Oh dear. I had a lot to say, some of it even funny, but it's late afternoon and I suppose I have to make some sort of post to go with all these links, so this is likely to be short and short-tempered.
It doesn't help that I'm already as irritated as can be from that cow's perfume from across the aisle. Okay, so it doesn't bother you, but it botheres me. I'm so sensitive these days it's like having coke or seawater up the back of my nose, throat and in my eyes. All day. It stings, it burns, it inflames and six painkillers are barely enough to stop me from screaming. On top of that I'm supposed to instantly figure out why this bit of code stopped working, ie who fiddled with what and why, and it just ain't gonna happen suffering under such agony and dopiness. I'm fine until she gets in. Then I'm just sitting here trying not to scream. She must have cost them thousands in lost productivity on my behalf. Doesn't do my whole sacked by July thing much good, either. I can't even get any interviews.
Okay, cool, she's wandered off for a bit. Not that the air has cleared, but it's a thousandth of a smidgin better, so I'll get on.
Thursday: Well, obviously I didn't make it home in time to take advantage of my half day. 6pm is not getting an early mark, in my book. Hmph. At least I had a break, as I had to nip down to the Hellmouth while the shops were still open to pick up bus ticket, magazines, eggies and a much needed chai latte.
Took my poor fern home cause she looked poorly, but she looked worse this morning. I'm torn. Do I bring her back and nurse her here? I would see her more here than there. At least I got most of the bug infestation off her, but it's pretty nasty. She still looked sick, though. I might top her up with cow poop and seaweed and bring her back in. That'll make Lil Miss Reeky's day. Heh.
I'd planned to do all sorts of creative things with Del Boy, but it never happened.
Friday: This was to be my official do nothing day. Slept in, well, as much as I could, and retired to my seat in the garden in the afternoon with papers and Jack and Stephen. (Oh, fek, she's back, and she's reapplied. Excuse me while I put on my gasmask. Chemical warfare ain't in it.) Anyways, this was my once every four years hour of reading Jack & Stephen in the garden uninterupted (because they were all out). I had to wait until the afternoon because I can no longer bear the laundry detergent - it's what gives me those bloody weekend headaches. I've offered to buy a new machine that'll do it all with minimal interaction from me, but AP inists on banging the rocks together in cold water so she'll have to do it herself because I cannot put myself through that any more. I mean it's not fair. If she used a modern machine and warm water I'd be fine, I had no problem with any of the powders I used in my travels. I'm willing to pay but she won't have it. I'm utterly damned. Because the smell gets to me, no matter where I go in the house.
There was nothing at all on tv, so I watched a few dvds and went to bed.
Saturday. Having escaped the washing powders of evil I felt 1000 times better and a ghost of my old self again. I curled up and spun a few dvds in the hopes of the muse dropping by. Managed to get about a page and a half done before I was interupted - and the muse was never to return.
This probably accounts as to why I was so fed up on Sunday. The usual thing. The stay at homes resent my intrusion and I resent their resentment and I hate being squeezed in at the table and AP made a roast with meant an inedible brick that had been roasted for 4 hours and vegetables the consistency of wallpaper paste (wheras I like my meat tender and my veggies crunchy) so I was not a happy camper. Throw in the anniversary of two suicides to add to the third the other week and I was just peachy. Not enough? How about losing my job and totally unable to get an interview?
I ended up spending the day locked in my room, more miserable than I can describe. Oh yeah, there was an article in the papers about the database I got up and running, and nobody ever credits me with it. Can't even get my old job back. I am such an unregarded, unloved and unwanted loser. So I sniffled away, watched some of the Six Feet Under marathon and just basically wallowed in misery.
Why is it that being upset over real, personal loss is considered unseemly, but if a bunch of strangers in a foreign land gets blowed up I'm expected, nay, demanded to show grief, when I couldn't care less, but when I do care, musn't complain, musn't grumble. Why is that? It's driving me nuts. It makes me want to smack people across the chops for dictating what I can and can't feel.
Sunday night brought a new dilemma: two Sam Neill fillums, on at the same time. I could watch one, or the other, or none. I chose to flick, but staying mostly with Doctor Zhivago, because Sam was all evil and sexy, as opposed to just pompous over on My Mother Frank. Okay, Dr Z, being a Russian novel, is one huge soap where everyone dies miserably in the end, natch. In this version everyone was getting their knickers in a twist over Keira Knightly, which I just don't get, cause I just don't like her. She's more mannish than Orlando Bloom and is of the jutting jaw and pursing eyebrow school of acting so beloved by those so called actresses on American teen soaps. She's yukky. And she has no taste. First there's her woeful choices in POTC and here she's oh no, please don't ravish me Sam, I'd much rather have this weedy, boring wife deserting little pissant with the woefully fake beard. I mean, is she nuts? Sam was all devilish twinkling eyes and flash coaches and fancy dinners - I'd have been on him like a bouncy castle in a flash, given the chance. Stupid, stupid, ugly girl. Never mind though, Sam was super yummy.
Picked up Oz at 5am, just before the kiddie cartoons start (oh, it tickles me no end). My suspicions that EvilFox8 had picked up where Optus, which I obviously didn't get, you Foxtel arseholes, left off, ie, season 4. Faberoony. So obviously I have precious little clue as to what's going on, and I've probably missed all the good stuff. Ack. I'd order S1 & 2 on dvd, like, now, only there's that whole unemployed thing, and as of last week, we get no payout. Yipee. I'll be hocking my dvd collection if I can't get another job...
Monday, I thought about writing, but ended up under the trees with Jack and Stephen and the flying pig again (the one that lands in Mowett's lap - I'm re-reading M&C for the nth time) then some friends dragged me out for yum cha. Ended up at my fave place, yay, made a pig of myself on porky bits (I blame Jack's influence) and was dumped off home again, pea green, to lie around and burp porky burps through Blackadder, Angel (with Harmony!), Buffy (with spider eating man bitches) and more Blackadder and Doctor Who (with evil invading aliens, again) and more Blackadder.
My friends nearly wiped out on of my magpies when they took off after pushing me out the door (hey, they slowed down, they care). I shouldn't have taken that kindly, even if my maggies are still deliberately snubbing me (ever been given the cold shoulder and the haughty strutting 'I don't see you' from a magpie?) I deserve it, I suppose, as on Sunday, in the midsts of my fedupness my pet maggles popped up at the door wanting biscuits and I gave him his biscuits rather like Eliza Dolittle gave Prof Higgins his slippers. I don't know why my magpie is so peeved, he got his bickies, albeit at a higher velocity than he's used to. My share of the inedible roast made some amends (and endless hours of occupation for Mr Magpie) but I suspect I'm still in the poo books. Honestly, it's not as if they're the most even tempered birds themselves. Hmph.
Orlando: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Orlando: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Orlando, Ewan, Daniel: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Jude: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Hugh: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Colin Firth: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Alastair: TV Week 17-23 April 2004 AU
Daniel: NW 19 April 2004 AU
James: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Colin: NW 19 April 2004 AU
Your ideal lover is Marius de Romanus. Strong,
wise, stoic, yet sensitive, he is a lover of
all the finer things in life - including great
art and literature. He is one of the
ancients, and has seen more time than most
humans have a concept of. He will be loyal
and caring, though may act jealous of your own
Which major Anne Rice vampire is your ideal companion? (Novels)
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