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Tuesday 24 February 2009

Manuel in the countryside and other issues...

sleep...
...I needs it


I got a text message from the Glorious Leader one Monday night recently which read,

"Lvn @ 2 dnt b lte. (:"

I peered at my phone with the puzzled look of a 36 year old man, mainly because I am a puzzled 36 year old man but also because I had no idea what it meant. I peered and I puzzled. I scratched and I wondered. Eventually I set it down and went back to watching a rerun of celebraty chef/crazy scientist, Heston Blumenthal, take on the culinary "outrage" that is the Little Chef. All the mock horror and sneering was getting to me a bit so I went back to the phone again.

Seriously no one does sneering and mock horror better than a celebrity chef on a crusade to save something/make themselves all heroic. Okay some waiters have been known to ham it up a bit when you arrive five minutes late for your reservation, and by some I mean me, obviously. But have you seen Kitchen Nightmares? It's an hour of overreacting, faux outrage and sneering which inevitably ends in the making of a chicken casserole.

Every fucking time.

But the message puzzled me. I wondered what had happened to his vowels - had an upturned glass of water robbed him off his vowels? Had he lost his vowels in a particularly odd game of chance with a Chinese cardsharp? Who knows what happened to his vowels!? In the end I passed the phone to Little Miss Manuel who immediately translated the cipher to read, "Leaving at 2, don't be late. "

"Right! Leaving at 2, don't be late. Obviously. Sake why didn't he just say that then? And what does he mean don't be late? I've never been late for anything in my life!"

Correctly assuming that our relaxing and slumbersome evening was coming to an end Little Miss Manuel went home.

"But what does this mean?" I asked and held the phone out at her like a deaf person with a piece of paper trying to order food.

"What does what mean Manuel?", said the remarkably narky LMM who was clearly getting upset with my line of questioning. Although in retrospect there is every chance it was more to do with my running commentary whilst watching TV.

"This open bracket colon thingy, I mean what's that all about?"

"That? That's a smiley face", says she as she left.

A smiley face?

From the boss?

A smiley?

Face?

From the boss?

For the love of Jebus what is that all about? This, from the man who recoils in horror when someone tries to shake hands, he's sending me smiley faces? Mother of Mercy, how odd.

I had forgotten that the boss and the head chef had planned to go to some restaurant for a snoop and had asked me if I wanted to go. I didn't want to go but a free lunch is a free lunch eh?

So come two o'clock I found myself sitting in the front seat of a rather unkempt car with a grown man who likes to send smiley faces to his staff and the head chef who hasn't cracked an actual smile for about three years. Awesome way to spend an afternoon I can tell you.

"So boss, where we going then?"

"Ards?"

"Scuse me? Ards? As in Newtownards? As in not in Belfast anymore?"

"Aye, that's the one."

I spent the next five minutes muttering to myself. You see I'm not a fan of leaving the city. Okay that's not really true. I'm just not a fan of the many small towns, hamlets, and villages that masquerade as cities and the inhabitants contained therein in and around Belfast. I don't like the way everybody knows everybody else or the way all the shops are run by the same family. I mean how can the same person who runs the bar be the same person that runs the funeral parlour that runs the petrol station. It's spooky wrong that's what it is. Plus they don't take kindly to men with wonderful and elegant man bags. Troglodytes.

But there was nothing I could do about it now, I was strapped in and going to Ards whether I liked it or not. And I did not like it. But location aside I was out for the afternoon, mixing with the le grand fromages from work and I was grumping? What the hell is wrong with me?!

It's a time thing you see or rather a lack of time thing. I need more time. I didn't have time to be galavanting and brown nosing with the big boys, I could have been writing. Honestly I need an extra day in the week, an extra hour or four in a day and several thousand large in the bank. I have projects and work piling up at a rate of knots and sleep has become a inconvenience that just slows the whole process of work/living/blogging/writing down to a complete halt. So a free trip into the wilderness with the boss and the cooker monkey in-chief was all just a hassle I could live without.

But it shouldn't be like that.

Something has to give folks or I am for an early grave. That said, someone smart ass did remark the other day that I must be relieved that I can no longer die young. Cheeky fucker. I have things to be doing and not enough time to be doing it. So just like car plants all over the world and with immediate effect Well Done Fillet will be moving to a three/four day week.

And when I get my load lightened and am able to sleep again I will return to full production. Until then I'll see you every other day. And for the record lunch was good but I had no earthly idea what they were saying.

Country folk......pfft....

35 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

Anonymous said...

So that's a 500 word post to say you don't have the time to do 500 word posts every day (and that you could have said in 30)? You're doing irony again aren't you?

Manuel said...

99 words: I was well aware of that fact but carried on......you should have seen the first edit.....

Red Mum said...

I read that as 'loving at 2' :)

savannah said...

i hate txtspk ;)

xoxoxo

Jenny said...

texting makes my head hurt.

Manuel said...

Red mum: oooh that would have been a worrying text......

savannah: it's so hideous.....

Manuel said...

boxer: yes....I am no fan of texting.....but ironically I love it for bringing Little Miss Manuel and I together.....

Anonymous said...

So what is it then?
No, let me guess...

You're working a second job? No.
You're having a an affair...with one of the waitresses....or waiters (have to please everybody)? No.
You're pregnant! No.
You've developed an enjoyable but deeply destructive drug habit? No.
You're studying for a GCSE in Home Economics (muffin and cupcake making for the Yankee language manglers) because being front of house is sooo last year and you fancy a crack in the kitchens or even just craic in the kitchens or more likely, knowing chefs, CRACK in the kitchens? No.
You're in a huff because you didn't win again (you're a winner in my book) and why should you slave over a hot Mac night after night, cracking funny after funny, when they won't give you a prize 'cos you're from up there? No.
You're writing a book.

Manuel said...

99 words: oh hell yes.....to the last one....I've stopped and started many times and thrown many huffs along the way......but now is the time! forward to bargain books!!!

I've tried but I cant do both at the same time......and they wont pay me at work unless I come in so.....something had to give....

Megan McGurk said...

You're right.
Get the book done.
We'll wait for daily posting.

Manuel said...

medbh: as somebody once said about somebody else....."I haven't [completely] gone away you know".....

Anonymous said...

Get that book done. If you need a spokesperson for the book over here let me know.

Old Knudsen said...

A book that fails to mention me no doubt what a loser you are. Have you never heard about this medicine called speed? I can tell you about all my old contacts in the city, they may not look like doctors but they must be right?

Where did you go to in Ards? the Beefeater? I know how the story ends, they stop the car at an old shed and whey-hey surprise bumsex.

The Mistress said...

I just post pics of Irishmen's big hairy arses without any text at all and everyone seems happy enough.

Anonymous said...

how unfair for you not to supply (for free) something for me to look at during the day when I should be working, just because you want a bit of sleep. Sake!

English Mum said...

I suppose I'll just have to get used to it *sigh*

Mind you, I was always impressed with daily blogging anyway. I only post when I can be arsed. xx

Anonymous said...

But, but!.. I rely on this daily to kick me into gear at work - or neutral at least.

I've noticed that same family owning bar and funeral home phenomena in small towns around this island too. Bastards.

Barkeep O'Keefe: Well, Dave. How's Tommy doin' dese days?
Dave: Ah, he's not so well.
Barkeep O'Keefe (interest piqued): No?
Dave: Doctor O'Hara says he needs to lay off de sup or he'll be in de ground widdin a mahher of munts.
Barkeep O'Keefe (surreptitiously polishing a glass): Is dat so?

Enter Tommy.

Barkeep O'Keefe: Ah Tommy 'tis yerself. Pull up a pew dere. Chaser on de house fer ya gud sir.

Red said...

Welcome to the 3 day week!...I'm not a text fan either...to be honest I'm not much of a mobile phone fan....I've taken to leaving it at home during the day...oh the peace

Manuel said...

steve: I may hold you to that.....but lets walk before one is running.....

old k: actually now that you mention it there was an unexplained two hour gap in events......I may dedicate a whole chapter to the pancake house.....

mj: no, no they aren't.....

it's all about him/her: I am a cunt....no question

english mum: you shall have to learn to love less of me and live your life accordingly...

PRyin: it's as dodgy as it gets.....

red: what's that like.....?[dreams of it]

Anonymous said...

Ards is in the Country? Where I live Newtownards is the 'big smoke'!!!

Manuel said...

anonymous: ha ha ha ha, yes very true.....when I lived in Armagh we were considered "city slickers" by the people from Blackwatertown.....eek

White Rabbit said...

I never understood why people move to the country. If you are born and bred there yes but move there from the city? They have less stuff there

Manuel said...

le nord: welcome! yes why do they do it.....? seriously, makes no sense.....why just this morning I popped out for a coffee and a bagel and home again before you know it.....cant do that if you are a bog trotter.....

Anonymous said...

Well, if you're cutting down to a three-day week in order to facilitate some serious Mac-bashing, I'll look on it as a pleasure deferred to dry my little tears.

The only good meal I've ever had in Ards came wrapped in naan and was devoured in the carpark behind the kebab house in South St... mmm.

Barlinnie said...

Newtownards by crikey.. I was there once on the quiet.

Very very quietly..

Anonymous said...

You have a great blog and i look forward to reading more from you as time allows me. I can relate to being busy. Hope to hear from you. I would love to exchange links with you just let me know. -kayla

Tuesday Kid said...

Yeah the country is weird. Especially the Ards peninsula which has something of the wicker man (+ buckfast) about it.

Anonymous said...

Arse my comment's disappeared.

Good luck with the book, I hear it's what all the cool kids are doing! :D

Can I have your number, I send non-smiley texts I swear.

Killer said...

Your desk was very interesting!!!
http://desked.wordpress.com

Manuel said...

Datsuncog: man I could murder a kebab right about now....seriously.....

Jimmy Bastard: yeah not so welcoming for large chaps like you with hoops and what have you....

Kayla: maybe.....we'll see

Tuesday Kid: couldn't have put it better....

Ponies: cool kids? me? Well I never...

Killer: as Frank Carson would say, "It's a cracker"

Unknown said...

Slacking off to write a buke?

Good man.

Anonymous said...

Ards eh?

Next thing you know, you'll find yourself in the city of Lisburn!

Anonymous said...

I noticed you ignored my number request!

:D

Queen of Denial said...

;-) it's a lot quicker than typing semi colon hyphen close parentheses, no?

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