The joy of responsibility. (Or the lack thereof)
With my blithe avoidence of work on the upperswing, i must now protest. I have just recieved an email from work telling me that i have 32 hours of time that i owe them.
Fuckery.
This means i will be looking at dedgirlsbits for a very long time.
I am not in this gig to do work! I am in it for the unflattering surgical greens i have to wear, the stunning amount of free narcotics that never seem to flow my way and the unavoidable smell that creeps through even the haze of Pine-o-clean and ammonia.
Sigh. looks like i will now have to come up with a mystery illness to disguise the fatc the the casualty reports i was working on 3 months ago are all covered in cat urine. I think a healthy combination of Marburg and Lassa will do it, maybe a touch of Congo fever and Ebola Reston. How about i just go into work painted red and say my bowel violently exploded and i need a few days to recover?
Hmm, do you think that will fool a room full of some of the cleverest people in the country.?
Damn right it will.
On a brighter note, my hausfreundfuhrer and i went for a walk tonight, down chapel street where i learnt that a minibus doing burnouts on a busy intersection is a cause for hilarity.
I am in a disturbingly good mood for a single guy home alone (my hausfreundfuhrersimulcrum does not count)on a friday night, even though i did have a good time mucking around with such said housemate, eating icecream with chocmint ice magic and playing maracas.
anyway, time for me to go and read books.
It seems all i do is read books. all i want now is God to come down and ask me some questions a'la "who wants to suck up to eddie magu- sorry, be a millionaire". what is the good in being an ex arts wanker if i cannot show it off?
Bah i say, Bah.
Fuckery.
This means i will be looking at dedgirlsbits for a very long time.
I am not in this gig to do work! I am in it for the unflattering surgical greens i have to wear, the stunning amount of free narcotics that never seem to flow my way and the unavoidable smell that creeps through even the haze of Pine-o-clean and ammonia.
Sigh. looks like i will now have to come up with a mystery illness to disguise the fatc the the casualty reports i was working on 3 months ago are all covered in cat urine. I think a healthy combination of Marburg and Lassa will do it, maybe a touch of Congo fever and Ebola Reston. How about i just go into work painted red and say my bowel violently exploded and i need a few days to recover?
Hmm, do you think that will fool a room full of some of the cleverest people in the country.?
Damn right it will.
On a brighter note, my hausfreundfuhrer and i went for a walk tonight, down chapel street where i learnt that a minibus doing burnouts on a busy intersection is a cause for hilarity.
I am in a disturbingly good mood for a single guy home alone (my hausfreundfuhrersimulcrum does not count)on a friday night, even though i did have a good time mucking around with such said housemate, eating icecream with chocmint ice magic and playing maracas.
anyway, time for me to go and read books.
It seems all i do is read books. all i want now is God to come down and ask me some questions a'la "who wants to suck up to eddie magu- sorry, be a millionaire". what is the good in being an ex arts wanker if i cannot show it off?
Bah i say, Bah.