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.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
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.....
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.....
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
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?"
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?"
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
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"
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
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"
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"
Friday, September 22, 2006
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:
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:
Monday, September 18, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
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....
!! 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....
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
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".
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".
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