"It seemed like a good idea at the time." That's probably what I'll say in court some time later on, when asked about this blog.
I'm the maintenance drone for a smallish property in a major hotel chain. I'm an Army of One with no backup, less competence and I really do not give a shit about my customers any more. Which makes it hard to clean up their messes day after day, but a paycheque is a paycheque.
I'm a Brit, living in the US and loving it. I came here for your women (well, just one of them), your jobs and because I just wasn't getting fat enough living back in Blighty. I'm sort of an arsehole, thanks to a spell at Wal mart and working the hotel front desk, because I ran out of patience. I used up a lifetime supply in a couple of years working with The Public. I'm fat, foul and approaching fourty and would dearly love to kick the shit out of my 17yr old drop-out self.
This blog is probably going to be irregular, oddly spelled (for you Yanks at least) and rambling. Just like me. I'll digress into foaming tirades at the drop of a hat, say things that aren't PC and link-whore to anything that tickles my fancy. I'll waffle on about stuff that happened in the Way Back until you'd swear I'm wearing an onion on my belt. I'll demonstrate ignorance, arrogance and flatulence all at once, but hopefully I'll make you laugh at the same time.
So, pull up a stolen office chair, sit back and enjoy the paint fumes. I know I do.
