September 12th, 2002


hell week: day four

I do not like my desk in hall. I do not like it there at all.... (courtesy of Irene paraphrasing my many grumblings into Dr Seuss).

No, I don't like my desk. I'm right on the turn of the corridor. Privacy equals zero. Nothing works. Getting to the girl's lav is like getting into Control HQ (I have to swipe through three doors!) and there is no kettle or fridge for cups to tea. Think of poor Jen shaking with the horror of it all.

Never shake Thy gory socks at me...I am in blood Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more

And this morning I got up, reached for my underwear drawer and bled like someone had burst a cask bag of warm claret in my lap, soaking my socks red and puddling on the floor. I slopped to the shower stall and watched it swirl down the plug hole, Pscho style. Then I showered and dressed for work. Managed to make one wallpaper at my old desk before I had to move everything. Not happy.

  • Tom Welling - I managed to remember how I used to do the Swoosh (tm) effect for the Dept. of Transport

  • Invasion of the Nude Victorians (In the Name of Art, of Course)

  • What Is It About British Men? Cheap, Drunk and Stiff Lipped

  • Kindred: The Embraced Fan Fic

  • Shakespeare