Hate my job

It’s now 11.30 pm and I’m sat watching tv and DREADING going to sleep.

Normally, I love my bed, but Sundays are always different. See, I hate my job. Not just as everyone hates their job but my job has caused me depression, it has risked my marriage through my moods and has directly affected my physical health because due to having to work late I can’t find the time to effectively exercise (plus I’m in such a bad mood I can’t get the motivation to do any).

My boss makes me feel worthless and the pure fear of going in to work and wondering what I’ll get blamed for next and what abuse I’ll suffer is absolute torture. I’m trying to stay awake because when you sleep, time runs quicker and that is one thing I don’t want to happen. But I’m so tired. I don’t have much choice really.

This may sound pathetic and childish but I honestly can’t take much more.

Still, I only have 8 working days left and I’m totally free of it. Just have to hope I have the strength to survive the horrific feelings I get every time I think about that place.


I got some terrible news today and I can’t stop wanting to cry. The only problem is, I can’t cry. I have a natural reflex that once the tears start rolling, I force them back. No matter what the situation.

Anyway, on with the news. I’ll start at the beginning.

My mum and dad split up when I was about 9 or 10. I lived with my mum and it was just the two of us. Soon afterwards, we got a little puppy Yorkshire Terrier called Jake. He soon grew to be my best friend and my mum’s most loyal partner. He was with us through some very emotional times, scary times and good times. When I moved out a few years back, I did try and persuade my mum to let me keep him, but she didn’t think I’d look after him properly (I think she just didn’t want to part with him)

He’s not been a well dog. When we first got him, the vet said he wouldn’t make it past 2. That was 14 years ago.

A month or so ago, my mum told me he was blind in one eye and had diabetes. Nothing anyone could do, just old age. But he was fine and happy and in no pain.

Then comes the phone call yesterday. He can’t move his back legs. She took him to the vet and the vet said his back and crumbled.

This afternoon, she had him put down. I’m devastated. I can’t stop wanting to cry. I live quite some distance from my mum’s and I so wanted to be there with him at the end, but because my work is run by heartless wankers, I couldn’t get the time off. I never got to say goodbye to my closest and best friend.

I’m here at work, with eyes filled with tears and I want to sob my heart out and try to release some of this pain, but I can’t. I’ve never been able to cry properly. Damn macho bullshit.

I just hope and pray he’s in a better place and he knows how much I love him and I’ll miss him. You’re always in my heart Jakey…..

Bratislava Stag Do

Well, I did mention in my early blog about my step-dad’s stag party to Bratislava. Although it was a few years ago now, I feel it only right and proper to give it a good airing once in a while and share it with you good folks.

I had arranged the whole thing (my brother was best man, but he is shit and things like that, so I offered to sort it). As I’ve mentioned before, I like to think of myself as open-minded and a bit of a traveller, so I opted for Bratislava, Slovakia.

The flights were booked, hotel arranged and transfer from Vienna airport (as it was cheaper to fly there than direct) to the hotel and back.

Things started in the curryhouse on the Thursday night with copious amount of Tiger beer being consumed. The flight out wasn’t too bad, although I did hit a rough patch at one point in which the stewardess thought I was going to pass out.

We landed and were met by our tour guide (christ knows her name) and our driver. We had about an hour or so’s drive, so we all settled in. It was arranged that the first night we’d be taken out by our tour guide and shown the watering holes. By the time we’d got to the hotel, it was only about 11 am. We checked into our hotel, which seemed ok from the outside, and ventured up the 10 floors to our rooms. FUCK ME! The place was a dive!! You flushed the toilet and water came up the bath plug, the beds looked like reminants from Soviet Mother Russia and there was a hole in the wall which looked remarkably like a bullet hole! We wiped our feet on the way out so as not to carry any shit onto the street!

Even though the hotel was a dive, it was pretty well located. We had a stroll around the main square (well, between the bars and restaurants anyway) and topped up on the previous nights beer. Come the evening, we got changed and met our tour guide. She took us to all these bars and clubs and ensured we tried all the local drink. It was then decided that we should sample some of the local “hospitality”. So we ended up in this strip bar. Dear, dear me…… One of the group was so pissed he had a private lap dance, came out, then went back in for another 5 minutes later because he couldn’t remember what she looked like. Enough said me thinks.

The following morning we were up and at ’em pretty early, with vodka and redbulls being ordered in prelude to breakfast. The rest of the day was sat around the main square as the weather was gorgeous! I have to say, we all came back with whiplash as the women in Bratislava are STUNNING. Everywhere we looked, another perfect specimen walked on by. I think all the head turning and jaw dropping was the only thing keeping us sober.

The evening came on and we had heard about this other strip bar the previous night, so decided to check it out. it only being about 7.30, we were the first ones in there. As expected, drinks weren’t cheap, but the women plentiful. They came over and asked us to buy them drinks. We told them politely no and we’re just watching. On this note, a big burly doorman comes over and orders we buy the girls drinks. Again, we say no. He then wanders over, whispers something to his mate, who picks up the phone.

Smelling something fishy, we decide it’s best to leave. As we walk out, 3 more doorman come up the stairs past us. Things were getting out of hand. We made it to the street and started walking away. A car then pulls up along side us asking if we want a lift. We say no but he doesn’t leave us alone. We look back and see the doorman coming out of the club and start following us. It was then sensibility took over….. WE RAN!!! I’ve never run so fast!! We managed to lose them, but I honestly wonder if we’d have ended up being whacked by the Slovakian mafia that night!!

We go back to the main square and bump into an Irish stag party in one of the bars. We start drinking with them and all is going well, until a “undercover” policeman decideds he doesn’t like one of the Irish guys. Then the uniformed boys turned up with batons waving and it all kicks off!! We beat a hasty retreat back to one of the Irish guys hotels to continue the drinking in peace. We get a beer in when some of his mates come down from their rooms. On hearing what had happened minutes ago, one of them declares he was going to get his gun and “shoot them in the fucking head”. We called it a night at this point.

So, to sum up, we were staying at a hotel built and furnished by Stalin himself, complete with complimentary bullet holes, had the Slovakian Mafia chase us round half the city, nearly had our heads battered in by the police and then run into an IRA hit squad on a binge. There are more stories from this truly AMAZING weekend, but I can’t write about them, incase this falls into the wrong hands……..

Definitely not a weekend I will forget in a hurry!!


I’ve just found this AMAZING blog on here and just reading it is taking me back to Thailand!!

Anyway, it got me to thinking about writing blogs in general. These people who write this blog I’m reading are currently back-packing round Thailand (lucky swine’s!) and are experiencing the joys of one of the most beautiful countries in the world, so of course, their blog is top-notch with pictures and anecdotes etc. But what about us with normal, everyday lives that aren’t washing elephants in a river or learning yoga in a retreat near Chang Mai? Are our writings any less interesting?

Of course, I suppose it depends on the person. I myself find it hard to write about things that don’t take my interest or if I haven’t experienced them. So, of course, I write about my life and thoughts, dull and repetitive as they may be. I look at my stats and find people do still read my blog (not a great deal mind) so someone out there in cyber land must read it and I would hope find it interesting.

I am envious of people who have these amazing lives that they can blog about. But is the grass always greener? For instance, I bet those people had to save up for over a year to pay for their travelling, meaning they pretty much had no life for that year (unless they’re mega rich). So where I get my holiday once a year, got my nice car, clothes, house etc. will they have much to return to other than their memories?

Lucky shits………….