while i'm writing

Please note the following facts:

• The cats try get in but my arse is blocking the door to the backyard.
• A little known fact about Uns Addi is that he was a member of Der Frontseite Westliche Choralgruppe.
• I survived the festival without getting laid or lying down under the influence of intoxicating substances.
• I am seriously upset about one of the two, but leave it up to you to figure out which.
• I have been offered cocaine, the main distributor of which is IKEA.
• I am beginning too many sentences with the word "I".
• Therefore, I will stop doing so.
• As usual, women are left out of the consideration of detergent policy.
• The links in this article will not become more inventive just because you keep reading.
• What you should read, though, are works by this author.
• Not necessarily, however, works by this one.
• If you think I am trying to be funny, you might be right.
• If you think I am failing, you are.
• Starting to dream in English is a good reason for writing in it, too. The umlauts are another.
• The links in this article will not become more inventive just because you keep reading.
• Reading Germaine Greer, I discovered that something has gone wrong. I can't figure out whether it concerns her book or society, though.
• The cats try to get out, but my arse is blocking the door to the backyard.
• It is dark, but it's not raining. So technically there is a good chance that the sun is shining somewhere further up north. In Bury or Blackburn, maybe.
• I am beginning to enjoy and cherish the soothing repetitiveness of the daily grind.
• Seriously, I like working. I feel part of the team. I feel my work is being acknowledged. In case you got that wrong, please reread the first word of the sentence. It reads "seriously".
• This entry runs the headline of While I'm writing, a statement which is both true and false. I am, indeed, writing - though of course not the article I intended to. Rather, I busy myself accumulating nonsensical links in a list. In bullet points. Maybe I just miss university.
• My tooth is no longer inflamed, but that doesn't mean that I had finally made some friends or were getting laid.
• The cats are back out. Cadbury has failed to word its magic thus relieving me from the oppression of lookism and legginsism and you-better-watch-your-figurism. Am I overly anxious or simply concerned?
• When I eat more, I don't feel like I should be eating less. It's only when I do eat less that I find that I am eating too much.
• This is not the right place for deep insights into the female psyche.
• I will not be called a girl - unless I will be allowed to travel for the reduced fare, that is.
• The search phrase 'british girls dress in skimpy clothes' yields utterly boring results.
• Instead of reading this, I would like to draw your attention to another much underrated activity.

squid

Okay, Squid. I showed up yesterday morning. I had put on my tidiest jeans and a white shirt, just in case. There's informal and informal, after all. I rang the bell of a really run-down old house right on the edge of the city centre - my boss, flower, opened the door and let me in. I was wearing jeans and a shirt and felt really overdressed. Flower is ... I can't even say how old, I guess a thirty something with greying hair and a good attitude. He made me feel comfortable, which was more than I had expected, considering that I hardly ever feel like that. He showed me around the premises: a printing press, some artists' studios and the office. It all looks ramshackle - and thus quite appealing to me. I am trying not to succumb to the British hyperbole (really, very, absolutely gorgeous). The other guys working there are Monk, a middle-aged Mancunian (Mancunian being the only way to describe him) and Flower's partner; Blue, the graphics designer, a real nice bloke with an understanding smile for the incorrigibly stupid (i.e. me); Kasparov, someone doing something, don't ask me what exactly - a redhead if I've ever seen one. And lots of other people whose names I can't remember and whose faces are beyond recalling.
The first day I spent booking flight, making lists, that stuff. It was unchallenging and generally what I was used to, so ... well, they thanked me and I was sent home after seven hours. I liked the work, and had the feeling they were satisfied, but felt slightly disappointed with leaving so early when everyone was staying on. Oh, well. It went fine, I felt at home and it all seemed a genuinely friendly and relaxed atmosphere.
Today, day number two, I continued doing the odd bits and bobs, as I will over the next three months. They're fun, though. I was sent out to discover Manchester - fucking hell, why didn't enyone tell me about the Northern Quarter before, I've wasted a whole weekend I could've spent on looking and drinking decent coffee - and to check on Joomla's job of doing the promotion for the festival. Well, let's say there wasn't much to discover. I hope I'll be out tomorrow putting up posters. Apparently, next week there's a few press releases waiting to be written. Count me in.
Squid, you're outspoken, relaxed, work hard (play hard?) - I like you.