!
And my boy Eric once
Had my picture on his shelf
But now when I see him he tells me to f**k myself!
Well, blame Canada
Blame Canada
It seems that everything's gone wrong
Since Canada came along
Blame Canada
Blame Canada
They're not even a real country anyway
My son could've been a doctor or a lawyer rich and true,
Instead he burned up like a piggy on the barbecue
Should we blame the matches?
Should we blame the fire?
Or the doctors who allowed him to expire?
heck no!
Blame Canada
Blame Canada
With all their hockey hullabaloo
And that bitch Anne Murray too
Blame Canada
Shame on Canada
For...
The smut we must stop
The trash we must bash
The Laughter and fun
Must all be undone
We must blame them and cause a fuss
Before someone thinks of blaming uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuus!!!!

Oh come on it was inevitable I would stick that up, I'm too ill to think of anything original. So anything else I should enlight you on? Well I had a hilarious (and painful) stack the other day. It was Tobi's last day in Whistler and we went for Fresh tracks, however the snow was a little bit icy so we were going easy. Until I suggest going through the park and facing my own demons. Now I hit two (little) jumps on my board and landed them, so when going over the bump section I had a bit of confidence and speed.

srccccccccccccccccccccccraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkkk (that's the sound of a board going over ice) and I ended up falling heavily on my arse and wrist, both of which complained. Then another boarder flies over the bumps and does exactly the same thing. Only his fall is stopped by me. As he slides past his board gives me a nice bump on the head.

Now I was lucky. If either of us had been going faster I could have broken my wrist or arse. And I wasn't wearing a helmet then he would have nicely broken my head. But oh well, that was the end of my day so I struggled off home and felt sorry for myself.

Just like I am here. Sorry folks, I'm going to write something stupid now, so hopefully I'll post that for y'all inabit.

Stay sexy

Phil

read this short story (1 - Beauty)

Sorry about the start. This is for a competition over here that requires me to include a four legged animal, a martini glass and fog. It also has to start with the grammatical nightmare 'When from out of nowhere...'

Beauty

When from out of nowhere she appeared in my life I thought I was dreaming. How soon I learned that only waking hours can provide a man with such pain; and even our worst nightmares cannot torture us as much as beauty can.

It seemed only ten minutes, but we had been talking for hours. We stared into each other’s eyes as I stole sips of martini from her lipstick-stained glass. She was perfection personified; her loveliness unmatched by anyone.

So when - hidden within an embarrassed whisper - she suggested continuing the conversation (and romance) elsewhere I felt my heart skip.

The fog that had descended hid us from prying eyes as we stumbled, kissed and groped our way towards the waiting taxis. However the same cloud that I thought had been heaven sent also hid our nemesis from us until it was too late.

Piercing the night’s silence echoed a shout of such wonder that both of us stopped mid-stride. Enthralled I turned towards the shape that was galloping towards us from the masked interior of the mist.

It was a horse, but also something else. Out of its forehead protruded a long silver horn that glimmered by its own light, as if there was a candle slowly burning within it. That night I witnessed a truly fantastic creature, as intimidating as it was impressive.

As it thundered past me the cry bellowed again, followed by a horrifying silence.

My Angel was lying in the road, writhing in pain after the collision with the beast. As she twisted in agony with her blood leaking onto the street I hung my head and cried. When she stopped breathing I stared into her eyes and lamented ever witnessing such a beautiful creature, for only misery had followed it.

go to toronto (for a couple weeks at least)

Oh that's right. I've made my decision, and have posted it on the internet. After all, if its on the internet it must be true. So why this momentus decision?

I'm going to visit relatives in Barrie, which is a couple of hours north of Toronto to start with. Then if I can get an exciting (it has to be interesting at the very least, else why not come home) job I think I'm going to stay there for a while. Of course if I can't then I'll head home and start saving for my next Whistler adventure.

Next Whistler adventure? That's right folks I'm coming back to this God-forsaken amazing place at some point. There will probably be a sign up sheet in your work places soon, if not then ask your bosses why not! But that's a while away yet.

So what's been happening in my life? I've been very tired and very silly and very drunk, sometimes all at the same time. LAst night was Toby's going away drinks and he decided to cap it off with a manic run around the building. So I was chasing after a drunken German as he banged on doors and tried to persuade people to 'join the party', all the time with him in a t-shirt and boxers. Not a pretty sight. But I survived and so did Toby, although I'm not sure whether the girls will forgive him (they should do they're pretty cool)

Other than that life is ticking along here at a nice pace. I'm going to start saving money now, which means not much going out and lots of spare time, so look for more blogs here!

Also I'vce decided to get some short stories done, which I'm going to be posting on here, please give some constructive critisism if you feel I need it. Which I do. So first up, here comes beauty...

listen for the screams of indecision

ARgghhhhhhhh! What to do? What should I do? Why won't someone make this decison for me? Why can't I make this decision for myself. I've asked people and got different answers, asked the same person twice and got a different answer, asked two people different questions and got the same answer.

No, I'm not going to regale you with another tale of failed chat-up lines and girls that wriggled out of my grasp before they even fall into my embrace. Even though that is about to happen again. But that's a different story for a different day, maybe you'll get lucky and I'll get drunk and tell you all. At this moment however I'm talking to you about where I'm going to go once this Whistler adventure is over.

The way I see it is that I have four major choices. I'm sure there are others but seeing as I'm having such trouble with the first four I won't even search for any more. So what are these choices?

1. Stay in Whistler
2. Go to Vancouver
3. Go to Toronto
4. Go home

1, 2, 3, 4. All have a plus or minus, all with reasons for and against, all with people I want to see and people to run from. So what do I do? Where do I go?

I think that I need to make a decsion, just to put my mind at rest. I'm getting good hours at work and unless I go silly with my money I can afford all four. But I need to make a choice. I think this week I may have made a very serious decision about the direction I want my life to head, although people may not think I'm being serious.

I may leave it to chance. I may jump in the air and see where I land, I may turn a card. But one thing is for sure, I'm making my decision by the end of this week, which will be the 11th of the month of March. If I have no resolution by then you may all strike me down with a bolt of lightening. If you have one.

Forever yours

Phil

follow the tangled relationships

Now I'm writing this drunk. Let me make that clear from the start. That means that ay speelig mistakes or gramatical errors from now on are forgivable, and probably done on purpose just to make this first paragraph have a point to it.

Now then...

I may have hooked up with someone a while ago in a typical one night stand situation. This girl then, while not ignoring me thereafter (And who could blame her if she did) - and that's a sarcastic joke for those of you who don't quite get my drunken humour)) was... hesitant to make contact. I tried, i really did, because I don't really believe in one night stands. Yet still there was always an excuse, always a reason that made it impossible for her to meet me. I would tell you I cried myself to sleep but that would be a lie.

And tonight she copped off with my friend! Not a close enough friend to mean that he knew about the 'incident' but getting closer. So he had no idea about me and her and she had no idea about me and him becoming friends.

When I said goodnight to him tonight you should have seen the look on her face. Now of course the questino is do I tell him or congatualte him? Either way I can forsee lots of fun for me to have in the next few days. I'm falling asleep so I'll tell you what I'm going to leave the conclusion for the future.

Inabit peers

Phil

follow the complaints

I had a customer today who couldn't speak a word of English. He was French Canadian through and through. Unfortunately there was no one at work today who can speak French better than me so I had to serve him. Now those of you who worked with me in France will know that my French is bad to moderately bad.

Now this bloke didn't slow down his talking, didn't say any English words that he may have picked up - after all he lives in an bi-lingual country you'd think that he would have learn some words. So eventually we managed to sort out his problem and everyone smiled triumphantly. Apart from the gentleman (sorry, dickhead) who then proceeded to complain that no one spoke French.

I'm sorry, but if you've managed to sort out a problem with someone who doesn't speak your language properly you do not stick around to complain, because the chances are the poor sods will not be able to understand you and you will end up more frustrated. Lucky for him I understood his complaint and decided to answer in the fastest, most brummie English that I could muster.

He walked off seething. I smiled.




Oh and another thing my Mom e-mailed me to say that HSBC is charging £25 pounds a day for going overdrawn. What! Why are they charging me money I obviously don't have? Dickheads. I may well be declaring bankrupcy when I get home dudes, something that I'll look forwards to.

Rock on dudes

look for the burnt candle

I have decided to start a blog. Before the entire crowd starts booing in the unanimous chant that this type of endevour usually creates, I'd like to remind everyone that I have tried something to this effect before and they more than often end after a couple of weeks. So humour me eh?

Eh? That would be the Canadian in me talking. And no, before someone throws in a sodomy joke I would qualify that - I am in Canada and therefore I have adopted some of the traits of the country. I now enjoy a muffin at breakfast and a burger for tea, with a hefty dose of snowboarding thrown in inbetween.

Since being in Whistler however I have become more and more tired, yet in my own way I have realised why. I am burning the candle at three ends!

'How does one burn the candle at three ends?' I hear you shout. Well, I have been drinking and going out. One end. Then I've been working almost 5 days a week on average 10 hours a day. Two ends. Then I've been snowboarding, which is the third end.

So this means that I've been exhausted. Very exhausted. Throw in a house move and mutual misunderstanding between me and my boss means that I'm just about dead right now. And it it now that I have to make desicions for the future? Bollocks to that I'm going to continue writing blogs and become more and more self indulged.

Rock on peeeeeeepsss