She Dreams In Colour, She Dreams In Red

At this time of year I can't help but think about just how many things have changed in my life in the past couple of years. There are really quite a few - some small, some not so small. If I sat down and thought hard about them all at once, I'd probably need the same kind of professional care as Tigger or Rabbit. But as I don't have a desire of using up good drinking money on therapy, I don't dwell on it. All of these changes are positive in my mind although some have affected others negatively....or they think it has (me behind the wheel of a car being the clear exception).

Perhaps one of the least outwardly obvious change I've experienced would my general feeling about people and the world. Because I was so desperately unhappy in my home life I used to have less of the occasional bout of uber rage and more like an ongoing seething hatred for humankind.

There are things of course things that still annoy the hell out of me such as self important idiots, tail gaters, people who use big words to say little things, homophobia, second-hand smoke, when people talk about 'Vitamin B' (there are like over 10 different Vitamin B's) and when the council shuts down the water supply during the day and when you get home from work and turn on the tap you get splattered with dirty water.....

But the seething hatred for humankind......gone.....that was until I had do some last minute Christmas shopping at a mall. Thanks to that little bout of consumerism, I'll be spending Christmas Eve disposing of bodies.

Hundred Milligram Forest

As a kid, I was never a huge fan of Winnie-the-Pooh, but it wasn't until recently I was able to put my finger on why....

To put it bluntly....the characters are all mental health consumers. Now having questionable and changable mental health myself, I am not in any way judging the individuals or anyone who suffers from the same problems, but you have to wonder about Christopher Robin's upbringing and/or A.A.Milne's social circle when they imagined the characters in the Pooh series.

Rabbit is a classic Obessive-Compulsive. Uber nervous Piglet clearly suffers from Generalised Anxiety Disorder and specifically Nyctophobia. Eeyone is clinically depressed and should seriously consider medication. Owl is not only a real animal that speaks to soft toys, but even though the dude can't spell his name correctly, he believes he is the smartest and wisest of everyone in the forest! This is what you call Grandiose Delusional behaviour. Tigger is obviously Manic Depressive and don't get me started on the Oedipal associations between Kanga and Roo. And while Mr Winnie-the-Pooh himself is sweet and somewhat endearing, he is also Borderline Retarded. It's all you eat and you spell it Hunny?!! Good god bear!

And that is why I always preferred Garfield. I could relate to his Compulsive Eating Disorder.

It's A Bird! It's A Plane!

I am suffering from bloggers block caused by a severe case of embarrassment. A few weeks ago I realised the hard way that several posts past, I had breached my personal blog code of not writing specifics about work. As one can expect this subsequently bit me in the arse.

So in order to punish myself (in a way that I won't enjoy) I will share with you a story that few have survived retelling. A tale of embarrassment most grim.

In order to get to school in the morning I used to catch a train into town. The train my group of friends and I used to catch was the 'school train' - one packed full of kids from other Wellington schools. As you could imagine this could be aptly dubbed 'The Hormonal Express'. Coolest possible behaviour was essential.

Which made my ride in one particularly morning even more socially fatal.

My friends and I would always sit in the same place - the double seats at the back of the train carriage. The four friends that got on at earlier stations would all together sit on one side and my friend C and I, who got on together down the line, would sit on the other side.

As we boarded the train that morning we came across a group or 'testosterone' of teenage boys taking up the 8 seats on both sides of the train, in front of the seats my soon to be (temporarily) ex friends were sitting at.

Big smelly school bags strewn across the floor, grubby cricket bats a plenty and nasty hairy legs everywhere.

Knowing it would be too obvious for the chubby kid with the strange and off-putting sense of humour to trip over these bags, I let C go first in the hopes that she in her thin, almighty prettiness would part the sea of bags like Moses.

Sadly but unsurprisingly, I was granted no such luck, so C slowly picked her way through the tangle of bags and size 11's and I followed closely behind.

Walking through the bag gauntlet had the level of intensity of that scene from Flash Gordon when those guys are putting their arm into that nest thing at the risk of getting stung by the deadly alien inside. That part of the movie gives me the wiggins second only to the bit in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom when that dude gets his still beating heart pulled out of his chest by that long nailed loon. Shudder.

Oh, I digress.

Nope, before you assume, I made it through the boys bags just fine. It wasn't until I cleared the gauntlet and glanced around to marvel at my achievement, that I stepped forward just as the train started, straight into C's bag which she had kindly dropped directly in front of me.

The combination of stepping forward and the acceleration of the train caused me to be thrown a metre and a half across the train, directly into the laps of my four friends.

Did I mention that my school uniform was a dress?

Stunned at my new location and position it took me a while to get my bearings. As I came to, I heard the frantic whispers of "Get off me....Get off!....Get off!!!!" of my concerned friends. Finding my arms had been outstretched at point of arsing over kite, they were now laced down between my friends legs and I was unable to move. Before I could communicate my dilemma, my now who-is-this-girl-on-us aka friends began rapidly kicking their legs in order to get me off them. As I result I ungracefully slide onto the floor into a semi-catatonic lump where I lay with my dress up around my neck.

Having terribly embarrassed the-people-I-happened-to-be-near-and-certainly-not-her-friends aka yes, actually still my friends I was pulled out of my temporary paralysis by their urgent whisperings of "Get up...Get up!!! GET UP!!". As I stood up and turned around to face the train load of people, the entire carriage who had not only seen my performance but appeared to be riveted by it, erupted in laughter.

I sat down on my seat and my friends began to consoling me in the way that teenage girls do - by not acknowledging my existence whatsoever.

Ah yes. That'll learn me.

Beat Egg And Add to Dry Ingredients

I just had a young guy come into my office and try and sell me a bucket 'o Christmas cookies.

He came in, politely introduced himself and offered me a cookie. Normally that would be about all it would take to ensure my life-long friendship, however these were chocolate chip biscuits and with even the tiniest bit of chocolate setting me off with a blinding migraine, I explained that I couldn't actually eat his wares but figured it at only $14 it would make a good present for someone.......... That and I realised my much loved 'Banana Guard' was sitting next to my bag on the floor and rather than try and explain what it was, I figured that while he was filling out the order form I could surreptitiously slip my banana holder into my bag.

OK. Before you ask, it is to protect your banana from getting bruised or squished in your bag and yes they did have different colours available but I like purple, yes it does fit most bananas and girth is more important than length, and yes I am still talking about bananas.

Once I had removed my amusing yet functional Banana Guard from view I looked back at the cookie dude and realised that my eyes had initially tried to protect my brain from acknowledging the pattern of his shirt. I realised it was in fact a pattern of hundreds of chocolate chip cookies. Imagine if you will, a shirt completely covered with this:


Urgh.

So I said to him:

"You know, your shirt is kinda mocking me.........come to think of it....it is kinda of mocking you too."

He said "Yeah, I know...that and the short sleeves and them all being one size too short sucks"

Amused I asked "Is it the same for the girls selling cookies?"

He responded "Yeah, perhaps even two sizes too small for them which isn't really a bad thing...uh...depending on...ummm...ahem...your...err......."

Perhaps he did see my banana holder.

Putting the Y in Cynicism

In my final year of college (New Zealand equivalent of high school) our Dean was this very tall, very thin and indescribably intimidating woman of indeterminate age.

Now don't get me wrong - In general I liked the woman. She was funny and for the most part empowering....she was just a complete nutbar.

As an English teacher who refused to acknowledge students from any other year ("You'll become human once you're in seventh form Puppy"), she only taught a few classes a week. I imagine the rest of her time was spent scaring the younger students, bullying other students into attending their end of year ball, bleaching her hair platinum blonde, putting at least five gold rings on everyone of her fingers and talking girls for one of her 'walks'. I guess that is why she called everyone Puppy....that and I suspect she was bad at names.

A 'walk' involved a brisk trip around the block, the length of the route determined by how messed up Ms P thought you were.

While other girls were taken for such 'walks' because of their recent emotional breakdown in class, a messy parental divorce, a rumoured abortion and/or detox from their cocaine addiction....I was pulled out of class to go for a 'walk' regarding my "excessive cynicism"

Pah. Typical.

As I trotted alongside Ms P to keep up with her impressively long stride given her high heels and long skirt, I was forced to explain why I appeared to be so cynical. Rather than tell her the truth about the emotional toll of being a fat, ugly kid with a kooky sense of humour at a white-bread school, I formed an explanation which has since become my theory on life.

Being an Optimist only leads to disappointment.

As a Pessimist you always think the worst is going to happen. If it does, not only were you expecting it, you are actually proven right. If the worst doesn't happen, not only does a good thing happen, but you'll be pleasantly surprised about it. Therefore pessimism and cynicism are really the most positive positions to take in life.....

Therefore I never had to go on another 'walk'.

The Violence In My Head Goes Round and Round

The other morning as I held on to the (loose) hand-rail to prevent myself from being thrown around the bus like the last peanut in the jar, I wondered whether bus drivers derive some sort of sick pleasure from driving like a sadistic bast*rd when the bus is packed and there are a bunch of people standing.

I began to wonder whether bus drivers have to sit some sort of test to check that once all seats on the bus are taken, they can maintain constant bunny hopping based acceleration and all braking can be akin to emergency stops.

I then realised how negative and paranoid this line of thinking was and decided to be a little more realistic.....

It's a game for bus drivers.

With video cameras now installed in all buses the drivers are having some sort of carrier-wide competition. I have no idea whether the name of this game is 'Human Skittles', 'Commuter Derooter' , 10 Pins Bowling or the 'Bus Martini' (shaken not stirred) but I can hazard a guess at the scoring system.

1 point
Commuter swears under breath
Commuters share meaningful/exasperated glance

2 points
Squealing, shrieking and/or screaming
Bus rage exhibited as a result of foot trampling and/or someones handbag being poked into someone else's back repeatedly.

3 points
Crying, sobbing, and/or fetal position
Someone accidentally presses the bell when they stumble and they feel obliged to get off several stops early
Woman wearing a skirt falls down (+2 bonus points , if she is hot and not wearing underwear, -4 points is she not hot and not wearing underwear)

5 points
Head, eye or groin injury suffered by hitting handrail
Bag gets knocks over (+3 bonus if tampons, condoms, KY, fluffy handcuffs, and/or suppositories spill out down the isle)


My bus driver got at least 12 points out of me on that trip.

Only Because 666 Was Taken

This morning I got a kindly SMS reminder from my cellphone TelCo that my account balance had just dropped below $5. As I do every time I receive such a message I dutifully dialed 777 and listened to the 2 minutes of promotional material that is always significantly louder than the rest of the following automated top up menu.

Once you've got past the promotional spiel the process normally is:

Step 1: Press 2 to top up
Step 2: Press 2 to top up by prepay or credit card
Step 3: Press 1 to top up by credit card
(Transferred to a new menu)
Step 4: Press 1 to top up by credit card
Step 5: Enter your phone number
Step 6: Enter your 4 digit pin
Step 7: Enter the last 4 digits of your credit card
Step 8: Enter the amount you wish to pay
Step 9: Press 1 to confirm that amount
Wait for confirmation
Hang up

Not what I'd call a streamlined process so you can imagine my joy when, after the unpleasantly loud promotional speech, the robot lady told me that my TelCo had made some 'exciting new changes' to their automated menu to make it easier to use.

At first listen it seemed that this streamlining involved the radical measure of removing Step 4 however as I progressed further through the menu I found the other change they had made - they had changed my pin number and not advised me of the new code. I guess I'd classify this as exciting.

The trusty pin I've been using for the last 2 years had suddenly become invalid. Not trusting my caffeine influenced dialing fingers I hung up and tried again. Adjust volume, sit through promo menu, adjust volume back, move through repetitive menu selections and I find that after two unsuccessful pin entry attempts you are blocked from trying again.

Alrighty, I need Customer Services however there is no escape from this menu. I hang up, dial, adjust volume, sit through obnoxious promo menu, adjust volume, move through insanely repetitive menu selections.

I get through to the credit card menu again waiting for the guy to tell me which button to press to get assistance but he wants my phone number and my pin before I can move forward. Ummm no can do buddy. Ok, perhaps I need to get help via the last menu. No way to go back. Hang up, dial, adjust volume, sit through repugnant promo dribble, adjust volume, move through retarded menu selections.

No help on the previous menu. Will try the main menu. No way to go back. Hang up, dial, adjust volume, sit through maddening promo crap, adjust volume, move through idiotic menu selections.

No help available on main menu. In frustration I go through to the 'let me spend more money with you' menu selection to try and get a human being but I'm told the phone lines are overloaded and that Robo bitch tells me to try again later and disconnects me.

Now seeing everything in a vaguely red tint I go to the TelCo website to try and get some assistance. The only FAQs they have relating to credit card top ups direct me to call 777 for assistance. I realise I am developing a facial tic.

Determined I attempt to submit an email help request but find that I need to enter my pin in order to use this feature. My facial tic has now evolved into a full shoulder movement, accompanied with the occasional kicking of my foot.

With spirit nearly broken, I decide to just use the website payment gateway. I find that you need to Register for this service and the turnaround on confirming a new account is 15 working days. In addition to my violent, full body tics I start to experience severe Terrets.

I post a strongly worded 'feedback' email outlining my dilemma and requesting someone contact me for assistance. Within 10 minutes I receive an email back with an automated message saying that due to excessive demand, there is a 7-10 working day turnaround on all emails and that I should contact 777 for urgent assistance.

Blinding uber rage followed by shortness of breath and a sharp pain in my shoulder.....

O Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay!

Apologies for not posting sooner folks. I'm afraid not a lot of funny/interesting/uber rage inducing things (I can publicly post about) have been happening in my life. Well.....perhaps they have, but they have been overshadowed by work frustrations (see publicly post reference) and my recent fixation on the fragility of life.

This was sparked Friday before last when some punk kids decided it would be a fabulous idea to throw bottles at the train I happened to be on, as it was pulling out of the station. One of the bottles smashed through a large window several rows down from me. Luckily no-one was sitting in those seats and the nearby people only got showered a little in glass. The second bottle hit the window next to me about 20 centimetres above my head but it hit the metal window hinge it bounced off.

20 centimetres between my face and a whole of lot of fast moving broken glass is about as close as I'd like to ever get.

Anywho, it got me thinking about how little inconsequential decisions (like where you sit on the train) can potentially have a big impact on your life. Me being a serious drama queen, this of course made me think about dying and my funeral.

By definition funerals suck. However I want mine to suck a little less than average so I'm going to plan it now while I am of reasonably hot of body and vaguely sound of mind.

No churches. Not only would it be horribly hypocritical and a lightning strike risk, the seats are always so uncomfortable. It should however be somewhere with free and ample parking.

No ties. Shoes are optional if you have pretty enough feet.

No organ music unless it is Baby Elephant Walk. Exit music shouldn't be Ava Maria or anything sad, it should be something like the Sabre Dance . Dancing like a goon is to be encouraged.

No synchronised reading of prayers. Have you ever been in church when a large congregation are reading out a prayer in unison? It sounds creeepy. If everyone insists on saying something together, it should be something like "We are we are, we are the many" or "Urrrghhhh braiiiiiiins"

No reading of poems unless it is 'The Jabberwocky' or written by Spike Milligan.

Instead of the standard proceedings, it should be run like a roasting with people getting up and telling embarrassing or funny stories about me. I don't want said roasting to be run by some random celebrant that I've never met and made blush, reading some "insert deceased's name here" script. I want someone who can run the show like an MC. Someone like Seraph.

No children under 10 are invited. Babies cry and stress their mothers, toddlers embarrass their parents with loud and obnoxiously accurate but inappropriate observations, and older kids will be bored stupid and shouldn't really be exposed to the dirty anecdotes that I really hope will be bouncing around.

And finally...I know y'all are busy people and I'm not nearly important enough to be dwelled over. My funeral and wake should be combined and snacks served.

The proceedings should start not with "We are gathered here today..." or "We are here to remember...." but with "Right, has everyone got a drink?"

Putting The Ran In Random

Out of the blue on Monday I was pulled out of my office to be introduced to Peter Snell. I haven't met many famous folk so while waiting to shake his hand I thought about what I should say to him. My first thought was how celebrities complain that when some people met them they are told something horribly insensitive like "You look taller on TV" or "You look skinner in the movies".

Within 3 seconds of listening to him talk to another staff member it became pretty clear that the guy was completely devoid of a sense of humour and saying "You look different in colour" would have probably gone down like a cup of cold sick.

When it was explained to him that I worked in elearning he made a confused face and some vaguely negative comments about the use of technology in education and I realised he really did suit being in black and white.

Southern Comfort

So.......Yeah........sobriety totally sucks.

I'm not feeling any healthier and I look like hell, but I have to admit the Wagon has given me flash of inventive inspiration.

Without that lovely spinning and/or tumbling feeling one gets after climbing into bed after 4(ish) bourbons, I am having trouble getting off to sleep. As I was lying awake again last night I came up an idea for a product which might just make me my millions.

You'll see my first rough drawing to the left. It is made of a soft fabric like polar fleece or flannel and is basically a human sized bag filled with lightweight plastic beans (not polystyrene since I have an intense and irrational phobia of that particular substance... Urgh....just typing about it makes my teeth itch...waaaarrgghhh)

Ahem. Anyways. It is designed for people who don't normallyor currently share a bed with someone else and slips in behind them as a surrogate Big Spoon. You'll see it has concave curves for your upper back, butt and feet and convex curves for the small of your back and the back of your knees. I haven't drawn it in here but it will have an optional arm-like attachment which you can have draped over or tucked underneath you.

The deluxe edition would have built in electronics which would simulate a heart beat that you'd feel around the upper back area and have warming coils through the middle and through the feet area.

I haven't decided yet whether I'll call it "Just Bean'ing There" or "The Serving Spoon"

Discombobulating Muffins

I am beginning to suspect the universe is conspiring against my recent decision to cut back on my drinking by exposing me to a mix of horrifying, yet morbidly fascinating, sex related stories, and as icing on the extremely-disturbing-cake I was the lucky recipient of some explicit text message stalking.

Perhaps someone is trying to tell me something....like my liver health is overrated? Carpe Bourbon??

So yes, in the last week I have heard not 1, not 2 but 3 different sex stories that left me wondering whether the attendants at my local liquor store are missing me as much as I am miss them...

Story number 1 involves the carry on at a 'Sexy Party' that involved a bunch of drunk young men and women, a video camera and a Dalmation. The story left me wondering whether the dog was ok and how one gets invited to these sort of things?

Story number 2 involves Blanket Man being witnessed having it off with some woman in the middle of the street. The story left me wondering on or under the blanket and if was a charity 'donation' how she plans on claiming back the tax?

Story number 3 was a lengthy tale which involved a friend of a friend who after a big night out on a business trip ended up coming back to his motel room with three woman of questionable moral fibre. The dude left the room briefly and came back to a room empty of the girls and his brothers digital camera. Guttered about the situation he rang his brother to give him the bad news. Shortly after speaking to the brother the FOAF sat down to have a drink to commiserate the loss of the camera (and I'm guessing the girls) and noticed it under the couch. He was so relieved the camera wasn't stolen he decided to celebrate with a quiet smoke of something other than tobacco. While outside on the balcony he was hailed by a bloke he'd briefly met earlier in the evening and it was agreed he would come up and share in the celebration. Once in the motel room the bloke asked now pretty stoned camera-not-actually-lost-guy whether he had ever masturbated in front of someone (!!!) Before he knew what was happening the random bloke was on the floor, pants around his ankles pounding away like a man possessed and he had to be asked to leave. This story left me wondering whether some not tobacco would erase this story from my mind and what the odds of the random bloke being my ex brother-in-law who (I found out the hard way) liked to masturbate in front my computer.

I join you all in saying/thinking/retching "Urgh"

Then to top the last few days off on Tuesday I received a highly dodgy text message from an unknown number. The message greeted me as Meredith, outlined some pretty personal but accurate information about me and then propositioned me for a threesome. Then they rang several times (I rejected the calls) and texted me again asking if I was there and was this Meredith. Thanks to some super sleuthing and skillful lying (not by me) it was found that the author of this delightful message was a University student I had hired for a day to help me out at the conference I organised back in July. Yes folks, back in July. It has been 4 months since I last spoke to or saw this boy and now....now he thinks it is an ok time to ask me for sex. I was really disappointed in him since he was a good little employee....the last sentence of his text message really summed that up... "I do as I'm told"

Road Rules and Cat Herding

Yesterday I had to drive up north again for a Steering Group meeting on my project. The trip proved to be highly informative and I thought I might share some of the pearls I picked up....

Pay attention to your loved ones hobbies and passions, you never know when you'll be able to use what you've learnt to bond with someone on your Steering Committee over that same passion.

If you've prepared a document or process for review by a large group of academics, submit your idea, wait for them to banter around other ideas for a while, for them to start forming a different view, decide on a different approach, for them to then try and work out how'd that idea would work in the real world and then an hour later decide that what you'd proposed originally is in fact the best way to proceed. During this time remember to nod, make nice affirmative noises and pretend to take notes while preparing your shopping list.

Accidentally hitting a large bird at speed, with your car and the resulting gore and feather splatter is a good way of getting the blonde bitch tailgating you to back right off.

Not all driving speed rules are covered in the New Zealand road code. For example, it isn't outlined that when approaching a speed limit sign which orders a decrease in speed, drivers do not slow down until they are precisely next to said speed limit sign, however when approaching a sign which shows an increase in speed, drivers will increase their speed as soon as said sign is just visible. Failure to observe these rules can result in tailgating, engine revving and filthy looks.

And finally, the only thing that will make someone who consistently drives at 80kms in a 100km zone suddenly speed up, is this sign:

Ohhh..This Does *Not* End Well For You

The Kurt Neilsen lookalike down the hall from my office is now on his third and final strike.

About an hour ago he came running into my office with a pottle of yoghurt and a metal teaspoon and before I realised what was happening he jabbed the teaspoon against the underside of my wrist. If that wasn't weird and randomly violent in itself, it wasn't any old teaspoon, nosiree...it was one that he had just heated up by running it under the boiling water dispenser in the kitchenette. While it wasn't hot enough to sear flesh off bone, there was significant pain and a very clear teaspoon shaped mark on my arm a whiles after.

About 20 minutes after I gave him a mouthful of abuse and told him to fek the hell off, I got the below email from him. With stalker-like sentiment he sent me this message via a reply to an email I sent him about 6 weeks ago.

It went like this:

"hey freak,

how's the burn? i'm really sorry, i felt it before i touched you with it and thought it had cooled enough, but you're a sensitive girl :-D

speaking of sensitive, i'm sitting here crying into my yoghurt becuz you said i'm ugly and uninteresting. :-( "

Still sore and angry I replied:

Ok, first off - you kept this email?! And I'm the freak?

Secondly - when you put r and n together in that font it looks at first glance to be an ' m' and I misread your email. HR may be in touch.

Thirdly - I am a sensitive wee thing. It did hurt but it is getting better. Don't worry about it. I am reasonably forgiving.

Fourthly - how long does it take you to eat yogurt?!!

Fifthly - when did I say you were uninteresting?


Hopefully that will be a clear enough message for him to leave me alone....I don't want to have to start kicking people in the head (so soon) into this new job.

A Cat's Inner Monologue: A Cold Night

Ahem...excuse me mumma, could I snuggle down in the bed with you? Please? Purr Purr Purr....Its so cold and I'm so very cute. Excellent, I'm in! Let me just pad on your leg with my needle sharp claws for a minute, then I'll settle down to sleep......... zzzzzz zzzzzz

!! Oh, man, it is HOT under the covers. I need out and I need out now.......Woah, it is really cold out here still....could I get back in? Excellent, thanks. Ahhhhh...

You moved! You moved a whole centimetre, some of us are trying to sleep here...Sigh......That's it, I want out, let me out right now.

You know how I wanted out a minute ago, I'd kinda forgotten how cold it was out here and how warm and snuggly it was there under the covers, can I get back in?........Oh, wait...no....maybe I don't want in...it was a little too warm....heheehhahahaa....Just kidding! I was just seeing how long you'd lift the covers up for me, I really do want in...c'mon...maaaaaa......Ok. Fine. I'll start pulling all of your tissues out the box...oh look, you've lifted the covers, fancy that.....Ahh...nice and warm.

Oh, was that your alarm? Already? Guess you'll be needing to get up and go to work.....Sucks to be you. You'll have to contort your half asleep body around me to get outta bed since I'm not moving from the middle here. I've had a terrible nights sleep thanks to someone....

You Sound Like You Want A Written Warning

Even though I just got over my last fluey cold I have managed to succumb to a strange new cold strain that I have named Damnevilcoldis Upsidedownae. The reason being that I started with a cough then sinus came on and now I have sneezing and an immovable headache.

Being sick again so soon hasn't done much for my emotional fortitude so it was probably a mistake that last night the IT professional I see most often and I, went through the process of installing my brand spankin' wireless router. It was going well until towards the end of the process when the setup wizard had a conniption and on its way down it took out all my previous connection settings including my IP address.

Having stupidly put this information somewhere so very safe I couldn't find it, I was forced to ring my ISP call centre.

After battling the voice recognition menu selection - which I discovered doesn't like coughing, sniffing or that "Mehhh" noise people with headcolds make without realising - I was put on hold for around 40 minutes. During which time the most obnoxious hold music ever made was played in all its tinny glory.

This all put me in a spectacularly bad mood.

When my call was finally answered a young woman answered. After reciting my customer number, name and address she asked for my date of birth. When I responded she paused for a second then she said "Really?! You sound like, 12".

It was then my time to pause while I considered possible responses to this insane commentary. I think luckily for everyone involved I wanted my internet access back slightly more than I wanted to destroy her and simply went with "I have a cold".

How To Lose Friends And Infuriate People

Today a guy from work in the same Project Management role as me but for a different project from the same government fund, asked whether I'd like to grab a coffee in the Staffroom and talk some shop. I dutifully agreed even though networking is possibly my least favourite part of my job.

After talking about where we were both at with our projects and reporting etc etc blah blah, the topic swung around to other education related chit chat. That is where things went downhill for both of us. The conversation went a little like this:

Me: So you didn't go to [Insert name of the conference I recently sweated blood to organise]?
Him: No, I was at [Insert name of another education related conference that happened to be on at the same time]
Me: Oh, right. Was it good?
Him: Yeah, it was. I hear it was better than [Insert name of the conference I sweated blood to organise]
Me: {pregnant pause while I imagine his head exploding}. Mmmm. Really....
Him: I am supposed to be using [Insert name of the software that my conference was about and the system I have been working with for the past 2 years and pretty much know inside and out] for my project pages but I am really new to it. Are you familiar with it?
Me: Yeah, I know it pretty well...
Him: Oh good, perhaps you could give me a hand sometime, show me some tricks?
Me: {pauses again as she imagines the sweet revenge that could be had here} Sure thing! Just give me a call.

I can see it now....

"Oh no, you can safely delete anything whenever you like...even if you think you'll use it again. You see there is a special archive area where you can retrieve anything you've ever deleted....I'll show you that tomorrow. That silly little configuration setting? Nah, you don't need that, that warning is a bug. Been there forever it's so annoying. Oh and if in doubt use your web browser Back button as much as you can...especially after typing a really long message...after all, you wouldn't want to lose any of your work."

Do your research dude.

Punky Blogger

While taking an Occupational Health and Safety Organisation recommended micropause from my work, I came across an online article titled "Children with older siblings are not only more rebellious and adventurous, it appears they are also funnier". As the youngest of two this obviously sparked my interest....Up until now I thought the deal was he got the brains and I got the ability to suit hats. Looks like I got the funny too.

As I read on the article included the results of new scientific research and comediene Michelle A'Court broke new ground and was quoted as saying something actually funny: "The first one is the documentary and the second one is the sit-com."

This got me thinking....what exactly would my sitcom be called? I thought in order to get the creative juices flowing I thought I'd use existing sitcom titles as a stating point and give them a lil' bit of a Meredith flavour. Here is what I came up with...

• Who's The Boss? / She's The Freakin' Boss, That's Who!
• Charles In Charge / Heh...Let Charles Think He In Charge
• Are You Being Served? / Are You Serving Me Cougar Or Some Cheap Crap?
• Get Smart / Get A Smartcard
• M*A*S*H / R*A*S*H
• Step By Step /12 Steps By 12 Steps
• Man About The House / I Won't Be Needing A Man About The House Anymore
• My Two Dads / My Two Tabs
• Saved By The Bell / Saved By The Belladonna
• 8 Simple Rules / 8 Simple Rules For Avoiding the Uber Rage

I am not even going to touch The Dick Van Dyke Show....

iPoditis

According to Dr Victor Aziz, a psychiatrist at Whitchurch Hospital in Cardiff, an increase in a condition known as 'musical hallucination' where the brain continuously hears music that is perceived to be real is partially due to in increase of exposure to music in everyday life - like from iPods (hence the common name iPoditis)

He was quoted as saying "Having a song in your head is quite normal every now and then. But musical hallucinations can be quite distressing" (I bet, particularly if that music is Kenny G)

However, despite his most awesome Dr Suess-esque like name, I disagree with Dr Aziz.

As recent experience and resulting sleep deprivation informs me, iPoditis is in fact the obsessive compulsive disorder that takes affect immediately after purchasing your first mp3 player, which compels you to burn all of your CDs to your player within the shortest possible timeframe.

C Is For Cookie, That's Good Enough For Me

Yesterday I had a frustrating start to the morning but the red mist dissolved away to a baby pink haze in the afternoon when my specialists appointment finally rolled around and I found out my shoulder wasn't the big C after all. Damn alarmist Doctor and Radiologist! I don't need the MRI or the bone biopsy now which makes my fine but claustrophobic arse pretty freakin' happy.

I have what is called osteolysis of my distal clavicle. It is separation and inflammation of the joint. It is apparently a fairly common injury in body builders which amuses me greatly given the only weightlifting I do is getting myself out of bed and picking up the cats (although.....)

If you are really bored you can read more about Osteolysis here

Plus in my googling efforts for the above I found a cool list of phobias on wikipedia: I see crazy people

Restart Now Or Later?

Well, Week 4 and finally I can give you the a la Ricky Lake Makeover Before and After shots of my new office....

Before


After!



The added effect of taking the first photo on my personal cellphone and the second shot on my new work cellphone and the resulting quality difference was not intentional...but I do enjoy the high resolution irony.

In order to prepare the above I spent the morning installing my monitor, keyboard, mouse and most of the features of my PDA (synchronisation with my email is proving most vexing) and discovering (while trying to install my wireless card) that my lappie didn't have the network card slot it was supposed to. My pouty pants went straight on after that.

Today I also received my staff ID card and given it is laminated cardboard with my name handwritten on it, I can certainly see why it took so long. During the 100 minute commute home I decided my first job tomorrow would be to take that ID card down to the Facilities Office and get me my staff parking permit. People who suggest that catching trains and buses will give you precious time to read and relax before and after work haven't tried commuting at rush hour during winter and can stick their opinion right up their network slot.


P.S I think 'most vexing' might be my new uber.....

It's Worse Than That, It's Physics Jim!

Big moment for me on Friday...I drove from Wellington to Palmerston North and back...by myself! It was just me, a map, the open road and a bunch of my old mixed tapes.

I am not what you would call a confident/experienced/remotely good driver so this was a big thing for me. I got to my destination in plenty of time (despite the fact that once I hit Palmy I took the 'pretty' way) and I made it back without any one honking at me and no fists were waved in my general direction.

Added to that I was able to collect the rest of my IT equipment from the head office it was a most excellent adventure for me.

I also learnt two important life lessons:
1. I really gots to get me a modern car stereo with a CD player if I am going to drive any distance again
2. I still know all the words to Star Trekkin' and The Sweater

Whose Line Is It Anyway?

I'm finding a challenging part of finding my feet in this new job is making friends with my co-workers and finding out exactly where that line for them sits. Testing the limits of their humour is proving to be this bizarre mental dance I have to go through everyday where the consequences of standing on their feet can be serious.

Normally when you start a new job you'd have someone in your team who would be more than happy to give you intel on everyone else..."She's a bitch, he's a perv, she's a dag, he's a sweetheart" etc etc. I don't have a team or that inside info so I have to start from scratch and assume that everyone is a humourless f&ckbag until proven otherwise.

So far I've found the two young guys at the end of the hall to be good value but the skinny guy two doors down I seem to make so incredibly nervous that in the kitchenette on Thursday, he proceeded to try and relate some weird story about data files and termites in Malaysia and how they were a delicacy. I assume he was talking about the termites but at the time didn't want to stick around to clarify in case engaging him in conversation made his head explode....plus I wanted to drink my coffee while it was hot.

I've also found that the tall grumpy guy in the office next to me is really quite funny and sweet in a barely repressing the uber rage sort of way. For instance, when he popped his head into my office to ask whether I had any staples in my stapler and as I went to pass it over to him I paused and said "Wait....I assume that wasn't a euphemism for something...?" - he found it highly amusing and gave only a slightly bone chilling belly laugh. That's progress.

Bring It On You Pussy Virus

After having breakfast and re-reading my whiney post of this morning I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and get off my arse and take my mucusy body into work. Screw the virus, I'm back in the game and this time, I brought my chakram.

An update on the new job:

Now Also Haves....

• In and out trays (space age plasticy goodness)
• Voicemail (I now know how to tell when I have a new message)
• Colour printer (installed and configured and eerily quiet)
• A box o' office paper (for printing, darts and temporary door labels)
• My own mail pigeon hole (with a punched label and everything)
• A pile of branded envelopes (with the wrong address on them)
• A pile of 'With Compliments' slips (ahem...also with the wrong address on them)
• A network password (sigh)
• Internet access (sweet, sweet internet)
• A salary (which makes all the Have Nots worth it)
• A new found understanding of which lightswitch does what (and there was light)
• Discovery of a nearby kitchenette that has Macchona coffee (and it was good)
• My sanity (despite the 1 3/4 hours it took me to get home tonight)

Still Have Nots...

• Cellphone (maybe them not being able to reach me whenever is a good thing?)
• PDA (I predict using it everyday for 2 months then never again)
• G3 card (it'll be swaaaweet once I get it)
• Email address (this one is really irritating)
• Personal drive on the Network (go the Desktop)
• Staff ID card (hey HR...if you hadn't paid me then I'd be yelling "You suck!")
• Staff parking permit (man I wish it was summer)
• Keyboard (tappity tappity)
• Mouse (I want my Back button!)
• Laptop bag (you'd think it would have come with the lappie right?)
• My health (but working on it)

I think my emphasis on telling helpdesk I'd been here 15 days and still didn't have things sorted, kinda put things in perspective for them. That and the menacing tone I seem to have because of my husky chest infection voice.

I Must Have Pissed Off Some Gypsy

I had to go and say that I was feeling better didn't I?? I pretty much threw down the gauntlet to whatever evil virus is playing house with my body and now it is totally kicking my arse.

On top of the sinus infection, chest infection and throat infection I've been sporting for the last two days, I woke up this morning with a very sexy eye infection. I join readers in saying "Urgh".

I gave my eye a good wash out a few minutes ago after finding out their were no doctor's appointments available at the local medical centre. Probably an overreaction, but I've had enough of being sick. I'm done. Game over man, game over.

Part of the reason I am so bummed about this damned monkey pox I've got is that I was all pumped and ready to go into work and see if I could use the network and sort out my email. It looks as though I am at least halfway towards being set up to work now...(Day 15).

On The Third Day The Fever Broke

I feel like I am in a period drama but with the internet...

Since Wednesday I have been pretty ill. I'd managed to become full of some random virus that has had me running hot (but with random chills), with nasty body aches, a continuous, impenetrable headache and tonsils so swollen it was stimulating my gag reflex. And ohmygod... so freakin' tired! Going to the kitchen to make a hot drink has been a half hour round trip. This has meant the only thing I have been able to do with any amount of fortitude is sleep....and sleep I have.

This morning when I woke up I still felt like crap but I curled up on the couch under a couple of blankets, had a cup of tea and an Imigran (uber migraine medication) and watched one of my favourite shows Miami Ink. Once it was finished I sat up and stretched and realised that I was feeling heaps better.

I still have a kinda woozy head and a $1.99/minute voice but I have been able move around and get some long overdue chores done.

I'm not complaining, at all...but it is sorta odd right?

People Are Strange When You're A Stranger

My office laptop and monitor finally arrived this morning however I can't use them until my network account has been created. I even need a login to boot to Windows so I couldn't get a proper look at my new screen.

I had thought the technical bit was sorted but it was found yesterday that the new user account request forms that were submitted on my behalf last week, actually require my signature for some random, time wasting reason.

That meant today I had to travel into work just to sign two freakin' bits of paper. They are now on their way back to head office for processing, secondary approval (!!) and for technical implementation. I'm guessing it won't be until next week that I'll be able to show you my before and after office setup photos. Must get me a pot plant....

While I was in this morning I managed to get two, perhaps small, things done - which considering progress to date I am going to think of as victories. I managed to track down and sweet talk the mysterious 'Steve the mail guy' into giving me a mail slot and I found I had a key to a secret room that is filled with boxes, recycle bins and rolls and rolls of bubblewrap. Oh yeah.

I also introduced myself to two more of the people I share an office space with on level '5A' . (It seems that MU is so hip that rather than name their buildings A, B, C etc, they name them 1, 2, 3 and then call the floors within the building A, B, C etc. I think it is kinda stupid, although certainly not an uncrackable code.)

Anyways, I introduced myself to two young guys who sit down the hall from me. I've observed to date they seem to do everything together and I found today that when I speak to one, the other comes out of their office to join in on the chat. 20 minutes after I introduced myself, they both came down to visit me to see how I was getting on with unpacking my equipment. Given my levels of frustration at that point I only just stopped myself from telling them that they made a cute couple.

What entertained me on the commute back home was trying to work out who one of the 5A boys reminded me of. It drove me bananas but got it just as my train was pulling in. Jon looks exactly like Kurt Neilsen, that odd little hobbitt who won World Idol a few years ago...

Say Hi To Your Manager Ron

At the beginning of the year I transferred my enrolment in an online course run by my old employer to this semester. With the new job and other dramas going on I haven't had a chance to go in and have a look around yet. As such I have been flagged as an 'at risk' student and was called by the outbound call centre division of the Learning Support team last night.

The poor girl on the other end of the phone asked me how I was getting on and after I admitted to having not looked at my course yet but promise to on the weekend, she asked me whether I knew anything about the Online Campus.

Ahem.

I said "Yes, I am fairly familiar with it. After all, up until last week I had been the Site Administrator for the past 2 years...."

"Ummmmmmm, sounds like you have it sorted. Thank you for your time. Click."

Stupid Stuff

I just noticed this retarded report on stuff.co.nz and couldn't help but put in my two cents...

A man who took a machete into a South Auckland gun shop today is in hospital, after he was shot in the stomach.
27 July 2006

The man was thought to have been shot by someone in the shop about 10am.
[No grassy knoll nearby then?]

Police said they were not told about the incident until after the shooting.
[The psychics at the 'pre-crime lab' until really dropped the ball there huh?]

Police spokeswoman, Noreen Hegarty said details of the shooting were still vague and she could not say what the precursor to him being shot was.
[I'm no detective but I suspect it could have been related to the machete he was wielding?]

"It would be reasonable to question why he went into the shop with a machete."
[While a somewhat flawed plan, I suspect to steal a gun maybe?]

It was not known what type of weapon was used.
[Hmm...what sort of weapon would leave a gun shot wound and would be available in a gun store...think Meredith, think!]

Cripes.

On Your Marks...Get Ready.......Wait.

As the first week of my new job is nearly up I thought an update was required. In the spirit of the highly efficient Project Manager I need to become lookie here at my bullet points:

Haves....

• Office (my own little sunless cave called '5A24')
• Desk (now clean of gross miscellaneous grime and dead insects)
• Stationery (shiny and new and handpicked by me)
• Chair (mostly not broken)
• Mobile drawers (great for holding all my stationery)
• Landline (plastic phone circa 1986)
• Voicemail (I don't know how to tell when I have a new message)
• Swipecard (into the mailroom and swanky staffroom)
• Colour printer (unopened at home)
• 1 minute walk to real coffee (oh yeaaaah)
• An understanding of what I am supposed to be doing
• My sanity*

Have Nots...

• Laptop
• Cellphone
• PDA
• Email address
• Network login
• Internet access
• Staff ID card
• Staff parking permit
• The extra 20 years all the other staff at Massey have on me
• A whole lot of discipline about working at home in the meantime

* May be temporary category listing

Fancy. Pants.

So as promised here is me in a dress. Sigh. None of these pics are especially flattering but you get the drift. The picture on the top left has captured me with my hair sitting strangely like I have one mutton chop, the pic on the top right has me with a weird double chin thing going on, and the picture on the bottom would be great had my eyes been open. It looks like I am wearing flat shoes, but they really are pretty high heeled girly wear. I gotta learn to pose. Fierce like Tara.

Anywho, there you have it. I have ankles, knees and as the pic on the bottom shows, one helluva cleavage.

The awards night was a whole bunch of fun even if we didn't win our category. The organisation that did win were finalists in two other categories (including Best Overall IT Project) and they got a clean sweep so at least we got bent over by the best. Unfortunately our category was announced in the first 30 minutes of the evening so all that was left for us to do was eat, drink and....drink some more. I valiently did the one glass of wine, 1 glass of water thing but to no effect.

The five of us were pretty messed up by the end of the night. At one point I overheard my as-of-4-hours-earlier-ex-boss waxing lyrical to PL about how much he was going to miss me and how I had been his 'go to guy'. Talk about laugh. More like his 'go to abuse guy'.

I was so well gone that I even found Frankie Steven's musical interlude vaguely entertaining... although I do recall his impressions of Tom Jones, Elvis and Dave Dobbyn being all strangely alike. I am not going to put that down to the booze.

The most important thing to note about Friday night is that I will never ever again drink wine. I was so very not well on Saturday morning that inbetween the 'vommies' I was actually looking around the hotel room searching for possible ways to end myself. I guess it was lucky that I'd had already taken all my pain killers and the kettle cord was ridiculously short otherwise I might have been late for my first day on the new job....

So Long And Thanks For The Mammaries

Today's blog posting is brought to you by the feeling 'numb', the word 'ohmygod' and the number 56...

I left my job of 5 years on Friday. While it is sad to say goodbye to some it is a relief to say goodbye to a number of others. Onwards, upwards and hopefully not outwards I go.

I had a farewell afternoon tea on Thursday which had a pretty disappointing turn-out numbers wise although most of those who came were the people I really wanted to say goodbye and give a big hug to. There were a couple of surprise cameos, for instance 2 people who have been arch-nemesis in the past. Maybe they were there to report back to others "Ding dong the witch is dead".

There was this one guy who showed up whom I had never ever met. I guess he was new and there to make friends but that didn't stop him from hoeing into the spread. It was all I could do to stop myself from sidling up to him and whispering in a conspiracy laced voice "Hey....so do you know which one is Meredith?"

One amusing thing was that my team had given express instructions to the organiser to not to get me anything chocolate (it gives me uber migraines). So other than the (most awesome) 2 bottles of bourbon I got some lollies and...ummm...well....a hot cocoa kit - including drinking cocoa, marshmallows and a chocolate coloured cup with pictures of chocolate and the words 'cocoa' painted on it. At the risk of sounding ungrateful I suspect that the cocoa kit was slipped in on the sly as the final middle finger from the people I've pissed off over the past 5 years. The sort of people that resent being told that the internet isn't a passing phase and yes etutoring will be required by you as an academic before you retire so lets talk about why you don't seem have a ticket for the Modern Teaching Skills Train.

One very not amusing thing was that my mother (who happens to work there) posted all around the room, multiple colour copies of a rather embarrassing picture of me from several years ago. Lets not get caught up in details but lets just say I went through a Xena phase a long while ago and entered a competition that had a prize that was worth the costume rental. One of my favourite people from the OP asked me quietly whether it was real. When I replied, yes, the picture that the CEO of the organisation is currently viewing with a disturbing level of scrutiny was in fact real, he replied: Heh. Awesome...

Quite.

Barely There, Beige or Natural?

As I stood perplexed by the sizing and variety of products available in the pantyhose section of the supermarket last night, I began to wonder if I had perhaps missed out my copy of the "Girly Girl Guide to Being a Girl" when they were being handed out amongst my peers.

Granted my interest in sugar and spice and all things nice and pink and flowery ended about 3 weeks after my bedroom had been redecorated according to my (very pink) instructions but how do other chicks know about this stuff? Is there some sort of handbook that explains the whole deal or are there classes available from some secret society that sent out the invites while I was watching Xena?

If there are these classes I suspect they would be structured as follows:

FEM101: Basic Hair Removal Techniques (Individual Assessment)
FEM102: Advanced Hair Removal (Small Team-Based)
FEM103: High Heeled Shoe Kinetics
FEM202: Accessorising: Handbags and Jewellery
FEM203: Jimmy Who?: Shoe Variety Indentification
FEM301: Hair Colouring: Options, Processes and Disaster Recovery
FEM302: Advanced Cosmetics and Sadomasochistic Beautifying Procedures

I wonder if there are post graduate qualifications?

Yesterday I Cried...

I have a black tie event to go to on Friday and I have been angsting about what to wear for the past fortnight. I had originally thought I would wear a snappy tailored suit with an open white shirt and a tie but then realised that suits aren't actually black tie so my options were really a tux or a dress. I figured I'd look slightly less of a dork in a dress and made the decision to go shopping yesterday.

Time for a little background...

I haven't worn a dress since my 7th form ball, at which my blind date (it seems I was so hideous I couldn't get a proper date) took one look at me, spilled his drink on my dress and ran away, never to be seen again during the event. I felt ever so slightly stung at this as I had paid for the tickets, sat through the hair appointment and my mother had spent hours making me an amazing dress. The real kicker was the fact that the exact same thing had happened to me the year before, but when I had told the 7th form Dean I had no intention of going through the same expensive humiliating process as I had the previous year, she threatened to not give me my Higher School Certificate. I wish I had known at the time that was complete crap, flipped her the bird and told her to stick her HSC up her crazy spinster arse.
Ahem...Me?....Bitter?

Anywho. Safe to say that the whole dress wearing thing to me has a very strong connotation of gut renching, confidence crushing, uber suck. Then taking into account the stress I'm feeling about the handover of the old job, the scary new job and the shoulder thing, as the person who dried my tears last night pointed out to me - I really didn't have a sh*t show.

So yeah, yesterday I cried in public. Not cool.

On the bright side two things dawned on me while attempting to shop in fashionable boutiques. They don't put size labels on their clothes for 2 reasons:

1. To make not-skinny girls feel bad about themselves
2. Because if you have to ask, it won't fit you

In the end I found an ok dress from a mainstream store and today I got some ridiculously girly shoes. I have this strange feeling of anticipation about my colleagues seeing me all femed up. I have this dread it is going to be like an Extreme Makeover big reveal. Urgh. There will be cameras.

Wanted: Crazy Wench

As I announced my resignation to a group of colleagues this morning and the question of my replacement was raised, someone made the standard joke about how I could never truly be replaced. The thought of the job ad for my 'true' replacement amused me greatly and kept me looking animated for the remainder of the meeting.

I believe it would go a little something like this....

Loud, opinionated, freckly young woman required for Wellington based role. Must have a tendency towards smuttiness and an irrational hatred of skinny girls who say they can eat anything they want.

Must enjoy bourbon frequently enough to have mother and friends make nervous jokes about alcoholism.

Ideally, you will have at least 5 years experience in a similar role within an organisation that changes with the frequency and vigour of continental drift.

The successful candidate will feel confident in moving from quiet snickering to a full belly laugh about the terminal stupidity amongst both colleagues and customers.

The ability to clearly say "cry me a river" or "stiff sh*t" to retarded or outrageous system development requests is essential.

Personal attributes

• At least two tertiary level qualifications completely unrelated to this job
• Excellent joke communication skills
• Appropriate and frequent use of the words uber, sweetas and f&ckbag

Desired

• An understanding of the Harry Potter reference of "She who must not be named" with regard to horse muscle relaxant colleague
• Knowledge of the international one line per word standard of "Bring It On" and "Oh My God"
• A keen sense of when to use George to tell people stuff

Must be avid blogger.

I Tawt I Taw A Pudgy Tat

I'm not entirely sure why, but both my cats are...well...kinda fat. I feed them the expensive 'Hills Science Lite' food - all carefully measured out. Bella is a dedicated huntress and brings me in live surprises almost every week and Sam moves in a slow canter between his sister (in order to crash tackle her to the ground and beat her up) and his food bowl. He can also pick up a fair amount of speed when he is having his typical attack of "screw that...I'm outta here" stranger danger regarding any visitors to my place.

I have two theories...either someone else is feeding them (maybe even deliberately...heh) or with living across the road from a primary school, they are picking off the slow moving after-school care kids.

I think I might have found a way to get them on an exercise programme that doesn't require me to run around the house with a newspaper bow tied to a bit of string..... I've noticed that whenever the phone rings and I run to get it before the answer phone picks it up, one or both of my cats seem to magically appear with the sole purpose of moving between my legs in order to trip me up.

If my thinking is correct, all I have to do is sit down with my cellphone and prank call my landline a couple of times every night. I won't even need to put down my drink!

Ooops...I Mooted My Pants

I'm pleased to report that the conference went off pretty much without a hitch. There were a few minor hiccups caused by a handful of people who I wanted to kick in the head repeatedly but generally it went really well. A couple of my favourite geeks were there keeping me happy and sane (big squishy thanks to PL, DM, ML, GS and MD).

I include MD (the keynote speaker and jet set creator of the software we were conferencing over) not just because he is an interesting and all round nice guy, but mainly because of our conversation at the conference dinner.

I had selected dessert items on the buffet menu that I couldn't eat (chocolate) or didn't like (pavlova) because I knew they would be popular with the delegates.

After dinner I was looking at the sweet line up with dismay and the restaurant manager asked me whether there was a problem. I explained my situation so she rushes off and comes back with a plate of ice cream. A scoop of vanilla bean and a scoop of black doris plum. Most awesome.

I happened to be seated next to MD and as I was moaning quietly with pleasure about my icecream he asked me what flavours I had there. I explained and suggested he try the black doris plum. He tried a bit and then said to me with a grin:

MD: "Yeah, that's pretty good, but you know what's better?"
Me: "What's that?"
MD: "Gelato..........in Rome"
Me: "You can f*ck off"
[brief awkward silence]
MD and Me: Baahahahaahahaaa

How cool is that? Heh.

Moot Is An Ancient English Meeting

The conference I've been organising starts tomorrow and I think it bodes well that I am not at the office right now. I do have a stack of name cards to cut out and stuff into slips this afternoon and I was there until 8pm on Friday, but I still think I'm doing ok considering.

Organising this conference has been tough. The hardest part has been not responding to all the emails, faxes and phone calls from people asking seriously retarded questions with: "I'm sorry, you are too stupid to attend this conference. Please don't try and contact me again."

The only thing that stopped me from committing murder on Friday afternoon was the hilarious lame ass excuses people gave me as to why they were registering last minute.

I kept hearing "I only just found out about the conference today". Ummm...bullsh*t? If you had you wouldn't have had time to book your flights and accommodation and rearrange your working week in order to get up here. You would have thought "Oh bums, I missed it. It'll be too late now. Oh well, there is always next year...sigh."

Finance and HR departments have also been served a big helping of Scape al la Goat from conference delegate wannabes.

My two favourite excuses would have to be:

1. "We have a really rigid firewall here at XXX and I had a tough time registering as a result". (Wha....? What kind of uber prophylactic firewall do you have?!)

2. "I kept getting a stack of emails from you about the conference so I figured I was registered." (Ah hello? They were reminders to send in your registration form and payment! The last one was titled "This is your last chance!")

Heh. I was just waiting to hear about someone's dogs eating the form.

Another bright spot has been the thought of the Conference drinks and dinner at the end of Day 1. Even better than the free booze will be the company I have to share the meal with. I have unashamedly put myself at the 'A' table. Screw it. I deserve it.

Just before he left for the day I reminded my boss of the stupid tradition of the organiser(s) getting a (we are pretending to be) surprised gift at the end of the conference. I told him screw flowers... I want something I can use and won't give me hayfever. Nothing says we appreciate your hard work more than bourbon.....C.O.U...(are you getting this?)..G.A.R bourbon.

The Bi-Polar Express

This morning I was meeting a friend for brunch in town and as I boarded my train some crazy looking old guy got on ahead of me. Taking note of the clearly insane way in which he was clutching his bag and the way his eyes was dancing around in his head, I decided to sit a far distance behind him.

Turns out that was a pretty good decision.

Because Wellington was covered in fog for most of the day and visibility along the tracks wasn't the best, the train driver was sounding the horn before every level crossing. Every time he did that the old guy yelled "Yeeeeee..hee..hee..hee...haaaarrrr!!!" at the top of his lungs.

It was so much fun I was highly disappointed when he went to get off only a few stops through the trip.

Just before he stepped off the train I heard him say to the train guard that he was on the way to the pub. While I did judge him a lil' bit given it was 11am I was now fully able understand his excitability.

My Brain Is Full

Yep, I know exactly how that little peanut head is feeling right now. My head is so full that if I stop for a second to think, I hear one of two things: A loud screaming noise or hysterical laughter. I'm somewhat concerned it is me making that noise outloud and everyone is too frightened to mention it.

The thing occupying most of my brain space is the fact that I've had an amazing job offer. It is about 3 steps above what I would have aimed for had I been looking, so it really is an offer I can't refuse. I am now just waiting for the paper work to come through so I can tender my resignation...

'It is with regret that I must offer my resignation. See you, wouldn't want to be you. Yours sincerely. Meredith'

I've been at my current job 5 years and with it being my very first full time position it is a somewhat scary prospect leaving as I will be terribly tempted to tell some of the f&ckbags I have had to work with over the years, exactly what I think of them and their bad dye jobs.

With my impending resignation comes the daunting task of handing over what I do now. This alone would be no small job but my time for the next 10 days is filled with the final stages of organising a 150 person conference...ummm..pretty much single-handedly. As a result I am having some serious uber rage towards delegates. Academics are proving they can't read instructions and Finance staff are learning all about the difference between GST exclusive and inclusive. Come to think of it, maybe that note at the top of every exam paper 'Please read the instructions carefully' is for the tutor and not the students.

My shoulder has been another concern but I have put the thought of that in a little wee box and put it right at the back of the top shelf of my wardrobe where I'll never find it until I am looking for my old cassette tapes. For instance if I have the sudden need to listen to Check That Out 2 or Everyones a Winner compilation tapes. Basically the x-rays showed it wasn't bone and the ultrasound showed it wasn't anything outside of the bone. I have to go for bloods and an MRI to take a peak at my bone marrow now. I'm still hoping it is just an agrophobic parasitic twin...who is wearing electrified barbed wire clothes. Um right. Did I mention I'm not getting a lot of sleep? Ok cool.

Quote of the Week Part 2

Some people drink, some people do drugs, but my vice: making god botherers feel uncomfortable.

Well actually, I love all three of the above...but anyway....

Today a sweet, funny little man from work made the terrible mistake of saying to me "Thank you for your help. Often just 2 minutes with you makes a huge difference"

I said (with a wry, naughty smile) "Ohhh, you have NO idea."

Given the speed at which he scuttled off, he should really consider entering the Christian Olympics.



P.S. Why isn't 'blog' in the blogger dictionary?

Quote of the Week Part 1

This morning a work colleague rang me to ball me out over something that was entirely not my fault although in his clouded uber rage he thought it was. I was so taken aback I started apologising for it until he said "Y'know....I don't need this stress!". It was then that something in my head clicked into place and I came to my senses.

Wait a minute....

Who the hell needs stress??

Umm...I don't? So why am I taking this abuse?!! This dude doesn't know his life is any worse than mine (heh...it totally is, but that's not the point). What a completely retarded thing to say!

He would have been better off saying... "I don't need this stupidity!" I would have at least agreed with him then.




P.S You might have noticed that I have removed my link to 'Michelle's Big OE' blog. It isn't because I've stopped loving her to bits, it is because some sad sexless f#ckbag hacked her blog and deleted all of her postings and I for one don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing anyone visit it now. Cosmic - start a new one - I'll list it as soon as its up.

PC Stands for Pussy Cat

I let my cats get away with pretty much anything. When they think I'm not watching they drink out of my glass, steal off my plate, scratch the furniture and jump up on the kitchen bench. They have the run of the house and well... are basically spoilt brats.

There is one thing I won't tolerate though. Them mucking with my computer. I hate that.

And yet that seems to be the one thing Bella wants to do at the moment. I've tried yelling at her, clapping like a tin monkey, banging the table, picking her up and putting her down on the floor (that was a fun, seemingly never-ending game) and I've even tried poking her with a (blunt) pen.

Nothing will stop her. It is a compulsion. It is like there is some sort of highly addictive substance oozing from the back of my PC.

Every time I turn on the computer Bella comes running up, jumps up on the desk and wedges her head down between the PC and the wall and starts purring like a lunatic. After about a minute she shifts and does that casual "Oh darn..I seem to have dropped something back here" arm stretch and grab thing that only a cat can do.

It is driving me bananas!!

Putting the 'Qui?' in Quiz

I tells ya...it's a young person's world except at Quiz nights.

I was at my work's biannual Quiz night yesterday and the only I reason I knew the answers to any of the questions was because I was marking.

Is there some rule that says that it isn't trivia until it is at least 40 years old?! Warrggh!

I counted a total of four questions that were designed for the young'uns'... But I had no idea of the answers. Two questions about heavy metal bands and two about hard core rappers. Clearly the quiz master thought he'd include something to appeal to the non-centurions and asked his 16 year old grandson about 'what kids are listening to these days'. Errr...not a particularly good demographic fit for our organisation buddy.

Hello? Yes, it's God, what was the answer to number 8? I was busy creating the sun, moon and stars on that day so I'm not sure...

Yep, I'm Pretty Sure It's A Compliment

I just received the below message from a young guy who was sent my blog address yesterday. It had me in stitches...

" Btw i read through abit of your blog, its nice 2 c not everyone writes..
'today was good, i got up and had a showa and breakfast it was good, then i went to work, which was good but had a fight with my gf which was bad!'
or
'today i cut myself, i bleed alot and cried and screamed because the world hates me, i like bk and cutting myself'

And some of the ones linked to it are almost or on par... actually WORTH reading lol which sounds like almost a dissing but yeah its not. "

Heh.

Grey's Anatomy

Somehow, I managed to dislocate then relocate a tendon in my foot by stepping on someone else's foot, while getting on the bus on Friday. Yeah, I know....I'm Special. I must have done the uber over-correction and moved it in an awkward way. I got home and dutifully applied basic first aid principles . After a sprain, strain or break, apply R.I.C.E:

• Rest
• Ice
• Coke and Bourbon
• Elevation

Since my foot was still hurting today I went to see my doctor to check I hadn't done anything really funky to it. My doctor actually laughed at me as he was filling out my ACC form. "Let me get this straight...you stepped on someone's foot and you got hurt?!"

Sigh.

While I was there I asked him to look at the hard, bony weird lump that appeared on my shoulder several weeks ago. At the time it hurt like a mothe... a lot. But now it only hurts if I touch it or lean back on my arm.

So anyways, my doctor pokes at my arm goes hmmm then picks up a model of a shoulder joint off his desk and brings it over to me...

Dr: "What I think has happened is this.... See the connection between the socket bone and the clavicle? I think that has come away like this [pulls the model apart with alarming effort and a disturbing popping noise] and that lump is the end of your clavicle, kinda floating around. "

Meredith: "Urgh."

The Wheels On the Bus

Last Thursday morning I was running a bit late so rather than walk I decided to catch a bus up the quay.

Just as I got to the station a bus heading my way pulled up so I was on and seated pretty quick and settled in to do some people watching.

As passengers were piling on I realised that the bus was slowly drifting backwards. I was just considering speaking up when the bus behind tooted loudly and our driver planted the brake suddenly. At that point I was very glad I was already seated.

Once all passengers were on, he took of at Mach 4 and rather than at the road (as one had anticipated) he began looking in his passenger view mirror and started talking about some random soccer game that was played the night before. It wasn't until everyone began frantically gesturing forward that the driver looked back to the road and realised he was barreling towards a group of pedestrians on a crossing. More braking.

Silly me thought perhaps he would have learnt his lesson about taking his eyes of the road but as we started off again he continued talking about the soccer game and when he finally got to the point of the conversation which was to try and find out the final score...he actually turned around in his seat to look at us!!

Everyone was so taken aback by the driver facing us that we were all frozen in alarm and it wasn't until the guy hurtled through a very orange light that everyone began furiously shaking their heads to indicate that the didn't know the soccer score.

As we pulled up to the first stop (and more people than usual got off), the driver says..."Be careful out there people, I heard some pedestrian got hit on Courtney Place. I don't think it was a bus"

The guy sitting next to me didn't even crack a smile when I whispered "Oh my god...we're all gonna die!". Weirdo.

Clearly A High Productivity Organisation

At my workplace hazards include strangulation by red tape, drowning in deep bureaucracy and the cafeteria coffee. Today however, it wasn't such a bad day to be an employee. I just came across the following postings on the Staff Noticeboard on the intranet...

18 May 1:57PM Flat deck trolley missing
Has anyone borrowed one of the Assignment Store's flat deck trolleys? If so, could you please return it? Thanks :)
AC

18 May 2:17PM Flat deck trolley
For sale flat deck trolley, no wheels as is where is
Anon

18 May 3:05PM Wheels for sale
4 wheels, suitable for a flat deck trolley
DB

18 May 3:23PM Trolley Information available
Information is available on the whereabouts of a vehicle resembling a flat deck trolley. If you wish this information, please leave a chocolate fish in a plain, unmarked envelope on the windscreen of the ford escort in the south carpark and photos indicating location will be sent.
KJ

18 May 2006 3:43PM Chocolate Fish
2 Chocolate Fish held to ransom until safe return of flat-deck trolley complete with all 4 wheels to Assignment Store.
GM

I was just about to post the following announcement:
18 May 2006 4.00PM Vacancy: Project Team Members
Night time, project based work. Must be available immediately. Navy Seal, Green Beret or other Rescue and Extraction experience a must. Weapons, high explosives or fishing experience an advantage.

But the next message posted ruined it for me:
18 May 4:01PM Abandoned trolley
Would the owner of the illegally parked flat deck trolley kindly remove it from the stream, as it is blocking up the waterway and collecting chocolate fish
RD

Damn it! Hope he drinks the cafeteria coffee tomorrow ;)

Proff Readintg Is Imporant

So far this month it would be fair to say that I haven't really been demonstrating examples of email etiquette 'best practice'. Considering my job, the irony is not lost on me so I feel compelled to share with you the hard email lessons I've learnt recently....

DO NOT enter in the recipients of a sure-to-piss-people-off type email until you've completely finished it and fleshed out the key points that you'd typed in during the early composition stage of the message, such as "explain again" or "not going to happen" . Almost guaranteed you'll go to save or print or press some evil and random combination of key strokes and the bloody thing will send.

DO NOT make a joke about calling someone a scumbag in a message. It may very well be forwarded to them and they may very well get the uber rage and freak right out at you. See:
that's what those smily things are for . Yep, just like C is for Cookie, that M is for Me.

If you accidentally mis-spell someone's surname on a website and they send you a pissy email about it, when sending your sincere apology, ensure that you spell their first name correctly in your reply. Even more importantly ensure that this mis-spelling doesn't change it from a male to female name. They are likely to take further offense.

I hope we can all learn something from this...

The Smell of Burnt Toast Before A Stroke

This morning the smell of burnt toast suddenly started permeating around everyone in the office. Knowing that we didn't have a toaster on this floor there was concern that there was an electrical fault somewhere and we were only 4 minutes away from being engulfed in an inferno. It then went from burnt toast to gas leak in one Chicken Little leap.

I gave the Handyman a call to ask if he could pop over to take a look at the fuse box. At least 5 then of us spent the next 10 minutes sniffing around various parts of the office for the source of the smell. Prime suspects were the coffee machine and the hot water cylinder. The gas leak chick was concerned it was the air conditioning and switched off all the (electrical!) units.

After 10 minutes I started to get a little bored with the exercise and went back to work, figuring I could pack up my stuff and grab my lappie before the nasty ass smell turned into an unstoppable flow of liquid hot magma.

Two others kept on the hunt for the burning sensation for a good 10 minutes but couldn't find the source. The Handyman, perplexed, went downstairs to check their fusebox. He came back 2 minutes later with an announcement:

Someone downstairs had burnt their toast.

Primary Emotions

I was thinking about disappointment the other day and how it is pretty much a combination of sadness and anger. It got me thinking that perhaps that just like there are primary colours, there are primary emotions of which all other emotions are a complex combination. Like colours you can add emotions at a different point in the (mixing) process and end up with slightly different 'shades'. Extremes of emotions occur when an extra amount of a particular emotion is added to the mix.

So for example:

Disappointment = Sadness + Anger
Joy = Happiness + Happiness
Fear = Anger + Uncertainty
Hate = Want+ Uncertainty+ Anger + Sadness
Passion = Love + Want
Eagerness = Love + Happiness + Want

I've come up with 7 primary emotions:

• Happiness
• Sadness
• Love
• Anger
• Uncertainty
• Want
• Guilt

Maybe there are more than 7? Someone like Socrates or Pavlov probably came up with this theory years ago and its been debated and discredited by first year Psychology students ever since...but hey... I should have Googled this before posting.....

Profoundity Not Profanity

Yesterday I had the unpleasant experience of having to overhear my downstairs neighbours having a major domestic incident. With the floor being so thin, there just wasn't any avoiding hearing it.

He was yelling his brains out and without exaggertation, every third word was f&ck. It occurred to me as I was turning up the TV to try and drown out the constant stream of obscenity that the reason one would use that word so frequently could only be from a lack of creativity or vocabulary.

Therefore, in order to prove to myself I am a well educated, creative individual, I am going to attempt to not swear for a week and find alternative ways of expressing my displeasure.

Do not underestimate just how significant this undertaking is to me...it comes with potential risks to my health! My grandmother attempted to give up swearing several years ago and ended up with boils in her ears. The boils only went away when she started swearing again. Wish me luck people.

(Oh, I've decided I can still say crap, piss, bugger and damn...they don't count..hell, they are almost cultural. Ummm...hell is ok too)

Zero Deniros

I'm broke. Seriously broke. If I count my cheque account overdraft and my credit card debt, I am serious when I say have negative personal worth (and I am not even thinking about my student loan in this equation cos it makes my eye twitch).

So when the medical insurance company I asked for a competitive quote from, decided I had accepted their draft policy (without my signed confirmation!) and subsequently took $200 out of my bank account on Friday, I believe I was most righteous in the wrath I inflicted upon them this afternoon.

I am not pleased to say the least. I now have 30 days to write a letter asking these bastards to please cancel my 'policy' and give me a refund. Yep...I have to ASK them to please give me my money back when I never said "yeah, here you go, take whatever you like, whenever you like, don't worry about letting me know, just go for your life". Waarrrggghhhhh!!

The uber rage builds....

Imagine How Uncomfortable The Car Ride Will Be

Oh god...I just had a highly embarrassing phone call...it went like this:

[Phone rings]
M: Hello?
Caller: Hi, is that Meredith?
M: Uh yep {hmmm, I don't recognise the voice, I wonder who this is?}
Caller: Hi, its Steven
M: Oh..Hi Steven {fek, do I know a Steven?! Buy some time to think...} How are you?
S: Yeah, not too bad, how are you doing?
M: {crap, crap, crap! I have no idea who this dude is} I'm good thanks. What can I do for you?
S: I was wondering if I could please get a ride to work tomorrow?
M: {Steve, Stevie, Stew, Mr Steven....nope, not helping} Ahhhh....probably..sure, where do you work? {Think you dork, think!}
S: In Lower Hutt central
M: Riiiight, sure. Yeah, I'll be heading that way. {Goddamn it} So, um, one question before I say yes...what's your last name there Steven?
S: Laing.
M: Oooooh...right. Steven *Laing*....... {Meredith's brain hums tunelessly to itself}. Nope, still drawing a blank there sorry. I suck. Can I have a another hint?
S: Karate?
M: {Ding!!} Ooohhh....*Sensei* Steven....Oh, ok. right. {Yeah Meredith, from that karate class you took for several years} Hi! How are you? {You've already asked that dumbass}. I mean...[cough] where do you need me to pick you up from and what time? ......

Wow. That was awkward.
I can hardly wait for the drive in.

[insert random word]....of DOOM!

I went to my friend Penny's birthday party on Saturday night. Much fun was had. Actually, to be more accurate it was a combined birthday party with her friend Chris who for some inexplicable reason I found incredibly fascinating. He was one of those people who you couldn't take your eyes off just in case you missed something that would give away what was going on in his head. Or as the guy that was wearing this shirt would probably say, he had a +3 Charisma.

Turns out this 'party' was simply a ingenious ruse of Penny and Chris to lure around a bunch of people to get them horribly drunk and have them play a game they spent half that afternoon creating. Heh.

The other half of their day was spent watching Invader Zim, ultimately resulting in the end of every second sentence they said having the words ".....of doooooom!" added loudly. For example...."Hey Penny, where is the toilet? Oh, its through that door....of dooooom!. Uh...thanks."

So back to the game. Penny and Chris had designed an elaborate game of trivia based on them. Yeah. If you landed on a P or C square you had to answer a question about Penny or Chris respectively. Quite exciting when that night was the first time I had met Chris.

There were also star * questions which had a made up answer.....or ummm...not? It was a little unclear since the rule masters were completely hammered by time the game started. For example one of the star questions I got: "When Penny traveled back in time how did she accidentally destroy mankind?" I suggested she said "....of dooooom!" so often that everyone committed mass suicide...but sadly that wasn't the right answer and we missed a turn. Thinking about it, I was lucky to have not received a Punishment card which were handed out when players landed on a jolly roger square or based on P and C's random discretion. Armpit licking, singing Salt n' Peppa's "Push It" and spouting original poetry were some such punishments. There was a Punishment card revolt at one stage regarding an underwear swapping task, where one of the players took off to the toilet (of doom), whipped off his boxers, and as he came back into the room placed them lovingly on Chris' head. Mmmmm sanitary. Early morning blog reports indicate that said boxers ended up in a pitcher of water and put in the freezer. I'd call that a grossicle.

I nearly lost my uber cool at one point when my team landed on a square that directed us to go back 4 squares. That square directed us to go forward 4 squares. Argh. Someone yelled out "Infinite loop!" and they got a bonus turn. I should have known that with being in a group of programmers!!

After about 2 1/2 hours of "The Amazing Pentastic, Chrisarific Super Happy Fun Boardgame (of Doom)" most people were getting a wee bit over it and/or distracted with alcohol related fun (not Penny or Chris - the troopers!). Most teams were down to half the original players and other members wandered in and out asking whether it was their turn or not. At one point my team mate (and all round super cool guy) Nem, leaned over and said to me. "I'm beginning to suspect they incorporated another infinite loop into the game...its just that this one is more subtle"

Concerned he was right, I called a taxi and headed home shortly after midnight. It was a cool night.

Back to the Future

I often daydream about being able to go back to when I was 5, with all the knowledge I have now, and do it all again. And yep, that is bearing in mind I'd consciously have to go through the horrifying experiences of primary school and puberty all over again. That's how much think I messed up the past 27 years. This 'no regrets' thing is clearly for under-analysers.

I think it would be great to be able avoid the bastards in your life and find those special people sooner along the way. Half the fun would be about making sure I didn't screw up my time-space-bestest buddy continuum. My entire life would be like an episode of Quantum Leap... sans being a doctor or having a holographic best friend from the future...oh....and no swiss cheese brain of course. But definitely the 'putting right what once went wrong' bit.

There are a few obvious things I think most people would do given the same chance, such as working harder at school, learning a language, being more active in sports so they weren't the fat kid (I'd choose martial arts) , staying 'just friends' with the ex and being less reckless with student loan money.

There are a few more random personal ones I have like, I would have learnt to drive sooner (I might've been a halfway decent driver by now if I had), I would have been nicer to my brother when I was little and I wouldn't have screamed "And you ruined my life!" in response to "You ruined my pencil case!"(when the 'popular' girl in my social group who dedicated a good proportion of her spare time to making my life miserable, accused me of defacing her new pencil case). I've never been able to live that one down. Sigh.