*even though the formatting is still horrible horrible horrible
Every day, life teaches us lessons. Sometimes the lessons are about love; sometimes they are about friendship; sometimes they are about why we should not cut our own hair.
Yesterday I noticed that my hair had grown out into a nice fringe, just above my eyebrows. I really liked it. It would have been perfect, except that it was a bit uneven.
Now - surprise! - it is really freakin' short and I look like a Lego man again and the worst thing is that it is still a bit uneven but I was afraid to cut any more off. Guess I'll be sporting/rocking the fauxhawk for a little longer.
Am watching NZ's Next Tup Muddle sorry Top Model and it is awful. Colin Mathura-Jeffree (I am not even making up his name) is awful. I have no idea how he got to be on the judges' panel - can we really not do any better than that? Mind you, I also hate hate hate the flamboyantly gay male judge I mean 'style guru' on America's Next Top Model, 'Miss Jay.' Episode after episode, he and Colin M-J manage to look ridiculous. Not ridiculous as in 'I am a model, it is ok for me to wear this crazy high-fashion outfit,' but ridiculous as in 'I am a past-his-prime male model wearing something that would look silly on Heidi Klum.' Cringe-makingly, awfully, I-feel-for-you ridiculous.
Also, all of the contestants (and judges) sound like they are trying to talk with a duck in their mouth. (If you're not from NZ feel free to pronounce that "...like they are trying to talk with a dick in their mouth," something that Colin M-J was apparently fired from many photoshoots for doing.)
Speaking of, I had a dream last night that I was a pornstar! I briefly flirted with the idea that my subconscious was showing me my true calling, but then I remembered that a) I do not really want to be a pornstar and b) I don't have the right, uh, build.
Guess what is happening this weekend? That's right, onesie photo! My mother is taking off for Laos for six weeks on Tuesday, and she promised to take a photo of me in my onesie before she went. Prepare to be wowed. By my Lego hair.*
In a shocking twist, someone unfollowed my blog today! Yesterday, before I posted, I had 8 followers. Today, I have 7.
I think it may have been 'Muncle.'
Now you must all tell me how much you love me, or else I shall have a crisis of confidence and never blog again.
*was reading back over this prior to posting and misread that as 'Leg hair' but I promise not to wow you with any of that
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Supermarkets, Nature, Muncle*
*I'm sorry about the formatting, this computer is kind of horrible like that.
- with the windows all lit up, and very quietly. Almost magical it is. And then Rick guffaws and says that he was selected for the Canterbury Lawn Bowls team again this year and the magic is kind of gone but whatevs.
Today I leapt cheerily out of bed at 3.30am and drove to Ashburton to count everything in their supermarket. We caught a lift with an Australian competitive lawn bowler and ex-eftpos salesman called Rick, who I swear was trying to chat up my mother ("So, are you a bowls lady then, eh?") and who talked constantly when I wanted to look out the window - but it was nice, because a) I like driving in the dark and b) we passed a house! I love seeing this.
No wait not that I mean we passed a house which was being moved down the road.
I used to live in a flat on the main road through the city, and every so often a house would roll by at 3am, and I'd always go out and watch - the whole procession, from lead car, truck with 'Wide Load' sign and then the house itself (on a truck, in case you were thinking of something like this) -
- with the windows all lit up, and very quietly. Almost magical it is. And then Rick guffaws and says that he was selected for the Canterbury Lawn Bowls team again this year and the magic is kind of gone but whatevs.Little quiz about my day at the supermarket. Which of these statements is true?
a) there is a brand of hamburger patties called 'Meateors'
b) 'Oceanfish' is a valid catfood flavour
c) when you scan Sunmaid Raisins they show up on your scanner as 'S/M Raisins'
d) packets of marbles now come with a list of '10 Exciting Marbles Games to Play'
e) all of the above?
Scan down for the answer.
'e'
OH SHIT A FLOATING EYE
Nothing else exciting happened except that a packet of juice powder (I have temporarily forgotten the proper word for this) exploded on me in a shower of tropical groove (it's called that) and then all day everything smelt like juice.
Here is a fact about birds.
Did you know that, like most other um animals (maybe plants too? hmm) the way that birds evolve is based on who their predators are? The vast majority of birds have always been eaten I mean 'predated' (real word) by ground-dwelling mammals with crappy eyesight and an excellent sense of smell. That is why most birds nest in trees and fly about; because when they're up there the predators can't reach them except for I guess climbing predators but fuck I am not talking about that. Birds are also, in general, brightly coloured but not very smelly. 'Cause of you know the predators.
Enter New Zealand birds! Back in the day we didn't have any mammals except for a whole lot of seals and sea lions (which apparently were really really populous (and presumably ate, um, not-birds)), so all of our birds were predated I mean eaten by....dun dun dunnn... other birds. Bigger birds.
Cannibirds.
Birds who could fly, and who had excellent eyesight but a crappy sense of smell.
And that, it turns out, is why NZ has stinky, dull brown birds that lay their eggs in the ground.
It's also why they have long poky beaks - so that they can stick their noses beaks into the ground and eat someone else's baby birds.
Nature is interesting, huh?
Speaking of interesting, the most awesome part of this post is about to happen - I am going to tell you about Andrea's dream. I was in it.
Andrea and I were living wild in the desert, having rejected the society of the time in favour of living as outlaws and periodically sweeping into town to conduct a raid. (Here comes the awesome.) The top halves of our bodies were human, but we had dinosaur legs. Robotic dinosaur legs. Robotic dinosaur legs that could transform into motorbikes.
So we would come sweeping into town on our motorbike wheels, then transform back into our dino-centaur selves and lay waste to the town with the giant guns we had mounted on our metal gauntlets. Did I mention we had huge metal gauntlets with guns on them? Because we totally did.
I was going to try and draw this but there's no way my Paint skills could capture it.
Anyway, to thank Andrea for including me in this kickass dream, I'm going to play Muncle! I mentioned this a while back, but didn't get around to it, and she keeps reminding me.
Would you like to play? It's pretty simple, really, I just ask you a question - you know, one of those 'if you could be stuck in a lift with any famous person, living or dead, who would it be' type questions* and then you answer. It's a pretty good ice-breaker for parties.
Ready? Here goes.
Would you rather... fuck your Mum's body with your Uncle's head on it, or your Uncle's body with your Mum's head?
...and that's how you play Muncle!
(Thanks to Mr London Street for introducing me to this dreadful game.)
*Helen Keller is a poor choice
Friday, May 01, 2009
Homewares*
*no, actually. Prepare to be boreded.
I am reading the Home Care catalogue. I think I enjoy it because the writers get so excited about all kinds of revolutionary new kitchen/household essentials that I have never missed and yet suddenly couldn't possibly live without. The word 'ingenious' pops up a lot. Here are my 10 favourites from this issue.
1. Tomato Timer, $9.90. "Why choose a timer you'd rather hide away, when this one will brighten up your kitchen! Six centimetres in diameter, it looks just like a ripe tomato!" Why use the timer on the oven, when you could use a timer that not only emits a 'loud, clear signal' when the time is up (presumably a beep, although if tomatoes made noises I'm pretty sure they'd use that) but can also be confused with your 'kitschy cool' tomato sauce bottle!
2. Double Spoon Rest, $8.90. "When you have two saucepans bubbling away on the stovetop, you'll appreciate this double spoon rest when it comes time to stir." All those years I spent just chucking my spoons on the bench, or holding the spare spoon in my other hand! Thank God I never have to do that again. Home Care you are a revolution.
3. Muffin and Cupcake Stand, $28.90. "Make it easy for your guests to reach out and select the most delicious looking cupcake or muffin!" Excuse me? My guests will take the cupcake or muffin closest to them like civilized people do. Just because your guests were born in a barn.
4. Musical Cake Slicer, $9.90. "Get the party started with this musical cake slice - as soon as you grasp the handle it plays a chorus of 'Happy Birthday.' Even the most self-conscious singers will be tempted to join in!" I bet they will, the first time. Have just read that it will play the tune up to 100 times! Actually I kind of really want this.
5. Banana Guard, $6.90. "No more bruised bananas! The clip-close ventilated plastic case will help prevent bruising and squashing of your banana." I bet the person at the patent office was really excited about this one. It would be simply invaluable if I liked bananas.
6. Onion Keeper, $11.90. "This handy onion-shaped plastic container will make it easy to find cut onion when stored in the fridge!" Thank fuck someone invented this! I am so sick of spending hours rummaging through the fridge trying to find my onion.
7. Stainless Steel 'Soap' with Holder, $9.90. "Incredible as it sounds, rubbing this stainless steel 'soap' between your hands under rubbing water will reduce even persistent odours like onion, fish, and garlic!" I really want to know how this works. Maybe I should buy one. Hey, it's only ten bucks, right? No! Don't give in! That is exactly what they want you to think!
8. Handy Grabber, $21.90. "Now your arms can be 85cm longer with this lightweight aluminium handygrabber!" Woo! I am going to be so awesome at tennis now. Wait 'til I tell the guys.
9. Ice Tubes, $16.90. "At last, the ice cube that fits a bottle or flask!" Quite seriously I really want these. They are test-tube shaped ice cube trays. INGENIOUS
10. Self-Cleaning Clothes Brush, $14.90. "It also has a handy self-cleaning function - just open the back to remove the dirt." Yay, a self-cleaning brush! All I have to do is...wait, remove the dirt? Kinda sounds like I still have to clean it. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't lie, though. Hold on while I find a definition of 'clean.' Oh. "To get rid of dirt, soil, etc.*" Wait, that means it's not self-cleaning at all! I'm onto you, you brush. That product should have a disclaimer. "Brush Is Not Actually Self-Cleaning. You Still Have To Clean This Brush."
11. Ironing board cover, $19.90. "The metallised finish on this space-age ironing board cover reflects heat from your iron back into the fabric making the job faster, easier, and more effective." I'm not sure if it was the phrase 'space-age ironing board cover,' my disappointing experience with the 'self-cleaning' brush, or the word 'metallised,' but I am calling bullshit on this one.
There are also a couple of decent bathroom thingies, notably the Pebble Design Bath Mat, which "may look like a layer of pebbles," presumably if pebbles were by nature bright blue and something it was normal to have in your shower; and the Over Tank Toilet Roll Holder, which proclaims 'It's always reassuring to have an extra roll or two of toilet paper at hand.' Wise words, Home Care, wise words.
Also, there is a product called White Wizard which is 'guaranteed to remove most stains.' Sounds a bit like a readymade loophole to me. "Hello, White Wizard Customer Service? Your product didn't remove my stain, and I want my money back." "Unfortunately, madam, White Wizard is only guaranteed to remove most, not all, stains." "OK, so which stains doesn't it work on?" "Your one." (They do have a list of stains that the product will remove and stains that it won't, but that wasn't my initial impression.)
I had a dream last night that I worked at a restaurant I did in fact work at once upon a time. I was madly in love with a co-worker, which was also the case in real life, and he had a girlfriend (also the case in real life). Then I stole lots of money to feed a starving family (I know, it is a little out of character) and he found out at shouted at me and I was distraught and destroyed the entire building in Godzilla-esque rage. Wish the second half of the dream had also been based on a true story.
Sorry about this insanely fucking dull ramble slightly sub-par post; in my defens/ce I have gotten a veritable buttload of writing done today. You can tell I'm a writer because I use words like 'buttload.' Better post tomorrow. Please come back.
*Dictionary.com
I am reading the Home Care catalogue. I think I enjoy it because the writers get so excited about all kinds of revolutionary new kitchen/household essentials that I have never missed and yet suddenly couldn't possibly live without. The word 'ingenious' pops up a lot. Here are my 10 favourites from this issue.
1. Tomato Timer, $9.90. "Why choose a timer you'd rather hide away, when this one will brighten up your kitchen! Six centimetres in diameter, it looks just like a ripe tomato!" Why use the timer on the oven, when you could use a timer that not only emits a 'loud, clear signal' when the time is up (presumably a beep, although if tomatoes made noises I'm pretty sure they'd use that) but can also be confused with your 'kitschy cool' tomato sauce bottle!
2. Double Spoon Rest, $8.90. "When you have two saucepans bubbling away on the stovetop, you'll appreciate this double spoon rest when it comes time to stir." All those years I spent just chucking my spoons on the bench, or holding the spare spoon in my other hand! Thank God I never have to do that again. Home Care you are a revolution.
3. Muffin and Cupcake Stand, $28.90. "Make it easy for your guests to reach out and select the most delicious looking cupcake or muffin!" Excuse me? My guests will take the cupcake or muffin closest to them like civilized people do. Just because your guests were born in a barn.
4. Musical Cake Slicer, $9.90. "Get the party started with this musical cake slice - as soon as you grasp the handle it plays a chorus of 'Happy Birthday.' Even the most self-conscious singers will be tempted to join in!" I bet they will, the first time. Have just read that it will play the tune up to 100 times! Actually I kind of really want this.
5. Banana Guard, $6.90. "No more bruised bananas! The clip-close ventilated plastic case will help prevent bruising and squashing of your banana." I bet the person at the patent office was really excited about this one. It would be simply invaluable if I liked bananas.
6. Onion Keeper, $11.90. "This handy onion-shaped plastic container will make it easy to find cut onion when stored in the fridge!" Thank fuck someone invented this! I am so sick of spending hours rummaging through the fridge trying to find my onion.
7. Stainless Steel 'Soap' with Holder, $9.90. "Incredible as it sounds, rubbing this stainless steel 'soap' between your hands under rubbing water will reduce even persistent odours like onion, fish, and garlic!" I really want to know how this works. Maybe I should buy one. Hey, it's only ten bucks, right? No! Don't give in! That is exactly what they want you to think!
8. Handy Grabber, $21.90. "Now your arms can be 85cm longer with this lightweight aluminium handygrabber!" Woo! I am going to be so awesome at tennis now. Wait 'til I tell the guys.
9. Ice Tubes, $16.90. "At last, the ice cube that fits a bottle or flask!" Quite seriously I really want these. They are test-tube shaped ice cube trays. INGENIOUS
10. Self-Cleaning Clothes Brush, $14.90. "It also has a handy self-cleaning function - just open the back to remove the dirt." Yay, a self-cleaning brush! All I have to do is...wait, remove the dirt? Kinda sounds like I still have to clean it. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't lie, though. Hold on while I find a definition of 'clean.' Oh. "To get rid of dirt, soil, etc.*" Wait, that means it's not self-cleaning at all! I'm onto you, you brush. That product should have a disclaimer. "Brush Is Not Actually Self-Cleaning. You Still Have To Clean This Brush."
11. Ironing board cover, $19.90. "The metallised finish on this space-age ironing board cover reflects heat from your iron back into the fabric making the job faster, easier, and more effective." I'm not sure if it was the phrase 'space-age ironing board cover,' my disappointing experience with the 'self-cleaning' brush, or the word 'metallised,' but I am calling bullshit on this one.
There are also a couple of decent bathroom thingies, notably the Pebble Design Bath Mat, which "may look like a layer of pebbles," presumably if pebbles were by nature bright blue and something it was normal to have in your shower; and the Over Tank Toilet Roll Holder, which proclaims 'It's always reassuring to have an extra roll or two of toilet paper at hand.' Wise words, Home Care, wise words.
Also, there is a product called White Wizard which is 'guaranteed to remove most stains.' Sounds a bit like a readymade loophole to me. "Hello, White Wizard Customer Service? Your product didn't remove my stain, and I want my money back." "Unfortunately, madam, White Wizard is only guaranteed to remove most, not all, stains." "OK, so which stains doesn't it work on?" "Your one." (They do have a list of stains that the product will remove and stains that it won't, but that wasn't my initial impression.)
I had a dream last night that I worked at a restaurant I did in fact work at once upon a time. I was madly in love with a co-worker, which was also the case in real life, and he had a girlfriend (also the case in real life). Then I stole lots of money to feed a starving family (I know, it is a little out of character) and he found out at shouted at me and I was distraught and destroyed the entire building in Godzilla-esque rage. Wish the second half of the dream had also been based on a true story.
Sorry about this
*Dictionary.com
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
A Dream, a Dog, and a Joke
...walk into a bar.
I had a dream last night that I didn't blog today and someone sent me an angry txt message saying, basically, "How could you write that excellent post yesterday then not follow up with another?" Oh, my modest subconscious! I thought they were someone else and replied with a sexual innuendo and basically it all went downhill from there. So now I am blogging to pre-empt that dream coming true! Also in the dream, which was a musical, I was drunk & had a lesbian fling then ended up marrying her on a roof during a dance number. I am not kidding. Perhaps I need therapy.
Apart from that I don't really have any news except that our dog stinks. (I realise this isn't something that is normally considered 'news' but I didn't have anything else.) I took him for a walk a couple of days ago and he did four things he has never done before:
- attempted to hump a lady dog (apparently she was the canine equivalent of Miss Universe or something). The spirit was willing, but he had no balls. Other dog owner was not impressed. I explained that as he had no balls she had nothing to worry about, but she was still not impressed. Ah, my dog. Charlie, the Impotent Rapist. Sounds like the title of a children's book.
- displayed a previously hidden environmentalist streak by urinating copiously on a bulldozer
- did an Inappropriate Poo. I have to confess here that I am a Bad Dog Owner in that I always forget to take 'poo bags' with me when I walk the dog. 'Forget' in that as I leave the house I think half-heartedly, "Oh, I should really take some poo bags," and then immediately justify my unwillingness to pick up poo by thinking "...but I've already locked the house. And anyway he probably won't do one." (He always does one.) Usually he does them in a bush at the park, while I turn my back and whistle nonchalantly. If someone sees me and glares, I shrug and adopt an expression which is meant to convey that this is certainly not my dog and in fact my dog doesn't even do poos. Anyway, on our most recent walk he decided to do a you-know-what (poo) right by the side of someone's driveway (whoops) and I didn't have any poo bags because I had forgotten them (whoops). Was standing there looking innocent when a car turned into the street and drove towards us. I began to whistle nonchalantly. Turns out that the only thing worse than someone seeing you allow your dog to do an unapologetically large and steaming turd on the sidewalk is when he is doing it right by their driveway. Jesus. As the car began to turn in and the driver realised in horror (and anger) that I had no intention of picking up the poo, I dithered for a moment then did the honorable thing and ran. Charlie, who was still poopin', ran too. Leaving a little trail of poo behind him. Jesus.
I am really sorry, people whose driveway my dog pooped in. I have got to start carrying poo bags. (But I probably won't.)
- Jumped right in the river at the park, in pursuit of ducks. Normally when I let him off the lead he runs around a bit, dabbles his paws in the river, and has a little drink. Fine? Fine. This time he disappeared down the bank as per usual, but when I wandered casually over I saw the entire bloody dog was in the river, having a little swim and grinning cheerfully up at me. Turns out the river is really stinky and now so is he. Kate and I took him to the beach in an effort to make him less stinky, but now he is just stinky and gritty. SIGH. I have confined him to the back yard.
See? I said I had no news. I do, however, have a joke:
A boss wondered why one of his most valued employees wasn't at work one day, and hadn't phoned in sick. Having an urgent problem with one of the main computers, he dialled the employee's cell phone and was greeted with a child's whisper.
"Hello."
"Is your daddy home?" the boss asked.
"Yes," whispered the small voice.
"May I talk with him?"
The child whispered, "No."
Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Mommy there?"
"Yes," whispered the small voice.
"May I talk with her?"
Again the small voice whispered, "No."
Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, "Is anybody else home?"
"Yes," whispered the child, "a policeman."
Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?"
"No. He's busy," whispered the child.
"Busy doing what?"
"Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman," the whisper answered.
Growing more worried as he heard what sounded like a helicopter through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, "What is that noise?"
"A helicopter," answered the whispering voice.
"What is going on there?" demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive.
Again whispering, the child answered, "The search team just landed the helicopter."
Alarmed, concerned and a little frustrated the boss asked, "What are they searching for?"
Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle.
"Me."
Have a nice day, everybody!
I had a dream last night that I didn't blog today and someone sent me an angry txt message saying, basically, "How could you write that excellent post yesterday then not follow up with another?" Oh, my modest subconscious! I thought they were someone else and replied with a sexual innuendo and basically it all went downhill from there. So now I am blogging to pre-empt that dream coming true! Also in the dream, which was a musical, I was drunk & had a lesbian fling then ended up marrying her on a roof during a dance number. I am not kidding. Perhaps I need therapy.
Apart from that I don't really have any news except that our dog stinks. (I realise this isn't something that is normally considered 'news' but I didn't have anything else.) I took him for a walk a couple of days ago and he did four things he has never done before:
- attempted to hump a lady dog (apparently she was the canine equivalent of Miss Universe or something). The spirit was willing, but he had no balls. Other dog owner was not impressed. I explained that as he had no balls she had nothing to worry about, but she was still not impressed. Ah, my dog. Charlie, the Impotent Rapist. Sounds like the title of a children's book.
- displayed a previously hidden environmentalist streak by urinating copiously on a bulldozer
- did an Inappropriate Poo. I have to confess here that I am a Bad Dog Owner in that I always forget to take 'poo bags' with me when I walk the dog. 'Forget' in that as I leave the house I think half-heartedly, "Oh, I should really take some poo bags," and then immediately justify my unwillingness to pick up poo by thinking "...but I've already locked the house. And anyway he probably won't do one." (He always does one.) Usually he does them in a bush at the park, while I turn my back and whistle nonchalantly. If someone sees me and glares, I shrug and adopt an expression which is meant to convey that this is certainly not my dog and in fact my dog doesn't even do poos. Anyway, on our most recent walk he decided to do a you-know-what (poo) right by the side of someone's driveway (whoops) and I didn't have any poo bags because I had forgotten them (whoops). Was standing there looking innocent when a car turned into the street and drove towards us. I began to whistle nonchalantly. Turns out that the only thing worse than someone seeing you allow your dog to do an unapologetically large and steaming turd on the sidewalk is when he is doing it right by their driveway. Jesus. As the car began to turn in and the driver realised in horror (and anger) that I had no intention of picking up the poo, I dithered for a moment then did the honorable thing and ran. Charlie, who was still poopin', ran too. Leaving a little trail of poo behind him. Jesus.
I am really sorry, people whose driveway my dog pooped in. I have got to start carrying poo bags. (But I probably won't.)
- Jumped right in the river at the park, in pursuit of ducks. Normally when I let him off the lead he runs around a bit, dabbles his paws in the river, and has a little drink. Fine? Fine. This time he disappeared down the bank as per usual, but when I wandered casually over I saw the entire bloody dog was in the river, having a little swim and grinning cheerfully up at me. Turns out the river is really stinky and now so is he. Kate and I took him to the beach in an effort to make him less stinky, but now he is just stinky and gritty. SIGH. I have confined him to the back yard.
See? I said I had no news. I do, however, have a joke:
A boss wondered why one of his most valued employees wasn't at work one day, and hadn't phoned in sick. Having an urgent problem with one of the main computers, he dialled the employee's cell phone and was greeted with a child's whisper.
"Hello."
"Is your daddy home?" the boss asked.
"Yes," whispered the small voice.
"May I talk with him?"
The child whispered, "No."
Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Mommy there?"
"Yes," whispered the small voice.
"May I talk with her?"
Again the small voice whispered, "No."
Hoping there was somebody with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, "Is anybody else home?"
"Yes," whispered the child, "a policeman."
Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?"
"No. He's busy," whispered the child.
"Busy doing what?"
"Talking to Daddy and Mommy and the Fireman," the whisper answered.
Growing more worried as he heard what sounded like a helicopter through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, "What is that noise?"
"A helicopter," answered the whispering voice.
"What is going on there?" demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive.
Again whispering, the child answered, "The search team just landed the helicopter."
Alarmed, concerned and a little frustrated the boss asked, "What are they searching for?"
Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle.
"Me."
Have a nice day, everybody!
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Dream*
*proper post below, if you'd like to skip this one
So last night I had another weird dream. It has been a week of weird dreams. It was about as weird as the octopus dream - as with the octopus dream, the apocalypse features; however in this dream I don't give birth to anything, just get condemned to death. And they say other people's dreams are boring! (Hey, no-one's making you read this. On which note, there will be a test tomorrow. You think I'm kidding, don't you.)
So when this all started I was in Taiwan with a tour group. It was definitely Taiwan, because someone in a beret tried to tell me I was in Thailand, and a large argument ensued. We (the tour group) were all sitting on the grass outside a temple, and me and the elephant (the only elephant in the tour group, by the way) were drinking cheap vodka. Unfortunately, neither myself or the elephant were aware than in Taiwan drinking cheap vodka is Treason and will get you sentenced to death! So the elephant and I went to trial and were condemned to be shot by a firing squad next Thursday...it seemed there was nothing I could do to avoid my death!
But luckily it was OK because everyone in the tour group had just been paid, and so the elephant and I, hiding out in an orchard by day, were soon well on the way to stealing enough money to flee the country. Unfortunately, we then found a secret stash of alcohol, and the elephant ran away with the alcohol & the money...leaving me to face the authorities, and my death!
But luckily it was OK because right then the world flooded. I ended up on top of an ocean liner, standing at the front in a very Leo-in-Titanic way, shouting with glee as around me people tumbled over the side to their deaths. (Apparently I was having far too much fun for the end of the world to affect me.) The water rose up over all the buildings, all the cities - I remember looking over the side and seeing skyscrapers far under the water. It was awesome. The sky was covered with huge heavy grey & black clouds & lightening, and from time to time the heavens would open and a huge quantity of water would gush down and hit the oceans, which were a turbulence of waves & whirlpools. I saw a particularly huge gush of water crashing down near the liner and, in a flash of brilliance, threw myself from the liner onto a tiny, bright orange rubber dinghy. The liner went down! I survived! I was tossed about on the sea and eventually went over a HUGE waterfall...off the edge of the world, to my death!
But luckily it was OK because at the bottom of the waterfall was San Francisco, which had been spared from the Flood. (Don't ask me why.) So I entered San Francisco and joined a pack of vampire tiger-human mutants, and we snacked upon a Muslim community on the top of a hill.
So last night I had another weird dream. It has been a week of weird dreams. It was about as weird as the octopus dream - as with the octopus dream, the apocalypse features; however in this dream I don't give birth to anything, just get condemned to death. And they say other people's dreams are boring! (Hey, no-one's making you read this. On which note, there will be a test tomorrow. You think I'm kidding, don't you.)
So when this all started I was in Taiwan with a tour group. It was definitely Taiwan, because someone in a beret tried to tell me I was in Thailand, and a large argument ensued. We (the tour group) were all sitting on the grass outside a temple, and me and the elephant (the only elephant in the tour group, by the way) were drinking cheap vodka. Unfortunately, neither myself or the elephant were aware than in Taiwan drinking cheap vodka is Treason and will get you sentenced to death! So the elephant and I went to trial and were condemned to be shot by a firing squad next Thursday...it seemed there was nothing I could do to avoid my death!
But luckily it was OK because everyone in the tour group had just been paid, and so the elephant and I, hiding out in an orchard by day, were soon well on the way to stealing enough money to flee the country. Unfortunately, we then found a secret stash of alcohol, and the elephant ran away with the alcohol & the money...leaving me to face the authorities, and my death!
But luckily it was OK because right then the world flooded. I ended up on top of an ocean liner, standing at the front in a very Leo-in-Titanic way, shouting with glee as around me people tumbled over the side to their deaths. (Apparently I was having far too much fun for the end of the world to affect me.) The water rose up over all the buildings, all the cities - I remember looking over the side and seeing skyscrapers far under the water. It was awesome. The sky was covered with huge heavy grey & black clouds & lightening, and from time to time the heavens would open and a huge quantity of water would gush down and hit the oceans, which were a turbulence of waves & whirlpools. I saw a particularly huge gush of water crashing down near the liner and, in a flash of brilliance, threw myself from the liner onto a tiny, bright orange rubber dinghy. The liner went down! I survived! I was tossed about on the sea and eventually went over a HUGE waterfall...off the edge of the world, to my death!
But luckily it was OK because at the bottom of the waterfall was San Francisco, which had been spared from the Flood. (Don't ask me why.) So I entered San Francisco and joined a pack of vampire tiger-human mutants, and we snacked upon a Muslim community on the top of a hill.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Be Less Professional
That was the advice I received at work today. Let's just take a moment to think about that. 'Be Less Professional.' 'Do a slightly more shitty job.' 'Stop putting in quite so much effort.' No, not because I was making everybody else look bad. I am not. CC, who has actually turned into Cocky Colleague (formerly Cute), is making everybody else look bad with his obscene number of sales. On the bright side, his shirt was ironed all half-assed today because his mother's out of town (no, really...he is suitably unprofessional).
My boss, who is a big bluff West Coast man who runs about shouting things like "Let's get EXCITED about the FANTASTIC deal we're going to offer these PEOPLE, RIGHT?!" came over to my desk mid-morning, listened to a call, and then said that while my presentation was perfect, I knew the product backwards, I was charming on the phone and was more or a big person-shaped chunk of awesome, I would sell more if I was less professional. Apparently it scares people. Wait, what? People don't want buy something off someone who sounds like they know what they're doing? You'd rather give your credit card number to someone who says "youse?"
(I would just like to add that I'm not scary on the phone - I have a warm voice and am friendly and laugh, and stuff. I just sound like I work for a large company and have been properly trained. Boss also said, "You sound like a telemarketer," which confused the shit out of me because if I wasn't hired to be a telemarketer then what the hell am I meant to be doing??)
I mean, I see their point in that I am no longer doing business-to-business sales & therefore no longer need to sound overly business-like, but really. I've already become about 40% less professional on the phone since starting there. I mean, who really says...'at ridiculous prices?' (I do. CC has taken it one step further and now says 'outrageous.' CC is tosser.) I got annoyed this afternoon, decided to really overdo it, and said, "....to offer you an absolutely fantastic holiday at a simply ridiculous price!!" My boss, who was listening (I did not know this at the time) loved it. The woman on the other end of the phone thought it was hilarious.
So now, instead of saying, "This is Courtney calling from Amazing Company! How are you? I'm ringing because we're currently offering 30 couples and families the chance to get away on a fabulous resort holiday with us at a simply ridiculous price," I will say, "Gidday! This is Courtney! Wanna go on a fucking fantastic holiday, mate? What? 'Course you do! Gimme a min to go over the basics. Good on you!"
Anyway. Enough about horrible job. (Horrible horrible horrible - Zachy, don't let this put you off. They are still hiring people because they assume (I am not making this up) that out of every 8-10 person training group, 2 people will stay past the first week. You could be one of those two! *gasp*)
Last night I had a dream. Yeah, yeah, I know other people's dreams are boring. However, I am the exception to this rule and here is why: Last night, asleep, I was lying in an underground concrete bunker (post-nuclear holocaust), taking part in a competition to see who could be the first to give birth to a live octopus. And I won. That's right, folks. My subconscious decided last night was the night to birth a large, slimy, purple, post-apocalyptic octopus. Just like this one.
"And he will call me Father, and I will call him Son."
Is my subconscious merely acting out against my horrible job, or do I have a deeply buried tentacle fetish? You be the judge.
My boss, who is a big bluff West Coast man who runs about shouting things like "Let's get EXCITED about the FANTASTIC deal we're going to offer these PEOPLE, RIGHT?!" came over to my desk mid-morning, listened to a call, and then said that while my presentation was perfect, I knew the product backwards, I was charming on the phone and was more or a big person-shaped chunk of awesome, I would sell more if I was less professional. Apparently it scares people. Wait, what? People don't want buy something off someone who sounds like they know what they're doing? You'd rather give your credit card number to someone who says "youse?"
(I would just like to add that I'm not scary on the phone - I have a warm voice and am friendly and laugh, and stuff. I just sound like I work for a large company and have been properly trained. Boss also said, "You sound like a telemarketer," which confused the shit out of me because if I wasn't hired to be a telemarketer then what the hell am I meant to be doing??)
I mean, I see their point in that I am no longer doing business-to-business sales & therefore no longer need to sound overly business-like, but really. I've already become about 40% less professional on the phone since starting there. I mean, who really says...'at ridiculous prices?' (I do. CC has taken it one step further and now says 'outrageous.' CC is tosser.) I got annoyed this afternoon, decided to really overdo it, and said, "....to offer you an absolutely fantastic holiday at a simply ridiculous price!!" My boss, who was listening (I did not know this at the time) loved it. The woman on the other end of the phone thought it was hilarious.
So now, instead of saying, "This is Courtney calling from Amazing Company! How are you? I'm ringing because we're currently offering 30 couples and families the chance to get away on a fabulous resort holiday with us at a simply ridiculous price," I will say, "Gidday! This is Courtney! Wanna go on a fucking fantastic holiday, mate? What? 'Course you do! Gimme a min to go over the basics. Good on you!"
Anyway. Enough about horrible job. (Horrible horrible horrible - Zachy, don't let this put you off. They are still hiring people because they assume (I am not making this up) that out of every 8-10 person training group, 2 people will stay past the first week. You could be one of those two! *gasp*)
Last night I had a dream. Yeah, yeah, I know other people's dreams are boring. However, I am the exception to this rule and here is why: Last night, asleep, I was lying in an underground concrete bunker (post-nuclear holocaust), taking part in a competition to see who could be the first to give birth to a live octopus. And I won. That's right, folks. My subconscious decided last night was the night to birth a large, slimy, purple, post-apocalyptic octopus. Just like this one.
"And he will call me Father, and I will call him Son."Is my subconscious merely acting out against my horrible job, or do I have a deeply buried tentacle fetish? You be the judge.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Bad Morning
This morning was among the worst wake-up calls ever: Kate running into my room and flinging herself full-length on my bed, which I was sleeping in. I went "Ack Ack Gahhhh" and hid under the covers, then she yanked them off and shouted, with no little excitement, "I was going to make you a cup of tea and I put the bag in the cup but then just as I was about to pour in the hot water two flies flew in the cup and started mating in it!!"
"What?"
Right up there. Here, in no particular order except the order in which I remember them, are the Top Five Worst Awakenings Of My Life:
5: That one
4: Waking up from a nightmare in which my upper lip was grotesquely swollen and running to the bathroom mirror to reassure myself that it was only a dream...only to find that a bug had bitten me in my sleep and my lip was in fact grotesquely swollen. Terrifying! And I looked like Homer Simpson for a week.
3: Either of the two times I've left my alarm on silent by accident, woken up at 10am, and had that awful sick moment when you realise you're two hours late for work and there's nothing you can do about it.
2: Waking up on the last morning of band contest in Auckland, still a) wearing a cocktail dress and heels and b) quite drunk, to very shrill-voiced cornet player shouting "The bus leaves in five minutes!"
1: Waking up at 7.30am, after an hour of sleep, in an extremely over-wrought emotional state and completely exhausted, to realise that my bus left in five minutes from somewhere on the other side of town, and I was moving from Christchurch to Wellington that day and had connections to make. And I was drunk and in Dunedin, on The Longest Day Of My Life.
Have I told you the story of TLDOMY? No? (Yes?) Well, it is a Cautionary Tale featuring a Man (who played the Euphonium; need I say more?) a lot of alcohol; a missed bus; sobering up on a plane; moving CITIES; the ferry, and a backpackers. I was going to tell the entire story, in my usual amusing manner, but it would be a long story & I am tired. If there is much clamouring to hear it then perhaps it is a story for another day; but if not you will have to make do with...yes! This graph.
Anyway, poor start aside (mistyped poor as 'porn' there, which is a different story entirely), it was quite a good day - I went to the museum, partially to see Fred & Myrtle's Paua House and also because my mother made me. Fred & Myrtle's Paua House was a tourist attraction for 40 years or so - a retired couple ran it, and it was open 7 days a week, 8 hours a day. They took their 70th wedding anniversary off, but that was it. They didn't charge, and any donations people gave were donated to charities. When they died, their living room was uplifted and installed in the Christchurch Museum. Apparently the whole paua house thing started when Myrtle told Fred to get his polished paua shells off the living room floor, because they were getting in the way of the vacuum cleaner. Fred, displaying a slight passive-aggressive streak, did this:
Which sure showed Myrtle.
"What?"
Right up there. Here, in no particular order except the order in which I remember them, are the Top Five Worst Awakenings Of My Life:
5: That one
4: Waking up from a nightmare in which my upper lip was grotesquely swollen and running to the bathroom mirror to reassure myself that it was only a dream...only to find that a bug had bitten me in my sleep and my lip was in fact grotesquely swollen. Terrifying! And I looked like Homer Simpson for a week.
3: Either of the two times I've left my alarm on silent by accident, woken up at 10am, and had that awful sick moment when you realise you're two hours late for work and there's nothing you can do about it.
2: Waking up on the last morning of band contest in Auckland, still a) wearing a cocktail dress and heels and b) quite drunk, to very shrill-voiced cornet player shouting "The bus leaves in five minutes!"
1: Waking up at 7.30am, after an hour of sleep, in an extremely over-wrought emotional state and completely exhausted, to realise that my bus left in five minutes from somewhere on the other side of town, and I was moving from Christchurch to Wellington that day and had connections to make. And I was drunk and in Dunedin, on The Longest Day Of My Life.
Have I told you the story of TLDOMY? No? (Yes?) Well, it is a Cautionary Tale featuring a Man (who played the Euphonium; need I say more?) a lot of alcohol; a missed bus; sobering up on a plane; moving CITIES; the ferry, and a backpackers. I was going to tell the entire story, in my usual amusing manner, but it would be a long story & I am tired. If there is much clamouring to hear it then perhaps it is a story for another day; but if not you will have to make do with...yes! This graph.
Anyway, poor start aside (mistyped poor as 'porn' there, which is a different story entirely), it was quite a good day - I went to the museum, partially to see Fred & Myrtle's Paua House and also because my mother made me. Fred & Myrtle's Paua House was a tourist attraction for 40 years or so - a retired couple ran it, and it was open 7 days a week, 8 hours a day. They took their 70th wedding anniversary off, but that was it. They didn't charge, and any donations people gave were donated to charities. When they died, their living room was uplifted and installed in the Christchurch Museum. Apparently the whole paua house thing started when Myrtle told Fred to get his polished paua shells off the living room floor, because they were getting in the way of the vacuum cleaner. Fred, displaying a slight passive-aggressive streak, did this:
Which sure showed Myrtle.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
A Good Morning with the Balloon Game
It has been, so far. I had a dream that I had a pet wolf (I know, right? My dreams rock) and the wolf and I were going on a road trip along with another family and my Dad. (Who I would totally take on a wolf-heavy road trip. He would know which CDs to bring.) The only fly in the ointment was that every so often the wolf would become HUNGRY and the mother of the family would become concerned that the wolf would EAT HER CHILDREN (I know, right? Unfair stereotyping) and I would have to make a quick trip to the supermarket and buy large sticks of salami (which is, everyone knows, what a wolf likes to eat).
I don’t think this dream has any deeper meaning, except that I don’t know much about the eating habits of wolves. Possibly the salami are Freudian.
Exciting news: this morning, in the ultimate modern fuck-you, I unfriended someone on Facebook, which was incredibly satisfying. For anyone who hasn’t experienced the fleeting joy of removing someone from your friend list (fleeting because about two seconds afterwards you have a minor panic that they’re going to realise you’ve removed them and create an awkward scene), I’d recommend it. The person I removed shall, for privacy reasons, be referred to only as Butthead McArseface. (Although Keith really is easier to type.) Goodbye, Butthead! May your pretentious status updates never darken my live feed again!
(Backstory: Butthead McArseface and I had an argument last week which was really sort of my fault (I am not above being something of a butthead myself from time to time), but in which he definitely gave as good as he got, so I ended up annoyed at him and he ended up annoyed at me. This in itself is not a) unusual or b) a reason for de-friending (sounds like something you have to get done at the vet’s). However, it appears that I annoyed Buttface more than I first realised, because he decided to write an email – no, wait, a Facebook private message (unimportant detail) – to my Sister Flatmate, who he has never met, posing as a ‘concerned friend’ and telling her about how I sent him a lot of very concerning txts and he is seriously worried that I’m going to kill myself.
Like I said, this was passed off as the actions of a ‘concerned friend’ and would in fact have been just that and quite excusable, if a little inappropriate, if the entire thing wasn’t entirely a creation of Butthead’s fervent imagination.
No depression! No suicidal txts! Definitely not the decidedly sordid “It’s been fun. Take care. Love you.” (Even if I was going to top myself (an aside: did you hear about the ice-cream man found dead in his truck, covered in sprinkles and chocolate? They say he topped himself, boom boom) there’s no way I would send something so…tacky. Give me a bit of credit here, Butthead.)
Unfortunately when a family member gets an email like that they get all emotional and trust Butthead implicitly and me not at all, and send frantic panicked txts to other family members, the end result of which is that I have spent a considerable amount of time over the last few days rolling up my sleeves and displaying my unslashed wrists to all and sundry as they attempt to make me ‘open up and share what I’m going through.’ Sigh.
My favourite bit about this is that Butthead, ever the master of timing, sent this email on Christmas Day, thus effectively fucking my family’s Christmas. And this is why he has been removed from my list of Facebook friends. Also from the list of People For Whom I Have No Mutual Hatred and Contempt, because it's obviously pretty mutual.)
Sorry that was so angry! Was meant to be short explanation, not long rant. Suggestions for appropriate acts of revenge appreciated – you know where the Comments field is.
In other news, the Balloon Game is awesome. I’m not going to describe it beyond “lining up balloons of the same colour and popping them,” mainly because that sounds lame enough already, but it is incredibly addictive. It is like crack. I am the star! I have not done any work since discovering the Balloon Game. (14 hours and 25 eftpos minutes remaining.)
I am also HUNGRY. Subway is calling me. So is a customer. I am much more tempted to answer the call of Subway.
I don’t think this dream has any deeper meaning, except that I don’t know much about the eating habits of wolves. Possibly the salami are Freudian.
Exciting news: this morning, in the ultimate modern fuck-you, I unfriended someone on Facebook, which was incredibly satisfying. For anyone who hasn’t experienced the fleeting joy of removing someone from your friend list (fleeting because about two seconds afterwards you have a minor panic that they’re going to realise you’ve removed them and create an awkward scene), I’d recommend it. The person I removed shall, for privacy reasons, be referred to only as Butthead McArseface. (Although Keith really is easier to type.) Goodbye, Butthead! May your pretentious status updates never darken my live feed again!
(Backstory: Butthead McArseface and I had an argument last week which was really sort of my fault (I am not above being something of a butthead myself from time to time), but in which he definitely gave as good as he got, so I ended up annoyed at him and he ended up annoyed at me. This in itself is not a) unusual or b) a reason for de-friending (sounds like something you have to get done at the vet’s). However, it appears that I annoyed Buttface more than I first realised, because he decided to write an email – no, wait, a Facebook private message (unimportant detail) – to my Sister Flatmate, who he has never met, posing as a ‘concerned friend’ and telling her about how I sent him a lot of very concerning txts and he is seriously worried that I’m going to kill myself.
Like I said, this was passed off as the actions of a ‘concerned friend’ and would in fact have been just that and quite excusable, if a little inappropriate, if the entire thing wasn’t entirely a creation of Butthead’s fervent imagination.
No depression! No suicidal txts! Definitely not the decidedly sordid “It’s been fun. Take care. Love you.” (Even if I was going to top myself (an aside: did you hear about the ice-cream man found dead in his truck, covered in sprinkles and chocolate? They say he topped himself, boom boom) there’s no way I would send something so…tacky. Give me a bit of credit here, Butthead.)
Unfortunately when a family member gets an email like that they get all emotional and trust Butthead implicitly and me not at all, and send frantic panicked txts to other family members, the end result of which is that I have spent a considerable amount of time over the last few days rolling up my sleeves and displaying my unslashed wrists to all and sundry as they attempt to make me ‘open up and share what I’m going through.’ Sigh.
My favourite bit about this is that Butthead, ever the master of timing, sent this email on Christmas Day, thus effectively fucking my family’s Christmas. And this is why he has been removed from my list of Facebook friends. Also from the list of People For Whom I Have No Mutual Hatred and Contempt, because it's obviously pretty mutual.)
Sorry that was so angry! Was meant to be short explanation, not long rant. Suggestions for appropriate acts of revenge appreciated – you know where the Comments field is.
In other news, the Balloon Game is awesome. I’m not going to describe it beyond “lining up balloons of the same colour and popping them,” mainly because that sounds lame enough already, but it is incredibly addictive. It is like crack. I am the star! I have not done any work since discovering the Balloon Game. (14 hours and 25 eftpos minutes remaining.)
I am also HUNGRY. Subway is calling me. So is a customer. I am much more tempted to answer the call of Subway.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Yawn.
Yes, life is exciting. Yes, I am moving cities and getting a new job and bought a great pair of red boots the other day on sale but I am still really bored. I suspect it’s work, which is slowing down hugely coming up to Christmas. I have about 20 things to do today (normally I have about 80), and none of them are things that I particularly want to do or have any interest in doing. Sadly, this is my job (for another three weeks, anyway) and so the things have to be done, but…I am bored.
Obviously.
As per usual, lunch is going to be the highlight of my day – am going to nice Asian place (same one as last week) with three work friends (same ones as last week). Every time I go there, I think “Ooh, today I’m going to have something different, not the teriyaki squid,” and toss up between about five menu options and irritate the rest of the table by vocalising every swing of my indecision. Then the waitress (am not being sexist, they don’t seem to have any boy wait staff), who inevitably has horrible bitten-to-the-quick nails with chipped polish (pet hate), comes over and says “Are you ready to order,” and everyone else is and I am not and so I panic and shout “Squid! Teriyaki squid!” and then spend the next twenty minutes being annoyed with myself for not branching out. Then the squid arrives and it is as delicious as ever, and I am reassured. This is exactly the same behaviour I exhibit every time I go out for brunch (“Hmm, pancakes…but then they also have smoked salmon on potato cakes…” “Are you ready to-” “Eggs Benedict! Eggs Benedict!”) and every time I go to Subway (“Hmm, maybe I would like the Steak and Cheese sub today, or maybe…” “What would you-” “Gah! Chicken fillet on white with Swiss cheese and just lettuce and olives and ranch and honey mustard dressing and a little bit of salt and pepper! Fresh!”). But not today, no sir – today I will make a foray into the culinary jungle. (“Teriyaki squid!”)
Had a dream last night that a Christchurch-based friend and I were madly in love and also kind of guerrilla fighters attempting to overcome an army of machine insects. We fought off these glowing insect Transformer-esque monsters in a video-game setting (as you do - very nuclear sunrise) and then went to a black-tie ball and danced for hours. Seriously, we rocked. Reality is boring. Was thinking of emailing Christchurch friend and telling them about this but a) other people’s dreams are boring, even when you’re in them and b) am pretty sure they’d take it the wrong way and actually try to become futuristic robo-vigilante love interest. This would be a little inappropriate, although interesting.
Wow, the nail on my left hand little finger sure has got long. As have my toenails. I should really cut them.
My workmate Kristy wanted to be mentioned in this post I believe – sorry, Kristy, to give the toenails higher billing than you, but they are pretty freakin’ long (and gross). Kristy has just walked past and said “Am I in it?” (Stop nagging me, bitch.) She knows I’m writing a post because about ten minutes ago she emailed me and said, ‘You know what you should write another blog’ (or something like that, I deleted the email), and I replied all like ‘Oh do you know what I am doing right now.’ Obviously we are joined at the mind. Kristy is going to have to help me order something different at lunch today. I hope she is prepared for this.
Moving update: moving all my stuff via moving company is a lot cheaper than I thought, only about $200. When I remember the name of the moving company, I will pimp it. Whatever that means.
Obviously.
As per usual, lunch is going to be the highlight of my day – am going to nice Asian place (same one as last week) with three work friends (same ones as last week). Every time I go there, I think “Ooh, today I’m going to have something different, not the teriyaki squid,” and toss up between about five menu options and irritate the rest of the table by vocalising every swing of my indecision. Then the waitress (am not being sexist, they don’t seem to have any boy wait staff), who inevitably has horrible bitten-to-the-quick nails with chipped polish (pet hate), comes over and says “Are you ready to order,” and everyone else is and I am not and so I panic and shout “Squid! Teriyaki squid!” and then spend the next twenty minutes being annoyed with myself for not branching out. Then the squid arrives and it is as delicious as ever, and I am reassured. This is exactly the same behaviour I exhibit every time I go out for brunch (“Hmm, pancakes…but then they also have smoked salmon on potato cakes…” “Are you ready to-” “Eggs Benedict! Eggs Benedict!”) and every time I go to Subway (“Hmm, maybe I would like the Steak and Cheese sub today, or maybe…” “What would you-” “Gah! Chicken fillet on white with Swiss cheese and just lettuce and olives and ranch and honey mustard dressing and a little bit of salt and pepper! Fresh!”). But not today, no sir – today I will make a foray into the culinary jungle. (“Teriyaki squid!”)
Had a dream last night that a Christchurch-based friend and I were madly in love and also kind of guerrilla fighters attempting to overcome an army of machine insects. We fought off these glowing insect Transformer-esque monsters in a video-game setting (as you do - very nuclear sunrise) and then went to a black-tie ball and danced for hours. Seriously, we rocked. Reality is boring. Was thinking of emailing Christchurch friend and telling them about this but a) other people’s dreams are boring, even when you’re in them and b) am pretty sure they’d take it the wrong way and actually try to become futuristic robo-vigilante love interest. This would be a little inappropriate, although interesting.
Wow, the nail on my left hand little finger sure has got long. As have my toenails. I should really cut them.
My workmate Kristy wanted to be mentioned in this post I believe – sorry, Kristy, to give the toenails higher billing than you, but they are pretty freakin’ long (and gross). Kristy has just walked past and said “Am I in it?” (Stop nagging me, bitch.) She knows I’m writing a post because about ten minutes ago she emailed me and said, ‘You know what you should write another blog’ (or something like that, I deleted the email), and I replied all like ‘Oh do you know what I am doing right now.’ Obviously we are joined at the mind. Kristy is going to have to help me order something different at lunch today. I hope she is prepared for this.
Moving update: moving all my stuff via moving company is a lot cheaper than I thought, only about $200. When I remember the name of the moving company, I will pimp it. Whatever that means.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
This Week In The News
Things That Happened This Week (in no particular order):
Disclaimer: the following items are not 'real' news on either a domestic or an international scale, just, well, Things that Happened This Week.
1. I am currently having a Romance (I say Romance because I'm not sure if it's a Fling (probably, but now he is Emotionally Attached so hard to extract Self), or a Fledgling Relationship (Gah! Hope not that one)) with a friend of a friend. Have just been (harshly and undeservedly) labelled "a spring-loaded baby" by Sister Flatmate's boyfriend, as the other key player in the Romance is 7 years older than me. "Spring-loaded baby" appears to be the reverse application of cradle snatching. Oh, he elaborates - "launching yourself from the cradle to latch to some poor unsuspecting man! Doing! Zat!" ('Doing' being the noise of a spring, to rhyme with 'boing'. 'Zat' is presumably the sound of me hitting my intended victim.) So yes - love life interesting, at least, although don't want to get accidentally stuck in Serious Relationship. Perhaps Romance ill-advised. SIGH.
2. I am becoming more maudlin and grouchy by the day - am still trying to decide if am going to move back to Chch or not. Probably not, to be honest - the idea has NO merit except that it would be something to do over a week or so at the start of November (which is when I will be resigning - VB resigned on Friday, it's obviously the season for it). Maybe I could go on holiday for a month or so? (My commission bonus is paid at the end of October). Oh no wait that's right, I will be going to job interviews. I shouldn't quit until I have another job, and I'm much more likely to get a decent job within the company, but - and this is the million dollar question - who really cares?
Not I.
3. I'm watching Becoming Jane, which I've seen before. It annoyed me then, too. Why can't movies display people having realistic emotions? Is all idealism and romance and feet-sweeping. Bleh. Realise quality of blog decreasing rapidly, but then so is mood. Also had a rehearsal this afternoon which went badly as had to sing songs which I didn't know and which were out of my range. Solo! Yay how could that not make my day awesome. I am going to the fridge now and getting a beer out because I've worked myself into quite a rage! Haha.
Not sure where sudden surge of irritability came from, but it's not adding a lot - think might sit quietly fuming to myself and shouting at the telly, rather than blather incoherently on, incensed about nothing easy to describe. Although, it is quite nice to have a rant, and so I shall continue! You know, I have one all lined up.
4. Our Team Leader had his last day at work on Wednesday just been. This is not something bad or rant-worthy as it is good for everyone (him included) that he's gone. Really nice guy, lovely guy, but poor people skills and just in the wrong role. Goodbye, Pigling Bland! Never darken my pod again! ...anyway, now that he's gone his manager is doing the day-to-day running of the team (because hiring a replacement within a sensible timeframe would just be unthinkably well-organised). The only flaw in this plan is that a) she's too senior to know the systems we use and b) she's too senior to be familiar with how we spend our time and c) she's too senior to, um, be in the office for more than about an hour a day. So she's delegated responsibilities (when she's out) to one of the guys in the team. However! Doubt about his competency is widespread in the team and the FIRES OF MUTINY are spreading fast! No-one is keen on Not Being In Charge, and so we have a classic case of too many chiefs, not enough indians. Or, to be more precise, we have a classic case of 'too many chiefs who spend all day running about with their heads up their arses, whooping and hooting and shouting and essentially not doing any of the work that they're meant to be doing, and about two indians.' I seem to have become the unofficial Actual Person to Ask Stuff & General Contact in My Team (for people in other teams), (because the guy who's officially the second in command, as it were, is, um, not overly helpful or for that matter knowledgeable). This would be OK except a) I still have a lot of Regular Stuff to do, which is gettin' all interrupted and backed-up like some hideous overflowing Paperwork Toilet, and b) it is intensely frustrating when someone asks me a question (to which I know the answer), and three different people pop up from their desks and start shouting answers, at least 2 of which will be conflicting and probably wrong - and even if everyone's right, there's no point in 4 people being right at once. Especially not when two of them dislike each other, and every tries to explain at the same time, actually shouting each other down in their manic fervour to prove that they, and they alone, have drunk from the Fountain of Temporary Leadership!
Ooh, I do like to rant. To rant is grand! (Rhymed better in my head.)
So work is frustrating at the moment. Have re-read post and decided Romance definitely ill-advised - oh I feel another rant coming on. I feel like one of those really bad stand-up comics who does a two-hour show and every joke starts "So you know those SUV's/cheap airlines/reality TV shows? What's up with those?"
So you know those people who come across as normal, rational human beings but are actually so emotionally bizarre that you wonder how they manage to function on any deeper emotional level? Yeah, what's up with those? It's really irritating when someone decides that their emotional issues don't only involve them (which would seem like the logical conclusion) but are also somehow your problem. And then they begin to tell you about every nuance of whatever emotional mess they have gotten themselves into (because it is invariably an emotional mess of their own creation). But they do not realise that actually their emotional mirage (as in, I am mired in this emotional um swamp, not as in lost in the desert or what's on a Chinese odometer (am I allowed to say that? hmm)), where was I, their emotional mirage is actually pretty boring and a little pretentious. This in itself is ok. Everyone is allowed their emo moments, even people who are hideously self-indulgent and mawkish about it (and also expect you to realise that no-one else has ever felt like this before, and not lose your temper and shout SHUT UP YOU SILLY FUCKER THIS IS YOUR OWN FAULT AND I AM BORED OF LISTENING TO IT, ALSO STOP TELLING ME ABOUT YOUR DREAMS BECAUSE THEY ARE ALSO BORING, YES THAT'S RIGHT YOU KNOW THAT DREAM WHERE YOU WENT TO THE SUPERMARKET BUT EVERYTHING WAS IN THE WRONG AISLE OH NO, THAT IS NOT INTERESTING, AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT WE BOTH KNOW YOU'LL NEVER WRITE THAT NOVEL SO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP TELLING ME EVERY TIME YOU MAKE A MINUTE CHANGE TO THE PLOT WHICH BY THE WAY IS A TOTALLY CRAPPY PREMISE I MEAN WHO WRITES ABOUT A DYSTOPIAN FUTURISTIC SOCIETY SET ON THE MOON OH COME ON - and sadly I am always too polite to start shouting) - as I was saying, everyone is allowed their emo moments and it is fine if a friend is having an emo moment! but as soon as someone starts trying to make their emotional dramas something which it's my responsibility to solve I become highly annoyed, which makes me get really flippant about the emotional drama. This comes out in the form of blatantly unhelpful comments, which always go down a treat. I love it when I am being all distraught and wanky and accusing other people of being responsible for it, and they're all "maybe you'd feel better if you had a look at this comic I found on the Internet, it is pretty funny" or "i wonder if potatoes have changed much in shape since people first started growing them thousands of years ago" or whatever - but if you're going to accuse other people of making you emotionally weird then in that case, my friends, that is what you get. This usually goes on until I make a shockingly crap analogy involving a) Hitler or b) amputees (for some reason all of my really, really terrible analogies feature one of the former) and the person having the emotional drama abruptly becomes the person who is no longer talking to me and I think Oh thank God, now I can drink my tea and watch Coronation Street in peace.
This is becoming a very, very long post and for that I am sorry but hey, maybe you didn't have much to do and needed something to read. So maybe I helped? One final concept which I would like to put forward: what if your internal organs could email you? Actually that will be a new post and it will be above this one. But, what a good rant that was. I feel...better.
Disclaimer: the following items are not 'real' news on either a domestic or an international scale, just, well, Things that Happened This Week.
1. I am currently having a Romance (I say Romance because I'm not sure if it's a Fling (probably, but now he is Emotionally Attached so hard to extract Self), or a Fledgling Relationship (Gah! Hope not that one)) with a friend of a friend. Have just been (harshly and undeservedly) labelled "a spring-loaded baby" by Sister Flatmate's boyfriend, as the other key player in the Romance is 7 years older than me. "Spring-loaded baby" appears to be the reverse application of cradle snatching. Oh, he elaborates - "launching yourself from the cradle to latch to some poor unsuspecting man! Doing! Zat!" ('Doing' being the noise of a spring, to rhyme with 'boing'. 'Zat' is presumably the sound of me hitting my intended victim.) So yes - love life interesting, at least, although don't want to get accidentally stuck in Serious Relationship. Perhaps Romance ill-advised. SIGH.
2. I am becoming more maudlin and grouchy by the day - am still trying to decide if am going to move back to Chch or not. Probably not, to be honest - the idea has NO merit except that it would be something to do over a week or so at the start of November (which is when I will be resigning - VB resigned on Friday, it's obviously the season for it). Maybe I could go on holiday for a month or so? (My commission bonus is paid at the end of October). Oh no wait that's right, I will be going to job interviews. I shouldn't quit until I have another job, and I'm much more likely to get a decent job within the company, but - and this is the million dollar question - who really cares?
Not I.
3. I'm watching Becoming Jane, which I've seen before. It annoyed me then, too. Why can't movies display people having realistic emotions? Is all idealism and romance and feet-sweeping. Bleh. Realise quality of blog decreasing rapidly, but then so is mood. Also had a rehearsal this afternoon which went badly as had to sing songs which I didn't know and which were out of my range. Solo! Yay how could that not make my day awesome. I am going to the fridge now and getting a beer out because I've worked myself into quite a rage! Haha.
Not sure where sudden surge of irritability came from, but it's not adding a lot - think might sit quietly fuming to myself and shouting at the telly, rather than blather incoherently on, incensed about nothing easy to describe. Although, it is quite nice to have a rant, and so I shall continue! You know, I have one all lined up.
4. Our Team Leader had his last day at work on Wednesday just been. This is not something bad or rant-worthy as it is good for everyone (him included) that he's gone. Really nice guy, lovely guy, but poor people skills and just in the wrong role. Goodbye, Pigling Bland! Never darken my pod again! ...anyway, now that he's gone his manager is doing the day-to-day running of the team (because hiring a replacement within a sensible timeframe would just be unthinkably well-organised). The only flaw in this plan is that a) she's too senior to know the systems we use and b) she's too senior to be familiar with how we spend our time and c) she's too senior to, um, be in the office for more than about an hour a day. So she's delegated responsibilities (when she's out) to one of the guys in the team. However! Doubt about his competency is widespread in the team and the FIRES OF MUTINY are spreading fast! No-one is keen on Not Being In Charge, and so we have a classic case of too many chiefs, not enough indians. Or, to be more precise, we have a classic case of 'too many chiefs who spend all day running about with their heads up their arses, whooping and hooting and shouting and essentially not doing any of the work that they're meant to be doing, and about two indians.' I seem to have become the unofficial Actual Person to Ask Stuff & General Contact in My Team (for people in other teams), (because the guy who's officially the second in command, as it were, is, um, not overly helpful or for that matter knowledgeable). This would be OK except a) I still have a lot of Regular Stuff to do, which is gettin' all interrupted and backed-up like some hideous overflowing Paperwork Toilet, and b) it is intensely frustrating when someone asks me a question (to which I know the answer), and three different people pop up from their desks and start shouting answers, at least 2 of which will be conflicting and probably wrong - and even if everyone's right, there's no point in 4 people being right at once. Especially not when two of them dislike each other, and every tries to explain at the same time, actually shouting each other down in their manic fervour to prove that they, and they alone, have drunk from the Fountain of Temporary Leadership!
Ooh, I do like to rant. To rant is grand! (Rhymed better in my head.)
So work is frustrating at the moment. Have re-read post and decided Romance definitely ill-advised - oh I feel another rant coming on. I feel like one of those really bad stand-up comics who does a two-hour show and every joke starts "So you know those SUV's/cheap airlines/reality TV shows? What's up with those?"
So you know those people who come across as normal, rational human beings but are actually so emotionally bizarre that you wonder how they manage to function on any deeper emotional level? Yeah, what's up with those? It's really irritating when someone decides that their emotional issues don't only involve them (which would seem like the logical conclusion) but are also somehow your problem. And then they begin to tell you about every nuance of whatever emotional mess they have gotten themselves into (because it is invariably an emotional mess of their own creation). But they do not realise that actually their emotional mirage (as in, I am mired in this emotional um swamp, not as in lost in the desert or what's on a Chinese odometer (am I allowed to say that? hmm)), where was I, their emotional mirage is actually pretty boring and a little pretentious. This in itself is ok. Everyone is allowed their emo moments, even people who are hideously self-indulgent and mawkish about it (and also expect you to realise that no-one else has ever felt like this before, and not lose your temper and shout SHUT UP YOU SILLY FUCKER THIS IS YOUR OWN FAULT AND I AM BORED OF LISTENING TO IT, ALSO STOP TELLING ME ABOUT YOUR DREAMS BECAUSE THEY ARE ALSO BORING, YES THAT'S RIGHT YOU KNOW THAT DREAM WHERE YOU WENT TO THE SUPERMARKET BUT EVERYTHING WAS IN THE WRONG AISLE OH NO, THAT IS NOT INTERESTING, AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT WE BOTH KNOW YOU'LL NEVER WRITE THAT NOVEL SO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP TELLING ME EVERY TIME YOU MAKE A MINUTE CHANGE TO THE PLOT WHICH BY THE WAY IS A TOTALLY CRAPPY PREMISE I MEAN WHO WRITES ABOUT A DYSTOPIAN FUTURISTIC SOCIETY SET ON THE MOON OH COME ON - and sadly I am always too polite to start shouting) - as I was saying, everyone is allowed their emo moments and it is fine if a friend is having an emo moment! but as soon as someone starts trying to make their emotional dramas something which it's my responsibility to solve I become highly annoyed, which makes me get really flippant about the emotional drama. This comes out in the form of blatantly unhelpful comments, which always go down a treat. I love it when I am being all distraught and wanky and accusing other people of being responsible for it, and they're all "maybe you'd feel better if you had a look at this comic I found on the Internet, it is pretty funny" or "i wonder if potatoes have changed much in shape since people first started growing them thousands of years ago" or whatever - but if you're going to accuse other people of making you emotionally weird then in that case, my friends, that is what you get. This usually goes on until I make a shockingly crap analogy involving a) Hitler or b) amputees (for some reason all of my really, really terrible analogies feature one of the former) and the person having the emotional drama abruptly becomes the person who is no longer talking to me and I think Oh thank God, now I can drink my tea and watch Coronation Street in peace.
This is becoming a very, very long post and for that I am sorry but hey, maybe you didn't have much to do and needed something to read. So maybe I helped? One final concept which I would like to put forward: what if your internal organs could email you? Actually that will be a new post and it will be above this one. But, what a good rant that was. I feel...better.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Grouch!
I am a grouch. Here are some reasons why (this is possibly going to replace Three Beautiful Things as am having a bit of an off day).
Why I Am A Grouch
- Have no money. Have spent all money on CRAP.
- Hate job but haven't got another one yet, so can't quit.
- Got moved back up a seat and band and can't handle it - want to sit on nice, easy seat not difficult, exposed one. Can play all the parts but knowledge that everyone can hear me doing so is awful. But can't quit as band is like the Mafia.
- Had dream last week in which I was a cabbage that was rotting in the vege crisper of someone's fridge, and people kept looking in the fridge and saying things like "there were so many dishes that would've been perfect in, but now we'll have to throw it out." Woke up very very disturbed and upset and have been having panic attacks since. Is obviously thinly veiled subconscious having a bit of a spaz. Not helpful! Had panic attack in the supermarket where got to the checkout with trolley of groceries, freaked out, and had to leave entire trolley at the checkout and leave. Thought people only did that in the movies! Was horrible and worrying. Am worried will have panic attack at work.
- Best work friend is away sick and has been all last week. Is dreary.
- Keep eating! Eating, eating, eating. Wish could stop doing so.
- Have cut fringe and do not like it. I look like one of the Beatles. If the Beatles were made of Lego.
- Am tired. Want to have a holiday but this is not a practical idea.
- Am meant to be catching up with about ten people (actually) for drinks/coffee/lunch/dinner/other tiring social events in the next couple of weeks - keep putting them off, and they keep getting annoyed and guilt-tripping me, so I can't enjoy nights off because I'm meant to be out meeting up with people that, for the most part, I can't be bothered seeing. I would love to go and see them if it wasn't cold and I wasn't tired, but it is and I am. I also know that 'maintaining friendships takes work' blah blah blah. I do not care. I will maintain friendships another time. Right now I will make a cup of tea (and complain, apparently).
Sorry about stupid whiny blog, but am grouchy. As previously mentioned. Oh well. All stuff that'll fix itself, I guess, but am just not very patient.
On a good note - work friend back tomorrow, have cup of tea, Skins is on tonight, have done washing for tomorrow, and hair is not actually that bad. A veritable scale of positive notes!
Why I Am A Grouch
- Have no money. Have spent all money on CRAP.
- Hate job but haven't got another one yet, so can't quit.
- Got moved back up a seat and band and can't handle it - want to sit on nice, easy seat not difficult, exposed one. Can play all the parts but knowledge that everyone can hear me doing so is awful. But can't quit as band is like the Mafia.
- Had dream last week in which I was a cabbage that was rotting in the vege crisper of someone's fridge, and people kept looking in the fridge and saying things like "there were so many dishes that would've been perfect in, but now we'll have to throw it out." Woke up very very disturbed and upset and have been having panic attacks since. Is obviously thinly veiled subconscious having a bit of a spaz. Not helpful! Had panic attack in the supermarket where got to the checkout with trolley of groceries, freaked out, and had to leave entire trolley at the checkout and leave. Thought people only did that in the movies! Was horrible and worrying. Am worried will have panic attack at work.
- Best work friend is away sick and has been all last week. Is dreary.
- Keep eating! Eating, eating, eating. Wish could stop doing so.
- Have cut fringe and do not like it. I look like one of the Beatles. If the Beatles were made of Lego.
- Am tired. Want to have a holiday but this is not a practical idea.
- Am meant to be catching up with about ten people (actually) for drinks/coffee/lunch/dinner/other tiring social events in the next couple of weeks - keep putting them off, and they keep getting annoyed and guilt-tripping me, so I can't enjoy nights off because I'm meant to be out meeting up with people that, for the most part, I can't be bothered seeing. I would love to go and see them if it wasn't cold and I wasn't tired, but it is and I am. I also know that 'maintaining friendships takes work' blah blah blah. I do not care. I will maintain friendships another time. Right now I will make a cup of tea (and complain, apparently).
Sorry about stupid whiny blog, but am grouchy. As previously mentioned. Oh well. All stuff that'll fix itself, I guess, but am just not very patient.
On a good note - work friend back tomorrow, have cup of tea, Skins is on tonight, have done washing for tomorrow, and hair is not actually that bad. A veritable scale of positive notes!
Monday, August 20, 2007
Hideous Day.
I have had a hideous day. HIDEOUS NASTY CRANKY.
Item One: Went out for game of pool with Tim (Dad's girlfriend's nephew, socks sandals etc.) last night. Had a good time (we have the same favourite beer and this was Highly Exciting...obviously it's a match made in heaven, or in Hoegaarden), but now have to deal with him being madly in love with self. (Can hardly blame him, but still, did NOT want to open that can of worms and now, as they say, the toothpaste is out of the tube. And once the toothpaste is out of the tube it's hard to get it back in.) Just wanted an excuse to say that. But it is irritating. As they say in I Got Plans, "A man is the last thing I need." (I already have several. I am not in the business of collecting them.)
Item Two:
Because I was stressed and in a bitter awful mood about previously mentioned can of Tim Toothpaste, came home last night and started an argument with Ryan. About silly things, and I was about 80% in the WRONG and having a total stir, but he did annoy me. Purely because I was in a shitty mood and had a perverse desire to make other people in shitty moods also. And 'other people' were Ryan, because he was online, poor bastard, and now I don't think he's talking to me.
In fact I'm pretty sure he isn't! Hooray! Sigh. I'm going to have to get a taxi from the ferry terminal because I was in a temper last night and ALWAYS pick fights when I shouldn't.
Item Three:
Went to bed, all tired and cranky and still pissed off, and found that while I thought I'd turned my electric blanket on before I went out actually I hadn't. And my bed was COLD. And this is why I had the nightmare. And I had to charge my phone during the night and the cord was COLD and it kept falling on my face when I was trying to sleep, and then tim would NOT stop txting me and it kept waking me up again, but I couldn't put the fucking thing on silent because then my alarm wouldn't go off and I'd be late for work, which you'll see in the later posts wouldn't have made a blind bit of difference anyway, which makes it twice as irritating. GOD I feel better after typing that sentence.
Item Four:
Had hideous, incredibly vivid nightmare about being shot again and again, beaten half to death, thinking I was going to die and writing my last words in blood beside myself, yet miraculously living. And then everyone wanted to touch my scars but they didn't realise I hadn't healed, and it was incredibly painful, and the only person in the dream who I would allow to touch me didn't want to come near me anymore. could actually feel pain and smell things and feel textures in dream, which I will spare the gory details of as are both gross and boring to anyone not-me. Suffice to say it was horrible, and I woke up all traumatised.
Item Five:
Went to Sucky Shitty Arse Face Work and got FOUR new blisters in an hour as forgot my sticking plasters. Mentioned this to Tim who offered to kiss them better, with a roguish txt wink. Who the fuck kisses half-popped blisters? That is SO gross.
Seriously, what is wrong with people.
Item Six:
Became sick at work...decided at smoko to give myelf until lunchtime as was dizzy and seeing spots, then see how I felt. Lunchtime arrived and I had my sandwich...then, five minutes later I abruptly did not have my sandwich any more. Went home. SULKED ABOUT EVERYTHING. Dad said "it will just be a..bugget. A little bug." "A bugger." "Yes."
Hope tomorrow will be better...if I still feel shitty I am not going to work. Maybe I won't go anyway. Maybe I will LIE and say I feel shitty when actually am just highly fucking lazy. Will stay home and do some writing; apologise to Ryan; eat too much; write planned blog post about inappropriate bodily functions, and decide what my tattoo will be of. Suggestions are welcome.
Item One: Went out for game of pool with Tim (Dad's girlfriend's nephew, socks sandals etc.) last night. Had a good time (we have the same favourite beer and this was Highly Exciting...obviously it's a match made in heaven, or in Hoegaarden), but now have to deal with him being madly in love with self. (Can hardly blame him, but still, did NOT want to open that can of worms and now, as they say, the toothpaste is out of the tube. And once the toothpaste is out of the tube it's hard to get it back in.) Just wanted an excuse to say that. But it is irritating. As they say in I Got Plans, "A man is the last thing I need." (I already have several. I am not in the business of collecting them.)
Item Two:
Because I was stressed and in a bitter awful mood about previously mentioned can of Tim Toothpaste, came home last night and started an argument with Ryan. About silly things, and I was about 80% in the WRONG and having a total stir, but he did annoy me. Purely because I was in a shitty mood and had a perverse desire to make other people in shitty moods also. And 'other people' were Ryan, because he was online, poor bastard, and now I don't think he's talking to me.
In fact I'm pretty sure he isn't! Hooray! Sigh. I'm going to have to get a taxi from the ferry terminal because I was in a temper last night and ALWAYS pick fights when I shouldn't.
Item Three:
Went to bed, all tired and cranky and still pissed off, and found that while I thought I'd turned my electric blanket on before I went out actually I hadn't. And my bed was COLD. And this is why I had the nightmare. And I had to charge my phone during the night and the cord was COLD and it kept falling on my face when I was trying to sleep, and then tim would NOT stop txting me and it kept waking me up again, but I couldn't put the fucking thing on silent because then my alarm wouldn't go off and I'd be late for work, which you'll see in the later posts wouldn't have made a blind bit of difference anyway, which makes it twice as irritating. GOD I feel better after typing that sentence.
Item Four:
Had hideous, incredibly vivid nightmare about being shot again and again, beaten half to death, thinking I was going to die and writing my last words in blood beside myself, yet miraculously living. And then everyone wanted to touch my scars but they didn't realise I hadn't healed, and it was incredibly painful, and the only person in the dream who I would allow to touch me didn't want to come near me anymore. could actually feel pain and smell things and feel textures in dream, which I will spare the gory details of as are both gross and boring to anyone not-me. Suffice to say it was horrible, and I woke up all traumatised.
Item Five:
Went to Sucky Shitty Arse Face Work and got FOUR new blisters in an hour as forgot my sticking plasters. Mentioned this to Tim who offered to kiss them better, with a roguish txt wink. Who the fuck kisses half-popped blisters? That is SO gross.
Seriously, what is wrong with people.
Item Six:
Became sick at work...decided at smoko to give myelf until lunchtime as was dizzy and seeing spots, then see how I felt. Lunchtime arrived and I had my sandwich...then, five minutes later I abruptly did not have my sandwich any more. Went home. SULKED ABOUT EVERYTHING. Dad said "it will just be a..bugget. A little bug." "A bugger." "Yes."
Hope tomorrow will be better...if I still feel shitty I am not going to work. Maybe I won't go anyway. Maybe I will LIE and say I feel shitty when actually am just highly fucking lazy. Will stay home and do some writing; apologise to Ryan; eat too much; write planned blog post about inappropriate bodily functions, and decide what my tattoo will be of. Suggestions are welcome.
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