Rubbing alcohol

You might have noticed that I have not been blogging religiously lately. Well, it's because after the Ibiza trip, I feel like I have nothing to blog about my life or somebody else's life at all. My life is a complete bore at the moment and it's get really cloudy nowadays in the costa del crime (it's suppose to be as hot as the Sahara desert this time) which makes everything more uninteresting. I tried to write about a lost friend but decided to phone him yesterday and he answered the phone and said that he is still alive and kicking. I was ready to bash and give a good go at him for not calling, texting or emailing me for a whole month but good thing I didn't post it here because it turned out, he's one of my loyal readers.

Work is even unspeakable. I won't even mention anything about it. My only consolation with work is the fact that I am entertained by guessing what time my (female) officemate will turn up with her never ending, colorful (though most of the times drunk) tales of excuses for tardiness. I am thinking of doing a bet with the others. 20 euros for right guess whether she is arriving, or not, or what time, but I don't think even the gods will ever win this game.

My other (male) officemate is a basket case. He turns up to work alright though Mondays for him is still part of the weekend. He goes to work hammered. I kid you not, 90 fucking percent of the time, he is pissed! His smell is mortifying. Sometimes I think "Am I really going to work, or to an AA meeting?"

Problem with these colleague of mine, I think they are alcoholics though they said they're not which is a sign that they are indeed alcoholics because alcoholics do not admit that they are indeed what they are. Am I making any sense at all? I sit between these two in the office. Sometimes, the hang over vibe in the room is just so overwhelming, I feel like passing out or throwing up endlessly.


I think they feel they are still on a long vacation. They work, get paid, then get pissed everyday. I can't blame them. I mean getting out of Britain is like getting out of prison after a decade and obviously they want to get the most out of the weather, the beautiful surroundings and the cheaper booze.


Anyway, even if they are chronic drinkers and pathological latecomers, I like them both (except the smell of course). They are quite younger than me but they have wicked sense of humour and we have a camaraderie which makes us in some way or another not only officemates but also friends.
Like right now, I should be working but no, I'm blogging. He is chatting on MSN and she's checking out the latest Britney story in the Sun online (she was caught before so the admin had to lock other Internet sites so she can't surf, but hey, she's a clever girl).



A whiff of alcohol is in the air. It's time for lunch, and we're having wine down the local café . Adios.