Hilarious!
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_1399668.html
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Monday, May 16, 2005
The interview
The idiocy of forgetting my umbrella in London on the day I have a job interview, and arriving dripping wet and late. I didn't realise that changing lines at The Bank would include a 15 min hike up and down stairs in my ridiculous interview stilletos. Was wobbling on my heels like a faun and arrived with mascara running down my face.
Disaster. They were cool about it though. Seemed to have made up their mind anyway.
Graeme had a Paddington Bear narrator type of voice, while Andy thought he was Simon Cowell meets Vin Diesel, yet it was Graeme who played the 'bad cop' with the harder questions.
Went well though. Very well. But do I want to return to IT Journalism? Or do I stay in my horrible job, take a 'career break' and concentrate on saving my pennies for 3 more months - then go home and get a real job. If I took the job, I'm agreeing to stay a while longer. I don't think I can do it - live in London. Too think I wanted to come here for so long, but when I finally have the money I have something worth a lot more at home to give up. And I do it anyway.
Life rarely turns out the way we want it.
Appealing to stick it out and get the f* off money, then shoot to SA and Inca alone and then jump off a big cliff. Life complete. Woodbunny out.
Disaster. They were cool about it though. Seemed to have made up their mind anyway.
Graeme had a Paddington Bear narrator type of voice, while Andy thought he was Simon Cowell meets Vin Diesel, yet it was Graeme who played the 'bad cop' with the harder questions.
Went well though. Very well. But do I want to return to IT Journalism? Or do I stay in my horrible job, take a 'career break' and concentrate on saving my pennies for 3 more months - then go home and get a real job. If I took the job, I'm agreeing to stay a while longer. I don't think I can do it - live in London. Too think I wanted to come here for so long, but when I finally have the money I have something worth a lot more at home to give up. And I do it anyway.
Life rarely turns out the way we want it.
Appealing to stick it out and get the f* off money, then shoot to SA and Inca alone and then jump off a big cliff. Life complete. Woodbunny out.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
The Hate All Men stage
Wednesday night - Out to dinner with Keryn. Dinner was 2 bottles of wine and a small bowl of patatas bravas. The waiter winkedat me as he served the calamari. Think I loudly rubbished all men, and then volunteered to join a triathlon team.
Thursday – after work drinks. Met an Aussie guy that moved to London and shagged some girl so he could stay at her place rent free, but then dumped her for another girl who loved closer to his tube line. What kind of man is that? Believe I told him what I thought of that, so not winning any friends in the office. Of course, his boss is a woman and he's doing pretty well at the firm. 'You give me a raise and I'll give you one.'
Friday – bizarre. Was on way to gym, but ended up in pub. Next thing I know I'm in a hip hop bar called Trash and Treasure in Brick Lane. There is a rumour that David Hasselhoff is in the pub. Excellent hiphop but lots of bad bald geezers in flouro dancing like it'sManchester 1990.
Met a girl that had been to an Advertising Firm's Asian themed party and got a t-shirt made up that said 'Ming Vase', but due to a printing error the t-shirt actually said 'Minge Vase'. This is why copywriters and sub-editors are important!
Jumped in a minicab home with a short Indian man called Harsh, who tried to kiss me goodbye and I spun around so fast to avoid it that I smashed my head on the car door. His name means 'the one who brings love and gifts to the village of Arshta' – but not to the town of Putney.
Saturday – horrendous hen's booze up from hell – all day at Brighton. Got told by some obese whiskey nosed geezer that I look exactly like someone's sister – except she's prettier. "I mean, you're alright. But this girl is really pretty. I mean hot." Thanks mate. And you look like Rodney Dangerfield, except more decrepit.
The bride to be gets horrendous text message from fiancé stag saying 'I don't hate you but…' (what an opening) 'you are on the brink of losing me'. Spend night hugging her and telling her she's awesome and men are rubbish.
Decided that by the time my hen's night comes up, all the hens will have zimmerframes and dementia.
Return to London at 1am. End up stranded in city due to train strike, with girl from work who tells me about the end of her long distance relationship (LDR), and how she thinks about it. Everyday. Every minute. 'When was that?', '10 years ago'. She is now a bitter mid-30's chain-smoking lush with a voice like a gurgling ashtray. So there is hope for me.
Thursday – after work drinks. Met an Aussie guy that moved to London and shagged some girl so he could stay at her place rent free, but then dumped her for another girl who loved closer to his tube line. What kind of man is that? Believe I told him what I thought of that, so not winning any friends in the office. Of course, his boss is a woman and he's doing pretty well at the firm. 'You give me a raise and I'll give you one.'
Friday – bizarre. Was on way to gym, but ended up in pub. Next thing I know I'm in a hip hop bar called Trash and Treasure in Brick Lane. There is a rumour that David Hasselhoff is in the pub. Excellent hiphop but lots of bad bald geezers in flouro dancing like it'sManchester 1990.
Met a girl that had been to an Advertising Firm's Asian themed party and got a t-shirt made up that said 'Ming Vase', but due to a printing error the t-shirt actually said 'Minge Vase'. This is why copywriters and sub-editors are important!
Jumped in a minicab home with a short Indian man called Harsh, who tried to kiss me goodbye and I spun around so fast to avoid it that I smashed my head on the car door. His name means 'the one who brings love and gifts to the village of Arshta' – but not to the town of Putney.
Saturday – horrendous hen's booze up from hell – all day at Brighton. Got told by some obese whiskey nosed geezer that I look exactly like someone's sister – except she's prettier. "I mean, you're alright. But this girl is really pretty. I mean hot." Thanks mate. And you look like Rodney Dangerfield, except more decrepit.
The bride to be gets horrendous text message from fiancé stag saying 'I don't hate you but…' (what an opening) 'you are on the brink of losing me'. Spend night hugging her and telling her she's awesome and men are rubbish.
Decided that by the time my hen's night comes up, all the hens will have zimmerframes and dementia.
Return to London at 1am. End up stranded in city due to train strike, with girl from work who tells me about the end of her long distance relationship (LDR), and how she thinks about it. Everyday. Every minute. 'When was that?', '10 years ago'. She is now a bitter mid-30's chain-smoking lush with a voice like a gurgling ashtray. So there is hope for me.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Barren piece of earth
Does it make sense to sacrifice my one and only life for this desolate patch of soil from which no shaft of grain would ever spring?
Something was torn out of me. I have lost weight. Perhaps this weight is the exact weight of my heart. But why do I feel as heavy as a stone.
Think like a stone. The only thing a rock knows is how to fall.
Something was torn out of me. I have lost weight. Perhaps this weight is the exact weight of my heart. But why do I feel as heavy as a stone.
Think like a stone. The only thing a rock knows is how to fall.
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