Rollin

Finally I get round to writing something. It's been nigglin' at the back of my head that something is missing. This may be it. Maybe blogging a bit will alleviate this sense of emptiness. Or maybe I just need to get a job.

Oh boy, hasn't it been a Happy New Year? Obama inauguration, that little war in Israel ended and some other stuff. Yes, there was United romping Chelsea 3-0 at Old Trafford, amen for that. Tottenham haven't been giving me too much to smile about though. On the local scene our MP's are clowning, so nothing new there.

I now have a broadband connection at home, with unlimited downloads, which is super awesome. I don't pay for it. Thanks Dad. I also had a chance to rejoin Kencall on their latest account, which would have involved me, speaking in Swahili (a no can do) to starving Kenyans. It was a tough choice, but I opted out. I feel for the drones working out there on the floor. But they should feel more for me, my bank account is seriously getting depleted.

Summer was a blast, and continues to be a blast. Rock n Roll lifestyles, I've been tearing up my locals, Casablanca and Alfajiri and going on notorious 3 day coke snorting, x poppin and weed smokin fueled rampages usually ending in wild sex games on Monday morning. Then recovery begins, because Friday is round sooner than you know it. I could keep it up forever, whether I should is an entirely different matter.

As for my angel, she came back sometime last month. I'm trying to avoid her as much as possible. I focus on my other passions, such as football and drugs. So far so good. We were at a party together the other night, an impromptu affair, Guinness for the boys and cocktails for the sheilas, we didn't say a single word to each other.

Rock on.