The problem of sleep.
Tuesday 23 October 2007
A pint of San Miguel and two large bourbons, please.
That's what it took to guarantee I fell asleep this morning. Before 11am.
And to make sure I stayed up all night? A litre of Red Bull, four coffees, three Diet Cokes and eight Pro Plus.
The Pro Plus, I've found, is essential. I tried the previous two nights without it, and accidentally 'dozed off' at least half a dozen times.
The thing is, all this shit can't be good for you. I mean: it isn't. At somewhere between three and five am the human body, littered with caffeine, taurine, and other essential vitamins and nutrients, starts to see shit. And stuff. Apparitions. Ghosts. Late at night withered, howling entities appear at my door, banging loudly upon it and screaming for me to help them in some disturbed, ghastly tongue. Others in the building refer to them as 'tenants'.
The thing is: Red Bull. It's all a myth. Lies. Media filth. A can of Red Bull contains less caffeine than a regular cup of instant coffee (80mg vs 100mg, on average). So a litre of that shit only gets you so far. Now, Pro Plus - that's a different animal. Albeit marginally. Two tablets equates to 100mg of coffee. A can of Diet Coke has 45mg. So let's do the math.
320 + 400 + 135 + 400 = 1255mg of caffeine.
Just to be, you know, alert and shit, whilst I'm watching the latest episode of Californication. Sans Pro Plus, that's 855mg of caffeine, which clearly puts me in 'queer' territory as it does fuck all.
What this means is that when I finally get home around nine-thirty I'm so fucking wide-awake, despite an eleven-hour overnight shift, that alternative methods beyond, you know, a pillow, are necessary to get me to the land of nod. Hence, our good friends San Miguel and Jackie D. It's all about the downers and the uppers. For eleven hours, I'm doing everything I can to stay awake, and then for 60 minutes or so, trying to stamp all over that shit.
Bottom line: I can't be doing myself any favours. Anybody know a good shrink?
posted by Sheamus @ 5:30 pm
The Mitchell Test
Wednesday 17 October 2007
With strangers, I can usually tell where I stand with them depending on where I fit on The Mitchell Test.
We have two new tenants at work - a right pair of hardcore drunks. One's 30 and one is only eighteen, but they hang out together a lot as the young'un is dating the elder's niece. Plus, of course, they both live in the project. I've yet to see them sober. Last night, they were absolutely wankered at 10pm and made, literally, four more trips to the local petrol station for a refill before 12.30am. At this point, they were borderline comatose.
However, before they rambled off to their rooms for the night (thankfully and finally), they put me through The Mitchell Test. This has happened to me many, many times. Without exaggeration, at least a dozen at my last place of work.
Drunk #1: "Can I tell you something without meaning to cause offense?"
Me: "Go on then."
Drunk #1: "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Ross Kemp?"
Me: "Yes, they have. Many times."
Drunk #2: "Who!?"
Drunk #1: "You know, Ross Kemp - Grant Mitchell in Eastenders."
Drunk #2: "No he doesn't. He looks more like Phil..."
Now, this is the hook. I have worked out that looking like Grant is meant to be a bit of a compliment, whilst looking like Phil is, of course, an insult. The reality is I don't look particularly like either of them - yes, I have a shaved head, but that's really about it. But many, many people, great or otherwise, seem to think we're blood relations. Particularly if they're wankered. And I've come to realise that I can get a fair grip on somebody's future behaviour depending on where they rank me on The Mitchell Test - if I'm a 'Grant', then we're going to have no problems. If I'm a 'Phil', then they're basically saying - "You are a bitch" - and the shit will, inevitably, and at some approaching point, hit the fan.
So don't call me Phil. Just don't.
posted by Sheamus @ 3:00 pm
Additions.
Monday 15 October 2007
We have three new tenants starting today. All blokes. If it's gonna get spicy, now's the time.
This week, I've had the pleasure of seeing the bare legs of somebody 'riddled' with hep C - not pleasant - and can bring you the good news that a can of Coke left in the fridge on your days off does not get drunk by anybody else. Miracle.
Meantime, back at my old place, several massive fights have broken out, the cops turned up and beat the shit out of one punter and maced several others (including security), one doorman was hospitalised, another broke a rib in conflict, and it all seems rather exciting.
Do I miss it? Fuck no. But this is dull, no two ways about it.
posted by Sheamus @ 2:00 pm
Update
Thursday 11 October 2007
Don't worry: I'm not dead.
At least, not yet; I might, however, die of boredom.
I realise it's been ages since I last wrote anything but the reality is I have nothing to say. It's all very quiet and very dull - the biggest hardship is staying awake.
We have some new tenants coming in over the next week or so and we're bound to get at least one mental so it might all get interesting then.
Until then... hang in there, kiddo.
posted by Sheamus @ 9:30 am
The dirt.
Monday 1 October 2007
I'm just plodding along at the moment, getting used to the sleep pattern. I think I'm there, then I'll just totally crash. It's a new experience for me. I've been here two weeks now - I think it might take a couple of months before I'm in control.
Got a bit more intel on the characters at work - one has done 16 years of hard time, eight of which was for armed robbery. The thing is, he's fifty but looks thirty-five, so he must be doing something right. Another is 'riddled with Hep C' and is, by all accounts, a 'spitter'. Luckily I've had my shots, but still. Two are professional conmen - well, one is a conwoman, and allegedly has tricked so many old people out of their pensions that three of them have 24/7 protective watch. Junkies, dealers and boozers basically makes up the rest.
All, it would appear, would slit your throat and/or sell their own grandmothers to make a deal.
And these, I'm told, are the good ones. The real scum got booted out. As said before, we're only really half-full at the moment, so Lord only knows what treasures are waiting for me around the corner.
Bring it on.
posted by Sheamus @ 7:30 am