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Haw Bobby, where's the bevvy shop? Jul. 16th, 2006 @ 01:41 am

Everybody seems to have given up on Livejournal these days, poor thing's obviously been overtaken by that flashy newcomer MySpace. Jumped-up little tart of a website that it is. As a result of this i think we can basically look on anything i now write here as talking to myself, a prospect i find strangely relaxing. Still obviously not going to reveal things that are genuinely important to me though.

Back in Glesga with nae job and a massive overdraft which i was oblivious of in Madrid, else i might have been a little less free with the plastic in the record shop. I do have the most bangin' tunes in town, however cannot afford to provide even the most basic of finger food and fine wines and consequently have to enjoy said tunes alone. Until i find gainful employment, that is.

Last night i went to the Barfly with various horrible individuals. Drank a lot of vermouth and Irn Bru before leaving the flat. Danced to "Roadrunner". All in all the night was about 80% shite.

Just watched an epic 2 hour film about Glastonbury which among other things reminded me of the best dream of my life, the one where me and Bobby Gillespie were looking for a bevvy shop. This dream left me with a lifelong affection for ol' Bob, specially after his hilarious tales of crazy japes with the boys from the 'Mary Chain. They showed ye Primal Scream doing "Swastika Eyes", think it was from last year. I think Bobbby (we're on first name terms, ken) is actually quite cute, in a kind of ravaged junkie sort of way. I find that devastatingly attractive in a man. The lovely Madrid Holly actually had a thing for wee junkie-looking guys with shaved heads and wee skinny arms, what a mad bastard.

I can't really get my head round the fact that i am, in the immortal words of Take That, back for good. I want to go back to Spain soon, me and Holly and the bold Natalie were planning to jump a cheap flight to Barcelona then mibbe swing by Valencia, i then want to meet up with my friend and go to the seaside. That friend is in Portugal on holiday the now, i'm getting a postcard! More people should send real post. I'm getting quite into it these days, now that Jessie and Dan are away down in England and i've got a postie brother to keep in a job.

I don't like knowing you read this and try and work out what i'm up to. Now i'm just going to write things you don't want to hear, out of sheer perversity.
Current Music: Caetano Veloso - El Ultimo Cafe

Needless to say, I had the last laugh. Jun. 21st, 2006 @ 08:22 pm
Buenas tardes.

It's aw aboot the football here in Madrid, have been going to the Plaza Colon to watch the Spain games alongside 8,000 drunken youths. It's great, they get the big screens on the go and everybody stands on the top of the monuments and fountains, and then when they score the whole place explodes and everybody starts screaming and jumping and waving flags and letting off flares and fireworks and all the rest of it. Only marginally more exciting than an away fixture at Airdrie then.

On a less jubilant note, last night i went to watch England - Sweeden in an Irish pub with Jessie and Dan (both English). Happily it was full of Sweeden fans, with only a small crowd of fat bastards in business suits in a corner representing everything that is shite about English football supporters.
Was favourably disposed towards the Sweeden fans becasue of them not shouting "CUNTS!" at families with small children, and because they put me in mind of a Sweedish heartthrob from my Russian class in 2nd year who i always secretly wanted to marry and become Mrs Katherine Ericsson. Obviously it was NOT because i've been brought up to be a wee vindictive bastard who will instantly support England's opponents, no matter who they are. Ahem.
God aye, and there was this occasional mention of a World Cup victory. Here, what was that about a World Cup? God did ye'se win a world cup? Fuckssake i'd forgotten all about that, when was it, 1967, aye? Wankers.

Today i've been at the pool for a bit, was rammed full of teens hurling each other into the water though. Paul's cooking a fancy "Moroccan-inspired" dinner tonight which is absolutely lovely.
Only 2 days of school left, then we're off to the Plaza for the football on Friday night, going to Cuzco for a day trip on Saturday, final piss-up in the flat on Saturday night then 4 solid days of doing fuck all down the pool with a few chilled Mahou and then i'm back in Glasgow,laden down with duty free fags, chorizo, fans and all the rest of it. See you all shortly!
Current Music: Camaron de la Isla - La Luna Llena

Blow it like you mean it! Jun. 5th, 2006 @ 08:12 pm
Good evening.

Everything is muy bien in Madrid, the summer has definetely arrived, it's at least 30 degrees pretty much every day now. Thank fuck school's only on in the mornings now, trying to motivate 25 pissed-off, overheated five year olds to do "Heads, shoulders knees and toes" at 4pm was really not an easy way to make a living.

The outdoor pools are open now too, there's a huge one right beside the girls' flat which i have been at for the past 3 days running. It's fantastic, you just lounge about reading and getting lovely and hot, and then when it's too much you chuck yourself into the freezing cold water. Magic. Have a comedy white bikini suntan, can't do too much about it really, unlike the vast majority of women here (wrinkly grannies included) i'm not quite ready to go topless at a busy swimming pool. How very British!

What else have i been up to? Hee haw frankly, pulled an all-nighter on Thursday then had to go into work in the morning, and teach an entire class of P3's by myself (there's always another teacher there). I hardly ever do any real teaching anyway, just games and all that shite so as ye'se can imagine it was rather anarchic.
That night we went to a supremely shite nightclub where they played dreadful techno and the sight of a man without a greasy mullet was very rare. Me and Holly had the misfortune to witness a some young lovers going at it in one of the manky toilet cubicles, i mean they had the door shut but they were kind of small, saloon style doors so ye could see the charming suitor's tracky bottoms around his ankles, and then his gelled hair frantically bobbing up and down...and they say romance is dead.

Talking of mullets, i no longer have one since i went to the hairdressers a few weeks ago and got it all chopped off. It's a kind of Mod, 60's looking bob with long bits at the front, i like it but it's usuallly a complete shambles because i'm too lazy to get out of bed early enough to fix it up.

We recently discovered the joys of downloading videos off the internet, mostly shockingly pish pop videos that i cannot deny loving. Sean Paul obsession goes from strength to strength. Am also very fond of Kanye West's "Golddigger" although it has a shite video. And i suggest you ALL dowload DJ Alligator Project's timeless classic "Blow My Whistle, Bitch" and follow my example in listening to it while making the dinner, chucking salad ingredients into the bowl in the style of a pilled-up raver doing that "dealing the cards" dance move...

Talking of pilled up ravers, had a rather comedy night at one of Madrid's most famous gay clubs with the ladies and Dan's classic Cockney boyfriend, was quite happily out my tits, dancing to my beloved Sean Paul as requested by the lovely Dan (Miss Germany). Came home for the most disastrous attempt at a game of poker in the history of the world, everybody forgetting the ranking of hands, getting up to move around, etc etc.

Much more successful game on Saturday night, when the ladies' flatmate Paul cooked us all ( me, the ladies, the Belgien flatmate and his pals) a magical curry and we settled in for a proper tournament. Bawheid here was first eliminated, how embarassing. Holly went on to absolutely hump everyone else, much to the dismay of the Belgian flatmate's Argentinian pal Pato who went from cocky macho card sharp to destroyed heap of lost dignity slumped across the kitchen table with his head in his hands at the shame of being beaten by a girl. Nae joy son!

Today my mother sent me The List in the post! Hilarious. Had a dream about being back in Glasgow last night, am getting quite excited about it now. Ye'se won;t recognise me with my new haircut and hilarious sun-tan!

This Cramps song is an absoulte classic and my own personal anthem judging by any re-reading of this journal in which it seems that all i do is drink and take drugs. I smoke fags too, from time to time - just so that the rebellion doen't get tedious, ken?

Ye know i'm all talk, am just off to have a salad for dinner. Take care and let me know what everybody's up to. Keep the night of the 29th free for a healthy piss-up, roight?
Current Music: The Cramps - Let's Get Fucked Up

Unconvincing transvestites and boabie overload May. 29th, 2006 @ 06:33 pm
Buenos dias.

Christ it´s hot here. Think it´s about 35 degrees today, the unconvincing transvestites in the plaza on my way back from work are fully decked out in their summer finery, very short shorts seem to be the in thing this season.

Hilarious Friday night in a very gay disco, full of pills and wandering round dead spac ed out among all these giant men with their shiny chests exposed. Holly and that were overjoyed because they played Destiny´s Child live in Hawaii all night, i was pretty happy myself on account of the SEAN PAUL, fantastic.

Aside from that it was a quiet one, in the park all the time with beers from the Russian grocers, and a few awrite vegetarian meals with my mother and her pals. Went to the Prado the other day, best thing by a mile was the Bosch tryptich the Garden of Unearthly Delights. Also went to the hairdressers with Holly, via the pub where we had a few stiff drinks. Foer a haircut inarticulately and drunkenly requested in a foreign language it´s surprisingly good, quite short though.

During the space of 2 days there i witnessed 2 total strangers exposing their boabies to me and my pals (separate incidents, not the two of them at once), then a guy getting a doing outside an old man bar by my house by the fat, irate barman, guy was totally unreasonable and started belting the pished customer with a club, then the customer wrestled the club out his hands and we all thought the barman was in for a serious mauling, but the hero just flung it over the fence into the roadworks on the new metro station.

Started teaching a group of p7s on their own at lunchtimes, today one of them told me he´s got a trial with the youth club at Real Madrid, their keeper Casillas is also from the shite suburb i work in so keep an eye out for wee Sergio in future.

Ah i just booked my flight home, back on the 28th of June at half five. Am trying to cram in as much FUN as possible before i leave, will mostly miss the girls and Lavapies, the area where i live which is undoubtedly the best neighbourhod i´ve ever lived in. Not much competition really, Hyndland´s hardly a bangin´ party haven and Maryhill was good but nothing on Lavapies.

We are the winners, of Eurovision... May. 23rd, 2006 @ 08:47 pm

Have been forced to amuse mself very cheaply these past few weeks, am utterly skint and canny afford to enjoy the famous Madrid nightlife. Have instead been reduced to buying very cheap booze from Lidl (Not even gin! Vodka, for christ´s sake.) and dressing up as a Eurovision contestant:
Bawheid in the corner there gieing it laldy with the Kylie pose, magic.

Apart from that thrilling night, i also went to a party thrown by the same crew as the Blind Man Incident party, it was not bad but full of snide girls. On the way home i´d had enough of all of it and when a car of guys drove past and shouted the Madrid equivalent of "Awright dolls", i let fly with every offensive phrase i´ve learned during my 8 months here, which are evidently more offensive than i thought given the torrent of abuse that came flying back. "You look like a hoor" was my favourite, and this was even before the mania for intentionally dressing like an Eastern European hooker for entertainment. Classic.

Yeasterday i had a shocking day at work, they chose the very day i went out to the old man bar for lunch to decide they ugently had to speak to me, Assistant Head was incredibly rude and has earned my undying hatred. Couldn´t face it this morning, went to the 70´s tiled OM bar for coffee to perk me up before the ordeal and it actually turned out ok, had some laugh practicing with the p7s for their English exams. I should definetely have gone to a secondary school, am truly hopeless with the wee kids, much prefer it when there´s the prospect of patter on the horizon.

After school i went to a ceramics exhibition which had some piece done by one of the teachers at school who doesn´t thoroughly despise me, was expecting it to be utter trash but it was quite good fun. A very fancy do, in the gradnes of the Ministry of Agriculture building, with waiters in bow ties offering round trays of prawns and caviar, and free bevvy which yours truly predictably got hammered into. I´m so embarrassed how much better my Spanish is when i´ve had a drink, they all just kept saying "Oh you´re so FUNNY!" which was a nicer thing to hear then "I don´t even think you understand what i´m saying" (said to me by Asst Head in the middle of a conversation, what do you think i am, a total fucking idiot? Of course i understand you, bitch, i´m just not saying anything because i can´t stand to be in your presence and don´t want to prolong the encounter. Cow.)

Anyway, that´s all he exciting news, tomorrow night my maw arrives for a visit, then Thursday is payday so i´m getting a haircut then searching for a club hat has an outdoor terrace, apparently there are hunners and it´s supposed to be 28 degrees at the end of the week so we´ll just stand outside, with a cool gin and tonic, magic.

Apologies to anyone currently sitting their exams for that last paragraph, hope all goes well´. Ye´ll soon be finished and i´ll also soon be back in Glasgow, clearly the combination of these things will make ye very happy.
Current Music: Bangin´ bhangra music in the internet cafe
Other entries
» Wild scenes of celebration

Today is the Fiesta of San Isidro, the patron saint of Madrid (his wife was cannonised as well, making them the only sainted couple in history, pop pickers) and thanks to this fucking hero i've got the day off work. It easily 30 degrees and very sunny, and there is free live music on all day in all the parks. The city is full of old school Madrilenos dressed in traditional costumes, the men in white shirts with red neckied and special bunnets and the girls in red polka dot dresses with white shawls and roses over their heads.

Just woke up, have already had 2 beers in a thoroughly successful attempt to stave off a hangover. Last night i sat in the park by the boating pond and watched the sun go down, total festival atmosphere with lots of youths hanging around drinking and playing the drums, sounds gash but it felt like being back in Budapest and i was quite loving it. During the night Danielle accosted a guy trying to thieve Holly's bag, Dries my wee Belgian pal got forced to go to a flat with some dodgy geezers and pay 40 euros for what turned out to be a wee wrap filled with cotton wool (UNLUCKY son), and we were brought the wrong tapas by accident, this last event leadin to me eating a slice of toast with baby eels on top. Mmm.

Have been in the park this whole weekend, we just bring hunners of fruit and sit there all day playing poker. Suntan coming along nicely. Back to work tomorrow, dreadful prospect. Just found out about a concert happening next weekend, a collection of seminal works of electronic music, in the planetaruim. In the planetarium! Bit of Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream, watching the stars, what more could ye want?


14 May 2006
It was an emotional afternoon at Peterhead but at the end of it Thistle won promotion back to the First Division.

The afternoon got off to the worst possible of starts when Martin Bavidge fired Peterhead into an early lead. An almost immediate equaliser from Mark Roberts, his 22nd goal of the season, hauled Thistle level on the day and just one goal behind on aggregate.

It didn't look as if it would be enough though. In the second 45 minutes Peterhead twice struck the post. The game was deep into injury time when a Billy Gibson free kick was deflected, off whom no one is quite sure or cares, into the net to send the tie into extra-time.

There were no further goals in extra-time and it wss down to penalties to decide the winner. Mark Roberts, Sean Kilgannon and Billy Gibson all scored for Thistle and after two peterhead misses Will Snowdon was given the chance to clinch the tie. His effort was saved but although Peterhead scored with their next effort Paul Ritchie scored his to spark wild scenes of celebration among the travelling Thistle support.

» My love life

Last night i went to a party in an artist's studio opposite the head offices of the Banco Sabadell, dressed in a lovely skirt i got out the second hand shop, dark green and adorned with flying geese. So far so cool. THEN, i got hit on by a fucking blind guy! Dan caught him in the act, check this photographic classic.
His patter was absolutely shocking, at one point he told me "The light shines out of your eyes". No trying to be snide, but how's he going to know? Needless to say seconds after this photo was taken i'd done a runner, but it had to be shared with ye all. A blind guy. Come on now.
Here's also a picture of me blowing out the candles on my birthday cake!
Happy Birthday
Classics, both.
Everyone who made me a CD for my 21st is an absolute classic, there's not been a single shite one amongst them. Katherine Nicol's one was the general favourite amongst the Belgians who live with my pals, seriously, people were clamouring to get it on Skip's one was Holly's favourite though. Anyone who wishes to show off their musical skills by whipping up a wee compilation for me, feel free, just wap it over to sunny Espana at the usual address.
» Terrifying

Right, a tragic confession: Even though this country is overpriced and expensive, and i take far too many drugs while here, and things turn out differently to how i'd imagined and i end up disappointed, and you can't get a decent squid sandwich for love nor money, i still don't want to go back to Madrid. I was pretty indifferent about it the last time, but now i can't stand the idea of being back in that fucking school with all those dickhead teachers and their stupid office politics and petty fights, and sitting on the train for 2 hours every day, and living in a flat with folk i don't even like and never feeling properly at home, and cockroackes the size of cats all over my kitchen. Fucking shite.

A wee note here, i suspect the reason for my severe depression is about 35% due to actual reluctance to leave Glasgow and 65% due to the after-effects of Saturday night's misbehaviour.

Someone i know described me as "terrifying" last night. I'm quite offended, never would have chosen the word to describe myself before.
Haven't packed any of my stuff yet. Now that's really terrifying.

However, let's try and look on the bright side here:
» I fell in love
Mmm me and Shona had a big Subway on the way up the road, feel rather nauseous now admittedly, but it was an undeniably great sandwich.

Went to the Cathouse, shoddy but quite fun, guy tried to dry ride fuck out of Shona on the dance floor. frankly the best patter of the night outside of folk i knew already was blatantly to be founf out on the fire escape amongst the fag smokers, there is something to be said for this smoking ban, if only as a patter generator.

Ive had suchna dgood time inGlASgow that i dont want to go bakc to madrid, althought there's only really 2 months more and im back to the shite wewather and expensive fags, pure love it though. It;s been so good to see ye'se all, cant wait til i live here agfain, although i suspect the novelty value of the cathiousem will soon wear off.

Casnt belive Stweart composed a song trying to entice Michale back to Glasgow (sample rhyme: "Wiegy, Wiegy, come back to Glasgow, on Sundays we can go to Optimo")! somnebody compose something to entice me back, bunch of dicks.
» A few civilized glasses of Buckfast
Well hi there, hot stuff.

After such a sleazy opening line am well tempted to write the whole entry in the style of a sleazy pervert, but then again all the entries are written in the stlye of a sleazy pervert so it was a daft idea.

As we can see, i'm back in Glasgow, the city with the most ridiculous weather in the world. Can't believe it was snowing today. Last weekend i was sitting at a table in the street having lunch with the ladies in the blazing sunshine. Ye'se will all be asking, "Why the fuck did she come back to this godforsaken country?" and the answer is, i was dead homesick and was getting these alarming Irn Bru withdrawl symptoms.

Have been acting like a vacatiopning fuckhead since i got back, cajoling people into comeing out drinking with me every night. On Thursday i was barely off the flight when i met up with the lovely Madrid Holly and her pals to stote about the town for a while full of MDMA powder. After a brief Nice n Sleazys interval i ended up in the basement of some old man bar dancing wildly to "Voodoo Ray" with lots of complete strangers.
The next morning i went to the supermarket where i worked when i was 17 with my mother, on a comedown. Was so fucking spaced out at seeing all the labels in English and recognising folk i used to work with, not least the headcase checkout girl who always has loud conversations with the customers about weird subjects. Maw forced us to go to her till becasue "She might be a bit mental but she's very efficient, not like some of these plooky wee guys they've got in here". Luckily the girl didn't recognise me, surely a direct result of my new haircut.


Pure, Spanish mullet by the way. The place is rife with them, every day i see more and more extreme examples. We used to have a policy of rating them from one to ten but then a few fucking stratospheric ones came along that blew any ratings system one might have aspired to into oblivion. Seriously now, i'm talking long and curly at the back then gelled into spikes on top, or the whole head entirely shaved apart from a triangular patch at the back that sprouts a waterfall of hair down the back of the proud bearer's sleveless denim jacket (no t-shirt underneath). In the face of all this, what's a girl to do but succumb to the power of the mullet? Fuck all, i'm sure you'll agree. Have already successfully walked past 2 people i used to go to school with avoiding recognition, thereby extricating me from the fucking "What're ye up to these days anyway?" conversation. God bless you, Spanish mullet.

On Saturday the night was kick-started with the glorious combination of seeing Shona again and immediately settling in to the old routine of watching peculiar comedy (Green Wing, 5 minutes of that rips the arse out of anything i've seen on Spanish tv in 6 months) and getting drunk. Cheeky Pete turned up looking suave as fuck, and we Joe Baxi'd it down to the ABC for a smoke free night of indie antics. Slunk outside for a fly Lucky a couple of times but the shocking climate is edging me towards the non-smokers camp. Dancefloor smelled as if someone'd shat on it, seriously. Was practically begging someone to light up just to disguise the stench a bit, but it was admittedly enjoyable that my clothes and hair didn't absolutely reek of fags the next morning. Met various shady characters in there, ended up back at Ally McRitchies flat with him, Shona, Dougal and a boy called Tarin who i went to primary school with, canny remember the guy at all but he was a pure riot and we spent the whole night shouting about wankers we once knew.

Sunday i went to Fopp and spent loads of money on fantastic cds, a compilation of psychedelic Brazilian pop music from 1968 (called Tropicalia) and yet another Rough Trade compilation, the country one this time. Tropicalia one is an absolute belter.
Dropped in on Holly who it was lovely to see, went out with her later on in the evening. Events began with a rancid pint of Tennents in Curlers, EUGH what a shite start to the night. Matters rapidly improved as we went to Sleazys for a few civilized glasses of Buckfast (no, really) then to the Barfly where they were playing excellent early 90's dance music and i danced like a complete wanker and shook my arse more than anyone else in the entire disco.
Following that undignified display we started talking to some lawyers (predictably druggy bastards) outside and ended up in a lock-in at a sushi bar opposite the old Odeon, Holly was enthusiastically getting off with one of them and the other one was locked in the toilets cramming half a gram of coke up his nose, felt like a spare prick at an orgy so walked home in high heels for the 3rd time in 3 nights, painful.

Tonight i went to Nicol's house where she cooked me, Mark and Shona an incredibly hot stir fry and we all (Katherine excluded) drank a bottle of wine each and they got me up to speed on all the hot goss.

During the week i will be cramming as much socialising in as possible, am off to Death Disco on Sat which will undoubtedly be a riot, aside from that we have Nicol's birthday on Wednesday and Bonnie Prince Billy at the ABC on Tuesday, an event i believe i'll be attending alone since i got ma bro to buy the ticket without seeing if anyone else was going. Aw well, will just dress all in black and stand at the back looking cool with my big Spanish mullet.
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