Thursday, July 23, 2015

but the flames move (a story)

Today at work my relatively professional (relative to me, I mean, so not that challenging) colleague took a vitamin then said "I feel like a million bucks!" then burped loudly by accident.  What was the highlight of your day?

Story: last week I purchased a heater. I was getting by with the tried and tested "put on a hoodie and get into bed" method of home heating but then Picnic was coming to stay, and I only really have one nice hoodie, so I decided it was time to invest.

This is what I invested in:
Displaying photo.JPG
Don't act like you're not impressed.

At work the next day, my colleague Button was unhappy about a work thing.  My other colleague (not the burping one, another one, I have many) said "Would it help to know that the rest of the business is in the same position?"
Button looked justifiably unimpressed and I said "Would it help to know that I bought a heater that looks like a little fire?" and Button said "Yes".  So that evening, to further help Button, I txt her a photo of the heater and waited for her excited response.

She said, "OMG.  How much did that cost you?"

Excellent, I thought, Button is delighted by my heater and perhaps even wants one for herself.

I said, "[unspecified amount so you don't judge my heater purchase]."

I also said "Worth it though because the flames move," and sent a second picture of the heater so that Button could better view its magnificence.

Then there was a bit where Button did not say anything. I presumed she was in awe at the glaring majesty of my heater.

Then she replied: "You're in trouble."

I said "are you mad about my heater bargain"

and Button did not reply

I said "please let me be out of trouble now"

and Button did not reply

and I started to panic about my heater bargain

and then Button said "Fine" and then Button said "NO MORE BARGAINS" and basically the moral of the story is that jealousy does not bring out the best in anyone, and also perhaps next time I shall invest in a more sensible heater.

I just was so over-excited because the flames move.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

turtles tinder & work*

*this is a list of things in this blog, not a factual statement about turtles.

Hello everyone!  Since last posting, I have not got a turtle. I remain turtleless. Turtless?

Without turtle.
well i can't forget this evening

I have been to a fancy party, though!  It was a Business Awards Dinner (for work) and it was Black Tie.  This was great for productivity as not only did it boost my enthusiasm to be representing a high-flying company, it allowed me to spend an entire afternoon googling "Black Tie" and "Black Tie Women" and "Black Tie Women help" and, inevitably, "Black Tie confusing help for fucks sake" and of course, boss, if you are reading this I'm kidding.  Just a funny joke for comedy blog! Ha! Ha!

Seriously though it takes fucking ages to effectively google Black Tie.

I ended up wearing a very tight black velvet dress with a fancy-ass neckline, which was kind of good and kind of bad because during my first fancy forkful of fancy entree I managed to drop a large cube of fancy potato salad down my top, where it came to rest directly below my fancy boobs.

This would have been kind of ok if I'd been able to scoot off to the bathroom and fish about in my decolletage until the potato salad was removed, but the award our company was up for was right after the entree.  And we won it.  And so the table leapt to its feet, celebrating and whooping and (in some cases) desperately hoping that the potato salad lodged against their ribcage wouldn't make a sudden break for freedom.  It was the worst of times, it was the best of times.

it was the potato salad breast of times

In other work news, we have hired someone called Rupert.  This is disastrous.  Rupert himself seems lovely, but Rupert is the default name I use when I'm talking about male colleagues who need to remain anonymous in my blod, and now I can't use it any more.  Also this is probably a good time to confirm that any posts prior to this involving a colleague called Rupert were about My Colleague, Hypothetical Rupert and not My Colleague, Actual Rupert.

MCARupert is good, except every time I interact with him I think about Rupert Bear, and then my mind wanders to the story about the time RB explored a castle, and I can't quite remember what he found but I do remember that it was vaguely scary (?) and possibly had historical significance, and also maybe RB fell through the floor at some stage, and then I suddenly realise that everyone else in the meeting is looking at me and I am expected to produce a pithy comment about revenue.

I hope his tale is about how comversion is up on last quarter.

Speaking of colleagues; today my colleague Zipper* had an unfortunate telephone encounter where she accidentally told a client that their previous rep was dead.
"Hello," she said, "I'm Zipper!"
"Hello Zipper," said the client, "what happened to my rep, Mitchell?"**
"Mitchell is no longer with us."
The client gasped and said, "How did he go??"
"He went into real estate!"

There are not many times I wish I kept a slide whistle in my desk, but that was one of them.

In non-work news, I had Picnic up to stay for the weekend!  It was the first time I've had A Proper Houseguest and so I ran out and bought new towels and fancy handwash and pretty crockery, and then hid heaps of washing in the washing machine, which is broken and therefore a storage unit.

I really must take that washing out before I forget about it forever.

It was an awesome weekend and great to have her staying - we went to two movies (Magic Mike XXL because so many abs, and Jurassic World because I was misinformed about how good it was and Picnic was too polite to reason with me) and went out to a bar and got hit on by the most appalling pair of car salesmen we had ever encountered, and drank wine and played pool and ate scones and basically I think the moral of that story is that sometimes there is no punchline, it is just nice to have friends.

Even when the friend is not Horace, and one is still without turtle.

you always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows

During her visit Picnic suggested that I join "tinder" and I am keen to get your ideas on this.  I'm not that familiar with it, but from what I gather if Findsomeone is going out for a nice dinner, Tinder is a 3am bucket of KFC that you will undoubtedly regret later, when you wake up in the middle of an Elephant's Graveyard-esque panorama of chicken bones and chickeny napkins.

(Meeting someone in person and dating is a 10-course degustation at the chef's table, in that I have neither the money or patience to do it more than once a decade, and usually it starts off really well and you're getting excited and then suddenly they bring out a tripe and pine nut souffle and you just want to go home, and also you're probably drunk.)

Picnic and I had somewhat different views on what makes a good Tinder profile picture; you may guess which one she suggested and which one I suggested.

what do you mean "not that much personality"

I'm torn about Tinder because on the one hand you all know how endlessly entertaining I found FindSomeone, but - hang the fuck on I just remembered I have a scratchie in my handbag that I bought at morning tea and haven't scratched yet.  I shall finish that sentence once I've won my millions.

Ok sorry about that.  I did not win anything.  I also forgot what I was going to say about Tinder during the wild excitement of the scratchie.  I think where I was going was that while I normally love novelty romance shit I'm really not sure that Tinder is for me.

That is all the news for now, but I promise to check in again in less than two months.

Probably still without turtle.


*surprisingly, not her real name; she is similar, but not identical, to my colleague Button

**can't say Rupert any more. end of a ruperty era

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

In Which the Author Almost Gets a Turtle

Hello everyone!

I was going to tell you a story about Horace and the Gambling Debts but then I thought about how I have been talking about Horace quite a bit at work recently, to the point where Button took me aside and said, with concern in her eyes, "Ally, I think you should get a pet."

"I have a pet!"  I said.  "I have Ho-"

"Horace is not a pet," said Button.  "Maybe you should get a turtle."

cover your ears Horace ! she doesn't mean it

I was seriously into getting a turtle for at least a day and during that time Button and I had ample opportunity to discuss his name; I suggested calling him 'turtle', because he is, and then she suggested Mr Turtle (so he can be easily introduced at dinner parties), and then we realised that clearly he would be a fancy turtle - and so perhaps one day soon I will introduce you all to Dr. Sir Prince Major-General (Mr) Turtle.

You forgot the 'Sir' and he is not impressed.

I would quite like to get a turtle.

Anyway in lieu of the story about Horace, most of which I have forgotten anyway, I would like to introduce you all to a thing I discovered today.  How I have got to being 27 and having a grown-up job without having come across this already is an absolute damn mystery, and speaking of absolute damn mysteries, allow me to present: DIY Guess Who?
the baby doesn't look very hard to guess.
image source:

Obviously, I need to create a workplace edition.

"Do you have a beard?"
"Do you have... glasses?"
"Did you try to grope my boob at the Christmas party?"
"Oooh!  Oooh!  Are you Rupert from the Product team?"

I really, really want to make this game.  I feel like it could get me fired, but I also feel like it could potentially be worth it.

I thought I had something else to mention after this, but then I looked in my drafts thing and all that was there is a note that says -

"Pine-apple. Upper lip $2"

- and three stories about Horace.

So I guess that's me for the day.

Sometimes, you google 'spider made of pineapple', and the internet lets you down.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Introducing Horace

Disclaimer: In this post I describe a spider as "large" and "sizeable".  I am completely aware that many of you live in other countries where spiders are genuinely large and sizeable, and that my spiders are indeed eensy weensy in comparison. However, they are quite large to me.

Hello everyone!  Living alone is still going well, the other night I woke up at 2am with a spider on my face.  I feel like this definitely wouldn't have happened if HB was still here, as clearly the spider would have chosen his face.
Also because maybe he would have a stricter policy on spiders.

My spider policy is as follows:

Category 1: Very Small / Daddy Long-Legs
Action: Leave to go about their business.  Probably they are eating flies or doing some other vaguely helpful spider thing. Also they are challenging to put outside because the small ones are fast, and the daddy-long-legs - wow, those legs really are long, fuck will they fit under the glass even? oh god. oh god I've cut its leg off now what do I do - well they are that. 

Category 2: Smaller-than-Teaspoon
Action: Spider 10 Dream Home.  This is where you put the spider outside with the assistance of a glass, an envelope, and a thousand tiny spider dreams.  If you like you can shout "Move That Glass!" before you fling the spider merrily into the foliage while yelling about how much happier he will be in his new location.

If the spider was really rude, like On My Face At 2am Spider, while you walk him to the door in his glass you can give him a little lecture about accepting his rightful place in the ecosystem.

"Young man, this is NOT your natural habitat."

Category 3: Interesting Jumping Spider - Trite planiceps
Action: He would go outside if he wasn't so interesting. Sometimes eats other spiders, sometimes sits on the wall, sometimes falls in the shower and surprises everyone. You never know what's next with a jumping spider. He is like an episode of Game of Thrones.  With less boobs*.

Category 4: Larger-than-Teaspoon, Smaller-than-WOAHHHFUCK
Action: Spider 10 Dream Home, but very carefully.

Category 5: Horace
I was going to include a picture of Horace, but then I remembered that not everyone enjoys unexpected pictures of spiders, so instead we will have a picture of a Category 5 Kaiju from Pacific Rim.  It's similar enough.  Also, damn I liked Pacific Rim a lot.  But now I'm scared to watch it again because I watched it on a plane and I'm worried it just seemed good because it was better than literally everything else on an Air Malaysia flight** and if I rewatch it now it will be a steaming turd and I will have ruined it for myself, forever -



Horace is a spider who lives in my bedroom window and he is sizeable.  He is too large to attempt to put outside, because what if a) he leapt on my face or b) he ran into the bedroom and disappeared, thus forcing me to sleep on the couch for the rest of my time in this flat?  These would not be beneficial outcomes for me or for Horace.

And yet, I do not wish to kill Horace.

The bedroom window is a long way from the bed and in my direct line of sight, so I can see what Horace is up to.  He's usually not up to much.  Neither am I.  Friendships have been based on less.  Romances have been based on less!  Movies have been based on a lot less.


ANYWAY, in the interests of me not having to kill Horace and Horace not having to climb onto my face in the night, Horace and I have become friends.  He isn't a pet, because having a window spider as a pet would be crazy person behaviour, and also because the tenancy agreement doesn't allow pets.

To complete your introduction - so you can say hello next time you see him - here is a brief list of

Things Horace Does:

1)  not reply when I say, "Good morning Horace"
2)  not reply when I say "Hello Horace did you have a good day?"
3)  hide when I close the blinds too abruptly
4)  come out and catch insects and then carry them back into his house
5)  not reply when I say "Goodnight, Horace."

stop judging me you all thought this was perfectly reasonable


It is now five minutes later and I have opened a cider and informed Horace that I am about to share him with the internet.

He looks impressed.

*No, spiders do not have boobs. 

**Air Malaysia's flight attendants are the worst.  You're all "Hello, I will be the polite, nice passenger today on this long-haul flight" and they are all "god fucken damn it I don't care if you are Saint Francis I just wish that every one of you ridiculous flying motherfuckers would hurry up and eat your dinner so I can get back to clumsily attempting to bone one of my appalling colleagues in the business class seats that we will never, ever upgrade anyone to."  If it had been a bus the flight attendants would have pulled over at the next stop, made all the passengers get off, and then driven the bus to the pub while mooning us all out of the back window.