Stuff and nonsense
Ciao tutti!
Greetings from the city that never gets up, Genova!
(Actually, in one of the most contrived introductions since the births of Michael Jackson's children, I should point out that Genova wakes up incredibly early in the morning, owing as it is largely comprised of old farts. So, let's try that again...)
Greetings from the city that sleeps, but only for a few hours before getting up early and clogging up the public transport system with it's hordes of shuffling, grey-haired-but-really-quite-trendy-sunglasses-sporting old people......(pant, large intake of breath)....Genova!
Phew, thank God that's over, she said.
As ironic as this may seem given the start of this post, I feel like I should apologise for the fairly vague, self-indulgent ramblings of my previous post. Writing regularly is pretty tough going, especially when one feels that one owes ones dedicated readers something mildly readable. So, yeah, sorry for that. That said, I make no promises regarding the exclusion or cutting down of rambling self-indulgence in this or any other post.
Life in the world of Michael has been its usual roller coaster ride of constant work and occasional drunkenness. Truly, life at 27 is all I'd hoped for and more. Since last I spoke at you, I've watched football, which was AMAZING, I've had a few beers, a few cheers, and a few more beers. Plus, an update on super hero powers. But, let's start at the beginning.....
Last weekend I went out with my new flatmates to what could be described as a massive doss house that was once some kind of palace. I presume it has been built in the last couple of weeks and then realistically aged by a crack team of whatever the job title of the people might be that do this type of work, because despite it being quite close to my place, I've never heard of it or seen it. But the beer was cheap, the acoustics pretty loud and terrible and the end of the night pretty much a haze, so all in all it was a successful outing.
The next day the all conquering Genoa CFC played the weasly onion pizza loving peasants of Bari. Now, I saw Bari play us last year, and then they scored an early (jammy bastard) goal and then proceeded to park the proverbial bus in front of the goal while time wasting like their pointless insignificant lives depended on it. Needless to say, we had the last laugh, equalising before the end. This time round, we scored early doors before they won a penalty despite the foul taking place about a yard outside of the box. The striker who was bundled over immediately sprung up and started celebrating with the few supporters who had managed to sell their donkeys for the train fare up to the promised land. If looks could kill he would have exploded into dust. They then scored and wasted so much time that the referee saw fit to add 6 minutes of injury time. Cue Luca Toni, the living embodiment of all that is good and just in the world to score 5 minutes into the aforementioned injury time. The stadium erupted, bathing the rest of the day in a heart-attack inducing happiness which still washes over me like I imagine the knowledge that you are right 100% of the time brings. This pretty sweet pill was sweetend all the more because the Bari fools had previously sung Sampdoria songs because they're twinned with that lot of jokers. Needless to say, we had the last laugh.
In flat-based news, my flatmates all seem very nice, however, they're not the cleanest lot ever. This is ok, I guess, but in what came as a surprise, I'm apparently quite keen on having a clean and orderly kitchen. Sadly, this does not seem to be the way things are happening, so this combined with my general desire to walk about in my pants means that I'm looking to move out and get a place for myself, which I believe I may have mentioned before. One of my friends suggested that this could lead to me becoming a bit weird, but this strikes me as worrying about whether or not you remembered to bolt the gate while the horse runs free through the countryside.
And finally, I alluded earlier that there was an update on the superhero chat. I asked Patrick, a semi-regularly mentioned person here, what power he'd have, and within a heartbeat he'd said invisibility because then he'd be able to steal money and touch boobs. I'm sure he'd do these things with some kind of altruistic idea in mind, but I'm not sure what that'd be.....
Until next time amigos and amigettes,
Ciao ciao
Greetings from the city that never gets up, Genova!
(Actually, in one of the most contrived introductions since the births of Michael Jackson's children, I should point out that Genova wakes up incredibly early in the morning, owing as it is largely comprised of old farts. So, let's try that again...)
Greetings from the city that sleeps, but only for a few hours before getting up early and clogging up the public transport system with it's hordes of shuffling, grey-haired-but-really-quite-trendy-sunglasses-sporting old people......(pant, large intake of breath)....Genova!
Phew, thank God that's over, she said.
As ironic as this may seem given the start of this post, I feel like I should apologise for the fairly vague, self-indulgent ramblings of my previous post. Writing regularly is pretty tough going, especially when one feels that one owes ones dedicated readers something mildly readable. So, yeah, sorry for that. That said, I make no promises regarding the exclusion or cutting down of rambling self-indulgence in this or any other post.
Life in the world of Michael has been its usual roller coaster ride of constant work and occasional drunkenness. Truly, life at 27 is all I'd hoped for and more. Since last I spoke at you, I've watched football, which was AMAZING, I've had a few beers, a few cheers, and a few more beers. Plus, an update on super hero powers. But, let's start at the beginning.....
Last weekend I went out with my new flatmates to what could be described as a massive doss house that was once some kind of palace. I presume it has been built in the last couple of weeks and then realistically aged by a crack team of whatever the job title of the people might be that do this type of work, because despite it being quite close to my place, I've never heard of it or seen it. But the beer was cheap, the acoustics pretty loud and terrible and the end of the night pretty much a haze, so all in all it was a successful outing.
The next day the all conquering Genoa CFC played the weasly onion pizza loving peasants of Bari. Now, I saw Bari play us last year, and then they scored an early (jammy bastard) goal and then proceeded to park the proverbial bus in front of the goal while time wasting like their pointless insignificant lives depended on it. Needless to say, we had the last laugh, equalising before the end. This time round, we scored early doors before they won a penalty despite the foul taking place about a yard outside of the box. The striker who was bundled over immediately sprung up and started celebrating with the few supporters who had managed to sell their donkeys for the train fare up to the promised land. If looks could kill he would have exploded into dust. They then scored and wasted so much time that the referee saw fit to add 6 minutes of injury time. Cue Luca Toni, the living embodiment of all that is good and just in the world to score 5 minutes into the aforementioned injury time. The stadium erupted, bathing the rest of the day in a heart-attack inducing happiness which still washes over me like I imagine the knowledge that you are right 100% of the time brings. This pretty sweet pill was sweetend all the more because the Bari fools had previously sung Sampdoria songs because they're twinned with that lot of jokers. Needless to say, we had the last laugh.
In flat-based news, my flatmates all seem very nice, however, they're not the cleanest lot ever. This is ok, I guess, but in what came as a surprise, I'm apparently quite keen on having a clean and orderly kitchen. Sadly, this does not seem to be the way things are happening, so this combined with my general desire to walk about in my pants means that I'm looking to move out and get a place for myself, which I believe I may have mentioned before. One of my friends suggested that this could lead to me becoming a bit weird, but this strikes me as worrying about whether or not you remembered to bolt the gate while the horse runs free through the countryside.
And finally, I alluded earlier that there was an update on the superhero chat. I asked Patrick, a semi-regularly mentioned person here, what power he'd have, and within a heartbeat he'd said invisibility because then he'd be able to steal money and touch boobs. I'm sure he'd do these things with some kind of altruistic idea in mind, but I'm not sure what that'd be.....
Until next time amigos and amigettes,
Ciao ciao
posted by michael | 09:25
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home