Diary – Vuvuzelas, LinkedIn, Heartbeats, Lightning Seeds

‘You are easily annoyed,’ I said. ‘An irritable person generally; very quick to take offence when clearly none is intended.’

‘No, you are annoying,’ Steph insisted.

I had her know that, in actuality, I won the prize for being the least annoying person at my high school. ‘It was a vuvuzela,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘The prize for not being annoying was a vuvuzela. I used to play the Camptown Races on it all the time. Bzz zz zz zz zz zz-zz-zz zu-za, zu-za.

Bzz zz zz zz zz zz-zz-zz zu zz-zz za ze (and onwards ad infinitum)

‘That’s really annoying,’ she said.

I said it was actually funny, and I would prove this by writing about it in my diary. I showed her!

Then I checked my phone and saw that six people had liked my two year work anniversary on LinkenIn, and I wondered: are they taking the piss out of me, or out of LinkenIn, or out of the concept of employment in general? I decided it was one or both of the latter options, as this option was most compatible with my preferred worldview, whereby I am normal and everyone more or less conforms to the way I feel about things. I considered deleting LinkedIn, but I decided not to because I experience ASRM whenever I get a personalized message from a recruiter that I have no intention of replying to. I suppose that is why everyone uses it.

Later that day, just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I had a eureka moment. I woke Steph up to tell her.

‘I’ve had an idea for an app.’

‘What?’ she said, after I had gently-ish shook her a few times.

‘It’s an app that goes through all of your online accounts and changes the passwords to ones that are impossible to remember, then deletes them all before you can memorize them.’

‘Stop annoying me,’ she said.

Then I, for the second time that day, told her the story about the time I won a vuvuzela.

Other than that, this week I thought a lot about music. Robert Miles died, so I listened to Children, and I felt quite sad. I think that sad techno music is an excellent genre. Perfect for listening to while walking to work, doing dishes, taking the bins out, or thinking about past achievements, like the time I won a vuvuzela.

Naturally, this song led to a series of others, including Killer by Adamski feat. Seal and Remember Me by The Blueboy, which is mainly famous because Moby heard it and ripped it off 32 times over two albums and was finally able to afford the cocaine habit he had long denied himself.

Feeling that my blog was on the tipping point of escalating me to household infamy, I felt it wise to start work on my Desert Island Discs. Dear reader, this is a difficult task. You must not make the mistake of picking only after you have been invited! Don’t be the idiot who choses S Club 7 because of the wild night where you did a karaoke of it and you vomited but it was okay as it tasted like black sambuca! I think I would like Heartbeat by Annie and maybe With Every Heartbeat by Robyn, because it would be good to have two Scandinavian solo artists with song titles using the letters H-E-A-R-T-B-E-A-T in the same order. Also, banging tunes with nice synth sounds.

Then, for the exact same reasons, I guess I’d have to have Heartbeats by The Knife. It would be literally impossible to pick just one song from the sub-genre of Scandinavian dance music with the word H-E-A-R-T-B-E-A-T in it. So that only leaves four songs to cover hip-hop, britpop, national anthems, non-Scandinavian dance music and jazz. If only there was a remix of Three Lions by the Lightning Seeds that had  a saxophone solo and a verse by Snoop Dogg in it.

Which brings me to Wednesday, which was actually the day that nearly all that is above happened, but we are heading back in time to 1pm, when I met Steph for lunch at the Big Slope. We were eating our lunches, enjoying the unusual occasion of getting to eat lunch together as our offices are not near (she was at a conference near my office that day) when an unwashed couple came in with a humungous black St Bernard and sat right next to us. There was plenty of free seats, so we moved to one of them. When I went back to collect my jacket, the women was apparently offended. I explained, matter-of-factly, that their dog was a bit smelly. For some reason, she remonstrated. I, commendably, didn’t tell her that the reason she thought it didn’t smell was because she smelled also and her house smelled too. I am not per se opposed to dogs in pubs, but I MEAN COME ON LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT THING IT’S DISGUSTING. The food remained delicious outwith the odorous boundary.

After work, I played football for the first time in about seven years and I think I almost crippled Chris. I write this blog laid up on the couch two days later, still barely able to walk, having come off the better. I do not think I will play again until after I return from holidaying in Italy in three weeks.

Furthermore, if I was to have a Lighting Seeds songs in my Desert Island Discs, which I wouldn’t, it would be Marvellous—the album version which is 5 minutes 33 seconds long, although the song doesn’t actually start until exactly two minutes in, being preceded by two full minutes of ambient noise. Needless to say, the single version was 3 minutes 33 seconds long. I often wonder if the only reason for the two minute introduction was so that one day I would write an aside at the end of a blog about it solely to get my word count up to exactly 1000.

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I am an amateur novelist, an aspiring tax advisor, a cycle commuter, and a graduate of philosophy, politics and law

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