Of course, I'm now off for a few days, but the dark clouds of Monday morning will soon be threatening. Joy.
Tuesday 29 January 2008
Oh how true!
Of course, I'm now off for a few days, but the dark clouds of Monday morning will soon be threatening. Joy.
Sunday 27 January 2008
Hospitality
I can't see. My specs are upstairs and I can't be bothered to go and get them.
Anyway, Her Royal Thighness and her friend should've landed by now I reckon. It's quite exciting, the prospect of seeing April again; she was the perfect hostess when I visited back in 2006. I was quite honoured to be allowed to live in the home of a true Indian Squaw, to share their cuisine (Kraft dinners); culture (cable TV) and general way of life. I felt particularly privileged to be asked to join the Cowichan People as an honorary member, although the initiation tests were a bit death-defying (waterskiing, clinging to a helicopter, water slides, river rafting).
But I survived all that and now I have the opportunity to reciprocate.
They get here on Wednesday morning and I've been thinking of things that I can do with them for the two days they're here. And that's probably why I'm so unprepared for their visit. We'll be meeting up with Piggy and Tazzy and have a wander round the City, so that'll be a laugh. I want April to get into an argument with somebody in Asda; you should hear the language that comes out.
Did you know that Kraft sell something called "Cheesy Pasta" here in the UK? Yes, the UK does indeed have its very own Kraft Dinner - get yourself to your local Netto, it's on offer!
So we'll be running around on Tuesday and getting the house fit for the visit. We're doing this quite a lot at the moment anyway; what with trying to sell it and having viewings and things. We had another viewing yesterday, 1pm. I spent 2 hours cleaning up, tidying it, making it spick and span. Then I had to take myself and the dog out so they didn't twig that a same sexed couple live here with their alternative lifestyle (with a name like Hussain, your own prejudices forewarn you of theirs). So I wandered the streets, waiting for Trump to text me to say they'd left. Forty minutes later, tired me, tired pooch, and a call from Trump to say it didn't look like they were turning up.
I was so fucking mad when I got back. Ignorant, rude bastards couldn't even be bothered to phone the estate agents to tell them they weren't going to bother. So in the tale of trying to sell Trump's house, we've had:
And for most of these, I feel forced to leave the house before they get here because the people viewing would probably burn us alive because we're gay.
I'm going to start insisting that the estate agent asks for a £50 deposit, returnable when they've actually had the courtesy to view the property.
I blame Trump for buying a house round here in the first place. I'm wondering if I can burn it down.
I love the way they leave the free paper sticking out of the letter box. That's right, let all the fucking heat out of the house, don't mind me. Does anybody even ask for the free paper? Cocks. Oh, I see the estate agent has put the house ad in there again.
And then you saw me dead.
Anyway, Her Royal Thighness and her friend should've landed by now I reckon. It's quite exciting, the prospect of seeing April again; she was the perfect hostess when I visited back in 2006. I was quite honoured to be allowed to live in the home of a true Indian Squaw, to share their cuisine (Kraft dinners); culture (cable TV) and general way of life. I felt particularly privileged to be asked to join the Cowichan People as an honorary member, although the initiation tests were a bit death-defying (waterskiing, clinging to a helicopter, water slides, river rafting).
But I survived all that and now I have the opportunity to reciprocate.
They get here on Wednesday morning and I've been thinking of things that I can do with them for the two days they're here. And that's probably why I'm so unprepared for their visit. We'll be meeting up with Piggy and Tazzy and have a wander round the City, so that'll be a laugh. I want April to get into an argument with somebody in Asda; you should hear the language that comes out.
Did you know that Kraft sell something called "Cheesy Pasta" here in the UK? Yes, the UK does indeed have its very own Kraft Dinner - get yourself to your local Netto, it's on offer!
So we'll be running around on Tuesday and getting the house fit for the visit. We're doing this quite a lot at the moment anyway; what with trying to sell it and having viewings and things. We had another viewing yesterday, 1pm. I spent 2 hours cleaning up, tidying it, making it spick and span. Then I had to take myself and the dog out so they didn't twig that a same sexed couple live here with their alternative lifestyle (with a name like Hussain, your own prejudices forewarn you of theirs). So I wandered the streets, waiting for Trump to text me to say they'd left. Forty minutes later, tired me, tired pooch, and a call from Trump to say it didn't look like they were turning up.
I was so fucking mad when I got back. Ignorant, rude bastards couldn't even be bothered to phone the estate agents to tell them they weren't going to bother. So in the tale of trying to sell Trump's house, we've had:
- The buyer who put an offer in then came round without an appointment at 7.30pm one evening saying "I've put an offer in on the house, can I just have another look round because I want to compare it with another I've just seen". Basically, he was putting an offer on everything, then deciding which he wanted to buy afterwards.
- The viewers who come in, walk around, don't say anything, then leave, without ever giving feedback.
- The viewers who come round ask lots of questions, leave, but still don't leave feedback.
- The buyers who say they have a mortgage in principle, put an offer in, then can't get a mortgage.
- The fucking bastards who don't turn up after you've wasted the whole fucking morning on a Saturday.
And for most of these, I feel forced to leave the house before they get here because the people viewing would probably burn us alive because we're gay.
I'm going to start insisting that the estate agent asks for a £50 deposit, returnable when they've actually had the courtesy to view the property.
I blame Trump for buying a house round here in the first place. I'm wondering if I can burn it down.
I love the way they leave the free paper sticking out of the letter box. That's right, let all the fucking heat out of the house, don't mind me. Does anybody even ask for the free paper? Cocks. Oh, I see the estate agent has put the house ad in there again.
And then you saw me dead.
Sunday 13 January 2008
Period living
I was in the supermarket the other day. As I left, I walked past the news stand and there I saw a glossy mag called Period Living. Imagine that, a monthly devoted to monthlies.
How nice.
I was too laden down with groceries to be bothered to stop to buy one, but it's left me pondering as to its content.
Editorial - How to tell when your colleague is being visited by the Pink Fairy
I don't think you need to read a magazine article to point out the tell-tale signs of a woman's menstrual cycle. And colleagues are best avoided irrespective of the state of their hormones and gussets.
Special feature - Plug it up or let it flow: do modern sanitary towels really cut the mustard?
Honestly, I can feel a letter coming on. And they sold it in Sainsbury's too!
I want my plastic wallet back!
I finally sent my driver's licence off to Swansea so as to change my address - I've only been here since April. Anyway, I sent off the paper bit, the card bit and the plastic wallet that they both came in originally. The amended licence was returned sans wallet. Thieving Welsh bastards.
I'll remember this the next time they want road tax from me. "Oh, did I forget to send the cheque? Silly me."
T minus seventeen
April will be here in 17 days. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with her. I've never really thought about the things I could do with April in all honesty. No, really, honestly, it's never entered my head.
I wonder if I need to tell the local authorities that she's coming, just so as to warn them and so they can ensure an extra police presence round these parts.
I'm going to take on this thing, it'll be fun. I might tell her that you have to climb up the frame to access the pods.
Monday minus nine
The weekend is nearly over again. Sundays are so depressing; the anticipation of another week at work. How desperately miserable.
How nice.
I was too laden down with groceries to be bothered to stop to buy one, but it's left me pondering as to its content.
Editorial - How to tell when your colleague is being visited by the Pink Fairy
I don't think you need to read a magazine article to point out the tell-tale signs of a woman's menstrual cycle. And colleagues are best avoided irrespective of the state of their hormones and gussets.
Special feature - Plug it up or let it flow: do modern sanitary towels really cut the mustard?
Honestly, I can feel a letter coming on. And they sold it in Sainsbury's too!
I want my plastic wallet back!
I finally sent my driver's licence off to Swansea so as to change my address - I've only been here since April. Anyway, I sent off the paper bit, the card bit and the plastic wallet that they both came in originally. The amended licence was returned sans wallet. Thieving Welsh bastards.
I'll remember this the next time they want road tax from me. "Oh, did I forget to send the cheque? Silly me."
T minus seventeen
April will be here in 17 days. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with her. I've never really thought about the things I could do with April in all honesty. No, really, honestly, it's never entered my head.
I wonder if I need to tell the local authorities that she's coming, just so as to warn them and so they can ensure an extra police presence round these parts.
I'm going to take on this thing, it'll be fun. I might tell her that you have to climb up the frame to access the pods.
Monday minus nine
The weekend is nearly over again. Sundays are so depressing; the anticipation of another week at work. How desperately miserable.
Tuesday 8 January 2008
Windy city
We're expecting gale force winds again tonight.
Why's it always windy at night when you're trying to sleep? Fucking weather.
"Auntie Em! Auntie Em!" I get woken up by the Wizard of Oz hurricane dream..
And in my waking confusion, I think that I'm drowning because my face is submerged in nose-drip because I'm starting with a cold.
Fuck, it's started already. There are hail stones coming right at the living room window. Brilliant.
Rocky is growling at window and door.
He's such a good guard dog; shouting at fast-moving air and frozen water. Now he's threatening it with his squeaky baa-lamb/unicorn. So ferocious. I feel very safe with him in the house.
Recycling
I really hate recycling. It just means you have a load of crap hanging around the house for weeks on end until you finally put it out on the right day for collection. Three bin liners full of cans and bottles overflowing from the outhouse and covering the already restricted worktop space in the kitchen. You used to be able to chuck all this shite out with the rest of the rubbish.
Why can't they get incapacity benefit scroungers to sort out the rubbish for us? You could just dump all the waste collections to block the exit from the nearest Asda car park so they can't get out until they've cleared the rubbish into recycling piles.
If only they'd let me be in charge.
Plotting
So my plotting is restricted to what I'll do when the delicious April comes to visit for a couple of days at the end of the month.
Oh the joys of showing her the sights of the ghetto, I'm so excited!
Why's it always windy at night when you're trying to sleep? Fucking weather.
"Auntie Em! Auntie Em!" I get woken up by the Wizard of Oz hurricane dream..
And in my waking confusion, I think that I'm drowning because my face is submerged in nose-drip because I'm starting with a cold.
Fuck, it's started already. There are hail stones coming right at the living room window. Brilliant.
Rocky is growling at window and door.
He's such a good guard dog; shouting at fast-moving air and frozen water. Now he's threatening it with his squeaky baa-lamb/unicorn. So ferocious. I feel very safe with him in the house.
Recycling
I really hate recycling. It just means you have a load of crap hanging around the house for weeks on end until you finally put it out on the right day for collection. Three bin liners full of cans and bottles overflowing from the outhouse and covering the already restricted worktop space in the kitchen. You used to be able to chuck all this shite out with the rest of the rubbish.
Why can't they get incapacity benefit scroungers to sort out the rubbish for us? You could just dump all the waste collections to block the exit from the nearest Asda car park so they can't get out until they've cleared the rubbish into recycling piles.
If only they'd let me be in charge.
Plotting
So my plotting is restricted to what I'll do when the delicious April comes to visit for a couple of days at the end of the month.
Oh the joys of showing her the sights of the ghetto, I'm so excited!
Wednesday 2 January 2008
Balls
Back to work tomorrow after my Christmas break.
Bollocks to it.
"Hey Tina, Happy Ne.." THWACK!
It may snow tomorrow too. Joy. Snow on a work day is bollocks.
F
E
D
U
P
Bollocks to it.
"Hey Tina, Happy Ne.." THWACK!
It may snow tomorrow too. Joy. Snow on a work day is bollocks.
F
E
D
U
P
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