It's funny, but ever since I've been writing (JP3) about Billy smoking (it's a habit he came back with from one of his adventures), I've been smelling those damn cigarettes. It's probably because they're based on the dreadful cigarettes my father started smoking on a working trip overseas, and if you'd experienced them up close you too would be appalled, like Alan.
It's strange though, how I keep imagining the smell. Still, I can't smell a pipe without getting weepy.
Of course right now I can't smell anything but the overpowering reek of Eau de Cat Piss that woman in the next cubicle is wearing. It was a case of Nurse! Nurse! My allergy pills! Stat! Of course once I snarf said pills, well, this means the world's most average database admin suddenly becomes the world's worst db admin. Oh, my aching, abused and assualted sinuses.
So, what's a polite way of asking a sister colleague to go take a frelling shower because my eyes are watering here?! Hmph.
Oh, I also keep craving a cigarette, but that always happens when I write characters who smoke. Didn't know I smoked? Well, I don't now. I did once, secretly, on occassion, with one group of pals. (After my ostracisation I ran with several completely different and seperate social circles, sort of like social polygamy, but it kept me out of the house, and it was fun to experiment with different lifestyles).
I should do that again. I mean, nobody likes the real me, anyway, and a change is as good as a holiday :D And I need to get out of the house. Really.
The See Through Kid
The other thing I've discovered is that I don't have a poker face. I have finally been disabused of this long cherished notion. All my life people have misread me or overlooked me and I thought I must be invisible or inscrutable but the cold hard fact is I'm simply unimportant and they simply don't consider me or bother to pay attention. At all.
No, instead of being invisible I discover I'm utterly transparent, as those rare few people, and I do mean four or five individuals, who actually take the trouble, can read me like a book. Sigh. I think I was happier thinking I was mysterious, rather than just insignificant. And no fair reading my email/fic to a word just from the look on my face. Sheesh.
Didn't watch any tv last night, other than the teen soap that dare not speak its name (because I'll be in for a right rubbishing if I did mention it, guilty pleasure though it is), read a couple of pages, wrote a couple of pages. That's it, really. It was a long, hard day and I just wanted to curl up and pass out. I'm pretty sure Management's staffing strategy is to load the work of six people onto me, and see how long I can take it until I break. Personally I think overloading me until I'm up on the roof with a rifle isn't the best management policy, but what would I know, I'm just a peon, a mere cog in the ever crushing and grinding wheel.
Plus, they're bugging me more than usual. Cryptic, haiku emails I'm used to, but several times now they've told somebody else what they want, then yell at me because I haven't done it. Hello, I might work in IT but there's no hive mind Borg collective here (yet, I hasten to add).
It's 10pm. Do you know where your slashers are?
Oh, I also made up some badges yesterday because bored at work and I was annoyed at those badge wearing chicks at cons that are causing all the slash to be struck out of scripts with a red pen (in the gospel according to Michael Shanks, anyway cf SFX), but then I figured, since the horse has bolted over the hills and far away, why not make it easy for the lad to spot the hard core slash fans coming, so I posted some faux badge t-shirt designs to the j_d list.
Of course, I should have expected the response: "Badges? We don't need no stinkin' badges!" Fiesty lot, over on j_d.
It's like of those old movies. Marketing must be having a time of it because they're just telling me to write my own copy, like they can't be bothered. At last, my chance to shine! Not, I reckon, though no official complaints so far.
Oh, and it must be the moon or something. It's like when men never look at you twice unless you've already got a guy, and people never invite you out unless you've already got plans. Never mind the absolute months I've languished at home, bored witless. Nope, I start having a life again and suddenly I'm getting all these emails out of the blue, and emails actually replied to. Mercy!
Okay, somebody hook me up to a behaviour modification collar so I can behave myself this time.
Quote of the day (courtesy of Keiko):
re Pirates of the Caribbean: "Johnny Depp didn't so much chew the scenery as go down on it." -- Shoshanna