Monday, January 29, 2007

I'm not mental, honest

I got a bit vexed there for a while last week. My thunder was stolen, replaced by a kind of apathetic chagrin. See, up until last week, I was the only person on the entire planet who had ever been pursued by a company. Yes, in the whole world. EVER. Their interest had been a surprise, a wee lift from the mediocrity of everyday life. I got a buzz knowing I was good enough at my job to (a) have been noticed and (b) have been chased, by an enormous faceless megacorporation.

Then, last Friday, I found out that my friend and fellow team member, who will remain nameless (except in the wretched darkness of recent nightmares, where he is called Cunty) is in a near-identical position to me with another company, except he didn't even have to jump through the interview hoops that I did. No, all the bastard did was have a chat with one of the partners, and the cunts offered him a job.

Of course, what happened is highly unethical, not to mention possibly illegal. I dare not post more on it in this blog, because I'm not anonymous, but if I use the word poached you'll understand what I'm saying. Said poaching has qualities so incestuous that even Dessie Dempsey*, a lad I went to school with who supposedly shagged his sister, would be appalled.

I wish I could say more on this. Gah. Cursed self-censoring. Clich├ęs work well in this situation. It's not what you know, it's who you know, you know. The main source of my consternation is that if I leave my current job, it might not be for the right reasons, and if I stay, I'll be fucked because Cunty will be gone and I'll be left to deal with Eeyore.

I'm not a violent person. I just wanted to let you know that because reading the next bit in isolation makes me sound like a bit of a lunatic. If I was famous, the papers would have a field day taking quotes out of context.

I was up the road picking up some alcoholic beverages on Saturday evening. On the drive to the off-licence (liquor store), I passed a guy walking in the middle of the road, arms out, Christ-style. He looked like a dirty, aggressive cunt, which was a splendid first impression to get, because he turned out to be a dirty aggressive cunt.

When I finished getting money out of the cash machine at the side of the shop, he had already found his way into the shop. As I pushed the door in, his words drowned out all the others: "...fuckin black bastard, I'm not goin fuckin anywhere ya black cunt...fuckin cameras, I don't give a fuck about cameras ya black fuckin monkey cunt..."

And so on. This went on for about a minute before he left the shop. The Asian guy (yeah, he wasn't black, which just demonstrates to you the level of intelligence this lad had) behind the counter remained perfectly calm the whole time.

For some reason, the whole sorry incident filled me with rage, so much so that I was grinding my teeth as I watched the guy walk out of the shop. I'm by no means an activist when it comes to racism (or much else for that matter), but something about that situation on Saturday night just made my blood boil. It was as much the complete and utter resignation on the manager guy's face, standing there, taking the abuse from this piece of shit, as it was the words the shithead himself was using. Stand up for yourself! I wanted to shout. Chase the cunt and bash his fuckin head in with a mop handle!

Yer man, the Asian lad, just remained calm, and maybe that's partly why I got so angry. He's seen this a hundred times before, and he'll see it a thousand times again, and he's so used to it now that it doesn't even get to him anymore, if it ever did. He knows there's nothing he can do about it. He knows that scumbags like that don't ever get taught a lesson, they just keep going until they die. The thought of that made me want to grab the fucker as he walked out the door and pin him against the wall and slam my forehead down onto the bridge of his nose. My friend Placid Paul did this once, an act of chivalry to defend a lady friend’s honour, and he said that, despite being highly out of character for him, it was an enormously satisfying experience. He was a bit of a secret thug, was Placid Paul.

When I left the shop, scumfuck was standing around outside, muttering incomprehensible complaints. I locked eyes with him, willing him to say something, anything, to insult me, so that I would have a legitimate reason to lay into him. Again I must stress this is not the kind of person I am. I can throw a punch, but I've never even been in a real fight. I don't know why I had such a powerful compulsion to want to do this guy harm that night. I don't feel good about it, but it happened.

As our eyes met, I wanted to say to him, hey, when I was twelve I spent an afternoon mixing together a concoction of piss, mouldy bread, bleach, paint and various other household cleaning products, in a Flora container, then I threw the lot in the bin after it started to eat through the thin plastic of the margarine box**. Then he would look at me and say good lord, sir, why on earth are you imparting such information to a gentleman such as myself? To which I’d reply, well, worthless, pointless and disgusting as that short-lived concoction was, it was still more useful than you are, or likely ever will be, and I have more respect for those crunchy insects that skitter from daylight when you lift up a stone than I do for a piece of shit such as yourself.

I wanted to choke him on the blackness of my contempt, contempt I usually reserve for other people’s children and men who cry at romantic comedies. Instead I just walked on and drove home and told Linzi about my short-lived homicidal tendencies.

In other news, we are now officially a 2.4 children-having, Renault-driving, Oprah-watching, twice-a-day-brushing, ornery lower middle-class Tom and Mary. I know this because we created a rota for household chores at the weekend.

I am off work this week. I'm laying a concrete base for my garage and fixing the fence - it blew down a few weeks ago during those bad winds. Proper man-work. It's made me remember how much I hate office work. It's been too long since I've worked with my hands, and they gleefully reminded me how soft and unused they are. A couple of hours wielding a pick-axe and I got the blister you see in the pic above. What a pussy.

I can say that now because by the end of this week I will be a calloused, grizzled, sprightly whippet of a man worthy of my very own Diet Coke ad.



*not his real name
**true story - I don't know, probably because I was bored.

33 Comments:

The Swearing Lady blathered this crap:

Never been in a fight? But you're from the CITY. The SHIT PART. Don't CONFUSE me.

I know how you feel about the rage, as it happens, because I've been there, thinking, "C'mon, look sideways at me, you cunt, I'll fucking do you, I don't care that I'm four feet shorter than you." But I can't go on about that, because I'm having Nice Week this week.

PS: Blisters. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sassy Sundry blathered this crap:

That's maddening. It's probably better that you didn't deck him, because it wouldn't have changed the way he thought anyway. It might make him feel justified in his hatred in some sick way.

What an ass.

Enjoy your man work. I like the idea that man work makes people worthy of a Diet Coke ad.

Old Knudsen blathered this crap:

Kav lad, I'm starting up a fight club and I think you would love it.

Conan Drumm blathered this crap:

Ahhhh.... concrete, my new best friend, right next to the spanners, paint brushes, and great mishapen chunks of limestone... tis a wonder me fingies fit the keyboard annymore. God save the work!

sid trotter blathered this crap:

so the reason you didn't deck him was because you were ..... scared!

Debbie blathered this crap:

Oh my, you make me laugh.

Dario Sanchez blathered this crap:

Being as I am from Cavan, I know of a place where all the racist fucks have drunken brawls. The fight club is called Cavan College.

hotdrwife blathered this crap:

I'm going to go ahead and chalk up "scumfuck" as one of my new favorite words.

fatmammycat blathered this crap:

He wasn't worth getting into a fight with, he's nothing but another big mouth knob-butler.

fatmammycat blathered this crap:

Bit if you DO every want to lay a chap out, use your elbow, nature's knuckle dusters, one hard crack to the side of the face should do it.
I'm just sayin'...

Kim Ayres blathered this crap:

The guy will die alone in a pool of vomit within 5 years.





Or he'll become the Chief Exec of a BIG COMPANY and go headhunting for staff.

The Hangar Queen blathered this crap:

Begorrh,That's a hell of a post to start (my)week to.Nothing to feel bad about mate.Getting into aggro with scumfuck would have fucked you.Not that you couldn't handle said ambulatory jar of pus but with CCTV??.About three years ago I was waiting for Herself in the car park of a Metro stop.A car pulls up with a couple in it.She was wearing a hijab which may or not mean anything.Guy#2 arrives and starts screaming at her in Arabic for not sitting in the back seat while his brother drove her around.He is losing the plot big time and pulls his fist back to punch her.I am right over and in my mind I am begging him to kick off with me...it was creepy and scary how badly I wanted to hurt this guy...badly.Luckily (for me probably) Brother intervenes and pulls the big brave boy away.A Metro cop rolled by and I filled him in.He gave her his card and took the tag numbers.There was nothing else we could do.A few observations;
1.Poachers should have their intestines unravelled and slurped up spaghetti loving dogs whilst still alive.
2.The scumfuck is,in fact,a dead man walking and when he does get manners put on him it'll be fatal.I see that all the time.
3.Blister??..Big. Girl's. Blouse.
4.Did you say 2.4 kids?..Is that code? Are you trying to tell us something?
5.You need to re-connect with your inner man.Back to Lough Corrib and build a boat for yerself.

jali blathered this crap:

I'm touched that you were so incensed by the dude's ignorant rant. I'm glad you didn't actually knock his block off - the repercussions aren't worth it - you're a good guy, Charlie Brown!

Old Knudsen blathered this crap:

get in close punch him in the face and follow through with the elbow bam bam!

I hope the above comment doesn't apply to salmon poachers too, not that I've ever done that of course.

whyioughtta blathered this crap:

Once I had this stupid sweater with stupidly tight neck- and arm-holes that no human head or hand could fit through and yet I wedged it over mine. When I tried to take it off again, it actually scratched my face. But I kept wearing it, because otherwise it looked good. I put up with it, time after time, until one day I just snapped and ripped it violently off my body and crammed it in the trash with an ungodly howl. "I wanted to choke [it] with the blackness of my contempt."

AMS blathered this crap:

you should have impaled him on the mop - but i suppose its a bit late for that now.

Foot Eater blathered this crap:

If you get off on being pursued by a company, you've obviously never fallen prey to Amway.

Good luck with laying the concrete base. She sounds really hot.

looby blathered this crap:

I like it here - the comments are as good as the posts!

Kav blathered this crap:

sweary: Never, apart from being attacked on nights out a couple of times, which doesn't count.

sassy: You're right. Oh, and you should see me now - putting that Diet Coke lad to shame.

knudsen: I think I probably would.

conan: I must admit, I love all that. Give me that over office work any day.

sid: Um...yes.

debbie: I'm glad someone's laughing...

dario: You'll need to do a post on it - I'd like to hear about that, cos I went to college with a few lads from Cavan.

hdw: Heh, it came to me in a dream, that one.

FMC: Elbays, you say...sounds like the voice of experience talking!

kim: In this day, it's more likely to be the latter.

devin: I'm telling you, write a book. You have a way with the focail. And no, there are no kids in the offing!

jali: absolutely, but it was so different when it was happening. I know now how the incredible hulk must have felt.

knudsen: Sounds like a kung-fu move. Whap-esh!

whyioughtta: Excellent! Now, about this sweater...being that tight, it must've shown things off nicely...

ams: Yeah, right through his fuckin heart! GRRRAGGGGGGGgg

foot eater: The main thing is, I came. And what about Amway? Never heard of them.

looby: I'd say better, in fact.

The Voice of Treason blathered this crap:

Kav, the Asian guy probably thought to himself, 'this guy's a complete and utter arsehole', and maybe you should have taken that line too.

A few years ago, a mate and I went to the Canary Islands for a drink-fuelled week in the sun. One night, at a outdoor fast food place (why is it always fast-food places?) we seen this drunken English prick getting stuck into his missus. We asked him politely to stop it, and he gave us a mouthful of abuse. So we knocked his cunt in. Then his missus started screaming at us to leave her darling husband alone. The same darling husband who thought he was in the ring with her a few minutes earlier.

The moral is: if you have intervened, the Asian guy would have got it in the neck the next time, not you. People can't help being wankers. They show themselves up. Leave them to it.

You've been added to the Blogroll.

http://treasonvoice.blogspot.com/

Kav blathered this crap:

Welcome to you, Voice of Treason, and cheers for the link. You have a good point, and of course I'm glad now I didn't intervene. I was just so shocked at the rage - it's amazing how much it clouds your judgement.

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