Umm

This isn't going so well any more, is it?

I am still here - but have been made redundant. I am concentrating on somehow trying to pass as Owen Wilson so I can go to celebrity parties in my free time.

I wish I'd concentrated in school

I've never been very good at languages. Throughout school my French was peppered with Welsh whilst my Welsh was often confused completely with German. I stopped learning French when I was 16, Welsh ground to a halt when I was 17 and my German education terminated at the grand old age of 18 after it clashed with Physics and, aside from the exchange trips and trying to impress German girls, Physics was more fun. Since that time I've been to a number of different countries and each time I've pretended that I was fluent in the local language, my previous linguistic education coming in handy when applying rules to a new one. All this has created a strange mix of vocabularies and grammatical rules - I give compliments in French, greet people in either Welsh or Canglish*, ask politely for things in German, thank people in Lettish, swear in Italian and can sometimes be spotted in Ikea being a bit of a dick and correcting everybody on their pronunciation of the furniture. But I don't actually speak any of these languages and it's starting to bug me, so I pick up a 'teach-yourself' book and settle down for a couple of hours in the evening...

"Heike Graf kommt auch aus Dresden, nicht whar?" asks my teach-yourself German CD, my brain whirrs and clunks as an appropriate response is formed, "Nej, Heike Graf kommer til Salzburg" spills out of my mouth and my eyes scan around for the correct answer... Wrong! I had somehow replied in Swedish, damn my stupid brain. At least I'm safe in the knowledge that I know where Heike Graf is from, even if I can't tell anyone other than the Swedes. The frustration continues as I randomly throw in Swedish words and inflections as I read through the accompanying German book. After thirty minutes of pathetic translation and pronunciation (I sound like a cheesy German pornstar who's spent the last two years holidaying between Stockholm and Cardiff) I throw the book onto the table and out of sheer frustration shout "TESTA DI CAZZO!". The Italian in the room next to mine shouts back in a motherly manner "Curly! Mind your language!" It's not my language, I muse - and at this rate it never will be.




*Canadian English. eg.
Cool/Awesome = Cawesome
Proud but Guilty = Pruilty
Hello, how are you? = Whadduup!
So, is there anything interesting happening = 'sgoinaan?
I don't think that's right = That's fucking retarded dude.

Suspicions Confirmed

Below is a facebook message transcript between me and a friend of a friend of my girlfriend (Foafoafomg). I'll keep updating the post if it gets any juicier, but it probably won't.

Foafoafomg: your gf might be talking behind your back
Curly: What do you mean?
Foafoafomg: shes good at that
Curly: It's not a problem, girls generally do that. Thanks though.
Foafoafomg: yw loooooooooooool
Foafoafomg: if you dont wanna know the details ohhhh welllllllllllllll lol
Curly: You can tell me if you like, but if it's about me then I probably know already.
Foafoafomg: probably not
Curly: Is she planning to kill me?
Foafoafomg: Yup exactly.
Curly: That sucks.

Smooth moves

"Why don't we crave healthy foods when we're drunk or hungover, why is it always high-calorie and high salt content foods?" I asked an argumentative looking Sud. I followed it up with an impression of myself, "I was sooo drunk last night, I can't believe I had that smoothie after the pub!"

We came up with our own theories, based only partially on fact but eventually decided that the answer would be found on the internet once we were home. Which is where we headed three pints later.

I woke in the morning displaying slight signs of a hangover, the dehydration was there along with a slight taste of dead hamster in my mouth. I set out for work and headed down the street, salivating at the numerous breakfast cafés I passed. The further I walked along the road, the stronger my cravings became - I imagined myself devouring a freshly fried piece of bacon sandwiched between two thick, white slices of bread along with a smattering of ketchup. My mind drifted and left this plain for I don't know how long before there was a 'CLANG!' as I walked straight into a metal advertising board. A slight "fuck" left my lips as I looked at the offending object, 'Take away one of our delicious smoothies' it read. I paused for a second and recalled the previous nights conversation, before I knew what I was doing I'd marched into the sandwich bar and said "One smoothie please".

As I waited for the smoothie, I recognised a local bouncer sitting at one of the tables, 'Funny' I thought, I wonder if this is a sign telling me that I'm being offered protection because of this healthy choice I'm making. I smiled slightly to myself at the outrageous thought but the smile turned to a laugh as three policemen walked in and also took a seat. Applying the same logic, this re-enforced the idea that I was on the right path. This was confirmed (no puns here) as two vicars entered the building shortly afterwards.

I sipped the smoothie as I strolled the rest of the way to work, the day seemed a little brighter and everyone seemed to be smiling. I'm looking forward to making a return trip tomorrow morning.