repetitive stuff ... repetitive stuff ... repetitive stuff ...

Life is repetitive, repetitive I tell you, repetitive life it is, oh how repetitive life can be ... did I mention how repetitive life it is?
That being said, there's no surprise I'm at work again, just after sipping some coffee which I try to convince myself every morning that it's not good for me, waiting for lunch like a coyote for a dying ... hmm ... for a dying anything (it's surprising how open minded coyotes are about their diet) and remembering how yesterday evening we did the same thing like a week ago. Is that repetitive or what? I went to the gym with Marco and then we met Christina and went for a dinner and a pint. To be absolutely correct to actual facts, I had two pints: Guiness and Hoefgarden (or something ... german/dutch spelling is not my strong point ... my strong point is, as we all know it, my intelligence, only surpassed by my christianic modesty and humility).
Marco said he has a surprise in store for us and he didn't want to reveal the place we're going to. I thought, my, I love surprises, and when he took us to a Fish & Chips shop, it was a surprise alright! But hey, after coming from the gym, you can be generous with your intake of fatty foods. To be fair to him, it was a shop that we wanted to visit a while ago and it was supposed to be one of the best fish and chips shops in London. Boo hoo! It wasn't too bad actually, but it's not something to do every day, unless you're training to become a Sumo wrestler.

So here I am, sitting at my desk, thinking how repetitive life is, coming to the same office every day, being a little piece in this well oiled mechanism called society. Phew, I need to pull a sickie soon! :-) I'm so relieved Marco's not my boss, every day would be a sickie then! ;-) No pulling needed! Yeah, we're sick when we get together, but hey, it's just for you sane people to look at us and appreciate life more by saying to yourself "Geez, thank god I'm not like them". So, long live the sick people! Even the terminally ill ... well, for a while! Actually we're good at heart ... but you don't wanna hear that sloppy story!

What's the plan for tonight? Ah well ... thanks for asking! We're going to a persian/iranian restaurant in West London. We'll probably be about 10-15 people. The ridiculous thing is they don't sell alcohol on the site, so we have to take our own bottles. So let's stay in the letter, not the spirit of the law, ok? The iranian cuisine is abundant in meat, very very heavy stuff, it needs to be diluted with a red wine ... now if I knew enough about wines I would say ... a Cabernet Sauvignon 1976 ... but I don't, so any red would do. Blasphemy! as my french colleague would put it... We zon't zrink vine to get zdrunk like in zis country. Yeah yeah, french are so much more virtuous than everyone else. Wha'eva!

Q: Why do the French smell?
A: So blind people can hate them too!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the French, but it’s so funny to make fun of them :-) (my try to save the political correctness of this blog)