True or False: Growing Up

So it turns out some of that stuff people tell you you'll do when you grow up... well you really shouldn't have denied it so vehemently because they're laughing at you now.

In the last few days, I have discovered:

• My room really does look better tidy, and I'm actually quite good at keeping it that way.
• I am quite capable of doing the washing up BEFORE it reaches critical mass.
• People not putting stuff in the bin/sink/back on the shelf IS annoying.
• Freshers will start to look really, really retarded (this worries me because next year I will be one, and hope I don't have to act as stupid, slutty and dangerously drunk as them).

But all that stuff about vegetables? That's rubbish. They're still gross.
Although I have reluctantly been eating the mushrooms in my Penne Marco Polo at Bella Italia recently... but in my defence, they look like duck, they're covered in plum sauce, and if you eat them in a certain way that involves your teeth and not your tongue, you can't taste the fucking things anyway.

In any case, I'm off to watch the anime channels while I eat my breakfast, because I discovered last night that I do actually have access to the anime channels, and this made me a very happy little geek.

This just in:

Turns out the best way to cheer yourself up during a day at work is to come home at lunch time and watch that episode of Scrubs guest-starring Matthew Perry, better known as Chandler from Friends.

The highlights being:

"I was covered in bees!"

and the classic,

"I love this moment so much, I wanna have sex with it."

However, what with having to go back to work, oh, exactly one minute ago, and babysitting tonight, I don't think I'm going to have many of those moments today. Unless I come home and down the bottle of fruit cider that James conveniently left here on Monday.

Hmm.

Robin Williams...

Have you ever watched any of Robin Williams' stand up comedy? Well if not I highly recommend it.

Right, I gave you a convenient break to go and do your homework there but I bet none of you did it. I'm going to carry on as if you did anyway though so nuts to you.

This man is Mrs Doubtfire. He is Jack. THIS MAN IS THE GENIE IN ALADDIN, MY CHILDHOOD HERO. (Totally). And he is NOTHING like you would imagine him.

I just wanted, really, to post this bit where he discusses having Bill Gates on a dollar bill.

"Bill when did you realise you were trying to create a monopoly?"
"Monopoly's just a game my friend, I'm trying to control the fucking world!"

Excellent.

That time again...

So once again, the Freshers bandwagon rolls around (has it been that long already?) and once again I am not on it. Which makes the mountain-esque pile of club fliers coming through my letterbox all the more annoying. Incidentally, I have taken to shovelling them back out of the letterbox onto the doorstep in a vain attempt to deter repeat offenders; I don't think this is going to work, and the next stage of my villainous plan is to sit under the letter box and wait for the next unfortunate bastard to come along and try to violate my door with his worthless slips of paper, set them on fire the second they come into sight, and then push them back out onto his feet. Surely this can't be counted as arson as it's taking place on my property? Although technically I'm renting so I suppose it's still not a great idea. Oh well. A girl can dream.

Freshers week also means that navigating home on any given night of the week down London Road becomes something of a challenge, trying to avoid the tarted-up bands of girls who, I depressingly realised last night, are younger than me, and the hungry-looking bands of boys staring at said tarts, and of course all the random splashes of vomit and trickles of tramp urine (40% alcohol content or higher), add their own touches to the challenge. Doing this while you yourself have been drinking is even more irksome and not to be advised.

Don't listen to me. I'm just grumpy because I have to wait another year to university. And don't even know if I'll get in, which, believe me, is killing me.

As if Freshers week wasn't enough (aren't I a fucking ray of sunshine today?!) the Boat Show is currently exerting its annual death grip on Southampton. Don't worry, Boat Show. It's not like anyone actually LIVES here and needs to get on with their LIVES or anything. We don't need to be able to drive at over two miles an hour. We don't need to be able to park anywhere. It's fine. We'll just lie down and play dead til you've finished showing off your floating temples of sickening wealth, then when you've packed up and gone, we'll get to our gnarled peasant feet and go about our miserable mud-grubbing lives, wallowing in our own muck and mating filthily with people who share an umcomfortably high percentage of our DNA. That's fine. Really.

Anyway, as I need to get ready to go out, I shall leave you with this, from my good friend Ryan, who has just concluded an exuberant weekend of birthday festivities including fish and chips, a wang, the Alex, the Dungeon, a jazz club, some rabbits, and an Indian restaurant at half two in the morning:

Me: You are a bad man.
Ryan: Jesus was a bad man, I'm just misguided.

That's all folks.

Like YOU could think of a better title.

It occurred to me today that it is probably about time I said this, even though there's not a specific person in the whole world I am saying it to:

FUCK you, world. You know what, I've been doing this daily grind thing for a lot less time than a lot of people but it's not for me and I'm not going to give up and sit there at my desk thinking "one day I'll do something else" and gradually dying of coffee poisoning. I am going to do exactly what I want to do, so in your face. People tell me you don't make any money from it but balls to them. Some of the lucky bastards out there living my dream have more money than the QUEEN. So screw you and the £12,000-a-year horse you rode in on.

I'm going to be a writer and there is nothing you can do about it.

Aha.

The weirdest office problem ever.

Somebody in my office smells exactly like Peter and it is driving me NUTS.

It's hard to describe but it seems to be a subtle blend of the smells of ham sandwich, houses inhabited by people who keep horses, and sleepiness.

My head hurts.

I need to go to bed

"I've been turning this over and over in my head like some kind of horrible... horrible pancake."

Watching Peep Show at 1.15 am makes me laugh so hard I think I might wee.

AAAAAH

I HAVE A JOB, I HAVE A JOB, THANK FUCK FOR THAT I HAVE A JOB

£7.50 an hour, baby. Don't get much better'n that.

Fish love

Ok, so... my two fish are getting on pretty well. I keep checking on them, to make sure they aren't killing each other, and I keep finding them snuggled up with each other in a corner (if a round tank can be said to have corners... which of course it can't...) as happy as can be.
Which is a relief, but also, I hope they don't have babies, because they tend to eat them, and that's not very nice. And much as I may enjoy keeping fish, I really don't intend to set up some kind of breeding factory in my bedroom. That's just kind of creepy.

Enter the Fish

Just to announce the acquisition of my new fish:

Dr Norris T. Fishington, a small Sarasa Comet who, so far, has showed no signs of intending to eat Nugget, despite her appetising name.

My army is growing! Soon victory shall be mine. Those who consider themselves my friends, fear not; when the revolution comes, I shall ensure your deaths are quick and painless.

Dear Diary... you know where you can shove it.

Here is a list of things I am fed up with when it comes to the whole employment game:

1: People not calling back.
2: People giving you the wrong email address.
3: Having to pretend like you aren't going to university next year in such a way that if they find out, you can categorically say you didn't lie about it.
4: Getting told that having a driving licence and a car would be useful. Really? You mean my life would be easier if I didn't have to rely on public transport that is flaky, at best? YOU DON'T SAY!
5: Filling out application forms with EXACTLY the same information that is on my CV, despite the fact that I literally just handed over a copy of my CV.
6: The fact that, the second you have the balls to stand up and say, "you know what, just because I'm a temp worker doesn't mean I have to sit here and take this crap from you," (in not so many words, obviously), the work suddenly, mysteriously ceases to pour in.
7: Calling someone about a job and getting their PA instead, who sounds really confused, and then realising there's a distinct possibility that you just let someone know their job is history. My bad.
8: Meeting your last employer on the street and not getting so much as a sorry. Yeah thanks. You didn't fuck me over or anything. Not at all. I had nothing against you, because that's how business works, but let's be fair here, your company pays out less a month for a worthless temp, and now I have no job, and no income. Cheers for the sympathy, I'm sure.

Sorry. Once again, I AM AWARE that talking about this stuff on the internet is bad form. But I am having a REALLY bad day, which is threatening to imminently become a REALLY bad month, so I'm going to allow myself this little bitch.

Note to any potential employers: I AM JUST LETTING OFF STEAM. I do not bitch about employers. It is inappropriate. This blog thing is purely for shits and giggles. I won't even post anything if I find out the CEO has been paying for Thai ladyboys on the company expenses. Honest.

I'm nice like that.

Employment Plane! Or, You Won't Get That Joke.

I have made one discovery about job hunting: the SECOND you decide to go to university next year, it all goes to shit.

Telling an agency that you're planning on going to university next year is like telling someone you have AIDS whilst trying to persuade them to have unprotected sex with you. (Not that I've ever done that - I'm just presuming.)

RAGE.