Me: Till The Day I Die in 2014: The Year That Was

Life’s always better when you’re sporting chocolate covered fingers**. Crossing the mid-day point a good few emails ahead of the curve… - Must be all the recent Fifa14 Accomplishments for my baldy virtual namesake? I’m really immodestly the best on our team, ‘Clueless FC. Damn the superstition, I miss ‘The Ringers Utd! ‘

Roberto Carlos has nothing on me as I launch 3,2,1… ‘Mission Control? This is Houston’ ‘We have a problem.’* Firing left-field blinders from my right-field vision. It defeats me just a little bit more each time when I swallow down some déjà vu gently sortied on a crisply declined bed of ‘We never read it’ Hardly helped my read receipts and my bosses apparent approval. So what’s the point of flying kung-fu kicking through the air Hong-Kong Phooey style with both eyes focused on the prize ahead when coming up fast behind is a herd of stampeding elephants (or possible just maybe?) it’s just a really, really obese guy blowing his trumpet so loud to the tune of ‘Oh When The Saints?’’

Strange Days and that’s without listening to the madvillan remix 50,000 times more than I have already. That’s my attempt at positivity – When I’m quoting Doom. I’m lacking in sound bites which is partly why my entries have died a death. But then it’s also to do with a lack of connections here in Prosebox land. My thoughts swing lonely in the breeze. But I do have mini-muffins so I’ll stuff my face whilst continuing to be advised of being wrong. shrugs

Hug-e’s – LOL – Barcelona, ‘This girl was really nice. It was her first day and she came up to me and kept giving me lot of hugey’s – describing them as hugeys is too charming to be corrected.

. But then most things I say appear open to debate! A closely contested event shared equally between retiring before I die, and the head-lamps on a speeding train heading towards me. I’m launching hail-mary passes in the final minute of the 4th quarter with a 95% success rate on a 90% KPI. Rather chuffed, I smoked a cigarette in celebration, then sucked my own dick now I’m missing a rib from all your poking. I’ve refreshed the playbook, I never got out, and everything’s become more extreme like my reactions to something you’d not even raise an eyebrow at? …or shrug your shoulders acting like a 90s hip-hoper. Bouncing out of the frying pan and into the fire you legged it out the kitchen and put my ass on ice.

**No, no, no this is not a Mallrats reference. Then roll-up, roll-up a dodgy ‘Top 5 Things I love to have my fingers covered in’

*Well actually it’s an incident if you want to get ITIL standard on me. Nothing like a debate on semantics by two overly pedantic?