Let the madness begin

Well its been 24 hours, and I'm not missing The Precious too much.

One thesis finished, bound, submitted.

I haven't had time yet to really process it, what with other stuff and things going on. Like, I had my first tutorial today. They didn't run screaming from the room in horror, so I guess thats a good start.

I have 4 days left at Helga's House of Pain, after which I shall get very very very very drunk, throw up, and then sleep for two days. Anyone who will be in Christchurch on Friday is most welcome to join me. Or you could just get drunk wherever you are.

So as of Friday I will have no thesis, no job, no stress. No money either, but I'm fairly used to that.

Have to go to work now, so that I only have 3 days left.

Its all a bit odd. I would love to take Ben's advice and do nothing for a very long time, but I have some um.... what are they called again? Thats right, responsibilities, so I may steal James' advice to Dave and embark on a thesis detox programme.
Any ideas?

I would be doing the happy dance if I had anything left in me.

Right.
Done.
All thats left to do tomorrow is print out a graph in colour, and then take that bitch to the bindery.

Oh.
I feel a bit hollow now.

12.18am.

And happy.

I'm not really sure.

Maybe its time for a wee nooze.
Haven't slept properly for a few weeks now.
I'll probably lie awake all night worrying about the Precious.
And also worrying that I've left someone out of the acknowledgements.
How about an apology in advance if I have?

Am going home to nyes now.

Nighty night.

What am I going to do with myself now?.....

*sings* I just don't know what to do with myself, don't know just what to do with myself. I'm so used to doing everything with you, planning everything for two, and now that we're through....

Smack my Bitch Up

OK. Its 10.20 pm I have just returned to my desk after a wee stint at work (five shifts to go, bizzo). I am armed with a big bowl of gnocchi, a bottle of the evil black cola, a bottle of riesling (can you say "booze hag"?) and some serious determination.
I will have the bitch finished by bed time tonight. I don't care if bed time tonight is 10 am tomorrow, my thesis will be all corrected, acknowledged, appendiced, bibliographied, title-paged, table-of-contentsed, graphed and printed.
This wine is shit.
I cannot promise further blogs tonight, but we'll see how circumstances transpire.

*inhale, grit teeth, and go*

Eighteen and a half hours to go.

Oh yeah.

Bring it.

We gon' fight, we gon' charge, we gon' stomp, we gon' march through the swamp, we gon' mosh through the marsh, take us right to the doors....


Theres this guy at work, and hes a bit of a dick. Hes from a country and religion thats not reknowned for its liberal attitudes towards women, and has a few problems with manners. He calls women "darling", and I've told him MANY times that I don't like it, I find it offensive, and could he please not do that to me.
Last night he was using the coffee machine, and I needed to use it.
Me: Hey when you've finished with the machine can you give me a yell cos I need to use it. Cheers.
Him: Sure.
....a little time passes....I return to the machine, and hes not using it.
Me: Hey are you finished? Can I use the coffee machine?
Him: Darling you just go and use it.
Me: Please don't call me darling, I've asked you loads of times, I find it offensive
Him: (insert psychotic break here) you must be fucking stupid whats wrong with you just use the fucking machine you stupid woman why do you have to fucking ask me just fucking use it
Me: (Ummmm what?...) Well I don't know, I was trying to be courteous. I understand its a bit of a foreign concept for you, but I didn't want to barge in front of you and use it when you weren't finished. Its called being considerate.
Him: you are a fucking stupid woman why the fuck do you have to be such a fucking bitch all the time what the fuck is wrong with you just use the fucking machine just fucking leave me alone you fucking bitch
Me: (this could go either way. As in either I punch him in the face, or really fuck him off by making him the butt of a funny story. I chose b)* (also thinking; if you think thats me being a bitch, you haven't seen anything you sorry little man)

So I tell the chefs, the owner, the manager and almost all the other staff, and we all have a good giggle at his expense.

Only six shifts left until I am free from the madness.

*admittedly I did go up to him later and very quietly tell him that if he ever spoke to me or any other staff member like that again I would make an official complaint and not only plead psychological abuse but sexual harrassment because every day he crosses the line at least ten times. I am tempted to do so anyway. You do not fuck with The Claire.

So the moral of the story is a) never get involved in a land war in Asia and b) if you think I'm crazy, just remember that theres people out there that make me look like (insert name of very sane person here. I don't know any).

This is a low...

I tried to write a blog earlier, cos a couple of my friends were bugging me about not having anything to read. So I told them they were very sad creatures who needed to get lives.

But I couldn't do it. It was just rubbish.

Theres all these things going on, and I can't bring myself to blog them, cos it doesn't seem right. Maybe once its all over, or enough time has passed, or whatever, but not now. Too much.
Suffice to say that in the next few days I have to finish and submit my thesis, plan, write and conduct my first tutorial and finish an eleven year career in hospitality, none of which is important right now, cos everythings pretty fucked up.

See, there I go, having a rather obscure whinge about stuff. Most people would just shut the fuck up about it, but I have so many things in my head that if I kept them all in I would go mad. Ok, madder. More mad? Anyway.

Dave, in all his smashingness, has asked for people to send good karma my way. Thank you possum, but its not me that needs it. You know where to send it. OK, some of you don't. Those who do, please send it. Or you could send it to me and I'll pass it on.

Right then.

Thank you.

Wagner: Not as bad as it sounds*

Last night at work:

Corey: If you need me to help you just give me a yell.
Claire: You know Corey, you're not nearly as much of a bastard as you make out you are.
Corey: Thanks Claire. And you're much prettier than you look.....no wait...that came out wrong.......
Claire: *on floor in fits of laughter*


* Mr Clements.**
** A prize*** for telling us Mr Clements' more famous nom de plume
***The word "prize" is used here in its loosest possible definition. As in, not really a prize. More like a feeling of being clever****. Or smug.
****Although its not really that hard*****
*****Or perhaps now I'm being smug******
******But I can cos its my blog*******
*******So bollocks to that.

Bye now.

Some people want it all...

I have awesome friends.
I really do. They are just fantastic. Due to recent stuff and things I have been a little upset at work, and the other day I turned up and Nike and Tarsh had bought me a huge bunch of beautiful happy yellow and pink flowers and a card that said "Kia Kaha" and a packet of little heart-shaped belgian biscuits. It was truly thoughtful and thoroughly touching and just too sweet for words. So yay for Nike and Tarsh.

I made a bit of a dick of myself last night, just for a change.
There was this GORGEOUS guy in the restaurant, and he came into the bar for a drink. I asked what his table was booked under, so I could put the drink on his account, and he said "Jane", presumably his girlfriend's name. So I said, "thats obviously not you then" and he said all jokingly "how do you know, don't be discriminating" (in a lovely English accent) so I gave him his drink and said "there you go Jane", and then got one for his girlfriend (who was really nice so I couldn't bring myself to hate her, even though I was in love with her boyfriend). Anyway, they went to their table and were sitting so that he was facing out so we could all see how scrummy he was, and his girlfriend had her back to us all. So, needless to say all the female staff were staring at him and nearly crashing into things, distracted as we were by his complete deliciousness. Then, halfway through the meal, they swapped seats. I reackon it was because he got all freaked out by us staring at him, so I went over and said "Hi Jane, everything all right here?" He said yes, and all went well. Then later, he got up to go to the bathroom, and I went over to clear the table. I said to his girlfriend (the real Jane, I presume) that I'd noticed that they'd swapped seats. She said that it was because she was getting the draught where she was and he gallantly offered to swap seats with her so she wouldn't be cold. So, of course, I opened my big mouth and said "Ok, I thought it might have been cos all the staff were staring at your boyfriend cos we all think hes utterly gorgeous".
It didn't seem to bother her much. I guess shes used to it. She would have to be, having a bloke like that.

In other news, my six-year old niece is coming aboard the Bounty for a night. I informed the flatties, and Tim's response was "What games does it play?"

"It?"

This may be a learning experience for them both.

Fucking patronising bastards

I am currently on hold with Microsoft. Apparently my call is important to them, and so I must keep waiting on hold. I've got Mos Def up loud in an attempt to drown out the tinny sounds of "Mrs Robinson" assaulting my delicate eardrums. This annoying recorded cow keeps bloody apologising for the delay in my call being answered. I wouldn't mind waiting so much if she didn't keep apologising.
I'm having major issues with Excel. I want the cell to say 49. Not 49%, $49, 49 mice, nothing like that, a simple 49 would please me no end. But no. Fucking Excel keeps changing it to 4900%. Which is not even a real thing. How can 4900% of children under 12 be immunized against measles?
I've tried fixing the AutoCorrect options, and about a thousand other things.....call is being answered......OK.
The fucking thing has decided of its own accord to change the category number of the cell from general to percentage. And to add another couple of zeroes. I reckon my computer is possessed. But now I know how to fix it. Ha.
Claire 1, computer nil.

Well that was a rather pointless blog wasn't it.

Heres a point.
Jamilla is awesome, and wins Person Of The Week.

On the way life is

Please forgive me if things get a little weird in the next couple of weeks. I can't sit here and publish things that aren't mine to publish, suffice to say that life is a big steaming pile of crap that likes to really fuck things up as much as possible and the truly innocent are the ones that suffer.
I thought about leaving blogging alone for a while, but theres a chance I need to get things out, cos theres already so much that goes on inside my head that if I don't get it out I'll lose it. So, what I'm saying is....actually I really don't know what I'm saying.

Fuck.

One down, six to go...

I got my first P.F.O. letter today. It was in email form, and it was from these bastards. Thats FINE I didn't want to go to your STUPID school anyway this from the people that elected an AUSTRIAN TREE to govern the world's FIFTH LARGEST ECONOMY (if it were to secede). Wankers. Double wankers. Both hands.

In other news today, internet radio is smashing.
One can have a constant soundtrack of jungle, drum and bass, trance or house, streaming live on a gazillion different stations.
Kiwi are streaming live also, and ever since my Mum came into my office and stole her radio back (how rude) that is featuring significantly. There seems to be a wee problem with whatever technology feeds it though, because sometimes it sounds like someones knocked the dial and its a bit scratchy, and you really want to tune it in properly, but can't.
I really like the idea of a 100% New Zealand music station, and big ups to them, but its funny, cos its almost a genre-less station. All the other stations encompass a few related genres, and are aiming for a specific audience, but Kiwi includes rock and hip-hop and pop and electronica and all sorts of stuff, and unfortunately in our fair land, as in all others, there exists crappy pop music that makes one want to chew ones foot off. So theres all different types of music and the only common factor is that its all from Aotearoa. But its truly awesome to turn the radio on in the morning and hear "Down in Splendor" and "Heavenly Pop Hit" and loads of Salmonella Dub and Trinity Roots and Concorde Dawn, and this morning, on my way into work, I was singing along very loudly and out of tune to "Pink Frost". It was a beautiful thing.

Its raining.
Ah, summer in NZ. Its another beautiful thing.

This light is here, to keep you warm...

I'm in the strangest of moods at the moment. No, maybe mood is the wrong word. Everything has taken on somewhat of a surreal character, like someones shifted the furniture and put it all back slightly differently, and changed the lightbulbs so they're a little brighter but not quite enough to make one exclaim "gosh, who changed the lightbulbs, its very bright in here" but just enough for everything to take on a slightly different quality.
I was talking to a friend yesterday who is in a similar position to me at the moment, in that things are really going to change soon, but we're not really in any position to appreciate it. I feel like there are opportunities everywhere at the moment, and things are really starting to roll, but I'm completely up to my eyeballs in work and can't take the time to process it all.
In the next two months I start tutoring first years, present my first conference paper in Brisbane, find out whether I will be going to the South of France to present another paper, submit my thesis, get letters from all the universities I applied to saying either fuck off or please come and study here and heres a big barrel of money for you, and end my 11 year career in hospitality (3 weeks to go). Thats quite a lot of stuff, especially for someone for whom daily life is usually a bit of a challenge anyway.
Don't go thinking I'm not happy about any of this, cos its all so fucking awesome I can barely believe it, I'm just a little intimidated by the magnitude of imminent events. I've worked really hard to get here though, and I haven't stomped on anyone along the way (except those that deserved a good stomping, and a couple of bugses) and its really cool to see things hopefully fingers crossed please turning up.
Sometimes one has those moments where everything is just so good that it seems like its all going to come crashing down in a big twisted torn bloodied brittle vicious avalanche because experience suggests just that. One is having one of those moments now.
Who knows.
Anyway, hopefully next time there'll be a bit less introspection.

In random news, I have Monty Python's song "Never Be Rude To An Arab" running through my head, and have done so since this morning.

*wanders off, humming*

Hmmmm....

Claire: Hello, thesis supervisor fellow and generally nice chap
TS: Hello Claire. Listen, how badly do you want to get into Penn State or NYU?
Claire: Um, quite a lot. Like a bad bad donkey. Why?
TS: Cos my mentor is Very Important at Penn State and I also Know Some People in The Right Places at NYU. I'll make some calls.
Claire: Um... cool. Cheers. *wanders off, not quite sure what just happened*

Light up, light up, as if you have a choice

My blog had a birthday the other day and I didn't even notice.
Surprising really, given the fuss I make about my own birthday (103 sleeps).
Anyway last Friday was my one year anniversary as a blogger, and so to celebrate, I feel I should post something momentous and meaningful.
But I won't.
Instead I'm going to tell you about my foot.
Last night I was sitting on the floor, with my legs folded up under me, so basically I was sitting on my feet. All of a sudden there was a pinging sensation (ouch) and a significant amount of pain went through the top of my foot, in that no-mans land between foot and ankle. So I said a bad word, and rubbed my foot, and the pain went away.
For a while.
I was woken FOUR, yes, count em, 1, 2, 3, FOUR times in the night by a shooting pain in my foot, and then this morning I was hobbling around the house, and then it was fine, and then it was sore again, and now its fine. Although getting a bit sore now.

But this is the cool thing about blogs, one gets to waffle on about all sorts of shit thats in one's head that needs to get out of one's head cos theres no room for anything else in there its all a bit crowded.
And occasionally someone else will even read it. And even comment.
I think its good for one's psychological welfare. Especially my own, which should really be renamed "psychological doing-ok-for-the-time-being-but-my-goodness-its-a-delicate-balance-isn't-it-and-we've-had-some-interesting-times-haven't-we-thank-heavens-for-the-nice-men-in-the-white-coats-the-pink-pills-are-my-favourite-don't-mislead-people-by-implying-well-in-welfare".
But thats a bit of a mouthful.

But if you think I'm crazy, check out Zach Braff's New Year's Resolutions.

Forgo all exercise (including walking),
Learn to smoke (something thin like Capri's),
Take my loved one's for granted,
Stop washing my hands after twosies,
Laugh at babies who are late walkers,
Pull leaves off trees that appear to be flourishing,
Name the yet to be named voices in my head (something tough like Carl or Kyle)
Be less kind to bunnies,
Floss everything but my teeth,
Travel (but only around my yard and with a light carry-on)
Stop and smell the Rosens. (They're a wonderful family and absolutely compulsive about showering.)

One is compelled to add a couple of one's own.

-Stop going to the 'Westerns' section of the video store to fart, and just let rip in the 'New Releases'.
-Resort more often to the 'one-finger' school of driving etiquette.
-Aim for the bunnies when driving in the country.
-Say the first thing that pops into my head, especially when it is along the lines of "shut up cunt face you don't know shit go back to wasting precious oxygen you are living proof God has a sense of humour, knob-rash".
-Punch people who begin sentences with "I'm not really one to comment, but...."
-Break fingers of men who grab my bottom/boobs etc. No, its actually not funny. Now die, pus features.
-Call more people "pus features".

OK, now its just getting silly.

Inspired by Anna, I am currently compiling a list of "things I can do".
Watch this space.
No, please do.
It will be good, and not at all filthy.
OK, it might be a little filthy. Just the right amount of filth.

Ouch, my foot....

It took a life spent with no cell mate.....

Chicky chicky BOW!!!!! (this is me channelling Charlie. I miss Charlie.)

I'm going to Brisbane. Its official, as soon as the department puts its approval of paying for me to go on paper. I'm presenting a paper here, which will be a first for me.
Oh dear.
I am a terrible public speaker. I talk too fast, and have a tendancy to get off topic, and get easily flustered. Also, theres no student forum at this conference, so I'll be with all the professors and practioners which will be kind of intimidating.
I think I'll have to wear my short black skirt and nice black heels so they won't notice that I'm talking shit.
Must remember not to swear.
Perhaps if I get all Powerpoint-ed up with lots of pretty backdrops and photos and shit.
OK, a little too early to be stressed. Suppose I'd better write the paper first. They've got an abstract so at least they know what I'm supposed to talk about.
Next topic, after scamming a way into here, I'm working on a plan so cunning and all that (well really not that cunning, but I do have an angle...) to get myself a place here.
I really think that a conference about the Pacific needs some actual Pacific people there, so with NZ being the most southern of South Pacific nations, I am more than happy to represent my country. The fact that its in the South of France does not influence my willingness to go, not one bit. No siree. Not at all.
Hang on, isn't that where he lives?............