Insert evil super-villain laugh here....
Hello my babies.
I'm not feeling particularly super-villain-ish today, but I do love the laugh.
Its official. I am over working in a restaurant. I have been working in hospo for ten years now, and have run out of nice. Hard to believe that I did actually have some nice to begin with, but now its all gone completely, and work is no longer fun. It is time to get the fuck out of there, and with that in mind, I am constructing a proposal to the department to sign me up for some serious fixed-term contract loving, complete with salary, because wages suck. Given my tendancy to work all the time, I'd much rather work here all day, get paid a bit more than I do now, and have my evenings to myself. There are few things that suck more than working here all day, knowing that you have to go and work in a ridiculously busy restaurant for several hours at night as well. Then while all your work mates from the restaurant go out after work and do fun stuff, you have to go home, because you have to do a days work here the next day.
Bollocks to that I say, its time to get the university to give me more money. The guy I work for said that he wanted me to leave the restaurant so I could work for him full-time. However, his idea of full-time work is 30 hours a week, whereas mine is 45 hours a week. So as soon as he gets back from wherever he is, he will find himself confronted by yours truly and a list of all the reasons I should get more money.
Right. Best go write that list then. Suggestions welcome, although those involving the phrase "righteous red fury" may not make it onto the final list. Those, however, involving the phrase "smackdown, Punisher styles" very well may.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Monday, October 25, 2004
Days like this are sweet....
Actually, I have had a fairly sweet weekend.
Its getting to be all summertime, and one has been getting stuck into some summer styles action.
After dressing up as Kate Sheppard on Thursday, and hopefully not causing the great lady to roll too many times in her grave, especially by making a pre-speech chardonnay toast to the Women's Christian Temperance Union, there was a bit of boozing done. Nice work, Claire and Bridget. So, one's GRE study on Friday was a little, shall we say, hampered.
Then I had the gruelling exam on Saturday morning, at one point I was completely prepared to chew my own foot off for a cup of tea. Once that was over however, there was Rosie's birthday party, followed by one of the definate high points of my weekend, fish and chips on Sumner beach with Charlie and Dave. Its awesome to just sit with people, and shoot the shit. Those are some good blokes, those two.
Then it was Simon and Anna's last night at work, and so I went to meet them. Nike was horrendously drunk, and most amusing.
Sunday involved a most smashing picnic at Victoria Park with Sarah and another Bridget, and then I put my mum on a plane to Europe. Bye mummy.
I'm having one of those phases where life is really not that bad. You know that mood where it looks like it might be all ok. Yeah.
Ok, I'm going now. Before I start rabbiting on.
Right. Carry on then.
Actually, I have had a fairly sweet weekend.
Its getting to be all summertime, and one has been getting stuck into some summer styles action.
After dressing up as Kate Sheppard on Thursday, and hopefully not causing the great lady to roll too many times in her grave, especially by making a pre-speech chardonnay toast to the Women's Christian Temperance Union, there was a bit of boozing done. Nice work, Claire and Bridget. So, one's GRE study on Friday was a little, shall we say, hampered.
Then I had the gruelling exam on Saturday morning, at one point I was completely prepared to chew my own foot off for a cup of tea. Once that was over however, there was Rosie's birthday party, followed by one of the definate high points of my weekend, fish and chips on Sumner beach with Charlie and Dave. Its awesome to just sit with people, and shoot the shit. Those are some good blokes, those two.
Then it was Simon and Anna's last night at work, and so I went to meet them. Nike was horrendously drunk, and most amusing.
Sunday involved a most smashing picnic at Victoria Park with Sarah and another Bridget, and then I put my mum on a plane to Europe. Bye mummy.
I'm having one of those phases where life is really not that bad. You know that mood where it looks like it might be all ok. Yeah.
Ok, I'm going now. Before I start rabbiting on.
Right. Carry on then.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Happy Happy Joy Joy
Oh yeah.
I am writing this from my new bedroom, in my Mum's house, far from the madness. My Mum is off to Europe on Sunday for 6 & 1/2 weeks, and I will have this whole house to myself. Joy of joys. No more will I have to endure the shrieking, the sighing, the inane babble, the "how do you feel about that" bull of my Former Flatmates.
I am so happy I could just dance. Actually, yesterday I did do the dance of joy, its just unfortunate that I did the dance at work while several customers were looking in my direction, thereby becomg very embarrassed, but not enough to take the edge off the motivations for the dance of joy.
But now I am ridiculously tired, and have but 3 days left to study for the Big Scary GRE exam on Saturday morning.
8.30 am, do you mind? On a Saturday as well. I mean, everyone knows theres no oxygen before 10am, especially on the weekend.
In comedy news, my 9 year old nephew is about to be introduced to the world of Monty Python. I can't wait.
Also, lest it be thought otherwise, I am really Not Going To The University Of Alabama, unless I can help it: ie unless I get rejected by Yale, Stanford, NYU, Columbia, Princeton, Michigan, Penn State, Duke, Cornell, MIT and Berkeley. OK, so it might happen, but I'm hoping that the law of averages will apply, or one of them falls over and hits their head.
Oh yeah.
I am writing this from my new bedroom, in my Mum's house, far from the madness. My Mum is off to Europe on Sunday for 6 & 1/2 weeks, and I will have this whole house to myself. Joy of joys. No more will I have to endure the shrieking, the sighing, the inane babble, the "how do you feel about that" bull of my Former Flatmates.
I am so happy I could just dance. Actually, yesterday I did do the dance of joy, its just unfortunate that I did the dance at work while several customers were looking in my direction, thereby becomg very embarrassed, but not enough to take the edge off the motivations for the dance of joy.
But now I am ridiculously tired, and have but 3 days left to study for the Big Scary GRE exam on Saturday morning.
8.30 am, do you mind? On a Saturday as well. I mean, everyone knows theres no oxygen before 10am, especially on the weekend.
In comedy news, my 9 year old nephew is about to be introduced to the world of Monty Python. I can't wait.
Also, lest it be thought otherwise, I am really Not Going To The University Of Alabama, unless I can help it: ie unless I get rejected by Yale, Stanford, NYU, Columbia, Princeton, Michigan, Penn State, Duke, Cornell, MIT and Berkeley. OK, so it might happen, but I'm hoping that the law of averages will apply, or one of them falls over and hits their head.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Give Quiche a Chance
I've been schmoozing, conference styles. No really, I have, and now one of the most important figures in conflict resolution not only knows my name, but laughed at my (lame) joke, joined me in mocking the guy I work for, and is working on the same project as me. Admittedly I am a lowly research assistant, and he is the external examiner of possibly the biggest social science research project in the country, but still. I was trying to explain to my dear sister just how famous and cool this guy was, so given her love of all things rugby, I told her that if this was the All Blacks, he would be at least Sean Fitzpatrick, if not Colin Meads. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
What a geek I am. Oh yes, embrace the geek within.
Tell you what though, there are some severe aesthetic crimes going on in the academic world. Maybe its my dysmorphobia (yes, its a real thing) rearing its ugly head, but really. Its not that hard to brush the dandruff off your jacket, get a haircut and some glasses that don't make you look like a serial killer, and not pull your pants up to your armpits. Its bloody lucky that I'm here in my cool shoes and pretty skirt, to balance everything out. Ha. This from she who turns up to university on a regular basis in her trackies!! Pot paging kettle.
But conferences are fun, I have discovered, and so far this weekend has suceeded in reaffirming that this is what I want to do. Also, I recieved an offer to attend the University of Alabama. Hmm.
Anyway, got some more schmoozing to be done.
I've been schmoozing, conference styles. No really, I have, and now one of the most important figures in conflict resolution not only knows my name, but laughed at my (lame) joke, joined me in mocking the guy I work for, and is working on the same project as me. Admittedly I am a lowly research assistant, and he is the external examiner of possibly the biggest social science research project in the country, but still. I was trying to explain to my dear sister just how famous and cool this guy was, so given her love of all things rugby, I told her that if this was the All Blacks, he would be at least Sean Fitzpatrick, if not Colin Meads. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
What a geek I am. Oh yes, embrace the geek within.
Tell you what though, there are some severe aesthetic crimes going on in the academic world. Maybe its my dysmorphobia (yes, its a real thing) rearing its ugly head, but really. Its not that hard to brush the dandruff off your jacket, get a haircut and some glasses that don't make you look like a serial killer, and not pull your pants up to your armpits. Its bloody lucky that I'm here in my cool shoes and pretty skirt, to balance everything out. Ha. This from she who turns up to university on a regular basis in her trackies!! Pot paging kettle.
But conferences are fun, I have discovered, and so far this weekend has suceeded in reaffirming that this is what I want to do. Also, I recieved an offer to attend the University of Alabama. Hmm.
Anyway, got some more schmoozing to be done.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Priorities
A couple of famous people died. One was famous for his brilliant mind, who challenged accepted wisdom and changed the interpretation of texts, be they literature, art or thought. The other was famous for dressing up in tights.
Now don't get me wrong, its horribly sad when someone dies, especially someone who has a family, like Christopher Reeve. But the media are wetting themselves over his death, it was on the front page of the newspaper today, and it appears that the poor chap was famous for falling off his horse and becoming paralysed. They talk about courage, and strength of spirit, all of which I'm sure he possessed in piles, but they ignore the other stuff he also possessed in piles. Money.
You can bet that a painter who falls off his ladder and becomes similarly paralysed, but without the financial benefits of being Superman would take issue with the media wank about Reeve's courage in the face of adversity. I'm sure that with the ability to pay for round-the-clock nursing, to fix up your home for wheelchairs, to buy the best technology available for the physically impaired, and never having to worry about how your wife and kids are going to be fed certainly affects one's ability to remain strong and brave in the face of difficult circumstances.
I don't have a problem with the man himself, never did. I think its very sad what happened to him, and sad that he should die relatively young, especially given that he had a family.
The problem I have is with the media getting its pink frillies in a big knot and painting him as some sort of hero, when the guy had some serious resources at this disposal, while ignoring the real heroes.
Jacques Derrida is dead, and that barely gets a mention. Superman dies, and its on the front page of a newspaper across the other side of the world.
When Allen Ginsberg died a few years ago, it got a brief writeup in the international section of the same paper. Maybe about ten lines. Ginsberg was without a doubt one of the most important poets of the 20th century, for fucks sake, this is the man who wrote "Howl".
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix
He wrote "America"
America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
OK, so now I'm having a "Ginsberg was The Man" moment, but I'm hoping you see my point.
We're far more interested in the death of a famous-ish actor, who leaves behind some comic-book movies, than in the death of a philosopher who challenged the way we think and read, by inventing deconstructionism, without which we would not have half the films/books/architecture/poetry/philosophy we have now.
Rest in peace, Professor Derrida.
And Ginsberg was so The Man.
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after nightwith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo
Read it out loud. No, do, its supposed to be heard, theres all sorts of alliteration and consonance and assonance that you miss when reading.
How very deconstructionist!
A couple of famous people died. One was famous for his brilliant mind, who challenged accepted wisdom and changed the interpretation of texts, be they literature, art or thought. The other was famous for dressing up in tights.
Now don't get me wrong, its horribly sad when someone dies, especially someone who has a family, like Christopher Reeve. But the media are wetting themselves over his death, it was on the front page of the newspaper today, and it appears that the poor chap was famous for falling off his horse and becoming paralysed. They talk about courage, and strength of spirit, all of which I'm sure he possessed in piles, but they ignore the other stuff he also possessed in piles. Money.
You can bet that a painter who falls off his ladder and becomes similarly paralysed, but without the financial benefits of being Superman would take issue with the media wank about Reeve's courage in the face of adversity. I'm sure that with the ability to pay for round-the-clock nursing, to fix up your home for wheelchairs, to buy the best technology available for the physically impaired, and never having to worry about how your wife and kids are going to be fed certainly affects one's ability to remain strong and brave in the face of difficult circumstances.
I don't have a problem with the man himself, never did. I think its very sad what happened to him, and sad that he should die relatively young, especially given that he had a family.
The problem I have is with the media getting its pink frillies in a big knot and painting him as some sort of hero, when the guy had some serious resources at this disposal, while ignoring the real heroes.
Jacques Derrida is dead, and that barely gets a mention. Superman dies, and its on the front page of a newspaper across the other side of the world.
When Allen Ginsberg died a few years ago, it got a brief writeup in the international section of the same paper. Maybe about ten lines. Ginsberg was without a doubt one of the most important poets of the 20th century, for fucks sake, this is the man who wrote "Howl".
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix
He wrote "America"
America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
OK, so now I'm having a "Ginsberg was The Man" moment, but I'm hoping you see my point.
We're far more interested in the death of a famous-ish actor, who leaves behind some comic-book movies, than in the death of a philosopher who challenged the way we think and read, by inventing deconstructionism, without which we would not have half the films/books/architecture/poetry/philosophy we have now.
Rest in peace, Professor Derrida.
And Ginsberg was so The Man.
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after nightwith dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo
Read it out loud. No, do, its supposed to be heard, theres all sorts of alliteration and consonance and assonance that you miss when reading.
How very deconstructionist!
Thursday, October 07, 2004
By the way...
Did I tell you that THE FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS ARE PLAYING THE BIG DAY OUT AND ITS ONLY 105 SLEEPS TO GO!!!!!!!!!
No? I already mentioned it? Twice, you say?
Silly me.
Oh well.
Did I tell you that THE FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS ARE PLAYING THE BIG DAY OUT AND ITS ONLY 105 SLEEPS TO GO!!!!!!!!!
No? I already mentioned it? Twice, you say?
Silly me.
Oh well.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Also...
Did I happen to mention that the FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS ARE PLAYING THE BIG DAY OUT?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I did?
Just checking.
Did I happen to mention that the FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS ARE PLAYING THE BIG DAY OUT?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I did?
Just checking.
Happiest of Happy News
Oh, I am one very happy girl right about now.
I heard the first announcement for Big Day Out Acts, and I am SOOOOOOOOO going.
Two words.
FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS!!!!!
Ok, so thats three, but I think I've made my point. Tickets are on sale next Friday, airfare will be less than $200, anybody who wants to go on an Auckland mission with me is more than welcome to join the Claire Train. (I've already got Nike on board).
Also playing: Chemical Brothers (choice), Shihad (double choice), Misfits of Science, Trinity Roots, Concorde Dawn, John Butler Trio, System of a Down, The Donnas, and theres a new announcement at the start of November.
By which time I will already have my Big Day Out and airplane tickets in my hot wee hands.
Also, two months subsequent, the mighty REM are playing here in Chc, so yay, bring the good concert season. Strangely enough, REM are playing only in Chc and Palmerston North of all places, which is a nice way to stick it to Auckland and Wellington who always get the good gigs.
Oooooooh. I'm so excited about this!! I think maybe my head will fly right off my neck.
I hope not, cos I have an awful lot of work to do.
Also good news that it brightening my day up, fishboy is coming by at 4 o'clock for a catch-up, going to the uni bar for a beer for old times sake, then off to the Staff Club for a seminar on NY cops and the Republican National Convention, a couple of chaps from the university went there and shot some footage, and are talking about protests and politics, could be very interesting. Also, there will be beer. And the fishy one has promised delivery of a bottle of scrummy vodka goodness.
And the sun is shining, and the tunes are good (am listening to Aphex Twin), and life is super smashing.
And its only 106 sleeps until I see the FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS!!!!!!
Yay.
Oh, I am one very happy girl right about now.
I heard the first announcement for Big Day Out Acts, and I am SOOOOOOOOO going.
Two words.
FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS!!!!!
Ok, so thats three, but I think I've made my point. Tickets are on sale next Friday, airfare will be less than $200, anybody who wants to go on an Auckland mission with me is more than welcome to join the Claire Train. (I've already got Nike on board).
Also playing: Chemical Brothers (choice), Shihad (double choice), Misfits of Science, Trinity Roots, Concorde Dawn, John Butler Trio, System of a Down, The Donnas, and theres a new announcement at the start of November.
By which time I will already have my Big Day Out and airplane tickets in my hot wee hands.
Also, two months subsequent, the mighty REM are playing here in Chc, so yay, bring the good concert season. Strangely enough, REM are playing only in Chc and Palmerston North of all places, which is a nice way to stick it to Auckland and Wellington who always get the good gigs.
Oooooooh. I'm so excited about this!! I think maybe my head will fly right off my neck.
I hope not, cos I have an awful lot of work to do.
Also good news that it brightening my day up, fishboy is coming by at 4 o'clock for a catch-up, going to the uni bar for a beer for old times sake, then off to the Staff Club for a seminar on NY cops and the Republican National Convention, a couple of chaps from the university went there and shot some footage, and are talking about protests and politics, could be very interesting. Also, there will be beer. And the fishy one has promised delivery of a bottle of scrummy vodka goodness.
And the sun is shining, and the tunes are good (am listening to Aphex Twin), and life is super smashing.
And its only 106 sleeps until I see the FUCKING BEASTIE BOYS!!!!!!
Yay.
Monday, October 04, 2004
Like there was ever any doubt
Although, I do like Aerosmith, and would love to own a Kingswood. Theres that 18%
I AM 18% WHITE TRASH!  I, my friend, have class. I am so not white trash. . I am more than likely Democrat, and my place is neat, and there is a good chance I may never drink wine from a box. |
Although, I do like Aerosmith, and would love to own a Kingswood. Theres that 18%
Theres no 'I' in team, but theres a 'U' in cunt
1.10am. Oh dear.
I'm still at the office, having just sent some revised recurrence coding stuff to America via the wonders of the interweb.
11 days until the conference, which also means 11 days until Stein. Yeah. Bring the noise. Where all the post-grads sit around in the sun, completely chopped, and laugh at the even-more-chopped first years leaping around in the mud and snogging each other.
Actually last year a couple of the post-grads got busted snogging each other.
So thats the first day of the conference taken care of, nobody will be there cos the stein's on. And on the second day, Claire has to be there at some ungodly hour to be a general nuisance, I mean assist. 9am on a Saturday, how fucking rude.
I think I might be a little stressed. Stress is a funny thing, especially for me, cos I don't really feel happy unless I'm a little stressed. Or it could be cos I'm a gigantic geek, and love doing all this stuff, and when I'm stressed it means I'm doing lots of work and have to do lots more. Or it could be that I need a bit of purpose in my life.
Now the last remaining honours students have just gone home, so maybe its time for me to do the same.
Am listening to Skunk Anansie. Is good.
OK, really time to go home, cos am losing ability to use those wee words that glue all the big ones together. I've forgotten what they're called.
Nighty night.
1.10am. Oh dear.
I'm still at the office, having just sent some revised recurrence coding stuff to America via the wonders of the interweb.
11 days until the conference, which also means 11 days until Stein. Yeah. Bring the noise. Where all the post-grads sit around in the sun, completely chopped, and laugh at the even-more-chopped first years leaping around in the mud and snogging each other.
Actually last year a couple of the post-grads got busted snogging each other.
So thats the first day of the conference taken care of, nobody will be there cos the stein's on. And on the second day, Claire has to be there at some ungodly hour to be a general nuisance, I mean assist. 9am on a Saturday, how fucking rude.
I think I might be a little stressed. Stress is a funny thing, especially for me, cos I don't really feel happy unless I'm a little stressed. Or it could be cos I'm a gigantic geek, and love doing all this stuff, and when I'm stressed it means I'm doing lots of work and have to do lots more. Or it could be that I need a bit of purpose in my life.
Now the last remaining honours students have just gone home, so maybe its time for me to do the same.
Am listening to Skunk Anansie. Is good.
OK, really time to go home, cos am losing ability to use those wee words that glue all the big ones together. I've forgotten what they're called.
Nighty night.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Rainbows and Butterflies and Kittens
A funny thing happened at work last night. See, I was hungover to the max, having been completely boozed on Saturday night, had 4 1/2 hours sleep on a sofa, and got up at some ungodly hour to go to the Riccarton Markets with my sister and the baby. So by the time I got to work, I was a little tired, add to that the fact that I was on the busiest section in the whole place, all my tables had sat at once, and a couple of the chefs were having a 'mare; not all was running completely smoothly, and one could feel ones fuse shortening rapidly.
But then, I went into the bar and spied a friend sitting on a table there with his workmates. Now when I'm at work, I'm all hair-tied-up and black shirt, and looking almost respectable in my glasses and tidy clothes, and its understandable that someone who mostly sees me at parties in my natural (read: boozed and scruffy) state might not immediately recognise me. So I bowled up, and he did a bit of a double take, and then it was all hellos and happiness etc.
Funny thing was, that he and his workmates had seen me prior to me recognising my friend, and they had been sitting around discussing what a fine arse that red-haired waitress had. Yes, my friend had not recognised me, and was checking out my arse.
And yes, I am vain enough for that to make my night.
To top it off, after I had my dinner Waz gave me a wee chocolate cake with icecream, cos he had been experimenting with desserts. And my night was complete. Well, almost, but we'll just be happy with what we've got.
A funny thing happened at work last night. See, I was hungover to the max, having been completely boozed on Saturday night, had 4 1/2 hours sleep on a sofa, and got up at some ungodly hour to go to the Riccarton Markets with my sister and the baby. So by the time I got to work, I was a little tired, add to that the fact that I was on the busiest section in the whole place, all my tables had sat at once, and a couple of the chefs were having a 'mare; not all was running completely smoothly, and one could feel ones fuse shortening rapidly.
But then, I went into the bar and spied a friend sitting on a table there with his workmates. Now when I'm at work, I'm all hair-tied-up and black shirt, and looking almost respectable in my glasses and tidy clothes, and its understandable that someone who mostly sees me at parties in my natural (read: boozed and scruffy) state might not immediately recognise me. So I bowled up, and he did a bit of a double take, and then it was all hellos and happiness etc.
Funny thing was, that he and his workmates had seen me prior to me recognising my friend, and they had been sitting around discussing what a fine arse that red-haired waitress had. Yes, my friend had not recognised me, and was checking out my arse.
And yes, I am vain enough for that to make my night.
To top it off, after I had my dinner Waz gave me a wee chocolate cake with icecream, cos he had been experimenting with desserts. And my night was complete. Well, almost, but we'll just be happy with what we've got.
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