Ho hum.

...that can't be expressed in picture form.

It is midnight, thus making it Saturday, and I am more than a little incapable of typing in a straight line. Thus, I am also using a PEN to write it first, which you may remember looks like this:

However, mine says "The Blue Cross" on it, which is not a charity I'm aware is supprted in this household, but we have a pen anyway.

I digress. (By the way, whose fault is it that the only cold alcohol that has been available to me all evening was Carlsberg Export? I feel so rancid. I taste vile. Nobody kiss me! ("OK!"))
Well, y'know, ANYBODY would do.
Well not just anybody. That's a little broad in terms of selection.
Let's narrow it down to, say, nobody with any of the following traits:
Conjunctivitis
Excessive dandruff
Breasts and testicles

I digress again.
Digress from what?
Well, I'll tell you!

This week has been fun. Rape and pillage at work (but no murder this month so far - fingers crossed everyone!). Work is really getting to me now. I know it is definitely time to move on because I'm so bored in this job that I can't even be bothered to go. Sometimes when I nip to the loo upstairs I feel like waiting in there quietly to see how long it takes for someone to notice I haven't come down.

Probably as long as it takes until someone else needs a wee, I should imagine.

Like everything else, there are positive and negative sides to the job:

Good:
People I work with.
Fifteen minutes walk from home.
Lots of flexible holiday.
Some kind and appreciative people.

Bad:
The actual job is brainnumbing with no scope for progression.
Seriously running out of Joy for finding somewhere to eat at lunchtime. Bloody catering.
So many students, which automatically follows on to -
Rude, rude people. Of which there are many.

I hereby proclaim the following notice to all university students (apart from any on my friends list, and any of the past, as that would also include me):

THE SUN DOES NOT SHINE OUT OF YOUR BACKSIDE.
PLEASE DO NOT PRESUME THAT YOU AS AN INDIVIDUAL MATTER.
YOU ARE A STATISTIC.
Yes, if you have a problem, there are many people that can help, and that is because YOU ARE A TUITION FEE LOAN (that you probably haven't even applied for yet, so now you're going to stand at my desk and bark questions about why it hasn't been done like it's my fault you're retarded enough not to know how to arrange to FUCKING PAY for your POINTLESS, DILUTED-OF-ANY-REAL-DIFFICULTY-TO-MINIMISE-FAILURE DEGREE!)
AND YOU ALL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO SPELL!

I simply do not know what kind of job appeals to me. Choices are limited in Hull. If only I could speak an Eastern European language, there are lots of translaters needed.
If only I was Eastern European. Alas.
NO to Sales and Recruitment, I value the remains of my tattered soul.
I want to leave.
I wish I had some savings left.
Alas, alas.

I'm thinking of moving back home after Christmas to save some money (6 months lease is up in February). There are loads of Admin jobs in Grimsby that I could do, which might mean a little less money coming in, but I don't picture my parents, who have never charged me a penny in board so far, to suddenly ask for the £212.50 I pay now. It would probably be more like £100 a month. So, savings guaranteed.

Grimsby sucks cod-ass though.
And where to put the fish tank? And the gerbil tank? Completely serious when I say there is no room! And Super Hans! Oh my, so much to consider.
Not to mention the fact that I'm still not allowed a double bed at home.
Not that there would be anyone in it but me.
Although, having said that, that really doesn't bother me like it should. Sex bores bored me most of the time. Well, when it was always with the same person. I'm such a slag at heart, just not in practice.

I can't believe that I quite like Fish Boy. He's so delightfully geeky. We do get along really well. Something always feels a bit sparky, but I should think that's probably me putting things in my head that aren't really there. I tend to do that a lot.
There is also the small problem (or maybe it's large, who knows?) of him being a bloke. I just...hmm. I dunno. I have such a mental block about (most) of them.

Ex Ex's last wall message on Facebook was asking if I had any Christmas eve plans yet because I'm welcome at hers - like always, I might add. (And that means some of few will now be able to know who it is. Gosh, dontcha love this stalking lark?). Last year I went to Pizza Hut with her and all her family (festive I know - it was a Chinese one year) and it's never that weird. I suppose once upon a time they were used to us being joined at the hip. She was still with her current/now possibly ex girlfriend at the time, but it was rocky. She wasn't there.
I'm always treated as the Grimsby OH. On the basis that I will always be 'the best friend she's ever had'. Which is true. I don't know if I love or hate it. Or if I hate myself for loving it. I don't know.

Ex hasn't replied to that text message of a few weeks ago. A good thing. I found the Christmas card she sent me last year at the back of a drawer yesterday. Last Christmas was supposed to be so different. It says 'I'm sorry' at the bottom inside. It had only been a few months. Although I want to believe she was truly sorry, I think a lot of it was guilt. Being sorry would imply she regretted the decision she made (after being caught out, anyway), and I know she didn't. Whatever. It's her birthday at the end of November. I won't be sending a card.
(Expect witterings in Liverpool).

I've started talking to somebody else again, although I've been told at various times I should stop. I just wanted to see how she is. I miss not knowing. It's something else I keep thinking about.
I think a really useful feature on here would be to make certain sections of entries visible to friends only. There's more I want to say on this but you never know who's reading.

It is 00:52. My headache seems to have gone.

I'm tired, I'm upset, I'm stressed, I have a royal motherfucker of a headache, and, worst of all, I can't come up with any precise reasons as to why I feel like this.

So I'm getting drunk.

Let's see how I feel in an hour *thumbs up*

Me too.

1) Job notice will be handed in in 4 weeks time. Had enough.
2) I need to get a new job after that.
3) Anywhere.
4) It has been decided that all I want is to marry a nice, sensible, normal person with a sensible, reasonably well paid job that would allow me to work, say, twenty hours a week, and live in a house with a nice dining room and en suite shower room. This person must also like fish.
5) It has therefore been decided that I must be engaged to Fish Boy by the end of the year. (If anyone remembers Fish Boy, I'll be (*gesture*) this surprised).

Went to pub last night too, with friend up from London, and Fish Boy. we had such a good time, always do. She's lovely, and so is he

Flatmate has text me saying the gerbils have eaten their waterbottle off the side of their cage. This has annoyed me. It was a fiver! At least they haven't bred.

The email my uncle in New Zealand was sending was not a fantastic job offer after all, but photos of his new bundle of fluff, Pepper:

Awwww.

Back to work tomorrow. Sucks

And other appropriate innuendos.

All the money has clearly gone to her head.

Just one of many daft things I managed to come out with over Sunday lunch with the parentals and grand-parentals.

Not a massive red wine dronker am I but I am enjoying this bottle of this one. Apparently ith has armoas of 'tobacco and nuts', but I don't think that's a very good selling point to put on a bottle of wine do you? Brings to mind images of a pub called 'the lion's fanny' or something. Anyway, it smells nice. I have purpled lips and tonuge, it's nice.

I am worried my gerbils will have done one of the following on the 3 days I am leaving them alone:

1) died
2) escaped
3) bred

1 - I will cope with
2 - a bit annoying, but never mind
3 - ARGH you BASTARDS

Apparently my uncle in new zealand is going to be emailing me about something. Most likely it will be a picture of precocious cousin winning another dance or acting trophy thing for the cabinet, but in my current drinked state I'm excited that it may be the offer of an unusual, exciting, but laid back job that involves moving there. Woop. Yes please.

This will not be the case, but right now, woop!

I'm SUPPOSED to be going to the pub tonight. The person I'm supposed to be going with hasn't paid her phone bill and thus can only recieve calls. She isn't answering her phone. I'm getting Irate.

But tell me this.

If you can't afford to pay your bill and thus arrange pub trips, can you afford the pub?

what if she ends up drinking soda water all night???

That kind of thing distrresses me. It makes me look like I can't handle my drink.

Pshaw.

Went straight to Pets at Home after work yesterday. I now have two gerbils. They are small and cute, but very nibbly of everything and anything. Out came the ear plugs at 2am.

I don't know if they're male or female just yet - too young to tell properly. I was assured they are the same though, by the standard ginger freckly pet shop boy geek.

However - one is a bit humpy. I hope they're just gay.

No names yet, suggestions gratefully recieved (I'm sure we're been here before...).

Hmm that wouldn't be so bad actually

Joy:

Decided to get two gerbils. They shall be called...well, don't know yet. A poll may appear in the next couple of weeks.

Acquiring a new phone on my desk that wonderfully doesn't make a sound when someone is ringing it. Brilliant. It's cordless too! Technology today, eh?

The Students' Union shop is selling Wispas again. Damn, that was good. A little retro hit to brighten up my day.

Finding that one of the bars in the Union now also does table service food (not as grand as it sounds, but still...) that had foodstuffs on the menu that pregnant colleague could face eating (none of it a large plate of a guacamole though. Still yet to find somewhere selling that).

Non Joy:

Too much cheap mustard on the sausage sandwich I got from the above food outlet.

Very tired. Someone with cockjam for brains in the house two doors down decided last night that 12pm-2am is the ideal time to set off fireworks.

Need to send posters advertising our services (titter) to every single department in this damnable place. Gah.

Sister poorly with something odd.

"Oh woe", laments a girl. "I still haven't been paid for working August. I still haven't had my tuition fees refunded. I have to pay my rent next week. Woe. And I'm so bored, too. What can I do to make myself feel better?"

"You should tidy your room, and do some washing" says a shrill Good Sensible Thing on her shoulder. "A tidy house makes for a happy heart!"

"Does it? I'm not sure it does" says she.

"It doesn't! I have the answer! Harken to me, the Bad Impulsive Thing, and I shall tell thee a wondrous tale, a tale of a young woman with a debit card, and too much time on her hands..."

[Some time later]

"Thank you, Bad Impulsive Thing, for all your help! No longer am I bored! And look at all these wonderful jumpers! What soft leather boots! How delicious that sticky toffee pudding and four J20s! So many random purchases! How did you know I needed eight pairs of socks? I feel much, much better!"

"*cough cough*"

"Oh what do you want, Good Sensible Thing?"

"Perhaps, impulsive maid, you should add up all of those reciepts, just to keep track. I hope you didn't spend all your rent money!"

[A long melancholic wail can be heard, echoing into the night]

...and I am, quite frankly, a bit of a twat.

Yes Hans fans, once again I managed to thwart the bulldog clip and attempt another daring escape into the very big wide world, away from the claws of the crazy lesbian that coos at me.

But what was this? I had not ventured into these realms before! This was not the pristine landscape of my Grimsby house! Where was the gleaming whiteness of the bathroom tiles I love to roam so much? The air freshener I love to knock over? The bath I love to climb?

Distressed, I did the only sensible thing, and climbed into a large bucket, and remained there until morning.

Apparently you need at least £2500 in savings before you can get an Australian working holiday visa.

Better stop Finest and Taste the Differenceing then, eh?

Oh yus.

...

*taps fingers*

...

*bangs head*

Anybody fancy going for a drink?

...and it appears to be leaking.

The only waterproof item I own is my black kagoul [quick sp. check - ooh, it's right!] which is truly the ulitmate physical representation of bringing sexy back. Thus, my shoes and socks, both drenched and squelchy, are drying nicely on the radiator, while I pad around in my bare feet and very, very wet jeans, which are making my feet wet again, so that when it is lunch time and I come to put my dry socks and shoes on, they will get wet, again, even before I get outside and face the puddles, where they will get wetter. Again.

*cross*.

Following on from an entry last week about a praline reminding me that eating it was the perfect reward for breathing, I discovered the following on the inside wrapper of a 150g bar of Galaxy.

Picture with swirls and love hearts:

Falling into that beautiful thing called Love

(Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other-love.)

ATTRACTION, Flirtation, Euphoria, Doubt, The Truth
(I don't know why I want you, but I really do.)

...Here it is. That inexplicable, elemental tug. That surprising sudden feeling you've been waiting for. This is yesyesyes. This is where you find something or someone, and just fall for them. Illogically. Irrestibly. And find yourself thinking of nothing else.
Because it's attraction, and the dream of love to follow, that keeps the imagination alive. It's attraction that makes life sparkle and pop and fizz...

GALAXY. Never stop falling in love...

Things I want to know:

1) How much somebody got paid to write that
2) Why they believe the eating of a bar of their mediocre (albeit moreish) chocolate is akin to falling into the deepest darkest depths of love
3) Why?

That is all.

Thus I am buggering off at 2.30pm to go and get my hair cut and coloured. I haven't really thought about it beyond sitting in the chair and making exasperated noises at the massive curly bush growning out of my head (ew, didn't mean to write that). I'm a hairdresser's dream, truly. Afterwards I may go and investigate the new shopping centre, as it is open until 7pm (*crowd goes 'oooh'*). Apparently there is a large posh Clarks shoe shop, how exciting...

Actually, I do need new work shoes. Ace.

My wrist isn't really any better. Now my thumb and little finger are also aching, as is my elbow, and to a small extent, my shoulder. Feck it.

I have to do a university open day tomorrow this is the height of lame. I like Saturday mornings to consist of a prolonged period in bed, mentally planning what order to do my washing in, and whether I can be bothered to clean out the goldfish. (Buying a larger tank may have been a bit daft as I can no longer reach the bottom of it. I'm a shortarse.)

Ooh and I've decided I'd like to go to Japan. As you do.

*Sounds the Moan Siren*.

Although, it's my blog and I'll whinge if I want to.

Yesterday's moaning about the RSI is actually founded, so a big "ner ner" to all people, both office-based and virtual, who have considered my wristache to be nothing more than an injury caused by carrying a particularly heavy wine bottle. In fairness, my line manager is very concerned, as she had it for about six months, eventually curing it with steroid injections. Due to my faint- and punch-inducing phobia of needles, I will not be letting it get that far. No no - I think extra strong ibuprofen and a wrist support from Boots will suffice. I rather wish I had them right now as the pain caused by typing all of this is rather eye-watering. I'm not calling Health and Safety. Losers.

While on the subject of my physical wellbeing, is it possible to develop a sudden allergy to Walkers Sensations crisps, do you think? I felt absolutely fine all day yesterday, didn't eat anything particularly weird or interesting all day, but at 8 o'clock I had approximately seven crisps of the Caramelised Onion and Sweet Balsamic Vinegar variety. Fast forward to 11.30pm, and I was doubled up in pain on the bathroom floor, actually able to hear a vast deal of gas zooming around my innards, on the point of throwing up from the pain. Things eventually righted themselves after about an hour of clinging onto the side of the bath whilst shitting roughly double the quantity of the entire collected volume of anything I'd had to eat yesterday.

This has happened twice before. On both occasions I attributed it to eating the entire bag in one go, or perhaps the beer I washed it down with.

Therefore I can only conclude I am allergic to Walkers Sensations crisps.

This brownie is particularly good though.

In other news, I have ventured from Berry Good smoothies to the 'Cloud 9' variety. This was pleasant enough - very pink, very frothy, if a little too cranberry-juiced. I also have melony burps now. Hmm.

...I would adore the ability to electively forget people and things. There is too much 'missing'.

• The £540 cheque for the course I am not even doing, that I told student finance not to cash, to be put back into my account. Post haste.
• For the constant use of a mouse and keyboard to have not resulted in RSI in my right wrist.
• Be told that having RSI means I have to go home and rest my wrist for a week. Alas. If only.
• Develop the ability to leave the biscuit tin the hell alone.
• For people to start using the In/Out board that has been made for the express purpose of me avoiding having to go running all over the building.
• For me to be able to read my boss's handwriting. Close to tears right now. Not kidding.
• To have someone bring me a Berry Good smoothie from the students' union, and for it to be free.
• Just to be, y'know, content.

Lois: You're drunk again.
Peter: No, I'm just exhausted 'cause I've been up all night drinking.

The wrapper of a praline chocolate proferred by a colleague. The inscriptions read "Just when you thought you'd never find true love", and even better: "The perfect reward for breathing".

Well ok then!

PHONEDOORBELLPHONEFORM
PHONEDOORBELLPHONEFORM
PHONEDOORBELLPHONEFORM
PHONEDOORBELLPHONEFORM
FORMFORMFORMFORMFORMFORM
FORMS EVERYWHERE

I am a few seconds away from donning a cap and asking if they would like fries with that form.

Fed up of being feeling like drone am I.

Hull appears to be lacking in alternative jobs for anyone who doesn't already have one. This place is like one long continuous 9-5 headache.

On a plus point, off out to get trollied tonight. Woopwoop.