So I've been pretty busy lately trying to focus on my 2nd and 3rd careers, with most of my spare time being based around this - so a weekend 'on the lash' was just what was required to ease the tension.


This weekend - if you are American - was the beginning of the world cup (of football,) and with it Englands 1st game. Just as a side note this is the time of year when everybody becomes sadistically patriotic to their relevant countries by proudly painting their faces and backsides with the national flag. It is a glorious time of the year where men are allowed to shout and swear in the street and women bare their breasts to chants of "En-ger-land En-ger-land". So all in all I've had a good two days of relaxation and neanderthalic(?) behaviour.


I did however get chance to 'talk business' with my comedy side kick (and now best-man) Rich about how to update the comoox.com site to ensure more traffic, more comments and more recognition. This was however all done in a drunken haze and as a result probably pretty futile. Our conversation however did broach onto radio and how cool would it be to do a 12am to 3am slot on a radio station. Just me and Rich playing our favourite songs, getting pissed and talking rubbish. Can people really get paid for this? Anyway as a result of this conversation I had the most bizarre of all dreams... I was sat in a bar with Chris Tarrant (yes Chris Tarrant) and I was talking to him about how Rich and I want to have our own radio show and he replied with "How about a drive time slot on capital radio?" which completly scared me and I said "well I was thinking more of the middle of the night" to which he replied "okay then I'll see what I can do". He then got up and left. I woke from the dream mid-way through texting to Rich that we were going to be famous, pack your bags we're moving to London!!!


So am I to read into this... should this be an avenue that Rich and I wander down. We both have faces for radio and am sure could talk rubbish for 3 hours at a time - if people don't mind us laughing hysterically at each other. Anyway the brunt of it is that during a break from careers one, two and three I have started to develop career number four (I'm sure there is a medical term for 'flitting') and I'm not even telling you yet about career number five (not a word Brits!)


So it's monday lunch time, I'm tired, I've got martial arts tonight and five careers to deal with and develop. I think that I'm going to have to move to Venus where each day lasts 243 earth days. Think how long you'd have to wait until next weeks 24?