Toasted Slaveboy, anyone?

2008-10-23, 10:30 p.m.
Hello, my little pumpkins and Look! I�m not dead!

I always know when I need to update�.my buddies start emailing me and telling me so (waves to singledadguy)! He suggested that Id probably been too busy to update and he was absolutely right.

Sadly, I have almost nothing of import to impart so I�ll just run through the week that was and you can see why I couldn�t squeeze in a nice big fat juicy update for y�all.

����������������.*thinking*���������Nope. I got nothing. Dontcha hate it when that happens? Just sitting there in front of the PC thinking �I must have done SOMETHING!�

Actually, I DO have one tiny nugget of info. Unmarried Parent Person, when he isn�t checking up to make sure I�m not dead, was asking me what I sound like. He says when he reads diaries of people he�s met in RL, then he can hear their voice saying the words. I guess I can, too, as I know annanotbob and smashthegas and I can easily hear their voices in my head when I�m reading about their exploits. He said he imagines I sound like Judy Dench. I don�t. After some careful canvassing of opinion (the kids and L), the consensus seems to be that I sound a bit like Jennifer Saunders��but not quite so posh. I�m not sure if I�m pleased about that or not.

Edit: just asked smashiepoos and he said something along the lines of me sounding like someone from the sticks whose dad�s come into some money and so she thinks she has to talk posh. Remind me again why I have him as a friend? Then he texted me and suggested Frances de la Tour which had me sniggering for about an hour.

Second Edit: L says it would be a �piece of piss� to record me speaking a whole entry and then I can podcast it like I have done with the bits of music Ive put up here occasionally. When something fabulous happens, I think I�ll do that � it�ll be like Jackanory�.with whisky

*gasp* I know what I was going to tell you! You know that shirking little bastard, Slaveboy? Well, after bunking off last week with some non-specific mystery ailment (his sicknote just said �headache and felt sick���which actually turned out to not be such a pathetic excuse after all as I think I caught it too and I had to come home and go to bed on Friday I felt so rough. But that�s by the by), the day before yesterday I found that he had once again fucked up the stats reports and I had to do a mad scramble to unfuck them so my guv could write her management report.

So. I got to spend my last 20 minutes of worktime, scrabbling about with a shitload of spreadsheets, tutting and berating Slaveboy all the while as he clearly hadn�t taken in any of the training he�d been given � training that he said he didn�t need cos he�s �got a degree�. The final straw was his excuse for fucking everything up in the first place, which was:

�Yes. But I just don�t dooooooooo Excel (said in the same way as �wear Crimplene�), its just not really my thing.�

So. He got a roasting (I didn�t yell. I just told him how it should be in a slightly terse, yet moderated, tone).

Then I went home.

Next morning, he was out of the office. My guv called me in for a little meeting. After starting off by saying she wasn�t sure how I was going to take what she was going to say and if I wanted to take it further after she�d finished speaking, then she could call HR in for me. Of course, I immediately started running through my own Back Catalogue of Fuckups, thinking I�d done something heinous or, (worse!) she�d found out something which I thought Id got away with. But no! It wasn�t me at all!

It appears that once Id gone home the day before, Slaveboy had got straight on the phone to one of his pals and roundly rubbished me in coarse language and ringing tone FOR AN HOUR!!!!! Now, our office is open plan, so what he said about me was heard by my entire department, all the marketing department and all the finance department. And my guv.

The little fucker.

My guv said, if I wanted to, I could �make something of it�, which I took to mean �we can roast him over an open fire, lit with tapers made from fucked up spreadsheets, after first scoring his lazy arse with my ornamental letter opener and sprinkling him liberally with Maldon�. I thought about it for a bit. Then I played my trump card. I said, �if Slavey doesn�t come back from maternity leave, do I have to keep Slaveboy?� and, apparently, the answer is NO! So, get this, you disloyal, whiny, self-important, hand-flapping little twat, your ass is grass come January!!!! Either I get my dearly beloved Slavey back (although, I don�t think she�s gonna come back. After all, B.O.M.S v. Twat Inc? It�s a no-brainer) or I get to choose myself a more pleasant and less hysterical shiny brand new slave!! Yay!

So, I got to be all grown up and brave and professional about it all and say �I don�t really think I need to take it further, thanks guv. His histrionics are of no real consequence and Ive fought off bigger adversaries than him.� To which my guv said, �Yes. I expect you have.�

*shrugs* whatever.

Tonight I was teaching and OH it was such fun. We were doing �Should I Stay or Should I Go?� � L came in to produce/sound engineer for us and we did lots of screeching and jumping around. Well, sometimes you need a break from power ballads, dontcha? The hardest bit was getting the pupil to loosen up a bit � not every song has to be textbook perfect, does it! We sneakily recorded her when she wasn�t looking. She was surprised how cool it sounded, even allowing for the crappy midi files I use for my teaching. We�ll work on it a bit next week and I think it could sound really good. Sadly for her, tho, its always gonna be a song that I sing better than her (unlike some of the other ones we�ve done, the bitch!). Punk will out, I guess.

L went and picked his dad up from the nursing home today and brought him round to the Palace of Many Sins to see the studio. There�s lots of photos of him looking slightly bemused but L says he had a lovely time and was taking it all in. L played lots of old Big Band stuff for him to listen to (he was a jazz drummer back in the day) and they watched a bit of a DVD on the big screens. I�m not sure The Bourne Ultimatum was the best viewing choice for man with Alzheimers � its confusing enough for those who still have all their faculties but, hey.

And that�s all I got.

Later
S
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