randomrabbit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- See you at the bitter end So so long and so so dull. I�m wonderfully bored. I have absolutely nothing to do. One of the many joys of my crappy job is one day you�re rushed off your fat retarded ugly little feet, and the next - naff all. Today�s a bit of a mix - I�ve got nothing until about 5:30 then I�ve got to do the month end. Woo fucking hoo. I hate Friday month ends. I could go in Saturday morning to do it but I�d only do that if I needed to get an extra days holiday, and since I�ve got eleven to use up before Christmas and nothing to use them on, I don�t think I�ll bother. I was saving them in case I went away or if I had to take time off for interviews or something, but to get interviews you need to send off applications and update your CV and join agencies etc, all of which, it seems, I have absolutely no intention of doing anytime soon. I don�t think I could face having days off and just do nothing, so if you urgently need a holiday but have no days left, let me know and I�ll come in and do your job while you�re away. I was going to ask the MD for a lift when I�m done tonight, but instead I�m going to wait and see if he offers. And if he doesn�t? Well I�ll just walk home and think unpleasant thoughts about him all the way. My watch stopped on Wednesday, and yet I�m still wearing it. There was a gas leak in town yesterday. This probably explains why I could smell gas walking to the gym. Everywhere was cordoned off by police tape and the traffic diverted. To get to the gym on foot, I was told to follow the edge of the cordon right round, which I did, and was fed out neatly in to the oncoming traffic. I tried to duck under the tape to cut through a car park and get back on to the pavement, but I was told by a policewoman that, for my own safety, I wasn�t allowed to do that, and that I should get back on the road, with all the traffic, and climb over the railings further round. She was right of course because I later remembered that I was wearing nylon underwear which could have easily sent out an errant spark and ignited the whole bloody lot. And besides they�ve probably met their target for idiots getting themselves blown up in gas explosions, so instead if I could get myself hit in the face by a bus � well that would be just dandy. It also meant Kev had to park miles away from the gym, so we had a trek through town to get to the car looking, I thought, particularly fetching in smart trousers and trainers and being mildly moist from 45 minutes sweating. In fact we looked so skanky even Trinny and Susannah would have had to admit defeat and skipped the customary buying of new clothes and general turd polishing, opting instead to beat us to death with a clutch bag. I tend not to have a shower at the gym, hence the sweaty trudge around town. The changing rooms are shared with the swimming pool and the last thing you want while soaping up your genitals is a load of kids swarming in calling you a pervert. I�m never sure where the line is between being hygienic and excessive genital soaping, which, as people are far too quick to point out, is tantamount to masturbation. And besides I�m a bit uncomfortable in public showers. I get really self-conscious about the asymmetry of my buttocks. It�s not a huge difference, but my crack definitely bends to the left slightly creating a noticeable imbalance. I don�t think I could cope with anyone pointing it out and laughing, people can be so cruel about things like that. So I have a bath when I get home instead. The MD has just made me a cup of tea and left the teabag in it. I think it�s a mafia style horses head in the bed type warning, except in a much more reserved British way, in an attempt to get me to do some work. Or at the very least look as if I might be doing some work. Which by no stretch of the imagination I do given I�m in my office on about the third hour of my lunch listening to my MP3 player and reading Boris Johnson�s Seventy Two Virgins. And now I think about it, I might be bored stiff, but this work malarkey - she aint so bad. 4:24 p.m. - 2005-09-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||