*tsk*
Funnily enough, I never had a particularly impressive embonpoint as a youngster. I was always �the skinny chick with the long legs� and it was a short skirt, rather than a low cut top which was my Pulling Outfit of choice. Still, now they�re here I might as well keep em. Now if I can just lose the 10 pounds or so of extra flesh that�s resolutely sticking to my arse and midriff all will be tickety boo and I shall be Queen Milf or whatever slightly icky term there is these days for us ladies-not-quite-in-the-first-flush-of-youth.
I shall be 42 in a fortnight�s time and have started my pre-birthday depression in readiness. Mostly this manifests itself in
I hope to be sufficiently miserable by the time my actual birthday comes around for even the most rubbish of presents (see last years birthday entry) to seem really fabulous and cheer-making.
Last night, as the girlies were at Shagnasty�s, L and I went to the workies for a while and watched a bit of the football on the big screen. It was Champions League, Liverpool v. Standard Liege. I was bored after the first five minutes. At the top of the screen you could see a little ticker thingy showing how long the match had been playing and the score. Because some people are thick they like to tell you who�s playing but because there�s not much room they like to abbreviate these things. It said �LIV 0 � 0 STA�, which is obviously �Liverpool NIL, Standard Liege NIL�.
Or � Livoosta�.
Livoosta isn�t a real proper word but it got me thinking about whether or not there could ever be an instance of two teams playing each other and the score being such that it would say a rude word at the top of the screen. I thought and thought right through to half way through the second half but I couldn�t think of a single one. Neither could L. So this bit of tonights diary entry doesn�t really have a proper ending. Needless to say, if you can come up with one, do let me know and I shall be sure to pass it off as my own idea give you proper credit. Off you go then!
Conversation in bed last night:
L (fondling his wife): Your skin feels lovely and you smell nice. What did you do?
Me: I rubbed myself with a rasher of that bacon we had for dinner
L (stopping abruptly): You�re not good at taking compliments are you?
In case you hadn�t noticed, my thoughts are all whizzing about all over the place today. This is mostly because tomorrow I have to do a �Performance Management� meeting with Slaveboy (my sec) and Troy (my guv).
Slaveboy has gone, in the space of about three months, from �fabulously efficient and helpful quick-learner� to �fucking irritating, shiftless, skiving, whiny know-nothing�. I am aware that he is actively looking for another job (aren�t we all!) but, dude! At least LOOK like you�re still working! Getting caught facebooking when you have forwarded your phone because you�re �too busy� to answer it just doesn�t cut it, Im afraid. Oh, and surreptitiously texting the muscle-bound builder with whom you have a hot date tonight every two seconds in the middle of yesterdays Procedure Training Meeting which YOU WERE CHAIRING wasn�t a big winner with Troy either. Me hissing �I�ll take that fucking phone away from you in a minute� didn�t even dissuade him. There�s a shit-load of other stuff he�s done which I need to deal with but its all Twat Inc specific, so I cant tell you or I�ll have to kill you all. Sorry. Needless to say I have covered up for him as much as possible but he�s really trying my patience.
When Im arranging for him to go on a training course to learn something he REALLY needs to do to be able to do his job properly, saying �I can just download some help docs from the web. IIII don�t go on courses, IIIII�ve got a DEGREE, you know!� didn�t help either.
Final straw was me, getting in a 8 this morning to spend an hour sorting out the statistics soup he�s made of Toast�s lovely new spreadsheets for the THIRD TIME THIS MONTH, only to find an email from Troy wanting an explanation on why a clients profiles haven�t been updated yet as they are hopping up and down with impatience. This client came to us from our main competitor, so its in our interests to keep them sweet.
I had no idea that we even HAD profile changes from them so I searched. When I searched Slaveboy�s desk I found a big pile of client profile updates (clipped together with a big gay purple sparkly bulldog clip, natch!) and the one which Troy had emailed me about was amongst them. Datestamped 9th JULY!!!! I took it back to my desk and did it myself. It took 25 minutes. I cant ignore that sort of fuck-aboutery. Two months to (not) do 25 minutes work? I had to explain to Troy and now Slaveboy�s gonna get flayed.
Im used to asking my subordinates to do stuff, nicely, and them doing it. If they cant do it, then they tell me and I help them (with extra time/knowledge/assistance whatever). I don�t know how to deal with co-workers who just ignore requests, hide work and whine. Troy is leading on the Performance Management Meeting but its me who�s going to look like a fucking bitch, Im sure.
*sigh* (and that was a real one, not just a faux miserable, faux podgy, faux old-person one)