grammar nazi

It's my job to correct you
I imagine this may irritate you
I'm tracking changes so you
know where you went wrong.
It's less messy than red pen
and white-out
and comes off the screen easier.
Now drop and give me 50
"I will adhere to your Style Guide"
"I will adhere to your Style Guide"
"I will adhere to your Style Guide"...

I am the master.

This is the future - I have inside information. Right now they're just cattle tags through our ears and nooses round our necks. One day we'll sell our souls on the black market just to hide from them. And maybe that's what they want.

unfocus

I take you like communion. But I confess nothing. The impulsive cryptic messages I leave for you might be clues. Then they might not. It's my prerogative to change my mind. To attend, to stay awake, to throw up afterwards. To cry. To break bread. To break glass. To break spirit. To come in here day after day after day and perform this static stage show when all I want to do is dance.

It's all fun and games til someone loses an eye

There a number of things I do every week, without fail. It's an unfortunate little routine I go through, not because I want to, or need to, it just happens that way.

1) I go to work, hang around for about 8 hours, then go home. Repeat 5 times.

2) Visit my family on Sunday evenings for 'family dinner', made all the more difficult by my vegetarianism because dad likes his Sunday Roast and now has to cook me something extra.

3) Break something. This could be anything, but is quite commonly a plate or glass. I need a dishwasher dammit! Occasionally I break my computer. Mostly fixable but extremely frustrating. I'm sure you can relate.

4) Piss off K. This probably happens a lot more frequently, but I will only acknowledge I do it once a week.

5) Have a Near Death Experience. Ok, I may be exaggerating a tiny bit, but (refer point 3) I am somewhat accident-prone and come into contact with potentially fatal incidents all the time. Mostly alcohol-related admittedly, and usually involving falling over, walking into stuff, cutting myself, or saying something I shouldn't to someone I really shouldn't.

Today was this week's NDE day, and the reason for this post. Today was not an alcohol-related NDE as it only happened a hour ago and I've only had one glass of wine since I got home (my hands were shaking so bad it took forever just to get the cork out).

I was driving home from work. The car in front changed lanes so I started to speed up to continue past, when he changed his mind and changed back. We were gonna crash for sure. I smashed the brakes and swerved around him, tires squealing, tail-end fishying all over the shop, and continued on my way. No collision. Thank fuck no-one was in the lane I swerved into. I caught a glimpse of the driver and he just smiled at me. Fucker. Normally I'd floor it and give myself as much distance between me and him as possible. But I was a bit rattled, and I also thought an unmarked police car was following me. So I took it easy. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure the only thing I did wrong was be too eager to pass the other guy. That's not an offence, is it? And I didn't hit anybody. Turns out it was nothing, but I'm still rattled and waiting for K to come home so he can give me a big hug and tell me it's alright. I'm such a blouse.

I will call her Mega-Me

I have a clone. They say imitation is the greatest form of flattery, but I have to disagree. It started when I bought a new top - one of those that look like a collared shirt with a long sleeve t-shirt over the top and cuffs poking out the bottom of the sleeves, only it's all one piece. I like it because I only have to iron the collar and cuffs. Like most people, I hate ironing. Anyway, I wore it in to work one day (not for the first time) only to find she had gone out and bought the exact-same-top and was also wearing it that day. The jokes started rolling in about corporate uniform and how come we weren't wearing the exact same pants and ha ha very funny. What really surprised me is I didn't know it came in her size. She is literally three of me, squished into one big person. So no, I'm definitely not flattered. A few weeks later I bought a new pair of pants, flared leg, pin-striped. After having worn those to work a few times, dun dun dah, guess who has a new pair of pin-striped pants too? (I'm not sure if they have the flared leg - she fills these pants to full capacity.) This makes deciding what to wear each morning increasingly difficult. I am not ringing her up to find out what she's wearing that day, or "allocating days" to make sure we're not dressed the same on any given day. I suspect she might sabotage the schedule on purpose. Besides, I bought this stuff first.

This isn't all about fashion. Please don't think I'm that shallow. I recently made the decision to become vegetarian, a decision that is important to me, for ethical reasons more than lifestyle. After having discussed it with a number of colleagues over lunchtime, I have recently noticed an assortment of vegetarian cookbooks scattered on her desk. Though I'm yet to see her commit to this new diet. She hasn't been able to commit to any diet she's started this year. The list goes on. I went "rally driving" (read, paddock bashing) on my friends' farm the other weekend. Now she has developed an interest in the activity and tells me all about how she's planning to go on a Rally Experience Day. (I doubt she'd fit in the harness, hehe. Moi, bitchy? Never!) Anyway, this is starting to get weird.

I've been down this road before. The clothes, the hair, ending her relationships when I did, having crushes on the guys I dated, trying to be all I could be. I don't want to go there again. It gets nasty.

I discussed this with my boyfriend (I'm too old for "boyfriend", but "partner" lends itself to confusion of my sexual preferences that his first name does not clarify. I have fun with this quite often :) He seems to think she's competing with me. What for? Fine, I waltzed in and took away the job she had been doing for the last 16 months and she is now back to doing the menial office admin job. How is it my fault people here thought I could do it better? Plus, I'm better looking. He he. She has bigger boobs though.

Subject: No Title

Sometimes I think blog-post titles could make pretty cool song titles. Not necessarily these ones.

It's not intentional.

carousel

I'm writing this in my 5-foot-5 high salmon-coloured cage, but you won't see this till much later.

For some reason this seems important.

I speak but no-one listens, then proceed to ask questions for which I have already provided the answers. And wonder why there's a lack of communication around here. I have no problem communicating. I speak loudly, shrilly, to make sure they hear me. But still no-one listens. I talk in circles. Day in and out. Maybe I'll just stop talking. Maybe I'll stop listening too. There's too much shit around to worry about your petty little issues, and I certainly don't want to hear about how your cat sat on your face this morning. This is also my life.

Don't mind me, I'm having a shitty week.

Fuck this, I'm going to the pub. See you all at knock-off time.

3.48am

There was a massive storm, like none before it. In a car driving, no - sliding, down a steep hill towards a cliff towards the ocean. The mammoth waves ahead fighting to reach the shore. A sea of lumpy patchwork waves, criss-cross crashing down over each other. There was nowhere to go, and I saw us flying over that cliff like Thelma and Louise into an unforgiving sea. I jerked the wheel and we spun around and around and around

and stopped

teetering on the edge of the cliff, rocking back and forth in the wind. The door opens and my beautiful beautiful love falls, smiling as he disappears into the darkness below.

I don't want to talk about it.

I bet he had beautiful eyes

Have you ever seen something that affected you so deeply it's like someone has ripped out your soul through your eye sockets and left it in a limpid sticky pile on the floor?

I shouldn't be here.

Now an empty vessel, take refuge in me. The hollow is dark and clammy and I'm all alone here. I want to change things from the inside. Screaming and biting and FUCK YOU achieves nothing. But it makes me feel better.

Home alone

The trees whistle as they casually stroll past my window. It's cold in here, and Merlot is my new best friend. I awaken with sour purple flavoured lips and want nothing more than to remain here with my clean white pages, yearning to be filled while I wait for you. Not long now...

knock knock

So I went to CIT last night for the info session on enrolments for next year. For some strange reason I want to go back and do more study. Anyway, I find out the course I want to do isn't offered part-time. Or that if I work my butt off and do a minimum of 4 units a semester, plus I-forget-how-many non-contact hours a week, they might let me in. It's do-able, and will still take me twice as long to finish, I'm just worried they won't let me in. There's obviously a lot of people who feel the same way - several people got up and left the session the second the teacher said 'no part-time'. They should create a part-time version - there's enough demand for it. It's discrimination I tells ya!

i'm a slacker

three words: two-day conference

sorry v

again

Pissed again, and it's not even 'hump' day...

There's no going back now

I'm reasonably new to this blogging game, and already I think I'm addicted. It's all your fault Meg. I don't remember how I found you. I think you found me first.

I just hope they don't take my Internet access away. They can't fire me. At least, I don't think so. Gotta love guvvie jobs. That's all I'm going to say about that.

plague

Why is it so difficult for some people to maintain a respectable level of personal hygiene? I'm not talking about b.o. here, but that unidentifiable "moldy" smell that attaches itself to people - particularly in the IT industry. I am probably gonna cop it for saying something like this on the Internet of all places - but it's true! All three IT support staff in my building are affected by this strange odour. I dread anything should happen to my computer that I would require their services to fix the problem. You can't prepare for their arrival - I'd burn incense or oils in my office if it didn't set off the fire alarms. I tried spraying Impulse everywhere, but by the time the guy finally showed up the fragrance had gone, and I could only smell him. It doesn't matter which one - they're all as bad as each other. Maybe it's contagious. Maybe it just takes one person with that smell to contaminate the whole team. Maybe they plan to take over the world.

for your eyes only

I have a house inspection this week. This has got to be one of the worst things about renting. I suspect my landlord was a tradesman in a former life, and has a penchant for rifling through my stuff while I'm at work. I want to come up with a "surprise" to leave for him in my underwear draw. Suggestions?

My name is spam

You know what I really hate? Car spam. I hate regular spam too, but car spam (when people leave crappy fliers under your windscreen wipers) really shits me. At least with email spam you hit delete and it's gone. Car spam requires removing the offending material from under the wipers, and then searching for a rubbish bin (what are the chances of finding a recycling bin in a public car park???) to dispose of said material. Most people are incapable of this simple task, and just fling the paper into the wind, or scrunch it up into a ball and [in]discretely drop it on the ground under their car, which obviously remains there well after they've driven off. I have an assortment of fliers littering the floor of my car, because I'm too lazy to look for a bin, but I won't litter. You know who the worst offenders of car spam are? Weight loss centres and church groups. The weight loss centres don't surprise me - perhaps their clients are doing the distro and getting some exercise in the process. But church groups??? I guess they're sick of being abused in the streets when they thrust their fliers in people's faces, honestly expecting them to be overjoyed to receive the word of... [insert religious deity here].

Thanks for letting me rant.

Wait... this is my blog. You thank me.

What kind of tears burn the worst?
The kind you shed before you leave,
or the ones that course down your cheeks
after the
Goodbye?

I cannot cry
in front of you
as I tell you why
I'm leaving

Sandpaper eyelids
shred the remains
of heartless eyes,
so you'll never know
my insides blend
a cesspit of loss and guilt

Better than this downward spiral of love
and hate
and love
and hate

Love Outside Andromeda

The best I've heard since Tori.

You like the sound of your own voice
I like the sound of my own voice

Where is my Mind?

After virtually no sleep last night - in fact, hardly any at all over the past few weeks - I'm beginning to feel a little like Edward Norton in Fight Club. I'm seeing things out of the corner of my eye that aren't really there. I'm volunteering for extra things to do so that I can eventually collapse exhausted into blissful slumber. That's yet to happen, but my house is now the cleanest I've ever seen it. Any minute now I'm going to start writing little haiku poems, if only I could remember the formula. And all I want is some really good drugs.

Memento

I like to read blogs sdrawkcab

how do you get this thing to work?

I got me a new toy. A nokia phone with the cool ringtones and the built-in radio. And the camera. That was the clincher. I never have one when I need one. There's no substitute for my battered 20-year-old SLR, wrapped in gaffa to keep the backdoor closed. But it comes in handy. I've already taken pics of my partner-in-crime, my little brother's cockatiel Boris, the mess we made on Friday night, my desk at work, my cleavage... I didn't like that one. I couldn't tell if it was my boobs or my arse. I should avoid closeups.

shopping

walking through the shopping centre, buying shoes for my dad for his birthday, i was accosted by a speedy guy asking for some change just a little change some change some change some change have you got some change? no. then... gone.

people on drugs are funny.