Fucking telemarketers piss me off! Automated or not, I find it just as obnoxious.
Now, I get that people are often just doing their job and maybe it was the only job they could get but I have completely run out of fucks to give. Today I have had at least 4 automated calls regarding PPI and pensions, at least one after I had already requested to unsubscribe from the service, and at least 3 people calling me. In 5 minutes I had two calls from the same blame claim company 'regarding my road accident in the last three years'. I had one of these last night and told them I was pretty sure they were looking for Mr Gofuckyourself but it seems they haven't got the message.
So, the first of the two (these people actually have my name so thanks whoever sold them my details) just got my usual response of 'Go fuck yourself' but when my phone rang again only minutes later I was somewhat annoyed. It went something like this:
Teletwat: Hello can I please speak to Mr FwF?
Me (annoyed): Speaking Teletwat: I'm calling regarding your road accident in the last three years that wasn't your fault. Me: What road accident are you referring to? Teletwat: The road accident that wasn't your fault and because the other driver was at fault some money has actually been put aside for you. Me: Which accident, describe it to me, because unless you can tell me which accident you mean, you're talking shit. Teletwat: there's no need to swear, sir. That's where you're wrong, Teletwat. There is plenty of reason to fucking swear! I'm sick of these cunts wasting my valuable time with their shit. All blame claims companies are scum to start with but the fact that they so strongly encourage people to file frivolous law suits sickens me. As it happens, I did have a road accident on the 1st of November 2011 when I locked the back wheel of my motorbike and got run over by a truck. In February of 2012, not long after I'd regained the ability to walk without crutches, I got a letter through telling me I was being sued by the truck driver to compensate him for soft tissue damage and muscle pain. Apparently the poor dear had to take a week off work. Bear in mind, the back six inches of my 200 kg bike clipped the front of his 44+ ton truck, there was no damage to the vehicle and he said at the scene he never even felt it, which he repeated to my boss when he visited my work to see if I was ok on the evening of the accident. I can only assume that someone encouraged him to make that claim. Of course, he really sued my insurance company but it was my name on the suit. Adding insult to injury, his description of the accident on the suit was mostly fictional and painted me as if I was riding dangerously which I certain was not. The police would have done me if I had! I begged my insurance company not to pay but I bet they did to avoid court. Cowards. And that's the problem. People file these frivolous, opportunistic suits and the insurance companies just pay, because it's easier. Then all our premiums go up. It's a fucking disgrace. I think I'll buy a whistle. Lets see how well they can make calls with busted ear drums.
So, you may have noticed that I didn't post very much last year. I don't have any good reasons for why not but I thought I would catch you up on my life. So act as if you give a shit.
In March 2011 I bought a motorbike. I kept meaning to write a post on here about how great it was but I never got around to it. Then, on November 1st 2011, I locked my back wheel in traffic and went under an oncoming truck. Which was unpleasant. The truck went over my left foot and it's only thanks to the bike boots I was wearing that my foot didn't become a squishy mass of pulp. As it was, I only sustained a minor break in my calcaneus (which is the heel bone to anyone not up to date in their ancient languages) which astounded the hospital staff. I spent only four days in hospital. My bike, however, was not so lucky. She was totalled.
R.I.P Suzie II.
Man, I still miss that bike. I get a little teary eyed every time I see an SV now.
So, I rang in 2012 on crutches but well on the road to recovery, swearing I would buy another bike as soon as I was healed. I'm yet to do so. It would be a lie to say I'm not at least a little scared of getting back into the saddle but I think a lot of it is that I'd never be able to really replace that bike. She was my baby.
In January of 2012, my sister gave birth to a beautiful little girl named Ivy, my niece.
A very happy Uncle.
Me and my better half also
I have spent much of the rest of the year working on an album of metal/hard rock and trying to start a career as a voiceover. I also moved house in February 2012 to a nicer neighbourhood.
I'm hoping that in 2013 I will write more on this blog, finish my album and maybe get booked for some voiceover work that's not supplied by the production company I work for...
Oh, I also amassed nearly 5000 karma on reddit. Don't act like you're not impressed. Thinking about it, in explanation for my prolonged absence I could have just written "discovered reddit" and fellow redditors would have totally understood.
It's crazy how the smallest thing could potentially ruin your life, isn't it? Like a tiny mistake that costs you your job or a fall that breaks your hand and ends your career as a professional fluffer.
I recently bought a car. My better half was starting a new job and we needed two cars to facilitate us going to our respective work places. A few weeks after getting the car I was messing around in the back footwell, cleaning things up and I found an eye liner pencil. Naturally, I assumed it belonged to my fiancée and chucked it onto my back seat. We had previously gone somewhere in the car and her makeup bag was on my back seat and fell on the floor. I naturally assumed this eyeliner pencil belonged to her and resolved to ask her about it later but, as I have the short term memory and attention span of an ADHD squirrel, I forgot.
A few weeks after that I was replacing the shitty floor mats with new ones and I found it again. Once again I resolved that I would tell my more beautiful half that I had found her eyeliner and ask if she would like it back. Once again I forgot all about it. Until yesterday.
We were going out for lunch with a quick stop off at a friend's house to drop off a wetvac and some shoes. On seeing that the wetvac would not fit into the boot of the car, my misses looks in the back to see if there would be room there and finds this eyeliner pencil.
"Who's is this?"
It was at this point, judging by the tone of voice and the expression on her face, that I realised it was not her eyeliner pencil. Fuck.
Naturally, being the suave and cool guy I am, I panicked and started blabbering, despite having done nothing wrong. I now felt awful for something I hadn't done and my treacherous mouth and it's deviant cohort, Brain, were dead set on making me look as guilty as sin with a needlessly wordy and elongated explanation of why I had an eyeliner pencil in my car. I was still convinced that this eyeliner did in fact belong to my fiancée. Obviously she did not agree.
So, it was quiet and tense in the car. I was trying to not seem off because I knew that made me look more guilty and at this point I was getting worried that she was going to jump out of the car at the next traffic light and leave me! In my head I was just cursing myself over and over for not mentioning the fucking eyeliner pencil when I first found it and trying to figure out a way to dig myself out of this over sized cesspit of a hole.
We dropped the stuff off and went to lunch and I hoped that maybe things were ok but I knew they weren't. It wasn't until we got home that my better half turned to me and asked, "Do you know how that eyeliner got in your car?" Fuck. Not ok.
Luckily I managed to act like less of a twat this time and explained that I was sure it was hers and why the fuck would I cheat? Even if I had volition, which I do not, when the hell would I do it? I don't lead the most adventurous life, which is exactly how I like it. I am not a party person and, in all honesty, I deeply dislike most of humanity.
Thankfully, my beautiful fiancée is not a screaming lunatic like most of the women I have dated in my life and accepted my explanation of why I had acted like such a guilty dickhead earlier. We got past it and shared an enjoyable afternoon of watching some pretty awful films.
I guess the moral of the story is this: Should you find any mystery cosmetics in your car, ask your spouse about them immediately. Or something. Is that too specific a moral? Maybe the moral is not to act like a gittering moron when innocent. Hey, fuck you. Work out your own moral.
For the record, I still think the eyeliner pencil is hers.
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