I am a pawn on a chessboard that nobody sees, in a war that nobody cares about, paid for by people whose only objective is to eat the Earth to its death.
It's really quite disgusting.
*YAWN*
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Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Kitteh!
Hello Mr Green Genes!
(Warning though, watching the clip too more than once increases the chances of you singing alone to the crazy meow-meowing at the start.)
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(Warning though, watching the clip too more than once increases the chances of you singing alone to the crazy meow-meowing at the start.)
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Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I love
Christina Ricci's dresses. I love this one in particular:
I want that dress. I've got a tits, ass and an okay back, but most of all, I've got a forehead to rival Christina's. I DESERVE that dress.
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I want that dress. I've got a tits, ass and an okay back, but most of all, I've got a forehead to rival Christina's. I DESERVE that dress.
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Tuesday, October 21, 2008
This office
is where the human spirit comes to DIE.
As the full effect of western wanker banker depravities creep its way to wreak havoc in the east, the number of resignations being tendered in these offices have continued as it did during the boom times. These guys haven't even secured a landing site for after. They're middle-income mere mortals who'd prefer to risk unemployment and impecuniosity than to continue shuffling about in the shit bogs that define my occupational existence. On average, it only takes three months for this place to KILL YOU.
On a separate matter, though I feel really bad complaining about this because maybe the cause is physiological as much as it is habitual, but what is up with my newest colleague who constantly sounds as if he's desperately trying to breathe through a wet piece of sack cloth??? I can usually recognise a colleague by the sound of his or her footsteps, but I know this particular dude is walking down my corridor because I can hear him attempting to inhale through the narrow cavity above his mucus-gorged mandible. (I've already learnt not to get any closer than four feet within distance of him to avoid motile flecks of spit that frequently accompany his speech.) I've been victim to an overactive sinus before and know what it's like to barely be able to breathe through my nose, so I can't fault him for that. But surely he can do something about the saliva situation???
Or does it have something to do with his (pitiably severe) psoriasis? I don't want to get started on that, only because I'm certain that that's something he can't control (although he could try to avoid scratching himself so vigorously in the vicinity of other people...). Fortunately (for me) he hasn't blown me away with a sterling character or fascinating personality, or else I'd have to fool myself into not noticing the repugnance that he provokes. I have at least the freedom to embrace the feeling of pure disgust for now, though I worry about how that feeling may eventually manifest itself.
...
As the full effect of western wanker banker depravities creep its way to wreak havoc in the east, the number of resignations being tendered in these offices have continued as it did during the boom times. These guys haven't even secured a landing site for after. They're middle-income mere mortals who'd prefer to risk unemployment and impecuniosity than to continue shuffling about in the shit bogs that define my occupational existence. On average, it only takes three months for this place to KILL YOU.
On a separate matter, though I feel really bad complaining about this because maybe the cause is physiological as much as it is habitual, but what is up with my newest colleague who constantly sounds as if he's desperately trying to breathe through a wet piece of sack cloth??? I can usually recognise a colleague by the sound of his or her footsteps, but I know this particular dude is walking down my corridor because I can hear him attempting to inhale through the narrow cavity above his mucus-gorged mandible. (I've already learnt not to get any closer than four feet within distance of him to avoid motile flecks of spit that frequently accompany his speech.) I've been victim to an overactive sinus before and know what it's like to barely be able to breathe through my nose, so I can't fault him for that. But surely he can do something about the saliva situation???
Or does it have something to do with his (pitiably severe) psoriasis? I don't want to get started on that, only because I'm certain that that's something he can't control (although he could try to avoid scratching himself so vigorously in the vicinity of other people...). Fortunately (for me) he hasn't blown me away with a sterling character or fascinating personality, or else I'd have to fool myself into not noticing the repugnance that he provokes. I have at least the freedom to embrace the feeling of pure disgust for now, though I worry about how that feeling may eventually manifest itself.
...
Monday, October 13, 2008
Monday, October 06, 2008
Unplugged.
If you've known me for some time, then you'd probably be thinking that the title of this post refers to relief from constipation. It doesn't though - although I must admit that I would have used it if I were to bring this blog down a notch by posting something scatological; however, in this age of barstucks and dulcolax, I have yet to be pushed to that extreme.
"Freewriting" is what I'm trying to get into here. According to Wikipedia, it can help reverse writer's block. Other potential remedies include: taking a break (done that, minimal effect), brainstorming (was more of a passing shower than tropical cyclone), asemic writing (I've never been much of a doodler - OMG it's been such a long time since I've checked out doodie.com, I wonder if it even still exists! -) and "chunking" (sounds pornographic, didn't bother).
It helped somewhat over the weekend, but I'm still four pages short of a full speech. I'm really sick of writing speeches for politicians who get paid millions a year, while what I receive is something akin to their pocket change. So much effort, so little return. The most annoying bit is the delivery - it's never like how I imagined it while writing it. It's the system: competition in the public eye to vie for political positions is obsolete here, hence qualities like verve, charisma and elocutionary excellence are pish.
I'm fairly certain I ordered a cinnamon & raisin bagel with my mocha this morning. I'm quite enjoying this sesame one, but I kinda wish that the barstucks peeps wouldn't get my order wrong so often just because I'm nice and friendly to them. Blah blah blah. I think I'm warmed up enough now.
...
"Freewriting" is what I'm trying to get into here. According to Wikipedia, it can help reverse writer's block. Other potential remedies include: taking a break (done that, minimal effect), brainstorming (was more of a passing shower than tropical cyclone), asemic writing (I've never been much of a doodler - OMG it's been such a long time since I've checked out doodie.com, I wonder if it even still exists! -) and "chunking" (sounds pornographic, didn't bother).
It helped somewhat over the weekend, but I'm still four pages short of a full speech. I'm really sick of writing speeches for politicians who get paid millions a year, while what I receive is something akin to their pocket change. So much effort, so little return. The most annoying bit is the delivery - it's never like how I imagined it while writing it. It's the system: competition in the public eye to vie for political positions is obsolete here, hence qualities like verve, charisma and elocutionary excellence are pish.
I'm fairly certain I ordered a cinnamon & raisin bagel with my mocha this morning. I'm quite enjoying this sesame one, but I kinda wish that the barstucks peeps wouldn't get my order wrong so often just because I'm nice and friendly to them. Blah blah blah. I think I'm warmed up enough now.
...
Friday, October 03, 2008
Why I love my mobile.
And so it begins. Two weeks' evenings' worth of industry events that I have to attend, on top of a surge of work which will have me back in the office on the weekend (except Sunday afternoon, don't worry, the open house will still be open). I'm getting repetitive strain disorder from all the small talk after just one evening. I still don't get the fascination with Korean drums and I never want to listen to another violin ever again (how can anyone think it's a good idea to put up a 45 min violin threesome that plays "Livin' la vida loca" during a networking dinner???).
I'm just really tired and wish I could've skipped the dinner in favour of finishing up the goddamn speech that I only have to do because Fatneck (that's another colleague) had a "miscommunication" with our statutory board (I call it a Royal Fuck Up). But sometimes tipping me over the edge is good because now that I've sent out my first real don't-fuck-with-me-or-else e-mail, I'm feeling a lot more empowered with the or-else bit and will be a lot less hesitant about acting on it. I often wonder why I bother being nice at work when being unpleasant comes more naturally to me.
Do I even make sense? I'm just trying to wear off the open bar before falling asleep so I won't feel too shit tomorrow. At least I haven't made any spelling mistakes.
...
I'm just really tired and wish I could've skipped the dinner in favour of finishing up the goddamn speech that I only have to do because Fatneck (that's another colleague) had a "miscommunication" with our statutory board (I call it a Royal Fuck Up). But sometimes tipping me over the edge is good because now that I've sent out my first real don't-fuck-with-me-or-else e-mail, I'm feeling a lot more empowered with the or-else bit and will be a lot less hesitant about acting on it. I often wonder why I bother being nice at work when being unpleasant comes more naturally to me.
Do I even make sense? I'm just trying to wear off the open bar before falling asleep so I won't feel too shit tomorrow. At least I haven't made any spelling mistakes.
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