Office Demons

Tuesday, April 11th, 2012 - I have ranted about nothing, again.

Well I'm recovered from the pestilence of doom and even the demon cough has dissipated enough for me to not splutter every time I talk so I'm thinking that's a win for me!  Please don't argue.  It does not become you.

Today I'm decidedly mellow despite elements of the universe conspiring to make me feel otherwise, such as the security guard at work, who I fantasize about garrotting (usually when he's standing two feet in front of me yakking for fifteen days straight about some mundane information regarding his insurance company or the vibrations from the clutch pedal of his car - both true stories).  The fact he can manage a clutch is a little difficult for me to wrap my mind around since he had a problem one day twisting the lid off a coffee can which turned out to be the pry off kind, favoured by half wits who twist for ten minutes and wonder why nothing is happening.

Also, it was Nescafe.  Bleuuuuuuuuurgh.

Anyway, I've never met a person so full of monotony as this guy.  And I've met ME!  And I've sat through a movie where two French dudes talk about a violin for two hours, so I know boredom.   I can feel my eyes glaze the second he opens his mouth and I desperately wish there was something sharp nearby to stab myself in the ears with, to make it stop.

Today, as I was entering numbers into a database and cursing quietly to myself like a crotchety old geezer with Tourette's, I had to listen to mainstream top 40 radio.  Is it called top 40 radio these days?  I have no idea.  Nor do I care.  The kids probably call it Mega Dance Supah Fresh Tunes or something equally ridiculous and hideous now.  Anyway, it's non-stop, all day, auto tuned nightmares of songs that all sound exactly the same, where a robot is clearly torturing a small animal.  On rotation.  All. Day.  It was making me quite furious because really, who listens to that shit of their own accord other than brain dead morons with fake tans and big hair (and that's just the dudes). No one else seems to mind it.  Me, I scowl a lot and envision myself walking calmly up to it and smashing the shit out of it with a sledgehammer, before smoothing down my hair and calmly returning to my desk.  It annoys me that in an office environment people force their taste on you just in the name of a little office atmosphere.  It's unnecessary and offensive to my ears, which have better taste than to listen to fucking Rhianna all day.  If I wanted to hear unpleasant sounds that make my toes curl, I'd stick pins in the security guy for five hours and listen to him squeal.

There, I've said my piece.

Gosh I'm cross.

Then I came home and had a lamb style veggie burger and all was suddenly right in my tiny, one room world.  Except those burgers made me produce a noise from my bottom that sounded a lot like Alan Rickman whining.  Sort of haughty and nasal.

You're welcome.

Neither Influenza nor Sunshine Can Kill Me

Monday, April 2nd, 2012, I am the fool

Unimportant stuff has happened you guys.  Spring has been here for a short visit (nine days, woo!!!) and brought with it nice warm, sunny 20 degree C. temperatures that make you think of lovely, pleasant, non me-like things, like ducks and daffodils, bare legs and frozen summer drinks on the balcony.  Ah yes.  Optimism, I remember that thing.

Naturally, today, day ten, it's raining and grey.  Hello.  It was nice though, while it lasted.  I let the sunlight near my delicate translucent lady skin, I didn't melt (or sparkle) and it was good.  Sniff.

As well as enjoying the fake spring, as some of you know, I have had the flu.  Actually the flu came first and stayed longer than the goddamn spring snap.  And was a whole lot less pleasant with full days of sleep, incoherence, not eating, barely breathing and rasping like I swallowed a car engine from 1945.  That lasted a full two weeks in all and reminded me why I'm happy I'm never sick (hardly) and why I like to be on my own and comatose when I am.  Bliss.  Sleep like an idiot for days then wake up feeling better.  It works.  The first day I ventured out after the pestilence, I squinted at the sky, groaned a lot and was exhausted in five minutes (probably from all the groaning).

This week I'm almost back to fighting fit and have some chocolate and so, I conclude, I will live.

Well this was an interesting return.  Naturally, I have no idea what you reprobates have been up to...

Dear Google...

Thursday, March 1st, 2012 - What is this?  Sunshine?

Hey you!  Yes you.  Google.  You over there trying on your shiny, new Overlord coat.  What's up with all the new stuff?  I don't like new stuff.  I'm a connoisseur of old stuff like vintage jackets, sixties' cars and Andy Williams (shut up).    What in the name of all that is holy is up with this ugly new layouty stuff?

And don't get me started on the new captcha nonsense.  How did you know that what I really want when I'm trying to force my opinion on someone, is to have to type two, totally illegible words that will be rejected three times before I can post? You must be TOTALLY PSYCHIC.

I AM STARTING TO HATE YOU, GOOGLE.

I also hate your new comment form thing where you type the comment at the top but you might be responding to something at the bottom so you have to scroll like a motherfucker to remember what you're responding to.  I HATE THAT.

And your new privacy policy can bite me.  My history in my Google account is paused, I never surf while logged into my Google account, I private browse 100% of the time and you can just leave my shit alone as it's none of your beeswax if I want to websurf questions like, "is it normal to want to lick icebergs?", or, "how much blood is in a toddler?".  I reserve the right to do so without you thinking I'm some shameful weirdo.

Also, I'm sick of you trying to connect my services and log me in every damn where.  I am branching out.  I am going rogue.  I am limiting my Google services.   Watch me fly!

In other news, I have coffee and boy, did I need caffeinating!

Stop This Nonsense

Wednesday, February 15th, 2012 - Sunny.  The world IS ending. Veg is bitter.

Know what I'm hating today?  I'm going to tell you anyway.  I hate when you go to a website with juicy pictures of something in a gallery that you think might be interesting (or scandalous) to look at and the damn thing makes you click on fifteen different pages to see them.  STOP THAT.  Put them all on one long, blog-like layout and let me scroll, you fuckers.  I don't want to click through 319 photos to see something I didn't care that much about to begin with and then have to navigate my way back to where I started.  I'm not interested in that sort of commitment.  Stop it!

It's these little things that boil my blood.

Know what else I hate?  Chicks posing half naked in mirrors with their camera phones because they want the entire internet to tell them they look hot. I mean I get that dudes might disagree here, because what's not to like, it's half naked chicks showing off their real estate.  But honestly, if you need validation that badly, do something worthwhile, idiots, or just say 'fuck it!' and go straight into porn.

And don't pull the duckface.  Really.  That isn't sexy or cute, it's atrocious and you look like you've had your brain sucked out through your nose with a straw and replaced by sawdust.  Also, don't do that thing where you post a close up of yourself in full eyeliner, emo haircut styled just so, porcelain skin and go 'Oh here's one of me taken right now, LOL I look awful, you guys, I just woke up!'

No.  No you didn't.  You've been up for hours doing your hair and make up and taking 400 pics so you could pick out the cutest one and post it so that everyone would tell you how gorgeous and awesome you are, because OMG you look so perfect.  And you just got up!!!

NO one believes that shit, really!  STOP.

Whoa, that got a bit out of hand, hey?

Why You Should Never Trust Woodland Creatures

Monday, February 14th, 2012 - The Insanity is strong

You guys who've been around here for a while, know of my great, all encompassing talent for talking to the animals, right?  Well it seems, I've made a new friend.  Often when I’m taking trash out at night, I find a fox skulking around in the yard, waiting to surprise me behind the car or a bush or some other dark spot.  He’s a big, red fox with a bushy tale and a shifty look in his eye and we have recently become better acquainted, due to the fact I'm desperate he likes me, rather than spend his evenings conjuring up ways to murder and eat me.   It was going so well until last night’s encounter, when things took a slight turn for the disturbing.

Me: Well hey there.  How YOU doing?

Fox: Not bad thanks.  Yes. Not bad at all. Hungry though.  What's in that bag, if you don't mind me asking?  Is it a baby?

Me: What?  No!  It's just paper stuff.  Recycling, that kind of thing. 

Fox: I see.  I see...  I don’t suppose you have anything more....scandalous and meaty, in there?  Like a tin of spam?  Or a small, ripe, illegally slaughtered mammal?

Me: I beg your pardon?

Fox: You know, I just thought you might have some...bacon scraps, cat food cans, the carcass of a small but beefy, recently deceased humanoid? That kind of thing? Something meaty.  I am VERY hungry.

Me: Um.  Nooooooo...

Fox: That’s okay.  Really.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m just trying to feed my family and scraps are hard to come by, lately.  We don’t normally venture this far out of the woods you see but hard times and all that...   Say, you're a lady.  Do you perhaps have a baby upstairs?

Me:  What the fuck, dude? I don't have any babies.  No.

Fox:  Oh wait, no!  No, no, I see what you're thinking, oh God no.  It’s just that I love babies you see, they're so entirely cute, it's not at all that they’re packed with delicious nutrients, I hadn't even noticed that part.  Dear goodness no.  Forget I said it.

Me:  Oh.  Well.  I have to go now, but if I have any leftovers from dinner or anything tomorrow maybe I could leave them here for you?

Fox: Would you?  That would be much appreciated.  Anytime after 8pm works for me. 

Me: Got it.  I have to get back now I have a really awful belly ache.

Fox: Sorry to hear that.  Might you be pregnant?

Me: What??? No, I just ate some ice cream too fast!

Fox: Well, that's too bad.  Too bad.  But you know, incidentally, if you should ever be pregnant, I know a guy...

Me: A guy?

Fox: Yes, you know.  A guy who will help you if you’re pregnant but aren’t looking to raise any tiny, meaty, delicious children, yourself.

Me: ..............

Fox: ..............

Me: The guy is YOU isn't it?

Fox: What if I said 'yes'?

Me: I’m going inside now.

Fox: Quite right.  I'm off to hang out in a crawl space at the kindergarten.  See you tomorrow!

Did You Hear, It's A New Year!

Monday, January 9th, 2012 - where is my flying car?

Happy new year, blog buds!  I trust you all welcomed 2012 with open arms and equally open bottles of tasty drinks and related debauchery?   Sorry for my lack of presence of late, but I will be back to annoy you soon.  And yes, I will fix the goddamn comments section that I royally fucked up a while back during some template maintenance.  Sheesh, you people need to get off my back! Ha!

You all take it easy now, you hear?

May your 2012's be groovy.

And may they be full of funny.

And less rainy than mine has been so far.

And may they be crammed to the brim with [insert good, tasty thing you like here]

And may it be Kardashian free and if it isn't Kardashian free, can it become legal to just shoot Kardashians with tranquilizer darts and remove them to an isolated desert island somewhere, like the island on "Lost", then send it back to 1950 or something and can they perhaps get eaten by tigers?

Thanks!