30 October, 2007

I mean, it's not like you NEED it...

So, somebody told me that you can earn tons of money for letting a trainee surgeon remove and reattach one of your toes. I would so totally do that. I mean, what, at most, you lose a toe, right? Who needs a fucking toe. Imagine how popular you would be at parties if you were like "so... yeah I'm missing a toe." You could make up totally cool stories about how you lost it. A polar bear ate it. Piranhas. Chuck Norris. My homework ate it. All sorts of crazy shit.

Unfortunately, my extensive trawling of the internet (read: two garbled search terms on Google before I gave up and searched 'camel toe' instead, because yes, I really am that immature) turned up nothing. I think I might just wander into Southampton general, whack my leg up on the counter of the ER, and yell "TAKE THE FUCKING TOE AND GIVE ME THE MONEY, BITCH."

I bet I'd get a nice free holiday on the mental ward. I hear they serve delicious tapioca pudding up there.

I hate tapioca. It's like baby puke with rice in. Blegh.

29 October, 2007


What the fuck do you think you're doing parking a BENTLEY on this road?

You are one stupid motherfucker.

28 October, 2007

I don't care what you say, I still think Sarah Silverman is funny.

Sometimes, I go to a bookshop, usually with a cafe, and I sit and drink a hot chocolate and let mysef daydream about being an author. It will be soon, I hope; I want to be a young author. When I was a child people expected me to be some kind of prodigy, but I'm too old to be a prodigy in most stuff now. I figure, I'm already a writer - surely becoming an author is the easy part. Probably not. Definitely not, actually. But maybe if I keep lying to myself I won't notice how fucking difficult it is.
I also walk around the bookshop and reach out but rarely pick anything up, because I think, is that book going to change my life? Or is the book next to it? Will picking up one and not the other perhaps change the course of my life? Maybe if I picked up one, I'd put it down and think "wow that sucked" and go and buy some chocolate to make me feel better. Maybe if I picked up the other I would find one sentence, or one word, one bit of inspiration that got me writing and within the month I'd be on Richard and Judy, who I hate, making me a gigantic hypocrite, pimping my new bestseller to within an inch of its life. (That's not fair, actually, I don't mind Richard. And I don't like truly HATE Judy. I just think she is really, really stupid.) (Also, I'm so hyped about that idea where I become rich and famous overnight, that I'm totally already thinking about the possibility that one day, Richard and Judy will read my blog, and put out a hit on me or something. But I bet they won't. They'll invite me to be on the show, and I'll either have to go for it just for the publicity and hope they never, EVER SEE THIS, or I'll have to reject them. Either way it'd be awkward, you know? It's hard being famous. I imagine.) (I'm aware that I could just delete this bit where I bitch about them. But that would be censorship and that, my friends, is wrong.) (Going to stop using parentheses now.)

On a less serious note (it gets less serious? Oops, more parentheses), who else thinks tuna in sunflower oil is wrong? Tuna should not come in ANYTHING other than brine. Fish in oil?! Fish are pretty fucking oily already! Nobody wants to have to wipe oil off their face after eating tuna. SORT IT OUT.

Also watch Chris Rock clips on YouTube, he's hilarious.

21 October, 2007

Linking is illegal.

Christ knows what kind of laws I break every day if linking is illegal. I probably break laws in my sleep! I should be locked up. And the key thrown away! Perhaps we should all just kill ourselves and have done with it, eh?

The thing I don't get about taking down TV links, is that TV IS FREE ANYWAY. NOBODY IS LOSING ANY MONEY. I'm pretty sure people still have a TV, you know? It's not like millions of dollars are being lost because people are no longer buying TV sets. I'm pretty sure people haven't stopped paying their TV licence because of TV links. People need to start being sensible about the internet, really. Yes, unsavoury stuff is going to happen. Stuff that might be slightly irksome to people who have spent a lot of time and money and effort on ensuring that their product does not get abused. But also, we have to understand that sometimes, nothing is actually being lost, and although it might sting, no real damage is being done. Rapists can get out of jail in three years, but people get locked away for six for copyright infringement. Ridiculous? Of course not! Copyright is a very serious matter, dignity and humanity and all that bollocks isn't worth a shite, just let the rapists and the murderers and the paedophiles run free, it's fine. But make sure people aren't watching House on their laptops instead of their TVs for Christ's sake.

These are dark times we live in, people. Dark times indeed. Why, right now, there are probably well over four people on your street downloading MP3s! But while the rape in the bushes less than ten minutes away gets reported on the news, these bastards get away with it. They don't hear the news reports about the rapist being let free a week later because they've got their earphones in their ears listening to their free music! The audacity of these people is staggering. I'm telling you. They'd kill your grandmother and steal her false teeth if they thought they could sell them on Ebay.

Basically what I'm trying to say here, is: FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

16 October, 2007

Spare me.

Ah, web ads.

"This is note a joke - you are the 10,000th visitor!"


Yeah. I don't think so.

"This is not a joke! You are the 10,000th visitor! Who cares, you could be the 39090850230984792837678th visitor, whatever, just PLEASE let us destroy your computer with terrible terrible viruses!"

I still wouldn't click it, you know, but I'd appreciate the honesty.

.... wow.

TV Links.

Why the hell did I ever watch TV? Why did I ever *gasp* buy a DVD?!

TV Links: I fucking love you.

I have spent the last two hours sat in front of my computer watching House, season 2.
It is actually physicall hard to stop myself uttering the common fangirl cry: Squeee!




So, you know some days, you'll just be walking around and EVERYBODY seems to be looking at you? Shop assistants, drivers, random people on the street? You have those days, right? Good, I'm glad you're coming with me on that.
And you're walking along, thinking, that's ANOTHER one. Should I smile back at them? I mean, either I've got something on my face, or I look really good today. Oh God I bet I have something on my face. I had tomato soup for lunch. I TOTALLY have soup all over my face. Oh God. Oh God. I can't even try to rub it off without looking like a total fucktard. Don't smile back at them they'll think you think you're looking good but really you just have shit all over your face, oh fuck oh fuckohfuckohfuck.

This might make it seem as if I am more than a little paranoid and insecure. But come on, people; everyone is looking at you, and the options are, you look really good today (which, face it, you've just been at work for seven and a half hours - it's not happening) or someone's drawn a dick on your face, and I'm not saying it's happened before, but... well, it's happened before.


Yeah I'm not really sure where I was going with that either.
Incidentally, on closer inspection, I didn't have anything on my face. So. Who knew.

15 October, 2007

It's for your own good.

Right. This has gone on too long, and someone should probably have said something a long time ago. But they didn't, so now I guess I'm going to have to step up.


Seriously. Have you even THOUGHT about how fucking weird your legs look in those things? And if you have an ounce of extra fat on your posterior or your thighs, have you no self respect?! No I'm not saying you need to lose weight, I'm saying you need to wear clothes that don't make you look like a fucking Christmas turkey wrapped in cling film. I bet you have emo hair, too. You people make me fucking sick I swear to God.

Over and out.

05 October, 2007

And that is why I'm a ninja.

I love being half an hour late and nobody noticing. I feel like a ninja. On the other hand, it is kind of sad that nobody notices when I'm not there... but ninjas don't care about such things. They have no time for emotions. Their sole desire is revenge! I'm a very vengeful person. I seek revenge on the world for the following reasons:
  • Tracy Emin.
  • Terry Wogan.
  • (Just so you know, it was really, really tough deciding which order to list those two in.)
  • The fact that pubs don't have Dr Pepper on tap. WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT COKE?!
  • Weekdays.
  • Street preachers.
  • Hobos begging outside banks and next to ATMs. Yeah here's a crisp new fifty. I don't fucking think so.
  • The fact that only three series of Black books were made.
  • The menstrual cycle.
I could go on, but I won't, because I don't want to get a reputation for being a grumpy bitch. For the record, some things actually make me less grumpy. Seriously. It happens. For instance:
  • Other people's pain.
  • Waitresses dropping plates.
  • Setting fire to orphanages.
See? I'm so happy I could explode... and blow up a third world country.

Seriously though. I like kittens and stuff. I plan to amass an army of cats, and give them deeply, deeply awesome names. My favourites are Michael J. Caboose and Meowbloop. Oh, and if you don't know who Michael J. Caboose is, I either don't know you, don't like you, or am going to have to think very hard about why i do like you. And in case you were wondering, yes, I do only keep fish because I enjoy giving them stupid names. Don't waste your time worrying about my future children, I don't plan on having any.
But if I do, I am totally naming it Spiderpig. I wonder if that's copyright infringement?
Fuck it, I don't care.

I have noticed that the weirdest conversations do not take place in the pub, or in crack dens, or in mental hospitals; they take place in offices. Something about the office environment - I noticed today that the water in the cooler is from Nestle and suspect this is the culprit, but it could be print toner molecules in the atmosphere - drives people completely fucking nuts. Popular subjects include Kris Akabusi, giant spiders (possibly with wings) , and the classics such as "who would you rather" and "would you be offended if I said".
My theory is that, ironically, people have evolved this tendency to talk bollocks at the office in order to keep them sane. I think it's a pretty good theory. That brief discussion about who would make a better lover out of Mr T and Chuck Norris ("Well Mr T did that song about being nice to your mum, but Chuck has that reassuring smile... also Mr T is a big black man and I'm easily frightened") is a perfect antidote to workplace pedantics ("you didn't email Jacob when that client called!" "Jacob sits next to me, I waited for him to come back, and I told him to his face and watched as he called the guy back." "That's not how we do things around here! More bureaucracy, less human contact!") .
Other brilliant ways to relieve stress include leaving shitty messages for clients, mutilating plastic cups, going home for lunch and eating it in bed whilst watching House, and thinking about the funniest way to commit suicide (any way you like - but dressed like a clown).

You love my advice. You do. You REALLY DO.

02 October, 2007

This blog sponsored by one Mr Drew Cameron.

Tonight, I met my one true love: THIS WEBSITE.
If you don't read even one quote from that website, I will find you, and kick your face off.
Now then.

Our Find of the Day with this website is:

Employee #1: Why are you so late, man?
Employee #2: I got loaded last night and shit my pants on the way to work.

I'm not entirely sure, as a member of the female species, that things like this are supposed to reduce me to tears of laughter and those silent hiccupy laughs you get that make you feel like your brain is going to come out of your nose and you are going to die on the floor... but god damn it that's fucking funny.

And also, it made me think about some of the best office quotes I've ever come across in my long and distinguished (well, not all that long, really... and definitely not distinguished) office career.
Here are some of the best:

This hot chocolate is crunchy.

You are such a fuckbag.

Colleague 1: I'm off then too.
Colleague 2: Right, that fucking does it. I am going to DOMINATE the Christmas holiday.
Colleague 1: No fair, I need holiday at Christmas!
Colleague 2: Fuck off, you have three weeks holiday over festival season. You can have your Christmas early, bitch.

Whilst discussing someone's jumper:
Simon: What do you mean, 'no lemons'?!
Richard: NOEL EDMONDS, Simon.

Simon: Go go gadget arm! * throws yoghurt pot at nearby bin... misses. *
Me: That would not even have been funny if you'd got it in.

Whilst attempting to tell newbie what to do whilst his caller is on hold:
Gordon: Tell him to format his C drive.
* newbie takes caller off hold *
Gordon: STOP!
Me: Wow. How retarded are you?!

Karl: I'll be the pig, you'll be the horse. YOU know what I'm talking about.
Steve: Was that a threat?!
Me: That was the awesomes threat I have ever heard.

Threats based on iconic literature RULE.
At this point it should be noted that there is some kind of ruckus (what a brilliant word) going on outside my house which sounds like a mixture of babies crying, cats fighting over a dying giraffe (anyone here seen the South Park movie?) and a student party.
It worries me that it is entirely possible, in my neighbourhood, that it is in fact a mixture of all three. It also worries me that I can hear it from the bathroom, but not from my room; which indicates that it is coming from the direction of the house next door, which is inhabited not by babies, or squabbling cats and giraffes, or even by students, but by a sweet little old lady who came over to make sure we were ok after our house got robbed. I dread to think what is going on over there.

Speaking of the house getting robbed, I came home for lunch the other day and had the fright of my life when I had not even put my key in the lock and the front door swung open. I stood frozen on the doorstep for a couple of seconds thinking ok, you clearly forgot to deadlock the door before you went out. It wasn't actually open so hopefully it's ok this time. Which didn't actually make me feel any less like throwing up, but it was nice to know I was still in control of my brain.
Then I heard noises from inside my house.
Looking back on it, it astounds me that instead of running the fuck away like a sensible person, I advanced into the house. Perhaps it was the result of deep-seated anger left over from the first robbery; if someone had come back for more I was going to smash them so hard in the face with whatever came to hand (dismantled stripper pole? perfect) that their head would have resembled a raw beef joint.
Luckily, if a little anti-climatically, it turned out to be a double glazing man turning up unannounced to fit our second set of new back doors. Which was quite nice, in one way, but I really, REALLY wish the letting agency wouldn't just give people a key to our house and let them come round with no warning - especially because our contract states we need to be given 24 hour warning.
Still. We got new doors, and I didn't actually get raped or killed or have ANOTHER laptop stolen - and if I had, at least I would have been on the insurance this time.

While we're on the subject of getting raped and killed - I write such charming blogs, don't I? - I would like to announce formally to those who may still be wondering, no, I am not missing, or dead, despite what you may have heard between six and eight o clock on Friday evening.
I am aware that a lot of bad things have happened in the area recently, and that I am fairly small and pathetic, even for a girl, so would hardly be impervious to attack. I am also grateful that I have friends and a boyfriend who would notice and act quickly if I were to genuinely be missing, and I appreciate that this could mean the difference between my life and my death.
But it does amuse the hell out of me that I was reported missing to the police, the hospital, and even my parents, apparently before it occurred to anyone that PERHAPS I WAS IN A PUB.
To the people involved: once again, I understand your concern, I am grateful, yes I should be more militant about charging my phone. But from my point of view; it is pretty funny.
It's an interesting evening when you get home from work and your housemate says "Oh, it's you!"
"Well, yes... I do live here."
"Everyone's looking for you. You might want to call them."
"Everyone like who?"
"Catherine and Dave."
"And your parents."
"And the police... and the hospital."
"Oh, for fuck's sake... not again."

To be fair... last time I was actually working late.

Anyway. I really need to go to bed. Hopefully you have been suitably entertained by my rantings about offices, weird noises, hypothetical break-ins, and everyone thinking I was dead, again.

If not, balls to you. I'm going to bed anyway.

So there.

Another one bites my ass...

'Let go' again... I know it's the nature of temp work but it would be nice not to feel like a used sanitary towel once in a while. Oh well. IT WAS BORING ANYWAY. Yeah I hope you're reading (I really don't, I've got to work there another two days yet). You don't need to call customers TWICE in a single day just because your temps are actually competent human beings and have already got through their whole workload by lunchtime. Not enough work? Don't hire so many temps. No wonder the pay was good.

Anyhow, no point moping, so I'm going to start bollocksing on about one of my other favourite subjects; university. Or, more specifically today, Freshers Week.

Freshers Week adds a few interesting decorative touches to my locale. The parking meter being attractively veiled by a polystyrene tray of mushy chips; the cars sporting fashionable orange cone hats; interesting crusty patches on the pavement; garlands of students hanging off the cash machines all along London Road, weeping at how much of their fresh new student loan they have spent on alcohol in the last forty eight hours. It's beautiful, it really is.
I think I'm going blind. Have some decency, for Christ's sake.