Sunday, May 23, 2010
I forgot to mention that the Doctor has returned, in disgrace. I promised him I wouldn't mention what he smelt like when we were reunited. But even Josh would have slightly wrinkled his nose in response.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
On a happier note, I think the weekend's Expo managed to convince my parents that the Empire isn't as weird as they thought. Who could fail to look normal next to:
- the people who believe that if you sit under a pyramid, it changes your DNA;
- the guys claiming that we're all part of an inter-galactic experiment and are actually human-alien hybrids;
- the institution selling a Vitamin C supplement that can apparently cure schizophrenia;
- the woman who says rocks feel pain and don't like being trodden on; or
- the pamphlet I got which swears that you only get cancer if you're a cranky-pants?
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Empire deals in new age-y stuff. They sell candles and oils, hold classes for people who suffer things (don't ask; I'm still not sure), and the most beautiful woman I have ever, ever seen runs it. Seriously. She has no pores. I bet she bathes in... what's the most luxurious thing you can bathe in? Truffles. She bathes in a mix of truffles, caviar, lobster, wagyu beef, and angels' tears. Then she's rinsed with a fire hose to get the stink off.
Anyway. The Empire staff are really nice, albeit kind of spacey. Well, almost everyone; the assistant to the Most Beautiful Woman Ever is a freak. Hopefully I'll never have to work with her. Another girl started on the same day as me (we did the aptitude tests together and, boy, do I wish I could post about those because they'd make your hair curl, but hello confidentiality clause) but she doesn't seem to be doing very well. At least I don't think so. It's kind of hard to tell. On the plus side, the Empire seems to think I have a talent for their ...whatchamacallit. On the down side, I've got a sneaking suspicion that I've just been lucky and any moment now they'll realise that employing me was a mistake.
Having a talent would be pretty good, though. I don't think I have any. (None that I'll admit to in public, anyway.) Can't cook. Can't sing. Can't play an instrument, because I don't think the recorder counts. Can't knit. Can't perform complicated mathematical equations. It's a litany of failure. However, I can read people fairly well. It may come in handy.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Less cranky now. Bad dates tend to do that to me. Particularly bad dates that looked as if they were going to be good dates and then... stuff happened. I'm not going to dwell on it. However, it's made me wonder - what isn't a good enough reason to break up with someone?
Bernard is my ideal partner, except for his:
* collection of Two and a Half Men DVDs.
* slight tendency to spit on the footpath.
* frequent use of the word "panties".
* Nazi sympathies.
But what do you do if it's not so obvious? Last year I turned down a dinner with a guy who had a really high-pitched giggle. I couldn't help it; every time he laughed, I imagined his testicles to be the size of Tic-Tacs.
Anise, from the corner chair, would like me to add that she once ended a relationship because the guy refused to try Malaysian food. I shall quote directly: "It denoted a degree of pointless inflexibility, which would probably end up extending to other areas in his life." I assume she's referring to The Sex. Yes, says Anise. "Duh," she adds.
However. If your paramour (who is a sweetie in every other way and super cute and has really nice hands and a sense of humour that makes you snort-laugh) basically implies that you're working for scammers and are possibly too dim to realise it, what then? My current method of coping is avoiding his calls. Call me a coward. I don't mind.
OK, I do mind. But it's either this or One of Those Conversations. And I'm really bad at Those Conversations.
TV, in particular, is useless. SBS is showing yet another documentary on Hitler. Do they have ANY OTHER DOCUMENTARIES? Because every time I switch over it's either Hitler or Obscure Sex Movie. Hitler! Sex! Hitler! Sex! Tour de France! Hitler! CHRIST ALMIGHTY, DO YOU PEOPLE HAVE ANYTHING ELSE IN THE ARCHIVES?
See? Don't blog when you're cross.
And I've just realised I've been using 'blog' as a verb. Kill me now.
I will try again tomorrow. My mood will be better. Off to have a soothing cup of tea, nicked from New Job.