I have some photos to upload. Quite a lot of photos. They will greatly enhance the entry I am trying to write but I CANNOT GET THE FUCKING THINGS TO LOAD. Photobucket managed to load one and then crashed. All attempts at jollying it along have failed miserably.
D’land also managed one……but it was the same one as I had loaded on photobucket. Then it managed another one but now its gone to sleep and doesn’t want to look at any more. Ive also kind of worked out (with my limited knowledge of complooters but excellent ability to subtract from 5,000,000) that I will not have enough room on d’land to fit on all the photos which are supposed to go with this entry.
Having had the day off today, I did think that I might get through the day without weeping with frustration – as you know, its only my shitty job which makes me do that….oh, and sometimes BF – but its clearly my sole function in this world to bang my head on the desk and sob whilst clenching every single muscle in my body until I am so uptight that I am wearing my shoulders as earwarmers.
Still. I am having a hard time handling criticism lately. That means in order to get Smash and Stuart off my back I HAVE to update whether I like it or not. I cannot do the update I wanted to do as it needs the pictures but without the pictures I really have very little to tell you.
So. I had a day off today. And Ive got another one tomorrow. I figured I needed a day off as I was driving into work on Monday morning and my mind was completely blank. In a “I am pretty sure I should be concentrating a bit more than this as I am driving a sports car along country roads” way, but I couldn’t do anything other than stare straight ahead. We’d had storms on Sunday night and my over-riding thought, the one that was the ONLY thing keeping me going was “Maybe the office has blown away….. Maybe the office has blown away AND caught fire……. Maybe the office has blown away AND caught fire AND a tree has fallen into the road and I wont be able to get there…. Maybe the office has blown away AND caught fire AND a tree has fallen into the road and I wont be able to get there AND another tree will fall on my car and will squish it and maybe break my leg so I can GO HOME.”
That’s not good, is it? To consider a fairly traumatic and serious chain of events as a plausible alternative to going to the office. I think I need to start looking for another job. Trouble is, I have a stupid job. A job created for me to stop me leaving the last time. I don’t know that it is even a proper job, of the sort they have in other companies other than Twat Inc. On Monday I compiled a set of process maps to document a proposed change to the function of my department and had a two hour meeting with Slaveboy to discuss the implementation of my proposals. Next week, I am styling a photoshoot for new products for this summer and next spring, which means on Thursday when I go back to work I will be wearing overalls and painting four giant plasterboard backdrops with two coats of emulsion and reupholstering a deckchair. Oh and I need to do some stats reports on my sales force, interview two Mystery Shopping providers and set out a program of targeted prospecting for low coverage areas, too. Tell me straight. Ive got a Non-Job, haven’t I? Meh. I feel miserable.
Today, I resolved to speak as little as possible, in the hope it would encourage my brain to start being something other than a vessel to contain stress. I drove to the outlet village and wandered from shop to shop, deliberately choosing shops with morose sales assistants so they wouldn’t try to start up conversations with me. I also went to Makro and didn’t get a trolley. I didn’t actually want to buy anything in Makro, I just wanted to walk up and down the empty aisles – sometimes stopping to work out what the VAT is on a catering pack of Lindt chocolate Easter bunnies. In the end, I bought a top which I thought I probably didn’t need but it was £4. Plus VAT. That’s £4.70. Then I drove into town and went in the wedding shops, looking for something to wear on my head for what is rapidly becoming known as “our bloody wedding”. As I am not a fresh faced 19 year old, no shop assistants bothered me at all. I just don’t look like a bride, I guess.
By the time I eventually got home, Id listened to enough silence to remember that I have a ‘girls night out’ *makes face* to go to on Saturday and now I have a new top to wear to it.
Ive also just noticed that I have made two mathematical references in this entry. Am I secretly good at maths or something? Perhaps that’s where Ive been going wrong. I thought I was a cake making, sequin wearing, glitter-hound and I am actually Ruth Lawrence.
I did make a cake today. I cant tell you what it was because it was a non-cake. No filling, no topping, no extraneous flavours, just cake. Flour, eggs, sugar, butter. Splish of milk. I cut a couple of squares off it while it was still hot and Treacle gave it to The Latvian Builders. They said “Good Cake. Spongey. Yes.” Treac went red and looked at the floor because she’s not really sure about Latvian Builders.
I also made toad-in-the-hole today and it rose up like a giant puffy cloud. But crispy. And brown. And with sausages in it. Obviously.
As I am not going to work tomorrow, I will have another go at loading the photos but until then I will tease you with…..
Boingy Leg Springs
Latvian Ambassadors and
Sucker-Gun Suicides