Living La Vida Tesco

Between night shifts, I sometimes sleep in the on-call room during the day.

One time I forgot my wash bag; so I nipped out to the nearest supermarket to get some toiletries. I went for the cheapest - after all, they were just to use as a one-off so that I'd be clean & fresh for work later that evening.

Big mistake.

There's a reason it was so cheap.
There's a reason it only cost 70p
(for the lot).

For a start, the shower gel smelt like dying leaves (not in any kind of nice way). Actually, maybe it was more like a wet dog. It was blue-green, sticky and really difficult to wash off. The only thing it had going for it was that it tasted marginally better than the toothpaste.

I have no idea what the toothpaste was meant to taste of. It can't have been mint.

The cardboard packaging was more effective than either toothbrush at getting rid of the taste of both of the above.

And the sight of "Value Razors: £0.27" should've set off alarm bells (in the same way that you'd have second thoughts if you saw a sign advertising "Free Piercing" or "Inexperienced Surgeon").

Stupidly, I let the "Twin Blade Technology" fool me into thinking they might work at all. To get rid of 2 days-worth of chin stubble, I had to use 3 disposable razors.


Disposable. Wish I'd thrown the lot away instead of using any of it...

Drunken, Disorganised...

I'm on night shifts & I'm taking a very quick break for a much-needed sit down & a glass of water.

I must've cleaned my hands with alcohol gel about a gazillion times tonight (it's a Pavlovian respose to all the "clever" posters covering almost every flat surface in the hospital).

Anyway, I was wondering: - is it possible to get drunk from the additive effects of all the tiny amounts of alcohol I've absorbed through my skin?
I'm sure it isn't (I feel abs'lutely fine, Ociffer) but I haven't got time to check Google for research studies to make absolutely sure.

If you're having trouble sleeping, why don't you have a look and let me know?

Right, back to work
(er... I think I'll just get myself another glass of water first)

-Suman-

PS. For heaven's sake, don't read the post below this one, it's truly revolting.

Upsettingly, this is a true story

A very bad thing has happened. Yuk.

I went out for a bite of dinner with the excellent stand-up comic, my mate Mike Wozniak. We went to Highgate, which is nice. The journey home involved walking to Archway, which is horrid. We stopped for once last drink at The Lion pub.

When Mike's pint was finished, an older (but not obviously trampish) chap came over and gave him a pint of Carling. "Here - it's for you", he wheezed. "I bought it for my friend, but he's left now... It's clean".

Obviously we discussed whether or not Mike should drink it - particularly in view of the "it's clean" comment. Mike drank an inch or so before he noticed that the man was doing something odd with his own pint of Guinness. With a syringe.

The man was performing the following routine:
1. Drawing up 20ml of Guinness from his glass into a syringe
2. Injecting the Guinness up a catheter tube and through his exposed cock
3. Waiting a minute or so
4. Drawing the Guinness (plus wee and bladder sediment presumably) back into the syringe
5. Squirting syringe back into pint
6. Drinking from pint glass
7. Repeat

We assumed - presumably correctly - that he had used the same bladder irrigation technique for Mike's pint. Mike made himself vomit, and we spent the journey home discussing the possible diseases that could have be transmitted.

Two things

Back from holiday.

It was lovely, thank you. Not quite tanned, but definitely off-white. (To be quite precise - and assuming the Dulux Colour Chart is a recognised scale - I'm Mill Flower W 142.)

I have learned two things whilst away.

First thing: the phrase about not judging a book by its cover does not apply to rural Spanish cafes. They should be judged.









Second thing: if you're at a spa you may well find yourself fresh out of the pool and lying on a heated sun lounger. This sensation of strange and localised warmth may prompt you to mention to your partner that it feels like you've shat yourself. Your partner will then point out that you have in fact shat yourself. This is embarrassing to explain to the spa staff. (I think the heat changes may have adversely affected my anal auto-regulation.)

PS. At time of press, a dozen tickets left for next week's Amateur Transplants and Enemies gig if you fancy - clickety tickety.

Photo Call

In response to your requests, here is a Facebook page where you can share Amateur Transplants gig photos to your heart's content. There's also the option to comment on them... (for now...)

In other news:

- Adam is away on holiday, so I doubt the rubber plant is still alive (I think it may actually be made of rubber anyway)

- Meanwhile, I've been on-call, mostly trying to glue people back together in the middle of the night - so it figures that if fewer of you stabbed each other, I'd have more time to update the blog... it's a give & take thing...

- "Unfit for Practice" is still unfit for release... think of it like a Japanese blowfish, that would kill you if you had it when it wasn't ready...

- The CD/DVD ordering page doesn't like it if you have your pop-up blocker enabled on Internet Adventurer (because it's a pop-up) so try turning it off.
(Don't forget to turn the pop-up blocker back on after you've placed your order before surfing elsewhere...)


So get on Facebook if you have, or would like to see, any nice gig photos.
I've put a few up to start you off.

-Suman-

Sementics

If you're a sex offender but the authorities haven't cottoned on and popped you on the register, are you a Pre-Registration Sex Offender (PRSO)?

In Leeds for a gig and it somehow occurred to me...