Painful realisations in the gym

For those of you who are not the worlds best athlete, for whom athleticism means raising an arse cheek to fart, you will probably have experienced the overwhelming thought, at least once in your life, that it is about time you did some exercise. And most of us have had that conversation in the mirror. You stand there in your bright purple Y-fronts, looking at your body where parts are heading to the floor faster than a hookers forehead, and you think, 'why are my nipples as elongated as the face of Edvard Munch's 'Scream' painting?'. In fact, everything is becoming a little more 'squidgy' around the edges!

If you are one of the lucky ones, where you haven't had that nagging stab of guilt, then cherish this time. For you, every day is a joy to behold, and every beer is like the pure elixir of life that turns you into a bundle of raging hormones waiting to be unleashed. However, for the rest of us, every beer we consume means 5 extra minutes of pure un-adulterated hell on the treadmill and more 'Friday the 13th' looks in the mirror.

Having recently been through one of these realisations, I have started to actually utilise the gym membership I have been paying for since I was in the womb. So far I am doing pretty well, 4 times a week religiously for the last 3 weeks, and am starting to see the results. But this all comes at a price. My self respect is taking a beating every time I go.

One thing is, every time I am trying to squeeze out my last bench press, pressing the combined weight of two v-large pork chops, I look over and see Mr. Motivator lifting the combined weight of two small villages. I know I am never going to be like our Governor here in California, but I am in touch with that emotion and I don’t worry about it. But why oh why, do I have to look across and see that meat head next to me grinning like he is expecting me to fall down under the weight of my sweat-ridden t-shirt.

The second reason, is as much as I don’t like the way meat head is sneering at me, I end up doing exactly the same on some other defenseless exercise victim in some sick Darwin-esque survival of the 24hour fittest. With my friend next to me, we bark words like, “Come on, 2 more” & “You can do better than that you pussy!”. Those were the words uttered to me by my friend, as we were trying to complete the 3rd set of reps of incline fly's at the gym. At that point I realised I had become all that I was trying to avoid. And although it pains me to admit it, if it means I can have 4 beers and not feel like I have to hit the deck and give anyone 20, then screw it, I am ready for another set!!

The strength of a Mother during brunch!

I am soon to marry the most amazing woman, who is not only beautiful and intelligent, but is a fabulous cook and will be an amazing Mother, of this I am certain. And thats a good thing, because to be a 'successful' Mother these days, you need 6 arms, 10 hands, 4 pairs of eyes, the strength and stamina of a mountain lion and enough patience to be Paris Hilton's language therapist.

We just hosted a very informal brunch, a last minute thing. You know the type, no fuss, no hassle.... yeah right, NO CHANCE! The afternoon was a lot of fun. We had some good friends, good food and good friends. Some of those friends who brought their very cute and adorable children with them. And believe me, the children are wonderful. But, until today, I had not realised the strength of a Mother, during brunch. I was a little bit suspicious when the two Fathers turned down our offer of the informal brunch, instead choosing to stay at home and send the family off to our house. I was even thinking that maybe I had p*ssed them off in some way. But now I realise, this was an escape for the day. Like the POW attempting to break out of Auschwitz, this was their chance for freedom! (If only for a few hours before they were recaptured and sent to clean the toilets!)

As the day unfolded, my respect for these two woman has increased ten fold. Now let me clarify, I have always had respect for Mothers, there is no question of that. But today was different. Today I saw up close the time and effort that a loving Mother has to endure. I saw them drop their food and hare after their kids as they make their way for freedom through an open door! I saw them patiently tell their kids fifteen times not to pick op the pebble in the centre of the table arrangement as licking a stone is generally considered not good for your palate. But above all else, I saw these woman sustain these torrents of challenges, with the utmost decorum and poise, and only stopping once for a glass of Merlot!

It is with this in mind that I say to all Mothers past present and future (but in particular to my Mother and hopefully the future Mother of my children), I salute you ladies. You are without doubt, the driving force that makes the world go round.

Ferris Buellers Day off....

... I challenge any young man, currently around the age of 30, to say that he didn't want to be Ferris Bueller when he was younger! Liar Liar pants on fire! "Yup, life moves pretty fast, you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it!"

It's all about marketing!

See what I mean! Now this is Marketing genius!

Paris Hilton and Tom Sizemore

I have read the press, I have heard the rumours, but to be honest with you all....
Who gives a sh*t?

My friend JTL

There are times when you meet someone, and you know there is something special about them. My friend JTL, is one such person. I have known him for a couple of years now, and throughout that time, he has maintained a level of composure and dignity that Prince Charles himself would be proud of (thats where the similarities end by the way!). His ability to maintain this, becomes even more of an achievement when you consider what he has had to deal with in the past 12 months. At this point, I will save his embarassment and spare the details. Needless to say, when you meet someone like my friend JTL, cherish all that they bring into your life. Friends like this don't come along every day. Which can also be a good thing, as they tend to drink all your wine when they do ;-)

Friends

A short post this time, but just as important as my other ravings. Friends are the most important element of our lives. They lift us up when we are down, they bring us back to reality when we are really acting like d*cks!

Now you read that and you are thinking, 'yeah yeah I have friends, what is he talking about!'. But stop, stop and think. Do you have a friend, that would listen to you rant for an hour when you had a bad day at work, and not be on the other end of the line on mute whilst they engage in some other activity pretending they are listening. Think about it, do you have one? If you don't, all is not lost, there is always time to make that effort, cultivate those acquaintances, and who knows where it will lead. Remember this, a friend is for life, not just for Christmas. Hang on, is that a friend or a dog? Ahhh Nuts! Well you get the point!

The damn Dentist!

What is it about the dentist that scares the living sh*t out of me? it is never as bad as I think, and the dentist I have has hands so soft, he could use them to wipe the queens arse and she wouldn't even get as much as a minor skin irritation (and probably save a fortune on toilet tissue too). But the whole experience usually leaves me on the verge of a nervous breakdown with the thought of what could happen when he makes for my mouth with that instrument that looks like it could spear a charging rabid rhino!

So to be honest with you, nothing actually happened this morning. The very nice Maria, my capable and chatty hygienist, gave me a thorough but gentle cleaning in the way only she knows how! At the end of it, my teeth felt as clean as a nun's DVD collection. That is incerdibly clean, with a few dark secrets!

Next time, I am going to try very hard to keep my blood pressure under control before my appointment. I will try not to break out in a cold sweat, I will try not to imagine how it will feel if the dentist slices a nerve popping up through my tooth as he attempts to scrape a fleck of plaque from my molar! Wish me luck!

Daz

Blog name

For those priveleged few that happen to stumble across this humble blog, you may be wondering where on earth this blog name comes from. Well here are the facts:
1. I am English
2. I am in America
3. My future sister-in-law (Adyson) keeps telling me I am turning American.
4. So shocked and stunned by that implication, I had to vent my frustration somewhere. So it was either on this blog that no one reads or engaging in a life of perpetual masturbation until I induce a coma.

Aren't you glad I chose this blog :-)

Britney

As an Englishman, I am concerned to hear about the amount of press coverage given to the likes of 'your' Britney Spears.

Although on first glance, she woul seem like a lovely young woman who you would be proud to take home and meet your Mum (lets face it, she isn't as bad as Paris!). But she seems to have fallen off a cliff and is accelerating faster and faster towards the canyon floor! Every time she gets a random branch to grab hold of, to save her sanity, the press rips it away. But then again, can you imagine, at home with your feet up, a good cup of tea and a nice Romance novel, and your fella walks in with his own demo tape, says he wants to be Bono to your Cher. Well she picked him, she deserves everything she gets! http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9546088/

The bloody German in the cube next to me

Following on from my previous post on Cube Land, and all the joys it has to offer, I am decidely pissed off this week with the young German intern that has recently set up his concentration camp near me. Loud Loud f*cking loud! I am living through 3 months of noise related to how the train system here is not 'engineered to ze zame spezzifications' as in his beloved Deutschland. Well he might be right, but does he have to announce it to everyone within a 4 cube radius?

Now the English have never really got on with the Germans. Some of you may remember the two minor skirmish's in Europe, one the result of an odd sychophant with one testicle and a comedy moustache. Plus, anyone who knows anything about English football, will know what happens in most penalty shootouts between England and Germany. But I have tried very hard to put these feelings aside and be objective about him, and them. Afterall, I drive a German car, which is one of the best machines on the road. I enjoy drinking German beer, which certainly tastes better than the crap coming through the pump in some of the bars here. I even like the odd spicy Bratwurst covered in mustard.

But, I can't get past one fact! I can put aside his annoyingly loud patronising tone. I can pretend not to hear his accent that I am sure I heard in a 1980's porn film from a supposed plumber that had arrived to fix a womans 'pipes'. I can even close my eyes when I see he has 'shoe-horned' his walrus like body into an outfit more fitting for a homosexual sailor in a dramatised vesion of HMS Pinafore. No, the one fact I can't get past, is that despite all this....

He is still German and an absolute TW*T!

Welcome to Cube Land! Enjoy your stay!

"Welcome to Cube Land!" was one of the first things a new colleague said to me when I arrived in California. It is a strange place in some ways. These tiny personal ecosystems sprout up around each buidling and rain down on us with sights such as pictures of pets or children, the odd plant here and there, and in some of them a veritable managerie of stuffed animals, crappy toys and nik naks that claim "I got laid in Las Vegas!" - well, who doesn't?

These are places where people disappear for 8 hours most days and only surface to make a run for the restroom or the vending machine. Lets face it, if you are going to spend a lot of time there, you want to make it feel as homely as possible. The items listed above are all what I would call, acceptable items. However, people don't stop there. Recently, I saw an armchair in a cube. Now this might seem like a good idea on the face of it. But do you really want to get that comfortable in the office? I mean, I don't want to walk past that cube and see the person so relaxed that they feel the need to take strip down to their underwear and begin picking their toe nails whilst on a conference call. And whats next? A sofa? a futon? a four poster bed? I believe each company that lives in Cube Land should have a code of conduct that each employee signs when they join. It has rules on security of information, and why surfing for porn in your lunch break is a bad thing. But most of all, you agree to not get too comfortable in your cube, after all, if they wanted us to be comfortable, they wouldn't have given us the job in the first place.