Hi, my name is [insert name speaker here], and I am an alcoholic.
And they call it Alcoholics Anonymous. Anonymous? There’s nothing anonymous left after the introduction.
Yes, I am strangely bothered by this kind of meaningless, random stuff. And no, I do have a life.
One of our first works as Marcus&HeinZ, is next Monday, 28 April, to be shown on Dutch prime time television in the program ‘De Wereld Draait Door‘. It’s the new music video from the band Zuco103. The song is called ‘Nunca Mais’ and it can be listened to on their MySpace.
Oh, and did I mention that we’ve only just started, like a month ago. And already on prime time television. Yes, I’m proud. Now I want to go and celebrate. Luckily, Dex has to perform tonight and we already decided to go to West Pacific. I have a sense that Oh What A Night Part II is about to be born.
They told us (Robbert and me) to come and join them at Paradiso.
Thei, Robbert and I went to the cinema this evening. After that, Rob and I decided to go and drink a beer in a pub nearby our house. There were two girls working, and one, who also works at the same bar, sitting there. They played good music. From Rolling Stones to Snow Patrol. From Stereophonics to Oasis. From Hooverphonic to Voicst. It was very pleasant. After the last round, we even got away with a last-last round, by giving them our ‘begging smile’. Then, Rob asked the question: “what to do now?”. The answer was simple: “Paradiso”. The idea was that we would go and they would join us later.
Rob is the responsible one, so he decided to go home and get some well earned rest. I, for one, doubted a little. I was on my my way home, but then I called Rob. He told me I shouldn’t be a pussy and get my ass over to Paradiso. And so I went.
When I entered, Claudia, a former colleague, was working. I drank some beer with her, while chatting about the good old times. After fifteen minutes, the girls from the bar came in. But did they stop and say hello? No, they didn’t. They did saw me, but they refused to see me. It was clear to me, they couldn’t care less about me. Well, I couldn’t care less about them too, so we have that in common.
Right after that, I spotted Seeltje. Another ex-colleague. We had a good time, danced a little and drank some tequila. But then I met her ex-boyfriend. He totally ignored me. Since I’m used to that I didn’t give a flying fuck. But then Seeltje told me that he was jealous of me. Why the fuck would a random guy, whom I’ve never met, be jealous of me? It appears Seeltje had told stories about me and therefore, this guy, hates me. Yes? Great!
Seel told me she “wanted to fuck him” that same night, and she didn’t want me to cause any trouble. At least, that’s what I think. So I went home.
And the girls? They didn’t pay any attention to me.
I love being impulsive.
Friday has always been the best day in the week. Well, at least according to me. I’m a big fan of the friday-afternoon-drink-at-the-office (I’m also okay with the friday-afternoon-drink-in-the-pub). But it’s been so long since I was at an office (any office) on a friday afternoon, that the whole friday feeling has vanished a bit. I just realized this, sitting at home behind my MacBook (why say laptop if you own a Mac?). My friends in Venlo mostly start their friday at 9.30 PM, while in Amsterdam, we start at 4.00 PM. You see the difference? The whole idea of the friday-afternoon-drink-at-the-office is gone. Just like that. It’s time I get a grip on my study and finish it already. Then we need to find an office for Marcus&HeinZ. And then we need to reinstall the friday-afternoon-drink-at-the-office. We’ll even make it official by implementing this into the companies values and beliefs.
There’s a “meet and greet” going on at the office where I work. This means that potential employees meet up with clients under the supervising eye of Randstad personnel. It’s a bit crowded in the front, where I usually sit, so I’m tucked away in the back. With nothing going on.
My boss just came in and asked what I do on an evening like this. This conversation actually took place:
Me: “Well, pretty much nothing.”
He: “You wanna like gossip?”
Me: “Sure. We can also talk about football.”
I love it here.
EDIT: A guy is strolling next to my window. He’s watching me while he sips his beer. What a tease. The bastard.
Question: What is a pronoun?
Answer: A noun that lost its amateur status.
It’s worth a shot. Maybe you’ll get extra points for originality.
How I wish you could see the potential, the potential of you and me. It’s like a book elegantly bound, but in a language that you can’t read - just yet.
I have got to hand it to them: it has been a while, but it was worth the wait. Ever since they released their first album on a major record label, back in 2005, it has been awfully quiet around them. Was it worth the wait? Yes. Oh yes. And will they possess my heart? They already do.
I have started a new job at the 24 hour service of Randstad Airport Services. The job is actually pretty nice and laid back, which I’m not used to. But, it also involves working a night shift. Hence the "24 hour service". An airport never closes, so why should an office that is responsible for people working at said airport? Seems reasonable to me. So, my alarm is going off in four hours, and I can’t get no sleep. I’m a nightcrawler, always have been. I like nights. They’re so quiet and peaceful. I’m at my best at night. So the night shift should suit me.
PS: one of the reasons I can’t get no sleep at this ridiculous early hour may also be the f-ing car alarm that has been going off for like an hour. Car alarms are overrated.
EDIT: All in all it wasn’t that bad. The only problem was that from 11 AM on till 3.30 PM I was knocked out. But the idea that you’ve already made money while everyone else is going to their jobs is pretty funny. This fact hit me on the train, where I saw all these agonizing, silenced faces of people going to their jobs/university. And I was going home to my warm bed. I like nights.
Taking the night train puts all train traveling in perspective. Sure there are weird people traveling by day, but at night, the train is the kingdom of the outcasts, crackheads and the drunk and disorderly.
It was last Saturday night when me and a friend took the night train from Utrecht back to Amsterdam after a night of excessive dancing. Two girls joined me and my friend in the booth we were sitting in. Giggling, like little schoolgirls. I frowned. For a couple of minutes they couldn’t get a hold of themselves. So I asked, to break the ice: "Whatever crack you’ve smoked, have you got some left for me? It seems like good stuff." The giggling stopped and was replaced by an awkward silence. I’m used of people not getting my jokes, so I’m also used of people not laughing at what I think is hilarious. My buddy laughed. But then again, it’s mostly his line, the crack-thing.
The girls started talking to us. Well, talking, it was mostly me trying to make fun of them and them by not responding to my inappropriate responses (are you still following this?). I didn’t like them. But then again, I usually don’t like crackheads.
