Thursday, 28 September 2006

I'm a little teapot

Well maybe I'm not quite a little teapot but I got a teapot today, and a mug, and a sugar bowl.

Work is a funny thing. I worked my socks off yesterday, did loads, knocked a lot of tasks off my to do list, which was quite satisfying really. I call it work because I was supplying information, requesting information, organising things, making decisions.

Whereas today was completely different. I just sat in a room, listened, talked, listened again and did another bit of talking again and did some more listening. Is that really work? There was definitely an information exchange but it's not really work, is it?

I had coffee in Starbucks with Tracey, thanks Tracey, because we were early. For the morning we sat in comfy chairs, in a nice building, with proper coffee and pastries. Granted we were doing some listening and talking but it's not what I call graft.

Lunch was at a very nice restaurant (could have done wine and pudding but knew I was going to the gym tonight so didn't).

Afternoon was a bit of the same from the morning except there was a teapot, mug and sugar thingy.

Anyway, it's not hard work and whilst it was honest, it's not honest work if you know what I mean.

And the obscene thing is I got paid a lot to do it.

Tuesday, 26 September 2006


If you knew those were the words you were going to hear on Monday morning, "You're fired!", what would you do?

Firstly, to cover myself from a legal/ethical/blah blah position can I just say that, to my knowledge, this blog has no bearing to any person living or dead. I should probably add that none of the ideas below are endorsed by me or anyone I know.

Right, now I'm thinking vindictive.

Would you start a rumour about the person doling out the bad news? Maybe you could start a rumour about an unorthodox and slightly disturbing sexual practice they once told you about in confidence.

Would you break an egg in a few filing cabinet drawers in the knowledge that, over time, once you'd left, the smell would slowly permeate, and once the source was discovered it would be very difficult to remove?

Would you leave 2 inch nails or similar under the tyre of the person firing you?

Would you consider the old sugar in the petrol tank or potato in the exhaust pipe?

What about using Photoshop to convincingly doctor some photos, that could be left obtrusively around the building.

Perhaps you'd approach the press with a story of victimisation or maybe you'd start a blog all about it.

Would you tamper with the contents of the staff canteen?

Would you jam all the vending machine slots?

Or would you take it quietly and then sue for unfair dismissal?

Monday, 25 September 2006

The weirdo?

Everyone gets weird messages on MySpace. It's not just me. So I kind of expect the stuff like the yellow man from Paignton: Pedro the Lemsip boy or something. Ok the guy is totally painted yellow and he does this for a living and he wants to be my friend....why? Actually more to the point, how is it that he has 900 friends? How did that happen?

And then there are the simple messages saying Hi with a small intro and they're OK, not too freaky. But the other day one did worry me.

It was from someone calling themselves D. Very anonymous which aroused suspicions. And the message body just said "Nice Booty".

I was trying to figure out why someone would say that. Had they seen me, were they speculating, was I being stalked?

I know this sounds daft because you've seen the picture on my MySpace but honestly I just didn't get it for ages.

So for maybe a day I worried I was being stalked. And then, I finally got it and realised the connection with the photo.

And then I get to work this morning and "D" said to me "Did you get my message?". And it all makes sense. And then I worry, maybe I am being stalked....

Sunday, 24 September 2006


I rarely do serious, but today I will make an exception.

Yesterday I received a friend request from a stranger. Normally I read the profile, figure out whether it's a band, a weirdo, or a real life friend in disguise. Anyway yesterday it was from someone who fitted into none of these groups. You can see them on my friend list: Live Life then Give Life.

Normally MySpace is used for self promotion, friend networks, because it's there, it provides a platform for sharing photos etc. Well "Live Life then Give Life" are using MySpace to promote something, but it's something really positive - organ donation.

You may have completed a donor card in the past, and maybe you've lost it, maybe you think it's on your driving licence or maybe you'd forgotten about organ donation and donor cards.

Well did you know you could register online? You can at:

This website also provides access to free merchandise (pens, sweets, balloons etc). Now you may not work for a big company, but if you do, how's this for an idea?: get loads of merchandise together with leaflets about how to register to be a donor and make it all available at your workplace. It's a small amount of effort on your part, but think of the difference you will make if, as the result of your actions, one person who needs an organ to save their life gets one. It doesn't have to be a large workplace but I figure that with access to about 9,000 employees I ought to give it a go.

And this isn't personal for me. I don't know anyone who needs an organ and I don't know anyone that's benefitted. It just seems like the right thing to do.

Sorry for being serious. Normal banality will be resumed tomorrow.

Saturday, 23 September 2006

Cosmetic surgery

Do you reckon there will ever be the point when the NHS pays for cosmetic surgery to prevent depression?

I can fake depression. I've seen it in the flesh enough times, and suffered as well, so I can do a pretty convincing job. So if I went off on one because I thought I needed cosmetic surgery do you think the NHS response ought to be to provide those little green pills (told you I'd suffered) or do you think they should treat the root cause (the observed need for cosmetic surgery).

My demands would start small: a little tuck here and there, maybe some nipping, not sure but maybe some botox. So not too expensive, although my husband has implied the need for a boob job.

So perhaps we ought to review the associated costs: little green pills for a lifetime vs a few cosmetic procedures.

So what would you vote for: pills or surgery?

Friday, 22 September 2006

Freaking out

Am I losing it? I decided today that the school Nativity play is freaking me out.

I know it's September.

What the school don't realise is that I need 3 months notice if I have to produce a costume. Clearly if my daughter gets picked to be Mary then it's not a problem, but she has red hair so chances are slim (that's so Ginger-ist but true). So she'll probably end up being a sheep or camel. Now shepherd I could probably cope with, but that's probably about it.

You're thinking I'm a weirdo uber mum that has to everything properly, you know, cakes for the school fair (homebaked of course) etc but you would be so wrong. I'm just useless when it comes to anything creative like how to make a 4 year old look like a sheep.

I'm reading a book "Mother's Day" (chick lit, borrowed from a friend) and I think that's what started it off. One of the kids in the book is a camel for the Nativity play and one is a lizard. Camel, Lizard - wtf. I know I ought to calm down, this is fiction after all and reality is an entirely different thing but I can't help myself.

And the thing that will make me even more anxious is when I start surfing the web for ideas on how to make these outfits and I'll be overwhelmed by the needlework skill required. There is always the possibility that I could cheat and buy, but can you buy camel outfits for 4 year olds?

Maybe I'm too fixated on the camel idea.

Thursday, 21 September 2006


Today I learned the following:
- If you're a Postie on a bike it's OK to cycle the wrong way up a one way street.
- If you live in a street it's OK to drive the wrong way down your own street if it's one way.
- My husband doesn't appreciate me even though he says he does. (This point of view might change as I think I'm just stroppy side out tonight).
- I think I may have pissed off someone at work, which isn't unusual, but this time it was unintentional.
- There's someone I thought I could trust but now I don't think I should.
- I can do one upside-down trick on the pole.

Wednesday, 20 September 2006


We all know that the internet is for porn, right? Well on the subject of porn...

Old fashioned porn, you know the paper based stuff, I've always thought was a private thing: something to be enjoyed in the privacy of your own home. Well no, apparently not. It was made for sharing and not with your partner, with your mates.

I had no idea that people who like porn often share it with their friends, but the boys at work changed my view on this subject. Now none of them put their hands up to partaking, either in porn or porn sharing, which just goes back to my original assumption that porn is a private occupation, but they generally agreed that men share porn around.

Now there was some discussion about whether the porn would be usable by the time it reached it's fourth "user" and some visible distaste displayed by some at the thought of sharing, but the consensus was that sharing was normal.

I was more than a bit disturbed that one of the girls at the table knew someone who enjoyed violent porn featuring rape and similar. I hear that and I think psycho rapist, domestic violence and other hideous crimes. Maybe I'm judging this individual unfairly and maybe he's a paragon, but I doubt it.

Tuesday, 19 September 2006

Going to the gym

I normally go to the gym with long suffering Mel. The poor girl has to put up with me "downloading", just talking non stop. Talking about work, family and life in general is a great stress reliever. So my gym sessions are quite effective as I'm gaining endorphins and eliminating stress at the same time.

Anyway today Mel and I overlapped at the gym for about 5 minutes so I was left with my fabulous Geoff Show podcast. If you haven't, you should, subscribe. So I was daydreaming too, much that is inappropriate for general consumption, but there was a fair amount of idle thought too.

Do people go to the gym to find love? Is it really one of the places people meet a partner? Because glossy women's magazines would have us believe it's a route to a relationship.

The reason I ask is that I have never, ever, seen it happen. I've seen couples go to the gym together and I've seen friends go to the gym together but that's all.

Now it could be that I go to the wrong kind of gym. Maybe love can be found in the bars of gyms where people pay to belong. Maybe you're reading this and that's how you met your wife/girlfriend/husband/boyfriend. If so, please let me know.

And please don't get the wrong idea. I go to the gym to burn calories, keep fit, get strong. I already have me a man. I'm not currently looking for a replacement.

Monday, 18 September 2006


Beginning of another week. What have I learned today?

Well, if I tell a bloke that my MySpace has a semi-nude picture of me, they're more interested in looking at the page than if I don't mention it. Granted they do look a little disappointed when they finally get to my page.

I've also learned that MySpace blogs have a gazillion emoticons to choose from.

Today's moral dilemma: Married bloke fancies woman at work. She's in long term relationship. They've flirted, should they go for a drink?

Tough one this. I think the answer should be yes. Surely a drink can't hurt.