La la la. Nothing to see here, move along please...
Oh alright, I lied.
All week I have been hounded by various creditors for non-payment of debts. This is a direct result of SGUK shenanigans in Manchester. Which were well worth a week of hellish debt collection phone calls.
Today I solved all my financial woes with the aid of a nice lady at my local bank, who noticed that I earn quite a lot of money, yet am constantly over my overdraft limit. She pinned the blame squarely on obscene interest payments due to ill-advised loans in a previous life. Then she gave me some sort of shiny new 'priviliged customer' bank account and showered me with favourable interest rates. Now I appear to be paying off my debts more quickly by giving them less money each month. This must surely be some sort of black magic.
In other news, I spent last night in the company of a good friend and her man, who were visiting from NYC. She's an ex-colleague, and left the company we used to work for to take a megabucks job over in New York working for the man. I jokingly asked her if she had a job for me too, now that she's been promoted, and she told me with a straight face that I could have a job if I wanted one, and her company would sponsor my green card and citizenship application. Apparently I am to email her once she gets back to the States.
I no longer know what to do next. My only aim in life is to emigrate to the West Coast of America and settle down there with a nice design job. A trusted friend is offering me half of that dream on a plate and I'm terrified.
A fire engine just passed my window with half-naked ladies hanging out of every possible window, screaming. It's called the 'Fire Engine Limo' and specialises in transporting hen night parties around between bars, whilst entertaining them by having a full crew of stripper blokes in firemen's outfits.
Very odd, very noisy, and probably worthy of mention.
Tomorrow I am excited about.
Tomorrow is an annual event, and the biggest night out of my year.
Big Bad Voodoo Daddy are playing at Glasgow's Barrowlands, promoted by Vegas, the nightclub to end all nightclubs. Basically, the venue gets transformed into a giant speakeasy for the night, dancing girls line the corridors and stages, handing out Elvis Dollars which you can gamble in the casino to win cocktails aplenty... the Fly-right Dance Company give lessons at the start of the night and demonstrate their skills on the 'floor all night long... the DJs spin a heady mix of cocktail, lounge, swing, rockabilly and country... and at midnight BBVD take the stage and blow all the hepcats and bobbysoxers away. Vegas is the only club in Scotland people actually dress up for, and the annual BBVD spectacular is the night to end all nights.
I have a new suit hanging at the ready, and there's a surprise of a black velvet dress awaiting my good lady when she wakes up in the morning.
Should be a good 'un.
Oh alright, I lied.
All week I have been hounded by various creditors for non-payment of debts. This is a direct result of SGUK shenanigans in Manchester. Which were well worth a week of hellish debt collection phone calls.
Today I solved all my financial woes with the aid of a nice lady at my local bank, who noticed that I earn quite a lot of money, yet am constantly over my overdraft limit. She pinned the blame squarely on obscene interest payments due to ill-advised loans in a previous life. Then she gave me some sort of shiny new 'priviliged customer' bank account and showered me with favourable interest rates. Now I appear to be paying off my debts more quickly by giving them less money each month. This must surely be some sort of black magic.
In other news, I spent last night in the company of a good friend and her man, who were visiting from NYC. She's an ex-colleague, and left the company we used to work for to take a megabucks job over in New York working for the man. I jokingly asked her if she had a job for me too, now that she's been promoted, and she told me with a straight face that I could have a job if I wanted one, and her company would sponsor my green card and citizenship application. Apparently I am to email her once she gets back to the States.
I no longer know what to do next. My only aim in life is to emigrate to the West Coast of America and settle down there with a nice design job. A trusted friend is offering me half of that dream on a plate and I'm terrified.
A fire engine just passed my window with half-naked ladies hanging out of every possible window, screaming. It's called the 'Fire Engine Limo' and specialises in transporting hen night parties around between bars, whilst entertaining them by having a full crew of stripper blokes in firemen's outfits.
Very odd, very noisy, and probably worthy of mention.
Tomorrow I am excited about.
Tomorrow is an annual event, and the biggest night out of my year.
Big Bad Voodoo Daddy are playing at Glasgow's Barrowlands, promoted by Vegas, the nightclub to end all nightclubs. Basically, the venue gets transformed into a giant speakeasy for the night, dancing girls line the corridors and stages, handing out Elvis Dollars which you can gamble in the casino to win cocktails aplenty... the Fly-right Dance Company give lessons at the start of the night and demonstrate their skills on the 'floor all night long... the DJs spin a heady mix of cocktail, lounge, swing, rockabilly and country... and at midnight BBVD take the stage and blow all the hepcats and bobbysoxers away. Vegas is the only club in Scotland people actually dress up for, and the annual BBVD spectacular is the night to end all nights.
I have a new suit hanging at the ready, and there's a surprise of a black velvet dress awaiting my good lady when she wakes up in the morning.
Should be a good 'un.
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
i've left an attempt at a motivational post on the edinburgh meetup thread. 'tween us we'll whip them into shape, sarge *salute*
any ideas on venue?
Instead of putting country we should be known by our local so as we can find each other or ignore, whichever is apt'