Tuesday, 8 June 2010

Band of the week - a day early but the surprise is good for you! - Primal Scream

Now I know I said less than a week ago that I wasn't really a fan of English bands, but to tell you the truth, Primal Scream don't have that Oasis/Blur sound that irritates me so much.

Primal Scream is made up of a number of characters who, live, amuse me, and when I listen to them at home just make me want to dance.  Or wobble.  Or nod my head along with the beat.

I didn't really get into Primal Scream until I saw them perform live at Roskilde 2006.  I had obviously heard their stuff, but didn't really get it.  But seeing Bobby Gillespie (vocals) and Mani (one of the most underrated but definitely insane bassists - was in The Stone Roses - look them up if you can be bothered!) doing their thing on stage to a crowd of insane Scandawegians (it's a word ... I made it up, Stephen Fry knicked it - I want royalties, kay?) whilst England got knocked out of the World Cup was amazing.

All of their albums are wicked, but if you are looking for a (not so) gentle introduction into the band, may I recommend Give Out But Don't Give Up, which has some cracking tunes on it, but if that turns out to be a bit too happy/dancy, then give Riot City Blues a chance. Remember folks, it's the four song rule.  You have to listen to four songs before you decide if you like em or not - and two that I heartily recommend are Jailbird and Rocks from Give Out But Don't Give Up and Riot City Blues from the same named album.

Happy listening, and I promise to move away from happy music!  Or not.

Decorating frenzy, MRI, and random thoughts of the week

This week is going to be a bit of a strange one in the Beefam house.  We started redecorating my bedroom (aka the lounge) two years ago, just before I went into hospital for the first time.  We stripped 100 years worth of wallpaper (where previous occupants had just wallpapered over - it was like going back in time each new layer we found!) removed the really horrid pink carpet, and burned the really dreadful pink curtains (which, I hasten to add, came with the house).

Then I was admitted to hospital, my health steadily deteriorated, and nothing (and I mean NOTHING) was done about the bare walls, and bare floor boards.  Fast forward two years, and finally we are getting round to doing something about it - hopefully it's so that Tigga can bring rich chicks home, so we can all retire, and live off her, but I digress.

Tigga has been in mega planning mode for the past week, deciding when we they are going to do what.  And today was the first day.  Which is insanity, as I have to work tonight, so sleeping for me was always going to be a problem, and Tigga got off nights this morning.  Still, the boys have managed to sugar soap and first coat paint one half of the room.  Second half tomorrow, and hopefully floors laid by Thursday!

I have my MRI tomorrow evening.  It's a 7pm appointment, which is odd, but I guess the prick consultant that I argued with after being admitted two weeks ago has realised that I may well be going insane due to pain, there may actually be something properly wrong with me.  Or not.  I shall keep y'all posted.  And no jokes about finding a brain, as I have already had an MRI, and it proved conclusively that I had a brain - or it may have been a growth.  Who can tell?

The Mentalist is going to see the GP tomorrow.  We went to see the bitch the day before we went up north, with me sitting in her office, clutching my head, and eventually getting up and walking out.  Now, I don't know about you, but to me, the fact that I felt the need to get up and walk out because I was in too much pain, should have caused alarm bells.  But do you know what this alleged Doctor does?  Nothing.  Not one single thing.  She doesn't try and look at me.  She doesn't call me later to find out if I am ok.  She doesn't do one single thing.  And I know y'all have said that I need to change doctors.  And I will.  But I am sending The Mentalist in for one last chance, to see if she does have a heart, or even an empathetic bone in her body.  And if she doesn't, we shall change, and we shall also report her to the GMC for a complete lack of care.  Again, I shall keep you posted.

The Mentalist may have a new job.  Or at least there is one that he will be applying for.  Which is a damn shame, as I had quite grown to love having a butler.  But the extra income for shoes would be good, so I guess I have to take the good with the bad.

And I am taking Thursday night off, as I really do need a break from this place.  I know I have just had one, but you probably won't have noticed I am getting a bit stressed!  So it's two one day weeks for me!  Woo hoo!  And if The Mentalist does his job properly, I might even get signed off for the rest of the week.  But we shall have to wait and see.

But I hope you all had a great weekend.  Not long til summer (and for me, it's only 18 days until Roskilde!  Woo freaken hoo!!!!!!)

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Band of the Week (a little late, I know, but stop bitching!) - Letters to Cleo

I first got into Letters to Cleo when I was at Boarding School.  I didn't fit in, so I went out of my way to really not fit in, so whilst everyone around me was listening to British Indie, I get very seriously into American grunge and indie music.  To this day, I can't really stand a lot of the 90's British bands, but that's just me being a choosy cow!

LTC were, for me, something of a change, as I have never been a huge fan of female vocalists (summat to do with being an Alto - can't actually sing along properly to women).  Still, I was introduced to them by someone I knew living in the US, and really got a kick out of them.

I find their music happy, and to be honest, isn't that really why we listen to music.  Even death metal can be happy, if it strikes the right chord in you.  And I will hold my hand up and say there is some music in my history that really should remain there.  But to this day, when I hear "Here & Now" I want to jump up and down (which is silly, as I would just fall over!).

So a short but sweet post on a band did disband, but have since reformed, and make me happy.  If you want to put a smile on your face, give these guys a listen.

Next week, I shall (work permitting) do a bit more on metal - which is the only reason y'all stop in, I know.  I might even do it this week, as work have pissed me off so much, I am going to take more me time, and do less work time! 

Complaining again!

But then again, why else do I have a blog? And for my faithful few, I apologise for being the moody bitch of note recently, but hey, when you just gotta vent, you gotta vent.

You know what is irritating me the most about all the shit that is going on is that I don't even have the time to catch up with blogs. It isn't that I don't love you, it's just that I don't particularly love myself at the moment. And work are being their usual arsey self, so I am not even having enough downtime to write, read, or just generally realise that the world aint that shit, it's just the situation I happen to find myself in at the minute.

The Mentalist and Tigga have been such angels. I (who NEVER cries) have broken down more times in the past month than I have in about 10 years. It isn't good. And I am not a pretty crier. I hate people who can get away with crying, and they just look cute, or sweet, or nice. Me, I sob, which makes my face go bright red, my nose compete with Rudolf, and I end up looking like I have done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson. Which is a look no-one can get away with. So to them, I apologise. I will sort myself out, I promise. Just continue being you, and continue loving me without restrictions. I put enough of them on myself, so thank you for just letting me get on with it.

To the faithful readers, and lurkers, I thank you for being you. For not knocking me when I am down, for quietly being a support network I so desperately crave, for just being the beautiful people that you are. When I find me again, I am coming to find each and everyone of you - especially you, Soccer Mom, and give you the hug back that you have been giving me. I love you! And the first bottle of vodka's on me! Not literally! But you know what I mean.

So to main whinge of today's post. Hopefully all you nice people will have given yourself a pat on the back, or a hug, or even a glass of wine, and will have buggered off, so I don't have to bore/upset/irritate you in to not coming back to visit.

I have already spoken about the hole that is the company I work for. Every day before I come into the office, I sit on my couch and dread what I will come into. The work itself is fine. I have no problems with the people that I work with. I just hate the company. I work for an outsource company, which means that their number one fcuking commodity is people. You wouldn't think that if you were to see the way they treat us.

They have this policy whereby there can only be two people off per shift. Which is fine, if they ensure that the two people are doing the same job. But no. Unless it is management, who can do whatever the fcuk they please, it is two people per shift full stop.

I came in last night to do a training exercise. Not on anything new, obviously, but shit that we do every day in our jobs. Now call me old fashioned, but surely if I were unable to do the job, it would have been picked up by now. But the training team feel they have to justify their jobs, so we get to do a stupid training exercise.

Every single day there is some new rule and regulation that we have to adhere to, and I was chatting about it with a colleague who said to me "well, at least we have a job". This is exactly what they want us to think. So we will carry on bending over further and further, whilst they continue taking the piss, and not rock the boat. I am fed up with being treated like a production line. I am a human being. I may have issues, but I do have feelings.

The time has come. It isn't just work, it's life in general. We are being shafted, people, and it is time to start the revolution. I don't know how, but I am the revolution, and I want my fucking life back.