Work is still the pile of steaming excrement that it always is at this time of year, and what with Valentines Day and UK Mothers Day being just two weeks apart this year, its pretty much a steaming pile of excrement�with a cherry on top.
Volunteers have been requested to work the day before Mothers Day but the only way it will be me is if they come round to my house and drag me kicking and screaming to the office. They can fuck off, basically. If I wanted to work in a battery farm call centre, with a Saturday rota, then I jolly well would. But I don�t. So they can all fuck off. Presumably those who volunteer will be favourably looked-upon at salary review time (beginning of April) but as I know I am already at the top of my pay scale and unlikely to go any higher unless I suddenly grow a penis, they can all fuck off. Did I say they can all fuck off yet? Well they can. Fuck right off.
Tomorrow I have to do an annual appraisal for my new Slave (whom I love nearly as much as my old Slave despite him being gay and meaning therefore that I have to get him to do what I want by alternative means other than flirting � a technique which has stood me in perfectly good stead for my entire career, I might say!), which should be fun. Im not sure on what criteria I should be judging him but today�s little nugget of joy was enough to ensure that I look favourably on him for several days to come:
SlaveBoy staggers into office carrying enormous bundle of cardboard packaging tubes
Stepfie: Today, children, SlaveBoy is going to show us how to make a pipe organ.
SlaveBoy: *pretending to play pipe organ and smiling benignly into camera* I always wanted to be a TV presenter
PR Co-worker: Oooh, you�d be good at that! Children�s TV presenter! You could be on Big Cook, Little Cook
SlaveBoy: *sighing ruefully* Ah! What a splendid show! And just one letter away from the show Id REALLY love to be on!
Me and Slave Boy and PR Co-worker are on a Departmental Diet which mostly means that PRC and I whine about how crap diets are and how much we want a pie. With chips. Meanwhile, Slave Boy goes into town and has an �All Day Breakfast Baguette� (�what did it have in it?� We asked, �Cornflakes?� �Yes� he replied, �and half a grapefruit�) and a hot chocolate with whipped cream. To hoots of derision he then spends the next half an hour explaining how many days it is until he goes on holiday and how many fractions of a pound he needs to lose each day to still reach his target weight so he can be God-like on the beaches of wherever-he�s-going and how it is easily achievable, especially if he lives on�ummm�water for the next three weeks.
That he is like a rasher of wind in the first place only heightens our mirth as he is phenomenally vain and him showing me his �massive love-handles� resulted in me laughing for about an hour, whilst screeching �That�s your SKIN, you twat! If you didn�t have that you would rip in half every time you leaned sideways!�. SlaveBoy, meanwhile pinched his nonexistent �rolls of disgusting flab� and made mutterings about being winched out of his house live on Jerry Springer.
So. What else is new, apart from stuff that hasn�t been used before?
Most shocking news of the week so far is that Mater and Pater came for dinner on Sunday as it was Mater�s birthday on Monday. Whilst that isn�t shocking in itself, her leaving my house at around midnight and stopping to kiss BF and then Lee (who happened to be standing there!) and THEN ME most certainly was!!!!! Her most un-favoured offspring whom she hasn�t kissed for about five years! Anyone else have a slightly strained relationship with their mother? Here�s (apparently) how to fix it � sit her at the dinner table and stuff her full of smoked salmon pate followed by a roast pork traditional Sunday dinner followed by profiteroles (with a birthday candle stuck in the top of the mound, naturally!) and strawberries. At some time during the proceedings, present her with her paltry birthday gift � Ive found a coffee coloured top from Dorothy Perkins seems to work well. There! Job done! She will be pleasant and gracious throughout and will telephone a couple of days later when you forget to take some stuff round to her house and will NOT HAVE A GO AT YOU but will say, sympathetically �Aww, I know this time of year�s a bit hectic with work for you. Never mind, I�ll pick it up on Thursday when I see you anyway, save you making a special trip.� Dear readers, I greatly fear she has been abducted and replaced with some kind of �proper� mum. It cant last.
If anyone knows how to make a music clip appear on my diary, can they let me know. I stress that the necessary procedure must be SIMPLE and not involve any technical terms whatsoever. If any of you can some up with a solution, I could post the file of my lovely singing pupil�s version of �Black Horse and a Cherry Tree� which the even lovelier BF produced and mixed for me today when he should have been working. Either that or I will have to burn a whole load of CDs and give them away with each read of my diary. Not fantastically practical, that option.
My back is absolutely killing me today, after getting into a stupidly athletic position, obviously intended for a younger and more bendy person, last night whilst having sex. BFs offer of a cure: �a nice kidney massage, from the inside� is only strengthening my resolve to never never never have sex with him again. Obviously, my resolve is pretty strong at the moment as he isn�t actually in the house, by I imagine it will have weakened by midnight or so. I am off the booze as part of my fucking stupid diet healthy eating plan but luckily Mummy�s Special Herbs don�t have any calories OR grammes of fat in them so I shall still be elegantly wasted upon retiring.
Ooh! On that note, a chance conversation with my most splendid Smashyfriend turned up the subject of the �vinegar stroke soundtrack� � you know, that music which plays in your head at the point of no return. Me and BF have on occasion both slumped back onto the pillows and, on getting our breath back, have launched into spirited renditions of the 1812 Overture (He usually does the cannon sounds). When I started explaining this to Smash, he immediately chipped in with the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel�s Messiah as his climactic soundtrack. Any more for any more? Oh doooo tell us your cum chorus! Im particularly interested to find out whether orgasm is ALWAYS accompanied by classical music or whether other genres can be equally represented. Just so long as Norah Jones doesn�t feature too heavily.*
Wedding plans are still a bit hit and miss. Im kind of bored with the whole process if Im honest. Managed to get some bridesmaids dresses in the sale on Saturday which was one job done, I guess. Stupidly arranged for the marquee man to come to the house while I was at work � BF said he�d deal with it. Id costed what we needed out to about �800 so I was a bit surprised to get a quote for �2200. BF had a small, registry office wedding last time so he�s quite keen on the whole �proper wedding� type thing (even tho he says he�s not!). I fear I may have to reign him in a bit�says she, who has just commissioned an artist to design a tie for him to wear � A tie which is costing the same as, oh, around a DOZEN regular ties. Well, the boy�s gotta look nice, doesn�t he and it�s a present from me so it doesn�t count as a proper wedding expense. Gotta do some kind of guest list pretty soon, too, I guess. Meh.
Lee is still living with us, and is likely to be doing so til around the end of March. I don�t mind as he is good company and pays ME rent. In CASH. Anne Marie has sent me some very sad-sounding emails as she is obviously very cut up about them splitting up. I wont take sides as I love them both and its not really anybody�s fault that they�ve split so Ive offered to go up and see Anne Marie. Lee seemed to think it would be a good idea too so I might try to do it this weekend if I have time. Its about a 50 mile drive to where she lives but its motorway all the way so shouldn�t take too long.
BF is so stacked out with work that we are having to employ some specialist builders to finish off the studio. They start on 18th Feb. Its costing an absolute fortune, but it will all be ready and finished in around 8 weeks so I guess it�ll be worth it. As well as their wages, we have to find (and pay for!) their accommodation which seems outrageous but I guess the labour bill would be higher if they had to find their own digs. I just cant wait til its over. Not least because it will get BF out of the room he is currently using and we can finally have the TV room we want (ie no TV in the sitting room! � y�wanna melt your brain watching shite? Go do it in a smaller and less pleasant room! Us grownups is usin� the sitting room. Mostly for�.sittin�. And doin� nuthin).
More soon, dears.
Later
S
x
*A standing joke in our house. When BF and I are finally too broke to manage any other way, we will go out as a guitar/vocal duo around the pubs and clubs of Chigley. I shall dedicate the first song of the evening to Shagnasty and it�ll be �Don�t Know Why I Didn�t Come�.