It's been a while. I'm not sure why I decided to write a blog post tonight. It may be because I have absolutely nothing to do. It may be to console myself after having to teach myself a proportion of physics which has been "taught" to us by one of the least talented teachers I have ever had the pleasure of "teaching" me. She is the kind that asks us, "Is this right?". However this is not in the sense that most teachers would pose this question - a question to test our understanding. On the contrary, it is because she doubts herself and needs the reassurance and correction of a bunch of students who have not even been taught the aforesaid material. Either way, bitching aside, it may also be because I love the feeling and sound of typing a large amount of text for little to no reason at all other than hearing and feeling these sounds and feels, exhibited by the length and pointless nature of this sentence. Before I embarrass myself further, I may have to come up with some subject matter for this blog post, other than the classic, "Complaining about school" format. Give me a second...
Hmm, after much deliberation I have decided to base this post, or at least this paragraph, on my job. This has been discussed on many an occasion on this blog, much to the anger of my girlfriend. Oh well, I try not to be too critical of it, I promise its just my sense of humour. Anyway, disclaimer aside, we can let the story begin: A couple of days ago I received a text from my "boss" of sorts, asking me if I wanted to come in on Sunday at 11 O'clock. This text was on Thursday night, an annoying day to hear of such news. It is late enough in the week for you to start dreaming that maybe you will not be needed to work this weekend, only to have these dreams come crumbling down, in a bitter stream of disappointment, setting a melancholy tone for Saturday night. Maybe that was a slightly dramatised reaction.
You may say, "Colm, you crazy mother f*cker, why would you not want to work? You get money, a 50% contribution to your philosophy: 'F*ck bitches, get money'". Well, it is simply that the fiscal motive is there, as obviously I do want money, however it is not prominent enough for me to actively want to work. I should probably stop complaining now and get back to the story.
So I came into work this morning, expecting a standard 4-hour research session into the effects of the monotonous sale of duck food to tourists, interrupted only by the speedy consumption of a traditional greasy spoon meal. However, to my distress I was met in the "Staff Only" doorway with one of the slightly less able workers trying to tell me that none of the other part time workers were coming in today and that I was probably not meant to be here, as "the weather is no good". To cut a long story short (or, shorter, at any rate) I called my "boss" of sorts, only to hear that I was no longer needed and was to take £20 and leave. I happily complied.
It would seem my Mamma Mia days are over. Closed, is this chapter of my life. And now I have one less thing to complain about on this blog. Looks like I may have to come up with something interesting to write about. Sucks to be me. If you have got this far, I commend you, thank you for putting up with my writing and pointless rambling.
You may be thinking; What is the point of this post? What bombshell is the masterful wordsmith Colm about to drop?
However I must now add insult to injury and say that I did not actually come up with anything to write about today. I merely wrote for something to do and to feel the feel and hear the sound of pointless writing in large quanitites.
P.S. The joke is, that Sayonara means goodbye in Japanese, and is also the brand of Ice Cream that is used in the Mamma Mia café. (Its Italian apparently)
I know, Im bloody hilarious.