A Geriatric's Ball-Bag and Other Stories

2008-05-11, 9:31 p.m.
If you drop a roll of aluminium foil on the kitchen floor, it will unroll its entire length, like a silvery river, as smooth and flat as a mirror. However, the second you attempt to re-roll the foil back onto the roll, it will become as crumpled as a geriatic�s ball-bag and, just like said aged scrota, will resolutely resist any attempt to smoothen and flatten it. Arse. Should have wrapped the leftover roast beef in cling-film.

Just spent a bit of time on the old interweb, looking for a wedding ticker. I found one � its spectacularly crap. How come these kind of things are always so incredibly twee? Don�t regular people get married? I thought I might be able to find something that just had a bit of a countdown and maybe might brighten up my page a bit, but scrolling waves of twinkling stars? With a gambolling pair of unicorns marking the path towards wedded bliss? Erm. No thanks.

Anyways. The one I found was the least offensive of a pretty bad lot. I will put up with it for a couple of days�.and then I�ll probably just get rid of it. I tried pasting it into my template so it will show up every time I update, but that didn�t work, so don�t be surprised if this is the one and only time you see the damn thing.

Not much to say today, so I�ll just do these bits and pieces of nothingness and resolve to write something a bit more splendid next time!

Last week was a total pile of crapola. Monday was Bank Holiday, so no work (Yay!). Chose, instead, to spend the day bickering with BF. Pre-wedding angst? No thanks, Ive already got some. Although, to be fair, it may just have been the thought of the All Day Retail Panel Meeting I had on Tuesday which was making me arsey.

My job generally consists of:

  • running about like a blue-arsed fly, fixing stuff which someone else has fucked up.

  • telling other people what is wrong with what they have just fucked up, and what arses I am going to have to rim to get them off the hook

  • getting bitched at by people who think my company owes them a living, which it rarely does

    • The Retail Panel comprises people from this third section. Only these are tricky ones. The general bitchers are pretty much all my intellectual inferior and are fairly easily despatched with a little sugar-coated sarcasm�.as Im told Im not allowed to just tell them to Fuck Off and stop being so petty. Personally I think that�s a bit unfair, as they regularly call me a liar and a thief, question my integrity and my authority (this from people I would barely trust to sit the right way round on the toilet). Swear at me, yell at me and tell me they are going to get me fired (Oh, if only!).

    The Retail Panel delegates are all �proper� business people, hand picked by us for�.ummm�.not having a vacuum between their ears. They come along to our offices a couple of times a year and tell us where we�re going wrong. No different to the general bitchers, just they use longer words and are, at least, mildly entertaining.

    Naturally, they all meet up before the meeting to decide what they�re going to bitch about, even tho they all see the agenda and surely have opinions of their own. They have to make sure they present a united front, I guess. The twats. I would have more respect for them if they, too, were running multi million pound, world-wide businesses instead of piss-pot shops in the middle of some bucolic backwater in Shitshire.

    One woman, however, lightened my day to such an extent that I am still smiling about it. We were discussing a pricing structure for products, and how the price might be increased depending on the urgency of the delivery. She explained how she hikes the price of her products by about 50% in order to get someone out of trouble � that last-minute purchase which might save one�s bacon (or one�s marriage!). She called it The Twat Tax.

    Jabbing the air with her pudgy finger, she declared �Ye�ve bin a Twat. Now ye�ve gorra pay ferrit!�

    Perfect.

    I nicked this name survey thingy � I cant remember from whom. Feel free to palm it off as your own if you haven�t done it already.
    1. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first three letter of real name plus izzie): Sarizzle (that sounds a bit like some kind of sausage-based snack, doesn�t it?)
    2. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color and favorite animal): Pink Platypus. Oooh, watch out Poirot!
    3. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name and current street): ��Hmmm. See here it all goes to rat-shit a bit as I don�t have a middle name. Meh. My sister would be Lesley Ancton � that sounds OK. BF would be Howard Chartwell � he sounds a bit of a cunt, doesn�t he! I guess I�d just have to have the one name- Chartwell. Doesn�t really have the same ring to it as other single-named celebs does it? Cher! Pele! Madonna!.....and Chartwell. Could be worse, I suppose. I used to live in Quimlickermingefart Drive.
    4. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first three letters of your last name, first two letters of your first name, first three letters of mom's maiden name): SpeSaBak (now that�s just SILLY). And you can only say it if you use JarJar Binks� voice. SpeSaBak is never gonna be wearing a white toga-thingy and have two Danish pastries attached to the sides of her head, is she? She�s either gonna have a really long neck, pot belly, enormous bulbous head and freakishly small ears (Oh! Hang on! That IS me!), or she�s gonna be some kind of shuffling Ewok thing with a Hessian sack for a robe and she�s gonna get killed in the first five minutes and die with a pathetic �SQWEEKK!�.
    5. YOUR SUPERHERO'S NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink): Silver Bourbon. Maybe I should just start making answers up. No super hero was ever called Silver Bourbon ferchristsake. How does she disarm her enemies? With one huff of her toxic-fumed breath?
    6. YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (Men: father's middle name and mother's middle name; Women: mother's middle name and father's middle name): Cecily George (Eeeee! I like that one!)
    7. YOUR GOTH NAME: (Black, and the name of one of your pets): Black Frenchie (could�ve been worse but I haven�t had many pets � if you aren�t keen on Black Frenchie, you could have Black Moosey, Black Polly or Black Saunders. And that�s your lot!)
    8. YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (the name of your childhood pet and the street you grew up on): Frenchie Romsey (*sigh* even my porn name�s a bit lame!)

    Oh, and I told peggeylc92 that I�d do this one, too:
    The challenge: write a six word memoir. (Here Im guessing that by �memoir� we�re talking �obituary� or similar. If Ive got it wrong, do let me know. Stuff like this doesn�t always translate from US to UK)
    The rules of the six word memoir tag are as follows:
    Write your own six word memoir. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you�d like (yeh. Like THAT could happen, Peg!). Link to the person that tagged you in your post (did that!).Tag five more blogs with links (Five!? With LINKS?!!! Aww, fucking hell. Anyone want to do it�.go ahead.)
    As for my six word memoir:
    Did As Would Be Done By
    Later
    S
    x





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