The boss just walked in and asked how I was and I answered: bright eyed and bushy tailed. At which point he screeched to a halt and demanded to know what I meant by that. So I had to look up the origin and meaning and then explain that I was being sarcastic, being anything but chipper, which I also had to explain.
Now you know why he's an IT manager. Such a literal and linear mind.
Why I'm a little lacklustre is that it was a lateish night last night. Screeched home to set the vcr for the night's viewing. At least, I hope I did. Aside from my technical incompetence when attempting these things in a hurry, my VCR is starting to get to that certain age where it starts to develop the personality of Grampa Simpson.
Then it was down to the Doc's, and damn, because it was Superstar on Buffy, and I just love that one, a rare S4 highlight. I'm tired of the Docs, too. It's starting to seem like an expensive waste of time. I've only got ten years or so to go, I can wear it. I've just always felt it such an inconvenience, as I didn't hit puberty until I was a legal adult. It's a huge crimp to my social life. Well, it would be, if I had one.
So after that I hopped a bus to go see Mars at the Observatory. It was a long, slow bus ride in, a bit of a hike up the hill and there was a loooong queue already, nearly back to the church, but that was cool. As a culture, we're stoic queuers. So I waited about an hour until official folks came out and told us it was a full house and we had to go home. Of course, I'd just missed my bus and it was an hour til the next one.
So I wandered the Rocks, noting miserably how much it had changed since it used to be my playground, oh, happy playground, though it has been years, too many years. It used to have a charm, lots of quaint refurbished old buildings, but they've all been ripped down and replaced by malls of glass and steel. I could have been anywhere in America and I suppose the Americans like it like that (and there were a lot of Yanks about), lest they be distressed by any culture or history not their own. I grieve for the old Rocks. Hmph. But not the old, old Rocks, with the bubonic plague. No, just the arty crafty shops and old pubs Rocks I remember.
So I wander down to the Quay where all the lovely old 19thC buildings have been torn down and replaced by glass and steel McDonalds and Starbucks. QED. Okay, yes, I waited for my bus in Starbucks but don't take my desire to stave off hypothermia as approval or consent. Hmph. I miss that pub on the corner. Filthy, dank little dive but it was the after work pub. We had a history.
So the bus arrived. I had it all to myself for a few stops, then a drunk gets on. He has the whole bus to choose from, but guess where he sits? Yep. My magnetic ability to attract weirdos and derros remains undiminished. Lovely.
So I get home, I get up to the gate and I turn and look up at the sky, and there was Mars, the brightest and best I'd seen it all night, twinkling and winking at me, almost shaking in mirth, no doubt.
Oh well. At least I got out of the House of Fumes for a bit (if she mixes up any more I'm reporting her on the dob in a 'my neighbour is a terrorist' hotline, because ve haf veys, yah), and after all that much needed fresh air, and with only milk in the fridge for dinner, I was out like a light after a mere chapter or two of the book I'm reading.
Oh, I treated myself to Starbucks today, but it's not really a treat as I always find that mall very Hellmouthy. It was built over a graveyard, afterall, over the bones of several of my ancestors, no less (no wonder I always have a crappy shopping experience in Target, it's right over great great great grandpappy). Sigh. The things a girl will endure for a chai latte.
I am swamped with a tsunami of work today, all urgent, of course. Maybe sometime I'll get home and rewind WaT. I've entirely missed EC this week, and I'm starting to feel the first tremblings of withdrawal.
A kindly male friend had been watching Vertical Limit on tv and lamented to me (and I have to repost it here because I've been cruelly tittering all day):
>Why is it Aussie guys
> overseas are portrayed as misogynists, alcoholics &
You don't really want me to answer that, do you? :D As the Yanks say: we hold these truths to be self evident. Snerk, snigger, guffaw, wipes eyes. Oh dear me, yes...
He also mentioned Nick Lea's ensemble of shame, which should never, ever be spoken of. Yikes-a-rama, my eyes, my eyes!