Ding Dong, the witch is dead (or 'gone to Esher'. Whatever)

2009-01-22, 10:15 p.m.
Me again.

Twice in a week! What must I be thinking of? Oh, yeh. I�m thinking about how many diary entries I�ve written about my girl-parts and the prolonged dearth of boy parts therein.

Its too many, dear readers. I resolve firmly to only mention sannies in passing from now on. There. They�ve passed.

I am pretty sure I can find something more interesting equally as moronic to write about without resorting to whining about things which, quite frankly, are sometimes best left unsaid.

Right. What can I bore you with tonight?

Dolores the Evil Boss had left me a quintillion emails to read when I got in to the office this morning. At least three quarters of them were the sort of email that a new boss writes when she is trying to find her feet. Pointing out the fucking obvious and issuing a string of instructions that didn�t need issuing cos, guess what, we do all that stuff already without her telling us. Kind of:

Easter is nearly upon us. You may not have realised, but Easter has been statistically proven to be the time of year when most Easter eggs are bought. These eggs are generally made of chocolate and are purchased from shops. Shops may be stocking larger volumes of Easter eggs at this time than at any other time of the year. So. Yeh. Get ready. In case someone wants to buy an egg. Made of chocolate. From a shop. Sincerely, Dolores Umbrage, Head of Making People *tut* Department

And

I have received an email from XYZ client. They are concerned about abc problem. I suggest 123 resolution and would like you to a) b) and c), first in consultation with 7, 8 and 9 who should be able to assist with any procedural issues. Please phone me if you have any difficulties. Kind Regards, Dolores

The first one I just ignored, because replying �No shit, Sherlock!� seemed likely to get me another carpeting, but I did reply to the second one. Some bits I only replied �in my head� so I�ll pop them in bold so you can see which bits are typing and which bits�ummm�aren�t:

�I have already seen the email from XYZ. because they sent it to ME, you cretin. They cc�d you because you are supposed to be the Head of Dept. They need not be concerned about abc problem as this affects only the clients in the Highlands of Scotland not in fucking GUILDFORD where they are! as was indicated in the explanatory notes which they and you have clearly not read. Your resolution is almost identical to that which I have already implemented I did miss out the bits you suggested which would make us look like bumbling buffoons � hope that�s OK although without recourse to a) b) and c) as these had already been carried out in June 2008 (copy notes on file which has been on your desk for three days). There should be no need for me to involve 7, 8 and 9 as the matter has been resolved to the satisfaction of all parties and also because 7 is on holiday for a fortnight, 8 works in a different non-connected department and 9 is my subordinate and takes instruction from me and not the other way around. I will be in the office all day if you have any questions like, �Im in the toilet. Which way round should I sit?�

Mercifully, one of the emails did say �I will be out of the office until Monday� so Slaveboy and I did a happyhappyjoyjoy dance. I did extra dancing cos, as I am on a photoshoot ALL NEXT WEEK, I will not have to deal with the ghastly old bat til Monday week.

When we�d finished dancing we did a little snidey �Oooh, what will we do without her?� type conversation. Slaveboy played the part of Prince Charles doing a meet-and-greet. I was Dolores.

Err, Hello. Nice to meet you. And what don�t you do?
*simper* I don�t do anything at all.*simper*
Ah. Splendid. Carry on.

I gave Slaveboy a 2 and a half hour lunch break today so he could go and pick up his new car (from a town about 30miles away). I hope tomorrow he will drive his new car to the dry cleaners and get his overcoat cleaned. Slaveboy�s overcoat smells like it once belonged to some squatters who allowed an old and damp Labrador to sleep in it. He really needs to NOT hang it on the back of his chair (next to the radiator). He�s normally fastidious about cleanliness and hygiene and stuff like that so I�m guessing it�s possibly a question of economics � its 15 quid to get an overcoat dry-cleaned and it�s still a week and a half til payday. He�s got til the 2nd of Feb, then I�m going after him with the Febreze.

I�ve been teaching tonight and my throat really hurts. That doesn�t usually happen but I haven�t been singing as much over the last couple of weeks so I think I�m just a bit out of practice. I�m sipping a large teeny Glenmorangie and hoping that will soothe things a bit. My temper, mostly, as I have been in a right mood this evening. L�s gone to a committee meeting so it�s just me and the laptop and the (nearly finished) Glenmorangie.

And you, of course!

No kids this weekend so I�m going to try to catch up on some sleep and some housework and a few little craft projects. I know that L wants me to help him with feeding a TV aerial cable down through the cavity wall from the loft to the TV room. This seems to involve some kind of weird Heath Robinson type gizmo with a hole in the wall and a hooky-type apparatus and a plumb-line and something to do with stepladders moving the contents of the loft and crawling boards and and and oh its all too much. I will wriggle out of it if I possibly can but the alternative is getting Lee to help and I am not sure if he is of�.erm�sufficiently willowy proportions to fit through the bloody loft hatch in the first place.

Its also Stepfordbro�s birthday on Saturday but I have yet to receive an invite to some fabulous soiree so I guess he is going out with his GF and we are firmly NOT INVITED.

Meh. We will make our own fun. And it will be way more funner.

S
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