Thought it was about time for a post-Christmas update, mainly because in ten minutes Kristy will stick her head up and go “You haven’t done a blog in ages!” (Kristy, do some work.)
Yay for being back at work! (But not really.) It is cold and annoying, but it’s a familiar kind of cold and annoying.
Our department somehow shares air conditioning with the equipment management department, who spend all day running round throwing eftpos machines at each other (or something) and so need to have the aircon at an inhumanly cold level so they don’t get too hot and, I don’t know, explode. This means that we poor salespeople, sitting here motionless at our desks for 8 hours a day, are constantly in Arctic temperatures and have to wear our jackets inside, in the summer. Our previous boss tried to stop us complaining by saying “See, in the winter it’s warmer than outside, and in the summer it’s cooler than outside, so it’s always comfortable!” Freak.
I had a nice Christmas. Did you have a nice Christmas? I went to Nelson and did pretty much nothing for four days except eat and drink and read and smoke and sit in the sun. Interestingly enough (depending on your definition of interesting), I have done nothing but vomit since returning to Wellington. I think I have an allergy. It is lucky that I am moving. (Moving Countdown: (not the supermarket, although when I think about what a mission that would be it makes me feel a lot better about moving house – imagine moving into Countdown, how much would that rock – no, actually, the Warehouse would be way better because you could sleep in the Manchester section – they should combine the two and lease it out – anyway!) Moving Countdown has 5 days to go. Have abandoned ‘get organised, find movers, neatly pack and label boxes’ plan and am now going with ‘throw out everything inessential, forget to book ferry until last minute, sleep in and have to run to taxi stand whilst digging through pockets in the frantic hope of finding enough change to make it to the ferry terminal’ plan, which if we’re being honest was always the more likely plan anyway.)
Someone’s phone rang before, startling us all, and she answered it with a cheery “Thank God, it’s not work-related!” Which I think sums up how all of us are feeling about work today.
I am trying to think of places to go and buy a coffee. Why do cafes get to close from Dec 24 to about Jan 5? Why do I not get to close?
Oh go away, boss, I am trying to slack off and you are interrupting me. Leave me in peace to finish my in-depth analysis of why my love life is comparable to Napoleon’s invasion of Russia. (They both failed miserably, in case you were wondering. No-one’s written an overture about my love life yet, but then it is early days.)
DANCE THE ROBOT WITH US
WE SAID, DANCE THE ROBOT
NOT LIKE THAT
IS THAT REALLY HOW WE LOOK WHEN WE DANCE
HOW EMBARRASSING
beep whirr beep
Showing posts with label eftpos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eftpos. Show all posts
Monday, December 29, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Christmas in the Park
My colleague: “I’m all about the selenium!” Obviously it is another exciting day at the office.
Christmas in the Park was on TV last night – I was going to watch it and then remembered that I watched the televised version last year and it was awfully, heinously depressing. I’m sure that when I was small, CitP was a firework-laden extravaganza with talented performers, high production values and – wait for it – actual Christmas songs. Maybe the intervening years have warped my memory, but it is now definitely nothing more than a festively wrapped, commercialised turd of an event, corn-studded with the celebrities of yesteryear, B-listers reeking of desperation, and up-and-coming ‘young entertainers’ of highly varied quality – all of them attempting to belt out distinctly non-festive songs and turning the whole thing into a shambolic mess which probably embarrasses Santa somewhat, to say nothing of the city councils involved.
It would probably be better if I was actually there. When you’re actually there you’re with a group of friends, and during the boring numbers you can chat, top up your wine, go and buy a hotdog, and say things like “Ooh, Shane Cortese is on next, I think I might go and line up for the Portaloos.” And if it rains it adds an air of faint excitement and distinct nostalgia, rather than just making everyone look like they’re having a crappy time and getting drops of water all over the camera lens. Then, when it actually gets Christmassy near the end, you can ooh and ahh and point at the giant Christmas tree and generally release your inner sentimental bugger. And that’s nice.
Whereas if you’re watching it from the comfort of your living room you can’t really do any of those things, you just sit through the crappy numbers in the hopes that the next one will be better, and then the next one is Shane Cortese, and you become less festive by the minute and the only inner bugger that comes out is your grumpy one, and you can’t spend a bad number lining up for the bathroom because there’s no-one home but you, and by the time they start singing actual carols (two hours later, not including ads) you’ve gone to bed in disgust and miss the only part you were really interested in watching anyway.
Christmas in the Park? Christmas in my ARSE.
In other news, Sister Flatmate’s half-sister on the other side (it took me several minutes to explain this to my boss this morning, so there’s no use in you asking) went into labour yesterday, and so SF did a mad dash to the airport and I’ve got the house to myself for two weeks! This is a bit of a shame as SF and I were getting on well and having much fun recently, but the upside is that I have the house to myself for two weeks! Basically this means I’m going to fall asleep on the couch and play loud music and stay up late being noisy and basically have a total relapse to studenthood. I’m excited. Are you excited?
Right. I am going to do some work now, because all I’ve done in the last half hour is eat bread and cheese and muck about.
Christmas in the Park was on TV last night – I was going to watch it and then remembered that I watched the televised version last year and it was awfully, heinously depressing. I’m sure that when I was small, CitP was a firework-laden extravaganza with talented performers, high production values and – wait for it – actual Christmas songs. Maybe the intervening years have warped my memory, but it is now definitely nothing more than a festively wrapped, commercialised turd of an event, corn-studded with the celebrities of yesteryear, B-listers reeking of desperation, and up-and-coming ‘young entertainers’ of highly varied quality – all of them attempting to belt out distinctly non-festive songs and turning the whole thing into a shambolic mess which probably embarrasses Santa somewhat, to say nothing of the city councils involved.
It would probably be better if I was actually there. When you’re actually there you’re with a group of friends, and during the boring numbers you can chat, top up your wine, go and buy a hotdog, and say things like “Ooh, Shane Cortese is on next, I think I might go and line up for the Portaloos.” And if it rains it adds an air of faint excitement and distinct nostalgia, rather than just making everyone look like they’re having a crappy time and getting drops of water all over the camera lens. Then, when it actually gets Christmassy near the end, you can ooh and ahh and point at the giant Christmas tree and generally release your inner sentimental bugger. And that’s nice.
Whereas if you’re watching it from the comfort of your living room you can’t really do any of those things, you just sit through the crappy numbers in the hopes that the next one will be better, and then the next one is Shane Cortese, and you become less festive by the minute and the only inner bugger that comes out is your grumpy one, and you can’t spend a bad number lining up for the bathroom because there’s no-one home but you, and by the time they start singing actual carols (two hours later, not including ads) you’ve gone to bed in disgust and miss the only part you were really interested in watching anyway.
Christmas in the Park? Christmas in my ARSE.
In other news, Sister Flatmate’s half-sister on the other side (it took me several minutes to explain this to my boss this morning, so there’s no use in you asking) went into labour yesterday, and so SF did a mad dash to the airport and I’ve got the house to myself for two weeks! This is a bit of a shame as SF and I were getting on well and having much fun recently, but the upside is that I have the house to myself for two weeks! Basically this means I’m going to fall asleep on the couch and play loud music and stay up late being noisy and basically have a total relapse to studenthood. I’m excited. Are you excited?
Right. I am going to do some work now, because all I’ve done in the last half hour is eat bread and cheese and muck about.
Friday, November 28, 2008
I'm Bilingual
I am wearing a blue wig, taping a strap to an inflatable guitar, and trying to sell online credit card processing to the First Church of Wicca and Heathens in New Zealand.
We have the Christmas party this evening, and everyone (myself included) is over-excited and has pretty much stopped working already. (George: "I am going to compile a spreadsheet of the ugliest people I can find on Google.") It is ten past two. (My Boss, if you're reading this, I am totally kidding and also right about to call Paul from Thingy Automotive that I forgot to call yesterday.) Luckily the few stray and completely unwelcome customers who do call in have no way of knowing that while we’re all sitting here giving sales spiels, we’re hitting each other with guitars and, in some cases, wearing leather airmen’s head-things. I don’t know what they’re called, but Snoopy wore one when he flew and now Graeme is wearing one as he soars into the sales stratosphere, ha ha ha. Leather balaclava? Hmm.
I am going to be well-behaved at the staff party tonight! I am so dedicated to this life (well, evening) of good behaviour that I have not brought any going-to-town clothes or shaved my legs. In reality, all this means is that I will be as badly behaved as usual, just in a more hairy and slovenly fashion than usual. Oh no wait, no more hairy and slovenly than usual because this is always my plan! I need a new plan or stronger moral fibre.
Oh yeah. Kane, who I believe I may have previously referred to as the Gung-Ho Kid due to his propensity to charge headfirst into things full of cheer and ebullience, and then realise ten seconds later that probably he should bail out, wrote a rude note on the pod whiteboard yesterday (yes, our pod has a whiteboard. And a radio, and a recycling bin, and we used to have a plant (remember when I went on and on about that plant? Boring, wasn’t it? No inflatable guitars in sight then!), but then George moved into our pod and the plant had to go because she was bigger than it and wanted its desk. Bloody George. Frankly I would rather George moved…no, wait, that’s not true, I like George, I just liked the plant too and it caused less trouble than she does and didn't yell "PRICK!" when I was on a phone call, unlike George this afternoon). ANYWAY yesterday I announced that I had 22 more days at EFTPOS (oh yeah, I resigned and am moving back to Christchurch – did I mention that? Maybe not, huh) and left the pod to I don’t know, go and buy a sandwich or something, and when I came back there was a countdown-style display on the whiteboard saying “22 Days Until Hitler Leaves!” I like to think it was a bit of playful joshing. Ha, ha!
Kane is a dick. (But luckily, a dick with limited internet access after an unfortunate innappropriate-usage incident (wow, that sounds way worse than it was.)) I did warn him that I was going to use this blog to spread the word, so he shouldn't be surprised. I'm not angry, Kane. I'm just disappointed.
Speaking of my workmates, Kristy says Hi. I think she was talking to someone else but whatever. My workmates have started reading my blog. So now I can’t complain about them. Unless I give them really cryptic codenames and they all think I’m talking about someone else…yeee-ees. Yeeee-eeeessss.
Speaking of work. I am going to go to the bank, and then perhaps to Subway, and then to pay the power bill.
We have the Christmas party this evening, and everyone (myself included) is over-excited and has pretty much stopped working already. (George: "I am going to compile a spreadsheet of the ugliest people I can find on Google.") It is ten past two. (My Boss, if you're reading this, I am totally kidding and also right about to call Paul from Thingy Automotive that I forgot to call yesterday.) Luckily the few stray and completely unwelcome customers who do call in have no way of knowing that while we’re all sitting here giving sales spiels, we’re hitting each other with guitars and, in some cases, wearing leather airmen’s head-things. I don’t know what they’re called, but Snoopy wore one when he flew and now Graeme is wearing one as he soars into the sales stratosphere, ha ha ha. Leather balaclava? Hmm.
I am going to be well-behaved at the staff party tonight! I am so dedicated to this life (well, evening) of good behaviour that I have not brought any going-to-town clothes or shaved my legs. In reality, all this means is that I will be as badly behaved as usual, just in a more hairy and slovenly fashion than usual. Oh no wait, no more hairy and slovenly than usual because this is always my plan! I need a new plan or stronger moral fibre.
Oh yeah. Kane, who I believe I may have previously referred to as the Gung-Ho Kid due to his propensity to charge headfirst into things full of cheer and ebullience, and then realise ten seconds later that probably he should bail out, wrote a rude note on the pod whiteboard yesterday (yes, our pod has a whiteboard. And a radio, and a recycling bin, and we used to have a plant (remember when I went on and on about that plant? Boring, wasn’t it? No inflatable guitars in sight then!), but then George moved into our pod and the plant had to go because she was bigger than it and wanted its desk. Bloody George. Frankly I would rather George moved…no, wait, that’s not true, I like George, I just liked the plant too and it caused less trouble than she does and didn't yell "PRICK!" when I was on a phone call, unlike George this afternoon). ANYWAY yesterday I announced that I had 22 more days at EFTPOS (oh yeah, I resigned and am moving back to Christchurch – did I mention that? Maybe not, huh) and left the pod to I don’t know, go and buy a sandwich or something, and when I came back there was a countdown-style display on the whiteboard saying “22 Days Until Hitler Leaves!” I like to think it was a bit of playful joshing. Ha, ha!
Kane is a dick. (But luckily, a dick with limited internet access after an unfortunate innappropriate-usage incident (wow, that sounds way worse than it was.)) I did warn him that I was going to use this blog to spread the word, so he shouldn't be surprised. I'm not angry, Kane. I'm just disappointed.
Speaking of my workmates, Kristy says Hi. I think she was talking to someone else but whatever. My workmates have started reading my blog. So now I can’t complain about them. Unless I give them really cryptic codenames and they all think I’m talking about someone else…yeee-ees. Yeeee-eeeessss.
Speaking of work. I am going to go to the bank, and then perhaps to Subway, and then to pay the power bill.
Monday, October 20, 2008
MERZOMBIES
Fancy that! A day has passed, and yet I have not lost the ability to post pictures to my blog. Prepare yourselves for a lot of (mostly unrelated) photos. Andrea suggests I start taking outfit photos - this is a good idea except a) I don't have a digital camera and b) I'm not at all photogenic and c) I'm usually dressed in boring work clothes and d) I'm vain enough that it would take me an extra half hour in the morning, especially when you take b) into account.
So, news of the day: Ghost Whisperer sucks. Or, as we refer to it here, Ghost Breasterer. Because Jennifer Love Hewitt's cleavage has, at the least, a minor character part. It should be in the title credits. "Jennifer Love Hewitt's Cleavage playing Itself." Cleavage is also a better actress (actor? actperson?) than JLH herself. Anyway! That wasn't actually the news of the day, but while I'm rambling about sexually related body parts I would just like to say that, contrary to Andrea's new theory, my obsession with the ENORMOUS BANANA is a) over and b) not Freudian in the least.
The actual news of the day is that I have a plot for NaNoWriMo! By which I mean I have a sort of plot. I have an idea. Basically, it goes like this. Prepare yourselves.
What if we accidentally found the lost underwater civilization of Atlantis? What if they turned out to be real douchebags? What if they started a war with us?
What if it was told from about six different points of view?
My NaNoWriMo is about a war between humanity and shapeshifting Atlantean necromancers.
Don't act like you're not impressed.
Brace yourself, literary world. Brace yourself for MERZOMBIES.
I'm not 100% sure about the merzombies. But it's just such a stunning word.
I promise heavy artillery and sadistic lieutenants and misguided bounty hunters and volcanic eruptions and underwater zoos and probably cross-civilization romance. Who's excited? I'm excited! Who's insane? I'm insane! Who has to learn about Atlantis and military organisation and strategy and salvage and weaponry! I have to...you get the point.
I know it doesn't necessarily sound like that great of an idea (by which I mean I know it sounds alike possibly the worst idea for a novel, ever) but I was just sitting there at work today and one of my colleagues said something and the idea fell into my head, and I thought 'Yes! That's what I'm going to do for NaNo! War Against Atlantis!' And then characters and motives and scenes started popping in my head like kernels of popcorn exploding in a pan. In my brain-pan. Kernels of thought in my brain-pan! Plot kernels, character kernels, setting kernels, military kernels! Ha ha ha. Did I mention I am very tired?
I think I am a nutter. But then you knew that already, it's a large part of my charm.
Crap Analogy of the Day:
Backstory: At work at the moment my team is only 3 people (since the departure of VB). It's really meant to be a 5-person team, but we were fine as a 4-person because VB and I did, between us, 60/70% of the work. So now he is gone, and I am left with the Gung-Ho Kid, and the well-intentioned but ultimately tits-on-a-bull Newbie. Ready for the analogy?
Analogy:Being in my Team is like being in a Dinghy.
Before, VB and I had one oar each and were keeping the dinghy upright and on course - not an easy task, but a manageable one. It didn't really matter if the Newbie and the Gung-Ho Kid sat at the back of the boat and looked at the scenery and talked about what was in their sandwiches.
But now that there is no VB, the dinghy is hideously off-balance because I'm the only one a) rowing and b) with any knowledge of how to row. I spend most of my day shouting desperately to Newbie and the Gung-Ho Kid, "Stop standing up in the dinghy! Sit down and row! Stop running around! Bail out, bail out! Can't you see we're going to sink if you don't sit down and help me out here?!"
Meanwhile, the Gung-Ho Kid and Newbie are shouting, "Ally! Ally! Come and look! I think I can see a dolphin!"
SIGH. Anyone hiring?
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 11, 2008
Just another manic Monday
I've always hated that song. The lyrics are a masterpiece of banality. Now I've got it stuck in my head and I can't even complain because it is entirely my own fault. Anyway -
Three Beautiful Things
Aside: Don't ever try to underline anything in blogger. RANDOM TXT EVERYWHERE ACK
1. My trumpet students came for their lesson tonight (two sisters, aged 6 and 9 - they're really sweet but both totally crap (nothing to do with my teaching, they're absolute beginners. no, really)) & when they left they quite shyly gave me chocolates! Apparently I am not demon teacher from hell after all. (Or perhaps I am, and they are terror chocolates. Hmmm.)
Aside: just had following conversation on Facebook. Me: "I am in Grease." (The musical.) Other Person: "Wow, whereabouts? I've always wanted to go to Athens." They were kidding...but for a second there, I worried.
2. At work today, colleague was bitching about lack of plants in our office (he wanted to neutralise his carbon footprint and empty out his stale water bottle at the same time). When he came back to his desk (from watering a plant in Operations) I was on a call, but I wrote him a note on a Post-It saying "Let's get a plant." He nodded. I wrote another note saying, "What sort of plant?" He flung back a post-it with "a big fuck-off one" written neatly across the back and we both got the giggles whilst trying to explain credit card processing to our respective customers.
3. Sister Flatmate (sounds like a badly named nun) has bought beers, and I am drinking one of them. I know this doesn't sound like a lot, but sometimes a beer can be a beautiful thing.
And now for a list!
Things To Buy On Payday
- Sneakers as have been walking to work in shitty old ones and am sick of them
- Plant for water bottle emptying/carbon footprint neutralising purposes - not sure what sort. Colleague One wants a ponga tree but they are fucking massive; Colleague Two wants a yucca but they aren't lush enough for my liking. I would quite like a zebra plant like the one I have here, which lives on top of the fridge
- Groceries because there is no food in the house - grocery list is only partially complete, but that's ok 'cause I'll go after work on Wednesday and writing list will give me something to do from 4.30-5 instead of working
- Ummm...really that's about all. Also need to get petrol money for the girl who's driving me to all the rehearsals for the show, and pay the power bill, but they aren't really Things To Buy.
I shall think of more later - right now I shall watch crappy TV and have another beer.
Three Beautiful Things
Aside: Don't ever try to underline anything in blogger. RANDOM TXT EVERYWHERE ACK
1. My trumpet students came for their lesson tonight (two sisters, aged 6 and 9 - they're really sweet but both totally crap (nothing to do with my teaching, they're absolute beginners. no, really)) & when they left they quite shyly gave me chocolates! Apparently I am not demon teacher from hell after all. (Or perhaps I am, and they are terror chocolates. Hmmm.)
Aside: just had following conversation on Facebook. Me: "I am in Grease." (The musical.) Other Person: "Wow, whereabouts? I've always wanted to go to Athens." They were kidding...but for a second there, I worried.
2. At work today, colleague was bitching about lack of plants in our office (he wanted to neutralise his carbon footprint and empty out his stale water bottle at the same time). When he came back to his desk (from watering a plant in Operations) I was on a call, but I wrote him a note on a Post-It saying "Let's get a plant." He nodded. I wrote another note saying, "What sort of plant?" He flung back a post-it with "a big fuck-off one" written neatly across the back and we both got the giggles whilst trying to explain credit card processing to our respective customers.
3. Sister Flatmate (sounds like a badly named nun) has bought beers, and I am drinking one of them. I know this doesn't sound like a lot, but sometimes a beer can be a beautiful thing.
And now for a list!
Things To Buy On Payday
- Sneakers as have been walking to work in shitty old ones and am sick of them
- Plant for water bottle emptying/carbon footprint neutralising purposes - not sure what sort. Colleague One wants a ponga tree but they are fucking massive; Colleague Two wants a yucca but they aren't lush enough for my liking. I would quite like a zebra plant like the one I have here, which lives on top of the fridge
- Groceries because there is no food in the house - grocery list is only partially complete, but that's ok 'cause I'll go after work on Wednesday and writing list will give me something to do from 4.30-5 instead of working
- Ummm...really that's about all. Also need to get petrol money for the girl who's driving me to all the rehearsals for the show, and pay the power bill, but they aren't really Things To Buy.
I shall think of more later - right now I shall watch crappy TV and have another beer.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Not An Exciting Day
I would now like to share a small anecdote which, I feel, sums up how today has gone so far:
It is 12.45. The office is apathetic. One of my podmates returns to the room, clutching a footlong Subway sandwich in his hand. Instantly, about 5 voices pipe up with variations on "What did you get?" with more enthusiasm than has been shown about anything all day. Then we crowd around and look at the sandwich and comment on how long it is and how he will NEVER eat it all. Then we watch as he proceeds to eat it all, and we comment on this.
ARGH BLAH NEW JOB PLEASE.
In other news, band has started gearing up properly for Brisbane - this is great except for when I'm the only person from my section there and actually have to play things, which happened yesterday. Turns out it's quite hard to play and panic at the same time. for a while there I was making a noise like air escaping from a balloon ("eeeeee.....THURP") but luckily this was relatively shortlived. However there is now no band until wednesday, by which time I will have done ridiculous amounts of practice and become trumpet GOD. (practice will all be done on Tuesday because tonight my older sister is in town and we are going for a beer, but still. trumpet gods such as myself never need more than one night to learn a test piece).
How am I going to make my afternoon more exciting? the tragic thing is that nothing springs to mind. I shall just sit there and count down until five. Perhaps I should count down to everything! "5...4...3...2..1...going to the FAX MACHINE!" "5...4...3...2...1...going to STAPLE THIS PAPERWORK!" Or perhaps I should treat the afternoon as if it were an opera (albeit a very boring one) and constantly detail what I am doing in beautiful, dramatic song. "The copier, the copier, I'm going to the copier, it's only three STEPS AAAAA-WAAAAAAY!" Complete with gestures and countermelodies provided by coworkers, of course.
right, back to it.
It is 12.45. The office is apathetic. One of my podmates returns to the room, clutching a footlong Subway sandwich in his hand. Instantly, about 5 voices pipe up with variations on "What did you get?" with more enthusiasm than has been shown about anything all day. Then we crowd around and look at the sandwich and comment on how long it is and how he will NEVER eat it all. Then we watch as he proceeds to eat it all, and we comment on this.
ARGH BLAH NEW JOB PLEASE.
In other news, band has started gearing up properly for Brisbane - this is great except for when I'm the only person from my section there and actually have to play things, which happened yesterday. Turns out it's quite hard to play and panic at the same time. for a while there I was making a noise like air escaping from a balloon ("eeeeee.....THURP") but luckily this was relatively shortlived. However there is now no band until wednesday, by which time I will have done ridiculous amounts of practice and become trumpet GOD. (practice will all be done on Tuesday because tonight my older sister is in town and we are going for a beer, but still. trumpet gods such as myself never need more than one night to learn a test piece).
How am I going to make my afternoon more exciting? the tragic thing is that nothing springs to mind. I shall just sit there and count down until five. Perhaps I should count down to everything! "5...4...3...2..1...going to the FAX MACHINE!" "5...4...3...2...1...going to STAPLE THIS PAPERWORK!" Or perhaps I should treat the afternoon as if it were an opera (albeit a very boring one) and constantly detail what I am doing in beautiful, dramatic song. "The copier, the copier, I'm going to the copier, it's only three STEPS AAAAA-WAAAAAAY!" Complete with gestures and countermelodies provided by coworkers, of course.
right, back to it.
Monday, February 25, 2008
New Pod!
That exclamation mark was a little unwarranted. I have now moved from my old pod, full of girls, to my NEW pod (capitals also unwarranted), full of boys.
I much prefer it, especially now that new-podmate, who always gave off strange Waves of Hate towards me, has done a complete about-face and is proving highly entertaining.
Haven't done much work, though.
In other news, have bought very nice shade of red nail polish (it is called 'Meeting the Mother-in-Law') and am wearing it. Feel it makes me more likely to succeed in all endeavours. Am also eating healthily as part of The Big Brisbane Diet, or BBD (not to be confused with the BBC, who is still txting and emailing heartily, thus ensuring a Situation lies ahead). The BBD has been going for a whole day and a half now! Objective is, of course, to look less like barrel with bit of string tied round when am wearing bikini. No visible results as yet. Will update as appropriate (forecast update: "BBD over as got drunk and had pie.")
Josh is telling me an amusing story about bananas.
I don't think I have any other news...see, this is what happens when I blog too much.
Except that I have a quartet gig (I said gig) this week, for the Freemasons. I would make some smartassed remark about being blindfolded throughout but then I would mysteriously disappear.
I much prefer it, especially now that new-podmate, who always gave off strange Waves of Hate towards me, has done a complete about-face and is proving highly entertaining.
Haven't done much work, though.
In other news, have bought very nice shade of red nail polish (it is called 'Meeting the Mother-in-Law') and am wearing it. Feel it makes me more likely to succeed in all endeavours. Am also eating healthily as part of The Big Brisbane Diet, or BBD (not to be confused with the BBC, who is still txting and emailing heartily, thus ensuring a Situation lies ahead). The BBD has been going for a whole day and a half now! Objective is, of course, to look less like barrel with bit of string tied round when am wearing bikini. No visible results as yet. Will update as appropriate (forecast update: "BBD over as got drunk and had pie.")
Josh is telling me an amusing story about bananas.
I don't think I have any other news...see, this is what happens when I blog too much.
Except that I have a quartet gig (I said gig) this week, for the Freemasons. I would make some smartassed remark about being blindfolded throughout but then I would mysteriously disappear.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
The Terminalator
I have sold many terminals! I am well ahead of my silly colleagues! I am fabulously wealthy sales goddess!
Also, I am very good-looking.
The bit about the wealthy was a lie - found out last night that trip to australia (which is in a MONTH) is not going to cost $500 more, but $974 more! ...fuck. That is the kind of money which I do not have. If anyone has ever thought "wow, she is a great friend, I would like to reward her financially" or "oh yes, I owe her money, Sarah," or "gosh I would pay to sleep with her" well come on people, NOW'S THE TIME.
Am obviously a little worried about financial ruin. However my Mummy is coming to stay for a couple of days, which will be really nice.
Had drink with the BBC, who is nice and does not look like Paul McCartney, not even a little bit. We magically connected and are now going to go and live in the mountains and rear eftpos machines, and have small, very financially savvy children (financially savvy part will come from his side, but I will teach them all they need to know about herding terminals).
He is, however, still with girlfriend but flirting madly with self. My self, not his, although what he gets up to in his own time is none of my business.
Why does this so frequently occur (like, twice)? Why? Why? WHY??!!
It must be because I am so attractive and emotionally mature.
I must go home early and clean the house before my Mummy arrives - much as she loves me, she would not love the current state of my room, which is littered with beer bottles and empty fag packets and the like. I call it 'hobo-chic interior decor', but she calls it 'filthy mess.' We agree to disagree and also that I am a slattern.
Other news? hmmm. Not really. Except that now it is time to return to the fold! the fold of work. I think I have had too much coffee.
Also, I am very good-looking.
The bit about the wealthy was a lie - found out last night that trip to australia (which is in a MONTH) is not going to cost $500 more, but $974 more! ...fuck. That is the kind of money which I do not have. If anyone has ever thought "wow, she is a great friend, I would like to reward her financially" or "oh yes, I owe her money, Sarah," or "gosh I would pay to sleep with her" well come on people, NOW'S THE TIME.
Am obviously a little worried about financial ruin. However my Mummy is coming to stay for a couple of days, which will be really nice.
Had drink with the BBC, who is nice and does not look like Paul McCartney, not even a little bit. We magically connected and are now going to go and live in the mountains and rear eftpos machines, and have small, very financially savvy children (financially savvy part will come from his side, but I will teach them all they need to know about herding terminals).
He is, however, still with girlfriend but flirting madly with self. My self, not his, although what he gets up to in his own time is none of my business.
Why does this so frequently occur (like, twice)? Why? Why? WHY??!!
It must be because I am so attractive and emotionally mature.
I must go home early and clean the house before my Mummy arrives - much as she loves me, she would not love the current state of my room, which is littered with beer bottles and empty fag packets and the like. I call it 'hobo-chic interior decor', but she calls it 'filthy mess.' We agree to disagree and also that I am a slattern.
Other news? hmmm. Not really. Except that now it is time to return to the fold! the fold of work. I think I have had too much coffee.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Andrea Suggested I Update my Blog
...and so I am! Although I don't really have anything exciting to report. I do, however, have several unexciting things to report, as below:
- work is the same but worse. if it were plotted on a graph where y = time and x = excitement it would show up as a steadily declining line. This could also be said of graphs where y = time and x = job satisfaction/financial security. however if x = temptation to crack entirely and run amok with stapler, stapling faces of co-workers (y still = time) the line would be pointing the other way.
- my older sister emailed me saying "I used to babysit for a guy who I just found on Facebook- you should Facebook him and ask him on a date!" I have never met him in my life and wouldn't know him from a bar of soap. Thusly my love life is summed up (and no, I didn't Facebook him. It's weird. What would you say?) Also in my love life are (deep breath is taken to reel off list of names)
Annoying, Really Stupid Ex (ARSE) - has not yet come to terms with the idea that I am NOT madly in love with him, despite the fact that we went out for a whole, beautiful week and a half (actually). Also thinks that he knows me really well and can therefore predict everything I will say and analyse everything I am thinking. I have discovered that that is my single most hated trait in anyone. This is why we only went out for a week and a half.
Persistent Emo Teen (PET) - Persistent. Emo. Teen. What more is there to say?
Business Banker Crush (BBC) - although I have only talked to him on the phone and over the E Mail, we are going to get married and have many children. Gah, no we're not! But we might go out for a drink next week. Watch this space.
And that will do for list of names (shan't feature EVERYONE because who has that kind of time, honestly, and also I can't think of any more snappy acronyms - GFISOSWWD(BWIJAF) (guitarist friend I sort of slept with while drunk (but who is just a friend)) doesn't have the same ring to it as ARSE and PET and BBC. ARSE!
other unexciting news? hmmm. am still apparently going to Brisbane with band.
Bean Ribs! Although Trumpet Player Nunchi Friend declared recently that he is not, in fact, going to Beanribs after all, which was a pain in the Annoying Really Stupid Ex because we had a sort of "you go, I go" deal but now it's just "I go, I go". and that's not the same at all. Sigh. I really must remember to apply for leave.
Other events of note (that was not a band pun) include yesterday at work everyone having to be sat down and told about a new scheme we're implementing to make everyone all healthy. We are expected to join groups and exercise, on our lunch hour, with our workmates. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought the point of a lunch hour was to EAT SOMETHING and NOT BE AROUND YOUR WORKMATES. Just shows how ignorant I can be, huh? So that's something I can look forward to. Walking group starts this week. I do not own any shoes for trotting about the town in, red in the face, clutching a sandwich with one hand and getting the Indy. GAH.
Speaking of work, had a hideous day yesterday in which every minor mistake I have ever made came back to haunt me. Do not want to go to work on Monday but must remind myself that other people out there are having worse days for example the man who wanted his terminals to arrive this morning (they are not going to because he filled his forms out all WRONG.)
Anyway, I have to go and meet a friend for lunch (we are going to do some walking) and then go home and have a beer. Ah, beer. I am sorry this post has not been witty and/or fascinating, but I am tired and not very funny :(. See that emoticon? That's how not funny I am. I don't know how to make a sad face at the end of a sentence without making him (why is it a boy? huge socio-political ramifications, note to self: write research paper) look like there's a huge spot on his chin. Perhaps he has a date? Perhaps this time next week I will have a date! I am going to stop typing now because it's just a stream of consciousness, and by consciousness I mean twaddle.
- work is the same but worse. if it were plotted on a graph where y = time and x = excitement it would show up as a steadily declining line. This could also be said of graphs where y = time and x = job satisfaction/financial security. however if x = temptation to crack entirely and run amok with stapler, stapling faces of co-workers (y still = time) the line would be pointing the other way.
- my older sister emailed me saying "I used to babysit for a guy who I just found on Facebook- you should Facebook him and ask him on a date!" I have never met him in my life and wouldn't know him from a bar of soap. Thusly my love life is summed up (and no, I didn't Facebook him. It's weird. What would you say?) Also in my love life are (deep breath is taken to reel off list of names)
Annoying, Really Stupid Ex (ARSE) - has not yet come to terms with the idea that I am NOT madly in love with him, despite the fact that we went out for a whole, beautiful week and a half (actually). Also thinks that he knows me really well and can therefore predict everything I will say and analyse everything I am thinking. I have discovered that that is my single most hated trait in anyone. This is why we only went out for a week and a half.
Persistent Emo Teen (PET) - Persistent. Emo. Teen. What more is there to say?
Business Banker Crush (BBC) - although I have only talked to him on the phone and over the E Mail, we are going to get married and have many children. Gah, no we're not! But we might go out for a drink next week. Watch this space.
And that will do for list of names (shan't feature EVERYONE because who has that kind of time, honestly, and also I can't think of any more snappy acronyms - GFISOSWWD(BWIJAF) (guitarist friend I sort of slept with while drunk (but who is just a friend)) doesn't have the same ring to it as ARSE and PET and BBC. ARSE!
other unexciting news? hmmm. am still apparently going to Brisbane with band.
Bean Ribs! Although Trumpet Player Nunchi Friend declared recently that he is not, in fact, going to Beanribs after all, which was a pain in the Annoying Really Stupid Ex because we had a sort of "you go, I go" deal but now it's just "I go, I go". and that's not the same at all. Sigh. I really must remember to apply for leave.
Other events of note (that was not a band pun) include yesterday at work everyone having to be sat down and told about a new scheme we're implementing to make everyone all healthy. We are expected to join groups and exercise, on our lunch hour, with our workmates. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought the point of a lunch hour was to EAT SOMETHING and NOT BE AROUND YOUR WORKMATES. Just shows how ignorant I can be, huh? So that's something I can look forward to. Walking group starts this week. I do not own any shoes for trotting about the town in, red in the face, clutching a sandwich with one hand and getting the Indy. GAH.
Speaking of work, had a hideous day yesterday in which every minor mistake I have ever made came back to haunt me. Do not want to go to work on Monday but must remind myself that other people out there are having worse days for example the man who wanted his terminals to arrive this morning (they are not going to because he filled his forms out all WRONG.)
Anyway, I have to go and meet a friend for lunch (we are going to do some walking) and then go home and have a beer. Ah, beer. I am sorry this post has not been witty and/or fascinating, but I am tired and not very funny :(. See that emoticon? That's how not funny I am. I don't know how to make a sad face at the end of a sentence without making him (why is it a boy? huge socio-political ramifications, note to self: write research paper) look like there's a huge spot on his chin. Perhaps he has a date? Perhaps this time next week I will have a date! I am going to stop typing now because it's just a stream of consciousness, and by consciousness I mean twaddle.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Well Adam told Eve,
now listen here to me, don't you let me catch you messin' round that apple tree...
Truly Elvis knew about the human condition! Maybe.
Things to Do Today:
- go to beach
- take photos
- go out for drink.
I like being on holiday. Although it ends this week and then I have to go back to eww work. "Do you want to buy a thing", I say, and they say "Not really, no." And then I go for the hard sell.
"But it's really nice," I say.
Things To Do When Get Back To Wellington
- Download ProTools (get broadband, find magical money from somewhere - turn to prostitution, perhaps?)
- record self, guitar, send to superproducers (Timbaland, etc.) after finding band (find band)
- become rich and famous.
- pay rent, phone bill. chase up flatmate for money for power bill, actually.
- quit job
- buy mansion in south of france
- fill mansion with many lovely things from nouveau riche version of Acquisitions, Stevens etc., including many vases for flowers from admirers, water in which will be changed by one of the maids (hire maids) who will of course be friends also as am not elitist (perhaps brazilian pool boy? perhaps half-spanish po- NO.)
- play at Royal Albert Hall with many already famous persons whose fame will be escalated by appearing with me
- retire to Nelson? no. perhaps will not retire as such but travel the world on book tour? COMBINED book and music tour. Perhaps that is a little ambitious. Will do tours separately?
Atmosphere around here is slightly Glum as older sister broke up with LOHL (loveofherlife) recently and is still fragile (read: smokes a lot). I am bored and antsy and keep wanting to Do Things but Not Actually Doing Anything, which makes me antsier (read: smokes a lot). Younger sister better but keeps going on about how much older sister and I smoke ("I don't want to go to your funeral when you're 40 and have died of lung cancer!" "Well, you don't have to come.") Not bad overall, though.
Watched episode of Criminal Minds last night where they were outsmarted by the killer. Thought this was a fairer representation of Life than the ones where they catch them every time, based on ridiculously lucky guesses (most of CSI: Miami follows this format ("but of course! the shoelace can be traced back to the factory, and of the ten million people who bought that brand of shoe, only one is already a suspect!"))
Was going to dye my hair white-blonde today but actually it might be too expensive. Shall ask older sister to check when she goes to hairdresser. Because I am too lazy to check for myself (well, she's going anyway, isn't she, there's no point in both of us going, etc etc). If I do dye my hair I promise to report on exactly how much more fun I am having, possibly with a flow-chart or a bar graph or something. Suggested at work the other day that something be presented in flow-chart style rather than as random list of questions, and was acclaimed as if had invented new piece of marketing-speak (see: "I really like this incentive plan, I think it's a great way of incenting people!" -my boss). I never knew how much excitement could be derived from a flowchart! Perhaps I should just quit my job and MAKE FLOWCHARTS FOR EVER.
I think Nelson makes me a bit mad. Perhaps it is rambling in my blog that does that, as I start off with nothing to say and continue saying it for some time. On that note, apparently sequins are in again - bought my sister a gold sequined top. Tried one on myself, but looked like garish sparkly barrel. Do not want to resemble barrel of any sort, let alone garish sparkly one. Suppose that there are worse things, though...will stay away from sequins in the future, except on shoes. I've bought (I realise I'm just rambling boringly on, here, but I'm bored) a ridiculous amount of shoes. Favourite pair are hot pink satin peep-toe heels, which were Christmas present to self (and also reward for buying gross bikini. Look like pasty barrel with bit of material tied round it. Grotty Bikini Barrel terrible band name.)
I think when I'm rich and famous I'll force my band to do a punk cover of Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town. I can hear it now. Can you hear it? Do you hear what I hear? Siiiigh.
Truly Elvis knew about the human condition! Maybe.
Things to Do Today:
- go to beach
- take photos
- go out for drink.
I like being on holiday. Although it ends this week and then I have to go back to eww work. "Do you want to buy a thing", I say, and they say "Not really, no." And then I go for the hard sell.
"But it's really nice," I say.
Things To Do When Get Back To Wellington
- Download ProTools (get broadband, find magical money from somewhere - turn to prostitution, perhaps?)
- record self, guitar, send to superproducers (Timbaland, etc.) after finding band (find band)
- become rich and famous.
- pay rent, phone bill. chase up flatmate for money for power bill, actually.
- quit job
- buy mansion in south of france
- fill mansion with many lovely things from nouveau riche version of Acquisitions, Stevens etc., including many vases for flowers from admirers, water in which will be changed by one of the maids (hire maids) who will of course be friends also as am not elitist (perhaps brazilian pool boy? perhaps half-spanish po- NO.)
- play at Royal Albert Hall with many already famous persons whose fame will be escalated by appearing with me
- retire to Nelson? no. perhaps will not retire as such but travel the world on book tour? COMBINED book and music tour. Perhaps that is a little ambitious. Will do tours separately?
Atmosphere around here is slightly Glum as older sister broke up with LOHL (loveofherlife) recently and is still fragile (read: smokes a lot). I am bored and antsy and keep wanting to Do Things but Not Actually Doing Anything, which makes me antsier (read: smokes a lot). Younger sister better but keeps going on about how much older sister and I smoke ("I don't want to go to your funeral when you're 40 and have died of lung cancer!" "Well, you don't have to come.") Not bad overall, though.
Watched episode of Criminal Minds last night where they were outsmarted by the killer. Thought this was a fairer representation of Life than the ones where they catch them every time, based on ridiculously lucky guesses (most of CSI: Miami follows this format ("but of course! the shoelace can be traced back to the factory, and of the ten million people who bought that brand of shoe, only one is already a suspect!"))
Was going to dye my hair white-blonde today but actually it might be too expensive. Shall ask older sister to check when she goes to hairdresser. Because I am too lazy to check for myself (well, she's going anyway, isn't she, there's no point in both of us going, etc etc). If I do dye my hair I promise to report on exactly how much more fun I am having, possibly with a flow-chart or a bar graph or something. Suggested at work the other day that something be presented in flow-chart style rather than as random list of questions, and was acclaimed as if had invented new piece of marketing-speak (see: "I really like this incentive plan, I think it's a great way of incenting people!" -my boss). I never knew how much excitement could be derived from a flowchart! Perhaps I should just quit my job and MAKE FLOWCHARTS FOR EVER.
I think Nelson makes me a bit mad. Perhaps it is rambling in my blog that does that, as I start off with nothing to say and continue saying it for some time. On that note, apparently sequins are in again - bought my sister a gold sequined top. Tried one on myself, but looked like garish sparkly barrel. Do not want to resemble barrel of any sort, let alone garish sparkly one. Suppose that there are worse things, though...will stay away from sequins in the future, except on shoes. I've bought (I realise I'm just rambling boringly on, here, but I'm bored) a ridiculous amount of shoes. Favourite pair are hot pink satin peep-toe heels, which were Christmas present to self (and also reward for buying gross bikini. Look like pasty barrel with bit of material tied round it. Grotty Bikini Barrel terrible band name.)
I think when I'm rich and famous I'll force my band to do a punk cover of Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town. I can hear it now. Can you hear it? Do you hear what I hear? Siiiigh.
Monday, December 03, 2007
AACK ARGH BLEURGH
...and that's how my job is. Today, every knobhead in the greater Wellington region called and asked to speak to me personally. I should've been flattered, but I wasn't.
"How can I help you," I said, smiling politely, and as one they replied, "You can't, because I am an idiot! I am going to ring up and demand my products RIGHT NOW, even though you have told me on numerous occasions that I have to wait ten days!"
Then I repeat the bit about the ten days, patience is a virtue, etc., and then they go away.
Then, ten minutes later, their business banker calls. Business bankers who actually call are, with one exception (Karen, from the Hamilton branch, who is actually tolerable, because she realises that people are STUPID and IMPATIENT) Big Dicks.
"Hi," they say in the menacing tone only those in the financial sector and, I suppose, the Mafia are able to cultivate, "have I come through to Ally?"
At this point I am always tempted to say "No" in a very confused voice and start speaking Russian.
"Yes," I say, "how can I help you?"
At this point they start in on a tirade about how their customer has been waiting THREE DAYS NOW and it's not good enough because ten reasons that, to be frank, are just not my fucking problem. I say this, very politely, and the business banker is always rude and unpleasant.
I am beginning to understand why people hold up banks.
In other news, Band is going to Brisbane next March for Australian nationals. BrisBand, I shall call it.
I am also going to Brisbane, rather against my better judgment and desire not to live in extreme POVERTY FOREVER. Instead I shall swan about in the sun and chat up people I should know better than to chat up, and maybe even play a little bit of music here and there.
I'm not actually as cranky as I appear. It has just been one of those long, frustrating days where you don't get any work done because you're too busy sorting out other people's crap. Not literally. That would be worse.
However, while I'm complaining, people keep 'tagging' photos of me on Facebook. For anyone lucky enough to have escaped being peer pressured into joining Facebook (it's a bit like herpes in that no-one really wants it but everyone seems to give it to their friends and once you have it you can NEVER GET RID OF IT), 'tagging' photos is when OTHER PEOPLE put photos of you on your homepage.
Usually the photo has been taken of you, blind drunk, with one eye closed and a double chin and a beer in your hand a fag sticking out of your mouth.
And when you say, politely, to your friend who is PARTICULARLY bad at doing this, "Hey, I believe I have mentioned before that I would prefer it if you didn't 'tag' photos of me," they get offended.
Evidently it is a day for ranting. I am now in the (time-consuming) process of removing 'tagged' photos. (No, I am not going to stop using the quotation marks.)
Facebook is almost stupider than business bankers. I bet they have their own little Facebook community and they will sit about and write snarky little messages on each other's whiteboardsTM about how much trouble they caused me today.
I am going to go home and have a BEER and do some EDITIN' and maybe have FISH and CHIPS.
I am also going to put on loud emo music, provided my flatmate isn't home (the one that isn't in India, although to be fair she won't be home either) and jump about. And tidy my room. And wish that some dickhead (I know exactly which dickhead it was, too, and she's in India so I can't even make a passive-aggressive comment) hadn't put a PAPER milk carton into the VERY BOTTOM of the rubbish bin BECAUSE THE MILK SMELT.
Sometimes the very stupidity of people worries me. I'm either an elitist snob or just irritable. Not that the two are mutually exclusive. Now, to end, a list of nice things about today.
Nice Things About Today
- I finished work an hour early because I made many sales last week and got a Leave At Four (sort of like Free Parking, really. If work was like a game of Monopoly, today was not the round where I bought all the yellows, it was the round where I landed on all the hotels that some sod put on the browns and light blues, which don't bankrupt you but are still bloody annoying.)
- Heroes is on the telly tonight, and I like Heroes.
- The Nunch returns to Wellington on Thursday
- I do not have band
- I can do a load of washing
- I do not have to deal with any business bankers until tomorrow
- I am not a business banker
- I am not married to a business banker
- I did not snog anyone inappropriate at the staff party, or fall over in my netball uniform.
- I did not in fact snog anyone at the staff party, or use the word snog. I did chat up someone from I think Finance who was wearing an air force uniform but this is beside the point
- I haven't gotten drunk and declared my love for anyone from band for AGES
- I have nice shoes
- I have ALMOST finished editin' my Seminal Work (actually that's a bit of a lie. Almost finished in the Halfway Through sense of the term)
- I have just joined a Facebook group (see? can't get rid of it. I have started a Facebook vampire army because I'm just that cool) called "I Secretly Want to Punch Slow Walking People in the Back of the Head," which I do. Often.
- I do not live in Dunedin
- or Auckland
- or Wanganui, etc.
See? Really, life is not so bad.
"How can I help you," I said, smiling politely, and as one they replied, "You can't, because I am an idiot! I am going to ring up and demand my products RIGHT NOW, even though you have told me on numerous occasions that I have to wait ten days!"
Then I repeat the bit about the ten days, patience is a virtue, etc., and then they go away.
Then, ten minutes later, their business banker calls. Business bankers who actually call are, with one exception (Karen, from the Hamilton branch, who is actually tolerable, because she realises that people are STUPID and IMPATIENT) Big Dicks.
"Hi," they say in the menacing tone only those in the financial sector and, I suppose, the Mafia are able to cultivate, "have I come through to Ally?"
At this point I am always tempted to say "No" in a very confused voice and start speaking Russian.
"Yes," I say, "how can I help you?"
At this point they start in on a tirade about how their customer has been waiting THREE DAYS NOW and it's not good enough because ten reasons that, to be frank, are just not my fucking problem. I say this, very politely, and the business banker is always rude and unpleasant.
I am beginning to understand why people hold up banks.
In other news, Band is going to Brisbane next March for Australian nationals. BrisBand, I shall call it.
I am also going to Brisbane, rather against my better judgment and desire not to live in extreme POVERTY FOREVER. Instead I shall swan about in the sun and chat up people I should know better than to chat up, and maybe even play a little bit of music here and there.
I'm not actually as cranky as I appear. It has just been one of those long, frustrating days where you don't get any work done because you're too busy sorting out other people's crap. Not literally. That would be worse.
However, while I'm complaining, people keep 'tagging' photos of me on Facebook. For anyone lucky enough to have escaped being peer pressured into joining Facebook (it's a bit like herpes in that no-one really wants it but everyone seems to give it to their friends and once you have it you can NEVER GET RID OF IT), 'tagging' photos is when OTHER PEOPLE put photos of you on your homepage.
Usually the photo has been taken of you, blind drunk, with one eye closed and a double chin and a beer in your hand a fag sticking out of your mouth.
And when you say, politely, to your friend who is PARTICULARLY bad at doing this, "Hey, I believe I have mentioned before that I would prefer it if you didn't 'tag' photos of me," they get offended.
Evidently it is a day for ranting. I am now in the (time-consuming) process of removing 'tagged' photos. (No, I am not going to stop using the quotation marks.)
Facebook is almost stupider than business bankers. I bet they have their own little Facebook community and they will sit about and write snarky little messages on each other's whiteboardsTM about how much trouble they caused me today.
I am going to go home and have a BEER and do some EDITIN' and maybe have FISH and CHIPS.
I am also going to put on loud emo music, provided my flatmate isn't home (the one that isn't in India, although to be fair she won't be home either) and jump about. And tidy my room. And wish that some dickhead (I know exactly which dickhead it was, too, and she's in India so I can't even make a passive-aggressive comment) hadn't put a PAPER milk carton into the VERY BOTTOM of the rubbish bin BECAUSE THE MILK SMELT.
Sometimes the very stupidity of people worries me. I'm either an elitist snob or just irritable. Not that the two are mutually exclusive. Now, to end, a list of nice things about today.
Nice Things About Today
- I finished work an hour early because I made many sales last week and got a Leave At Four (sort of like Free Parking, really. If work was like a game of Monopoly, today was not the round where I bought all the yellows, it was the round where I landed on all the hotels that some sod put on the browns and light blues, which don't bankrupt you but are still bloody annoying.)
- Heroes is on the telly tonight, and I like Heroes.
- The Nunch returns to Wellington on Thursday
- I do not have band
- I can do a load of washing
- I do not have to deal with any business bankers until tomorrow
- I am not a business banker
- I am not married to a business banker
- I did not snog anyone inappropriate at the staff party, or fall over in my netball uniform.
- I did not in fact snog anyone at the staff party, or use the word snog. I did chat up someone from I think Finance who was wearing an air force uniform but this is beside the point
- I haven't gotten drunk and declared my love for anyone from band for AGES
- I have nice shoes
- I have ALMOST finished editin' my Seminal Work (actually that's a bit of a lie. Almost finished in the Halfway Through sense of the term)
- I have just joined a Facebook group (see? can't get rid of it. I have started a Facebook vampire army because I'm just that cool) called "I Secretly Want to Punch Slow Walking People in the Back of the Head," which I do. Often.
- I do not live in Dunedin
- or Auckland
- or Wanganui, etc.
See? Really, life is not so bad.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Up Date
There is definitely room for a dirty pun in that title.
This is a big update, because I haven't done one for ages and feel guilty at the thought of the tens of millions who check this blog every day just in case...and every time they see the same old update, die a little more inside. And when my loyal readers die a little inside, I die a little more inside.
I have a new job. I do not want to get FIRED for BLOGGING about my JOB (apparently it has been known to happen) so let's just say I work for a company kind of like Eftpos, which sells machines kind of like the ones that Eftpos sells (terminals, as we in the business call them), and has people who are kind of like salespeople, and I am kind of like one of those. My day goes like this.
6.30 - get up. Stomp about the flat saying 'buttcrack of dawn' and annoy my flatmates. Jump into invigorating hot shower. Abruptly remember that I am sunburnt and loudly jump back out of invigorating shower to further annoyance of flatmates.
Back in shower of more moderate temperature. drop soap, curse soap for its slippery buggerness, get out of shower, towel off vigorously, remember about sunburn again.
Eat muesli. Curse muesli as is bitty and stuck in teeth and I do not have TIME to brush teeth because instead of getting up at 6.30 actually got up at 7 and am now going to be late because spent hours getting bits out of teeth so as not to horrify co-workers, none of whom are remotely good-looking anyway, except for one, and he has red hair.
8 - arrive at work with coffee. sit at desk. check email. there is no email. check list of people to call. wish this list as short as list of new emails.
start calling people. This goes thusly:
Me: (put on headset. wish that headset was status symbol in Madonna/head of MI5 kind of way rather than just thing which ruined hair & made me feel slightly stupid.)
ring ring. ring ring.
Voice: Hello?
Me: Hello, this is Ally from Insert Company Name Here. Am I speaking with John?
Voice: Yes.
Me: Excellent. Have I got you at a good time? (Sounds stupid but there is a Customer Feedback Form in which customer gets to complain if you didn't check that Now Was A Good Time.)
Voice of John: Yes.
Me: I understand you're interested in our product...
and from there it becomes too boring to transcribe. Unlike John, I am not interested in our product. To be fair, most of the time neither is John. I spent a morning learning about machines and suffered from (wait for it) terminal boredom.
See? That's the sort of pun you make when you work in an office.
In other news, I am now in a bag band (no, I'm not, I'm in a big band, although the idea of a bag band certainly bears thought) who let me sing, which is nice of them (also strange). And I'm being the trumpet section (Andrea: 'yo mama so fat that when she plays the trumpet, she's the whole trumpet section') for the lower hutt production of Cinderella: the Pantomime. So that should be fun. Also learning salsa dancing, inspired by my flatmate, but not sure if this counts because classes haven't started yet.
Anyway, am off to carry out exciting plan for the evening!*
*go to pub, have beer while writing grandmother's birthday card, go home, watch coronation street, sleep.
DISCLAIMER: plan may not actually be very exciting.
This is a big update, because I haven't done one for ages and feel guilty at the thought of the tens of millions who check this blog every day just in case...and every time they see the same old update, die a little more inside. And when my loyal readers die a little inside, I die a little more inside.
I have a new job. I do not want to get FIRED for BLOGGING about my JOB (apparently it has been known to happen) so let's just say I work for a company kind of like Eftpos, which sells machines kind of like the ones that Eftpos sells (terminals, as we in the business call them), and has people who are kind of like salespeople, and I am kind of like one of those. My day goes like this.
6.30 - get up. Stomp about the flat saying 'buttcrack of dawn' and annoy my flatmates. Jump into invigorating hot shower. Abruptly remember that I am sunburnt and loudly jump back out of invigorating shower to further annoyance of flatmates.
Back in shower of more moderate temperature. drop soap, curse soap for its slippery buggerness, get out of shower, towel off vigorously, remember about sunburn again.
Eat muesli. Curse muesli as is bitty and stuck in teeth and I do not have TIME to brush teeth because instead of getting up at 6.30 actually got up at 7 and am now going to be late because spent hours getting bits out of teeth so as not to horrify co-workers, none of whom are remotely good-looking anyway, except for one, and he has red hair.
8 - arrive at work with coffee. sit at desk. check email. there is no email. check list of people to call. wish this list as short as list of new emails.
start calling people. This goes thusly:
Me: (put on headset. wish that headset was status symbol in Madonna/head of MI5 kind of way rather than just thing which ruined hair & made me feel slightly stupid.)
ring ring. ring ring.
Voice: Hello?
Me: Hello, this is Ally from Insert Company Name Here. Am I speaking with John?
Voice: Yes.
Me: Excellent. Have I got you at a good time? (Sounds stupid but there is a Customer Feedback Form in which customer gets to complain if you didn't check that Now Was A Good Time.)
Voice of John: Yes.
Me: I understand you're interested in our product...
and from there it becomes too boring to transcribe. Unlike John, I am not interested in our product. To be fair, most of the time neither is John. I spent a morning learning about machines and suffered from (wait for it) terminal boredom.
See? That's the sort of pun you make when you work in an office.
In other news, I am now in a bag band (no, I'm not, I'm in a big band, although the idea of a bag band certainly bears thought) who let me sing, which is nice of them (also strange). And I'm being the trumpet section (Andrea: 'yo mama so fat that when she plays the trumpet, she's the whole trumpet section') for the lower hutt production of Cinderella: the Pantomime. So that should be fun. Also learning salsa dancing, inspired by my flatmate, but not sure if this counts because classes haven't started yet.
Anyway, am off to carry out exciting plan for the evening!*
*go to pub, have beer while writing grandmother's birthday card, go home, watch coronation street, sleep.
DISCLAIMER: plan may not actually be very exciting.
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