As some of you will have noticed, my trip to Brizzle was canceled on Wednesday morning just as I was about to set off. I can be grateful that I was not half way there when I got the call. Since then, I have been in meeting, documentation and philosophical hell. My problem lies within the fact that I cannot be half-pregnant. I am either fully engaged or I am completely disinterested. At the moment I am full steam, which probably makes some people uncomfortable. C'est la vie.

Anyway, that is ennui to you guys.

What else? Well, for once the weather is worth praising. I continue to love the heat. Nothing pleases me more than to look down at my forearms and see a dull matt sweat on them. That means it is optimal Kenny temperature. We got up to to 27 celcius today -- I guess that is about mid to high eighties. It was fantastic. When you have to shower twice a day, you know you are in a good zone.

I'm not in a position to speak about the news since I fully intend ignoring it until Tuesday. Everywhere you turn, tennis is the subject. Once Sunday's final is out of the way, maybe I will start listening to current affairs again.

I did have a chat on Facebook with a lass I know from way back in my early working life, who I was in love with for many a year. She has since moved off to Asia and has settled with husband and kids. We were discussing teaching. I am not a fan of the English system. I pretended to go through the motions and came out with an adequate education, not a brilliant one. It served its purpose to get me into a job, whence the real learning started. My friend's view, having been in Asia for over 10 years, is that the English system lacks a world view. At first I was skeptical. Then I realized that my baseline was US education and media. The US is very introvert in its teachings and press coverage. I complained about that while I was there. But as I spoke to my friend, I realized that I am but one level up from the US system. I was taught about about different religions (in Kenny world > /dev/null) and a couple of wars but never to appreciate other cultures. Thankfully, I was never brought up to scream "Go UK" apart from when there was a cricket or football match in progress.

For all my lambasting of Europe, I do understand it, and I do like it. The politics of it drive me to distraction, but I appreciate their values. My biggest eye-opener was when I moved to the US and started doing business with Asia. US companies have no idea how to alter their mindsets to deal with Asian values, to the point of being rude. The same is true when they deal with Europe but to a lesser degree. Nothing hones your sensibilities like having walked a mile in another culture. Maybe you cannot teach that but I'm sure you could lay a foundation.

L's point is to be seriously noted. While we criticize the Muslim world and the Asians for their cultural differences, we are no better. And that is a shame, because they have a lot to teach us.

Don't worry, I will not be wetting the bed soon, but a little mutual understanding never hurt anyone. And if you can build that into kids, it cannot be anything other than good.

Reyt, I'm tired and am going to watch an hour or so's TV before I hit the sack in preparation for another day of fretting. Forgive me if this one is a bit lame -- I am nodding off as I type. There are probably typos too so mea culpa.

I have just let rip the longest stream of expletives I have ever conjured up. For once they were not aimed at someone else. They were aimed firmly and squarely at me. I am an idiot (dissent is encouraged at this point).

Tomorrow is June 30th. When does my car tax expire? Tomorrow. Epic fail Kenny.

I've been a bit pre-occupied with something at work for about a week now; this is what has riled me into a trip to Bristol on Wednesday. It has worried me so much that I have neglected things that were not flashing red in front of my nose hence the ignoring of the road tax. To give you some idea of how focused I have been on the problem, even my boss has gotten weary and sent me an email saying that I am sounding like I give a s**t. Last time I was this worried, I became belligerent and got my own way, followed by a small bonus for doing so. I don't expect to be rewarded for belligerence but hey, what's a Kenny to do? I'm either right or I'm not, and we all know the mantra don't we?

Now, in true Jack Cafferty style, my question is this: if I pay online tonight, will it be legal for me to drive my car on July 1st (Weds) sans tax disk? Step up young Stan.

In other news, I have re-appraised Regina Spektor's Far. Those tracks that the jury was still out on have been deemed pretty good. Blue Lips still stands out by a light-year as being the best -- quite possibly the most perfect song ever. I remain adamant though, that track 9, Dance Anthem of the 80s is about as pants as it gets. Les (from Vic and Bob's Big Night Out) could have done better with his Bontempi organ. Apparently Spektor played at Glastonbury and the BBC covered it. I had no idea she had seeped into England so fully. I will be cruising iPlayer for that. I keep looking for UK tour dates but her gigs seem to be NY state and Philadelphia (the odd SF one). Criminal -- the first tour of England that Tori did, I managed to drag a squillion people to the Leeds gig; I'm sure I could do the same here. Even my mother would go. Along similar lines, Fiona Apple needs to tour the UK -- she needs more international exposure.

Right, I am getting back to my European roots tonight and hitting the goulash. I made the fatal mistake of asking the Head Gerty at work "Möchst du ein tabbenzen?" via IM earlier today and he seized upon the Germanic side of the family and my plans for total world domination. I await the accusation of my abusing our Polish network-Nazi -- according to some procedure or other, we are encouraged to talk about religion with our colleagues. All I did was ask .pl about his Godless communism. Some people are just so touchy. You just cannot win sometimes.

It has to be said that I am loving the weather. This is how it should be.

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon in self-indulgence, ironing in 88% humidity and feeling at one with the world. May and June were my favorite times of the year in Minneapolis. You get some lovely heat and then amazing storms. While the rest of the family were in the basement, I was the idiot non-savant who was on the deck with his camera.

Maybe my memory is bad, but I don't remember a prolonged period of heat and humidity like this since I was a kid (I think it was 1976). Long may it continue, only let's have a few really good thunderstorms.

I would be sorely tempted to go and buy some garden furniture so I can sit outside at the back, but I would guess its life-expectancy to be approximately one night before I was relieved of ownership.

In other news, I am annoyed. With the exception of vacuuming, I have no jobs to be done in the house. I think I'll just head outside and poison random green things to maintain the yard as God intended it: paved.

If there is one thing that interests me less than Wimbledon, it is Michael Jackson. What are the only two topics of conversation in the office this morning? You guessed it. I really could not give a fish's tit. I only know of this because Rachel Burden was on Five Live this morning -- a rare treat, so I suffered the news content -- I love her to bits.

Much more newsworthy is the death of Farah -- the passing of totty is always to be lamented.

Yes, I'm feeling particularly obnoxious this morning. You should be pleased you do not work with me, because I am going to be hell to be around today. The only saving grace is that I arrived before 07:00 so will be departing early, thereby reducing the amount of time you would be in contact with me.

Update: I think we have broken 2 comment records. 1) Sheer volume. 2) Biggest distance between subject of the post and its relevance to the subject of the comments.

[Uh-oh. If Kenny apologised profusely for a silence of... half a day, was it? then what am I supposed to do, after not having produced a post for weeks?]

Hello everybody!

Waiting to hear from The Powers That Be about yet another job that I will most likely not get, and feeling really annoyed about this whole recession business (what with my personal slump mirroring the global slump), I started thinking about how people handled adversity in my old corner of Eastern Europe: mostly, they made cynical jokes and consumed large quantities of Slivovitz (a sort of plum gin, about 94 proof, the kind of drink that would rust your watch... which is why they wisely pour it down their throats and not on their watches). I am deficient in at least one of those skills, never having managed to down a drink stronger than sherry.

But I've been reading all sorts of economy-related news, and there is plenty to be amused (OK, cynical) about. I just had to share this little gem, and give a shout to all of you across the Pond: Go USA! ...Best horse in the glue factory! (that phrase had me smiling for hours.)

Don't you love it when they get all folksy about the economy? It's usually a bad sign, but terribly entertaining (especially for us foreigners as we get to hear new, fun phrases). I remember Ronald Reagan's "a rising tide lifts all boats"; when the banking crisis started last year, we had Warren Buffett (2nd richest man in the world) pointing out: "only when the tide goes out do you discover who's been swimming naked" (and what a perfect counterpoint to Reagan -- didn't anyone notice?) Buffett is known for his pithy comments; I imagine that the worse his funds perform, the folksier his annual report to the shareholders (I bet the last one had them in stitches).

More fun for troubled times: Freakonomics, home of several insightful studies; appparently, most people cannot tell a cheap wine from an expensive one, and dog food from duck liver pate' (although, in praise of the human race, it should be pointed out that most people noticed dog food tasted worse than the other stuff they were presented with in a blind tasting -- they just weren't sure it wasn't pate'...) Freakonomics, the book, is also a good read.

I am left pondering another Warren Buffett-ism (which Mr Kenny Guevara might like to borrow for his own revolutionary purposes): "Should you find yourself in a chronically leaking boat, energy devoted to changing vessels is likely to be more productive than energy devoted to patching leaks". What does this mean to me? Not sure. Right now, I feel like I:
a) couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery;
b) couldn't find a moose in a phone booth;
c) couldn't fight my way out of a wet paper bag.
I do, however, know my ass from my elbow. It's a start.

Good night... I love you all to bits, as they say in Yorkshire (not sure which bits, so don't ask.)

...where logic is confiscated at customs.

Riddle me this one:

When I moved in, I got a council tax bill (to finance the swathes of bureaucracy) through the door. I paid my first installment and sent back a form saying that I was the sole occupant so was entitled to a 25% discount. Five weeks later, I received a letter saying that my statement had been accepted, the amount reduced, but that I needed to pay about £99. I have no problem with that. What I have a problem with is that the letter states that the deadline for payment was two days before they sent the letter. I would like to throw my hands in the air, raise my eyebrows and mutter "only in Wigan" but the realist in me knows that this must happen all over the country. Where there are local councils, there are buffoons and God awful IT systems. Is it any wonder that public sector IT people earn less than private sector?

I was going to relay the strange tale of the alarm clock that has gone batshit but my food has just arrived. Duck in plum sauce with noodles. This stuff is better than sex. Well, okay, better than sex with me. I have about a metric ton for £7.70. It will feed me tonight, tomorrow lunchtime and tomorrow night. I really could live on the food from the Peking Palace on Poolstock.

Update: Utterly divine. Now what we need is a sashimi delivery service and I will never have to turn on the oven again.

I would love to explain my silence but I can't.

I have theories but they must be kept under wraps, because I am quite good at doing that.

I'm also livid at some random decisions. So much so that I am descending on Brizzle next week with an attitude. Every now and again I get above my station in the Megacorp and I have to go there to explain in words of one syllable why they are wrong. Politics is a waste of time.

In the meantime, I am trying valiantly to avoid anything to do with tennis. Wimbledon is a non-event. All it does is fuel estrogen. I've missed every piece of radio about it because I, quite frankly, do not give a rat's arse. If the cat lass starts on this subject, I fear I may have to get the Vanquisher involved.

In the meantime, I bought Regina Spektor's Far and am far from impressed.Blue Lips is ace but the rest is a bit amateur. Out of the five albums I have of hers, you could probably make one corker. 'Tis sad.

I'm off to snuggle up with my quilt. It makes anything after 05:00 gorgeous, especially when the sun dances all over you as soon as it can. That is the greatest way to wake up ever and you never know what might happen when you wake uo feeling good.

I should have been in bed two hours ago but have been glued to the TV. I've been watching Occupation. Good, Freakin'. God. That is the best piece of television I have ever seen. I rarely choke on TV shows but when <spoiler>that happened</spoiler>, I shouted "God, no" so loud that next door would have had good reason to bang on the walls. It was gutting. I'm emotionally exhausted.

I'm not sure whether the BBC's iPlayer works outside the UK, but if it does, for my favorite furriners, watch it. It will rip you to pieces and then not bother reassembling you.

Before I forget, I wish to point out the dodgy geezers across the road. Three men at one doorstep, with two looking scanning for who is watching is never a good thing.

Albert managed to barbecue on Friday night while the rest of Clan Albert and I sat inside. Albert subscribes to the high-protein diet which meant that many pigs, chickens and cows were put to the fire. In sympathy for our vegetarian chums, he did produce some cheese to put on the burgers, which were quite literally divine. I could have gone burgers alone, but Albert insists on a varied diet so forced pork chops and chicken down me. The bastard.

Mrs Albert produced something green. I have no idea what it was but in true Godless communist style she forced me to eat it. I do believe I ate my most hated of foodstuffs within it. I have seen pictures of these horrors so I am confident in saying that I think I ate a tomato. Shudder.

Yesterday was a day of domesticity. I was a thing possessed. After two and a half months, the house no longer looks like I moved in yesterday. My new ironing tools were abused so next week I will continue to look like I am owned. I rewarded myself with a trip out to the Stag with the Vanquisher where I dutifully won an obscene number of pool games.

Many weeks ago, I happened to have Mark Kermode on the radio as I was traveling back from Bristol. I have long suspected that I hated him but was not sure. For some reason, he was talking about Robin Hood on the BBC and he deemed it, in the vernacular, pants. This goaded me into watching it. Ever since, I have been hooked. If you could prioritize the Sky+ recordings, Robin Hood would be at the top of the pile. It's just fantastic entertainment. Every Sunday, I am glued to the TV for an hour, and every Sunday I am sat wanting it to be next Sunday so I can see what happens next. I think that in my near future, I can see a trip onto Amazon to buy all the series. I think we can call it catnip for Kennys. What it also does is reinforce the theory that Mark Kermode is an idiot. Apparently he has a PhD. I can only assume that his PhD is in talking bollocks. Rob, add him to the list if you would be so kind.

I am now away to tackle the Observer crossword, order some food and then sit back with some Ultimate Force with the utterly gorgeous Heather Peace.

It has been a top weekend. I hope yours was as good.

I will keep an eye on the guys across the road. Tasha, if anything happens, you will have the scoop. ;)

I went through my local MP's expenses last night on the "redacted" government website. I have long suspected the right honorable Ian McCartney MP was a crook -- the only time you ever see him is before a general election, sliming people in the local pubs -- and his expenses confirm my theory. He has claimed £1300+ a month in interest payments for his constituency home. I know where he lives, and am baffled as to how his interest alone can be that much. A cursory trawl over the numbers and I reckon he has had about £100k over the last four years on top of his ~£65k p.a. salary. It is an outrage of biblical proportions.

In other news, later today I will be headed North to Albert Towers for fun and frolics. There was talk of a barbecue but with the wind at gale force 3squillion and the probability of showers high, I suspect that will not come to pass. However, before that, I have some cunning plans to execute.

Everyone say happy birthday to the Waaaart, who is 0x29 today.

Remember when Cahill said you would not make it to 30? Well you've now rather successfully rained on his parade on every single count.

I got an email late last night notifying me that someone who I used to work with in my first real job had sent me a message on fiendsunrequited (I was never good with detail). She was the head of marketing at the company. Because I was a wet behind the ears techie, I feared the marketing people because we didn't speak the same language but over a couple of years, I got to know her quite well at work and we discovered we could communicate.

I think that moment was when the sales director had a bit of a "do" at his immense estate in Thorpe Arch and wheeled out his motorbike to fly around the grounds on. At that point, I had never ridden a motorcycle before, but I guess I picked it up quite quickly. At some point I convinced the head of marketing to get on the back of the bike and whizzed around a field with her hanging on for dear life. It was a bit of a bonding moment and we kind of understood each other after that. I think that understanding grew when we went through the death of my boss (and our friend). I lost touch with her because I went off to do other things.

Anyway, my most memorable moment was when she sent me an email saying that even though I might be a really smart techie, I should not aspire to riding my motorcycle right up to my desk, like it was alleged happened in Redmond. Given that, to me, she was senior management and I was just a grunt, she kind of made my day. Come to think of it, all the senior management in that company were excellent. It is the only company I have ever worked at in my life where I believed in every decision they made. That may be naivety or it might be that they are the ones who formed my way of looking at a business and knowing what to do. Either way, I have a great deal to thank them all for.

When I responded, I was hesitant to mention that I had spent over half my career in marketing. I spun it like it was just product management and product marketing (not marcomms) so as not to shock her too much because I expected her to give it a WTF? -- the response I got was quite touching. Something along the lines of "doesn't surprise me at all -- you always had the gift of the gab". That is a great compliment coming from her, because she was amazingly articulate and could control a conversation with anyone. I literally used to sit taking notes about how she redirected and got back on message. I can honestly say that I still think that I refer back to that on occasions when I feel I am losing control of a situation. To me, when I am talking, all I hear is babble. I know what my head is thinking and I know the filters that I want to apply but I always walk away thinking that I have messed it up. I'm sure that I'm being a bit harsh on myself because I have managed to achieve some epic wins, but the doubt still lingers.

The first time I sat in on a board-meeting, I was silent. I was phased. I didn't value my opinion enough to speak. After it, I was asked why I was quiet. I think the answer that I gave was that if I don't disagree, I leave things to run. Lame answer. I was shell-shocked at the gravity of it all, and the fact that I was there. Nowadays, I am nowhere near as close to the upper echelons -- this is a *big* company and my words are worth nothing (although my predictions are usually right) -- but my ability to market ideas internally certainly is known. I've swung a few decisions over the last 18 months, just through logic, persistence and presentation. You take your wins where you can get them in any job.

I owe my re-found colleague a debt of gratitude, along with several others in different disciplines (Evil A being one of the visible ones here). I also hope she never follows the link here from Facebook, because I will die of embarrassment. :) I daresay she can still teach me a thing or two -- she's wily.

One of McColleagues here has been following my ironing purchases over on Facebook with great interest. So much so, that he developed a terrible ironing board lust and nipped over to Costco yesterday to buy a new one. It sounds like a cracker to me. His has an integrated extension cord which I am quite envious of. He lacks, however, the red dangly item of mystery that I possess so I guess we're at deuce (see how I got the tennis reference in -- stupid sport). In Top Trump style, we will have to have a decider based on iron specs, although by the sound of it, we have the same model.

I have spent the last two days being completely surprised by meetings that are marked in my diary but for some reason I have forgotten about by being distracted by that pesky work stuff that I pretend to do so that they pretend to pay me. I think we can say my organizational skills for the last two days are, hmm, an epic fail. I will away to consult my diary as to what I should be doing this afternoon and then I will promptly ignore it.

Look at the bottom twitterage of Aleksandr Orlov:

He is a meerkat with very good taste. I might DM him and ask him his views on the Minogue.

I haven't posted any Ani DiFranco for a while. This tickles me...

I've just watched The Big Question with Nicky Campbell on Al Beeb. I blow hot and cold on whether I think he's a decent journalist or not. Some days he's good, others he is leg-chewingly awful. As it happens it was moot today thanks to one of his guests.

Louise Bagshawe is, apparently, an author. I spent a very uncomfortable half hour or so watching her mannerisms and comparing them to my first wife. Christ almighty, rewind 20 years and that, right there, is version 1. The supreme self-confidence. The dismissal of anything that does not fit in with an idealized view of how the world should be. The strategic hair-flicking. The random interjection of irrelevant high-end vocabulary. The derisory snorts. All this while being insanely pretty. Age teaches you many lessons. Knowing how to discriminate dream woman from psychotic she-devil bitch from hell is one of those. I just need to master the sociopath thing now.

In a completely unrelated observation, Chrissie Hynde was on The Andrew Marr Show. Can we say wow? I think we can. I'm off to download some Pretenders and then I am once again Bunburying -- I might kill a few weeds with serious chemicals this afternoon.

I feel some kind of pre-emptive strike is in order on somewhere small and defenseless. Today has been one thing after another and it's not even noon.

First up, my internal body-clock has me wake up at 05:56, exactly four minutes before my alarm goes off during the week. I tossed and turned for ages and had just got back to sleep when the phone rang. Who the hell calls someone at 8:30am on a Saturday. I ignored it out of contempt for whoever was calling but could not get back to sleep. When I finally arose, I discovered the milk was past its sell-by date ergo a trip to Sainsburys was in order, *sans* caffeine. At Sainsburys they had a military percussion band playing outside at a volume I consider obnoxious. You could hear it all around the store. I hate drums.

I think I'm about as grumpy as I could be for a Saturday morning. What's more, there's no football. This is dire.

Looks like Facebook and Twitter will get a caning as I procrastinate my way towards an evening out.

Oh great. Now I have a fly in the house. Arse.

I received my new Morphy Richards Comfigrip iron today. I could not resist so took it for a spin with the new ironing board. If not a mortal sin, the pleasure it gives me must be at least venal. This thing is heaven on earth when it comes to ironing. This could be the start of a really bad habit of wearing shirts at work every day. The sensible part of me knows I will never again be taken seriously as a techie but the joy is so great...

I'm in denial about Ronaldo moving to Real Madrid. I have convinced myself that their purse strings are cramping after the Kaka fee. I know, I'm deluded. I saw a fantastic twitterism yesterday (on the subject of Kaka) -- "Wouldn't it be ace if Ulrika Johnson married Kaka?". For those not acquainted with Vic and Bob, that will not be funny. For the rest it should have you at least chuckle.

I found this on my phone tonight. It must be from a few weeks ago. It is the view from a Saturday evening outside the Stag in Garswood. It's not bad for a phone shot:

I told you it would be random.

Now I need to get on and do some jobs before I start really slobbing.

You will note the wheel that is half on the pavement and half off. I'm not sure this angle really displays how much they had blocked the exit to the car-park either...

Whatever, this is a truly special effort.

In the immortal words of Stephen Fry, "a thousand bags of purulent ARSE".

Ronaldo to Real, £80m.

We have a balcony at work. I'll be the guy splatted underneath it.