With the new super Casinos on the horizon, stories of gambling addicition became increasingly common. The list of people who had lost everything on the role of a dice, then stole more to lose on the next role, seemed surprisingly large, with new names added all the time. Dave had always been amazed at such stupidity. Little did he know, his name would soon be attached to the bottom.
It had started out friendly enough, a simple game of cards between friends, something to pass the time. The games grew longer, more frequent and came to their unavoidable destination. Gambling.
But this was not just small time gambling. Not just a few pound coins passed back and forth. No. The stakes were far higher.
The sentences,
"Whoever loses this game has to wash the dishes!"
and
"Whoever loses this game has to eat all the leftovers!"
became increasingly common.
Like any true addict, Dave found he couldn't stop. Having lost once, he would gamble on who would clean the dishes the next day and then the next!
Now, having washed the dishes three days straight and standing in front of a mountain of plates, pots and greesy pans, Dave knew he had a problem.
Still, it could be worse.
Bian now weighed 40 stone.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
Careers Workshop
Monday, July 16th, Dave woke early, staggered out of bed and rushed out the door, thankfully pausing just long enough to put on clothes. He was off to the University of Liverpool's GRAD school Careers Workshop week in Edge Hill University, where he would stay for the next two and a half days.
After signing in and picking up his keys, he had a short break to check out his accomadation. His initial thought of "So this is why some students kill themselves" described it perfectly. It was a small plain room. A bed, a closet, a desk, nothing more. No room to fit anything more if you wanted to. The bed seemed on the small side even for a single, and it squeeked with every movement. The bed sheets were of a questionable nature and the pillow was waffer thin. Attached to the room was a small bathroom, toilet, sink and shower. The shower was fun. It took a remarkably long time to heat up, then quickly went from icy cold to bubbling hot.
As much as Dave wanted to just hang out and relax in his new crib, he was here to work and day one was about to begin.
The workshop was a very mixed event. From the people presenting, the people attending and the subjects on study it was mixed in every possible way. It ranged from CV building and mock interviews to seemingly pointless "fun" team games. In the first evening there was a chill out session complete with pub quiz and in the second a hardcore dancing session resulting in bruising and blisters for several people. Dave picked up some wonderful advice to advance his career, such as "wear pink", "get drunk" and "sleep with people for publicity".
Dave's main interest during the three days was not so much what the presenters were saying, but how his fellow PhD students responded. A large amount of them seemed to hate the whole thing with a passion. Dave, who very rarely hated anything with a passion and prefered to just make the most of it and get whatever cheap laughs were available, found their attitude rather amusing. Yes, it was a bit silly and pointless at times, but it had to be done, so why not be silly and pointless in a mature way rather than pointlessly and sillily complaining about pointless and silly performances, if that makes sense.
Another thing Dave picked up on was how strange a thing confidence was. Dave did very little in his spare time, he found it very difficult to talk to new people, conversation did not come naturally to him, he had no idea what he would do next in life, his written work was apparently abysmal and his supervisor told him on a weekly basis how awful his PhD was. Despite studying a PhD in statistics, Dave had failed to answer even one statistics related question asked by other students there. In comparison, another student there had been to Cambridge, was a Scout Leader, played Tenis tournements, badminton, swimming, kayaking, etc, etc, played 5 instruments, several of which were self taught, had a job, career goals, owned a house and was doing a PhD part time. What Dave found bizare was that when the two of them spoke, it was Dave who came across as the confident one. In fact, Dave had somehow managed to sound fairly confident throughout the whole event. He had even fooled at least one person into thinking he was "a good comunicator". How he had pulled that off he had no idea.
After a long hard day, Dave got back to his room and collasped onto his bed. Of cause, being used to a double bed and being very tired, he misjudged his fall going head first into the wall. That hurt. Thankfully, no one was around to see that moment of stupidity.
No one would ever know.
After signing in and picking up his keys, he had a short break to check out his accomadation. His initial thought of "So this is why some students kill themselves" described it perfectly. It was a small plain room. A bed, a closet, a desk, nothing more. No room to fit anything more if you wanted to. The bed seemed on the small side even for a single, and it squeeked with every movement. The bed sheets were of a questionable nature and the pillow was waffer thin. Attached to the room was a small bathroom, toilet, sink and shower. The shower was fun. It took a remarkably long time to heat up, then quickly went from icy cold to bubbling hot.
As much as Dave wanted to just hang out and relax in his new crib, he was here to work and day one was about to begin.
The workshop was a very mixed event. From the people presenting, the people attending and the subjects on study it was mixed in every possible way. It ranged from CV building and mock interviews to seemingly pointless "fun" team games. In the first evening there was a chill out session complete with pub quiz and in the second a hardcore dancing session resulting in bruising and blisters for several people. Dave picked up some wonderful advice to advance his career, such as "wear pink", "get drunk" and "sleep with people for publicity".
Dave's main interest during the three days was not so much what the presenters were saying, but how his fellow PhD students responded. A large amount of them seemed to hate the whole thing with a passion. Dave, who very rarely hated anything with a passion and prefered to just make the most of it and get whatever cheap laughs were available, found their attitude rather amusing. Yes, it was a bit silly and pointless at times, but it had to be done, so why not be silly and pointless in a mature way rather than pointlessly and sillily complaining about pointless and silly performances, if that makes sense.
Another thing Dave picked up on was how strange a thing confidence was. Dave did very little in his spare time, he found it very difficult to talk to new people, conversation did not come naturally to him, he had no idea what he would do next in life, his written work was apparently abysmal and his supervisor told him on a weekly basis how awful his PhD was. Despite studying a PhD in statistics, Dave had failed to answer even one statistics related question asked by other students there. In comparison, another student there had been to Cambridge, was a Scout Leader, played Tenis tournements, badminton, swimming, kayaking, etc, etc, played 5 instruments, several of which were self taught, had a job, career goals, owned a house and was doing a PhD part time. What Dave found bizare was that when the two of them spoke, it was Dave who came across as the confident one. In fact, Dave had somehow managed to sound fairly confident throughout the whole event. He had even fooled at least one person into thinking he was "a good comunicator". How he had pulled that off he had no idea.
After a long hard day, Dave got back to his room and collasped onto his bed. Of cause, being used to a double bed and being very tired, he misjudged his fall going head first into the wall. That hurt. Thankfully, no one was around to see that moment of stupidity.
No one would ever know.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Dad
They had finally caught him. The Giant Greek Monkey, thought by many to be a myth. They had caught him and operated on him, removed the tumour from his bladder and forced him to lie around for several days to recover. The operation had been a complete success, though they would keep an eye on the rare specimen just to be safe.
Dave and Jean watched as the animal turned and struggled, anxious to be free of the various tubes sticking in various places, desperate to be rid of the annoying drip, longing, hopelessly longing to return to the wild where he belonged.
This Monkey was, of cause, Dave's father.
"Dad, can we get you anything? Anything at all? Food, drink? A Pizza?"
"No, no," grumbled the beast, "I'm fine."
"Some coke?"
"Yes."
When the couple returned with a large amount of coke the Monkey's eyes finally lit up, clearly reminded of the rivers of coke from back home. The pleasure was short lived, however, when the nurse informed him no fizzy drinks.
"Dad, can we get you anything else? Anything at all? Food, drink? A Pizza?"
"No, no," grumbled the beast, "I'm fine."
The Monkey's other son, Alan, showed up a little later. The brothers and Jean asked several more times if he wanted anything and eventually gave up. Alan got down to the more important task of taking the p*ss, Dave laughed and Jean fell asleep. The Monkey longed for home more and more with each passing moment.
At the end of visiting hours, Dave's dad turned to the brothers and said, "Why didn't you buy me anything to eat? I'll be hungry in an hour."
In his weakened state he probably would have been alot easier to kill. The thought clearly crossed both the brothers' minds.
They convinced the nurses to extend visiting hours a little longer, picked up a ham and pineapple pizza and delivered it.
"Enjoy."
Dave and Jean watched as the animal turned and struggled, anxious to be free of the various tubes sticking in various places, desperate to be rid of the annoying drip, longing, hopelessly longing to return to the wild where he belonged.
This Monkey was, of cause, Dave's father.
"Dad, can we get you anything? Anything at all? Food, drink? A Pizza?"
"No, no," grumbled the beast, "I'm fine."
"Some coke?"
"Yes."
When the couple returned with a large amount of coke the Monkey's eyes finally lit up, clearly reminded of the rivers of coke from back home. The pleasure was short lived, however, when the nurse informed him no fizzy drinks.
"Dad, can we get you anything else? Anything at all? Food, drink? A Pizza?"
"No, no," grumbled the beast, "I'm fine."
The Monkey's other son, Alan, showed up a little later. The brothers and Jean asked several more times if he wanted anything and eventually gave up. Alan got down to the more important task of taking the p*ss, Dave laughed and Jean fell asleep. The Monkey longed for home more and more with each passing moment.
At the end of visiting hours, Dave's dad turned to the brothers and said, "Why didn't you buy me anything to eat? I'll be hungry in an hour."
In his weakened state he probably would have been alot easier to kill. The thought clearly crossed both the brothers' minds.
They convinced the nurses to extend visiting hours a little longer, picked up a ham and pineapple pizza and delivered it.
"Enjoy."
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