Weirdest Week Ever*

*weirder even than the week that I visited the nudist colony and the morgue. Not as weird as the time that I thought it sounded like a good idea to start a hotel called HOTEL RHINO FIGHT and have fighting rhinos as the after dinner entertainment.

First of all, a huge thank you to The Bloggess for publishing my drunken email about the You-Know-What - this is the only time a drunken email has ever worked in my favour. Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and/or donated! I'm not going to get all emotional because a) how embarrassing and b) I'll do that tomorrow on a more quakecentric post on the other blog, but thank you, everyone.

Thank you also to the person who called me 'the voice of a disaster' this morning. I'm sure you meant it in a positive way, but now every time I talk I feel like a tornado of locusts should be issuing from my mouth, like Cillian Murphy in whatever Batman movie it was. The one where he has the bag on his head and sounds like bees.

I believe it is called the handsomest Batman movie.

Why would you put a bag on the head of Cillian Murphy?

Everything is kind of ok here, given the circumstances -we have power, water, and phone and tonight I'm going to start working doing quake admin stuff for the council. Will be nice to be proper helping, not just making the odd clever remark on Twitter and occasionally flicking a bit of silt about with a spade*.

Feels totally weird getting all corporate dollied up at 9pm though. Feel like I'm off to be an escort, or a spy. Or a spy pretending to be an escort! Or an escort pretending to be a spy! Let us hope I don't get carried away and attempt to be either of these things.

There will be a much better written, more appropriate post turning up shortlyish on the other blog but I don't really feel much like writing thoughtful earthquake opinions right now, I feel like blathering on about nothing and, is that search and rescue dog wearing little bootees? That is so cute. (I know, I know, it's not cute, it's so he doesn't hurt his feet as he goes on his way... sniffing for miracles.)

Alright time to go and be a spy/hooker/temporary office administration staff member now.


*I accidentally got myself into an Earthquake Love Triangle between two gentlemen who we will call, in topical silt-related terminology, Shovel and Spade. (I am Hoe.) We all 'dig' each other but there's only room for two implements in the garden shed (of love) - who will end up shifting my liquefaction? Watch this space.