Archive for October, 2003
Oh, and stop going on about the bloody mayoral election. They’re both crooks and I can’t vote. Though if I could, I’d be voting for the one who the FBI planted bugs on.
Why do my fingernails smell of bonfires?
I must admit that, despite slagging off the iTunes Music Store, I’m warming to it. I’ve bought two albums and one individual track in the last few days. If you’re after something relatively mainstream that you just don’t happen to have and aren’t bothered enough to go to the shop for, and you have broadband, it’s absolutely perfect.
Perhaps I’m just getting desperate because I know it’s going to be an indeterminate time before I get DSL from Verizon. Of course, I’m sure my phone will be hooked up on Monday, and I’ll get the DSL package by the week after that, just like they promised. Hahahaha.
I can trust them to cut off my existing phone line on Saturday, though. I would have been fucked if they’d done that and I really had lost my mobile, as opposed to it merely having been half-inched by a marmot.
I haven’t done any packing yet. I’ve had such a godawful day, and am going to have such a godawful day tomorrow, that I just can’t face it. Obviously the task gets worse the longer I put it off. I’m aware of this. Go away. Maybe I’ll do some in a bit, at least make a start. Why is it that I’ve had a godawful day? Well… um… okay, I’ll answer you, voice in my head. Everything’s really starting to happen at once. I knew it would, and I’ve planned for it, and things would be much worse if I hadn’t, so I’m really great, but that doesn’t completely alleviate the effect.
Only an idiot would plan to move at exactly the same time as two projects reach their zenith, or deadline, or other period of maximum stresscausingness, while also constantly feeling that this is all an utter waste of time and said idiot might as well be wanking for chips as going to work. Didn’t have that much choice, though. It was either that or stay in this excuse for a town for another six months, lose any chance of doing anything interesting at work, or lose my job altogether. And out of the three adjectives – isolated, bored and unemployed – which of those is an improvement? This is all a good idea. It is, it is, it is.
I’ve just heard Larry King say “like”, as in “who starved himself for like forty-five days in London” (this is, obviously, David Fucking Blaine rather than some anonymous anorexic). Oh, and my plea to American TV – keep broadcasting all the terrible smug sitcoms you like, only please, please stop talking about Princess Di. The Royals are a fucking embarassment. Nobody wanted to murder her, except perhaps me and millions of other people who couldn’t stand the charity clothes-horse, and she was not a threat to any grand conspiracy, she was a useless dimwitted bint to whom someone once said “hey, landmines are bad”. I don’t care whether Prince Charles is gay or not, either.
Look – to you this may be all lovely quaint court gossip stuff, but to me it’s a reminder that I was born in a country that never even had the sense to execute its royal family once and for all. People have the cheek to suggest that they’re great for the tourist industry – has the French slaughtering their lot reduced the number of people who visit Versailles? If you want the Windsors, you can fucking have them, and pay them millions a year for doing fuck all. See how quaint they seem then. Up against the wall with the lot of them, and bagsy first go on the machinegun.
You’ll be happy to know that I got my phone back – because it means I won’t be going on about it for another week like I did last time. I heard someone going through the ringtones in the long grass near the bus stop. I snuck up and saw the woodchuck with my phone. I grabbed the beast and spanked it and took the phone back.
When I checked the activity log, it had been taking pictures of its arse and emailing them to marmots.org with rude messages attached, like “vancooVER sux LOL”. There is a reason that God did not provide woodchucks with email facilities, and they should not attempt to take advantage of those possessed by another species.
I can’t believe I’ve lost another phone. This time I got home and found the clip on the holster had broken off.
I got my QuickTime registration key back though.
This is all not going very happily, but at least it’s not going badly I suppose. I did have insurance on the phone. While I haven’t packed yet, I still have a couple of days to do so.
I’m not very good at this “thinking positive” thing though, and things going wrong on top of two projects coming to a head at the same time and moving – I don’t need that. I just want the whole thing to disappear. I think I could probably deal with things if I thought there was something to come back to, but, well. When I discovered I’d lost my phone, just after I got through the door, I knocked the chair over, kicked things around the room (not that you can tell, the place is such a mess anyway) and screamed; this is not like me. Then I stalked along my entire route from the bus looking for it, er, in the dark. Mmm, displacement, tastes good.
No, I’m not drunk.
I’m going to post a picture of the world’s smallest hamster as a kind of furry upbeat punctuation mark.
Here’s another picture I took which didn’t end up on Through The Mirrorball. » Continue reading “White lines”
Stress is a big con. Most of the things that create most stress you actually want to do and are desperate to succeed in.
Moving house – clearly, if you’re moving house, it’s often to be because you want to and you’re going to a better place. (I’m not talking about people who are running from the mob or have had their place bulldozed for running a crack den.) Yet the mere fact that you know you are relocating all your carefully-collected crap and living in a different cave to yesterday causes internal freakage. I’m currently moving, admittedly at the same time as having two serious projects come to a simultaneous head, which sounds dirty but isn’t, and I’ve been desperate to move for months. The things that I have to do are hardly arduous – tidy the place, clean it a bit, argue with Verizon – but something about it makes the subconscious scream “no!”
It’s not like I’ve not planned for this, too – I don’t have that much stuff hanging around. I know I’m likely to have to move, so I’ve planned for that. The only things I’m actually attached to, I can carry by myself. But the stupid lizard brain is shouting “danger! everything’s changing! beware!” and so I don’t sleep properly and shout at people.
This is a roundabout way of apologising for the blog being recently very tedious. Perhaps the best thing would be to abandon my rule for a while and post links from Teh Interweb, I can do that.
I just saw an advert for “battle scarred” Gundam toys, which included the subtitle “Figures do not talk”.
Is it only me that can’t help thinking of the David Cronenbourg version of The Fly whenever they put something in the microwave? I keep thinking that Jeff Goldblum is going to jump out and monologue at me whilst creepily waving his hands and touching my shoulder. Then, my coffee will disappear and reappear in another microwave on a different floor, horribly melded with the cup into a monster that is so against nature it can neither hold coffee nor be drunk. The unfortunate mutant will stumble out, mildly startling the man who was standing there waiting to heat up his noodles, and expire dramatically in a spray of caffeine. And I’ll have to get another cup.
Perhaps Jeff Goldblum would get me a cup, though he’d probably put his fingers all over it.
I don’t have a microwave at home right now, but my new apartment does. Will this turn me even lazier than I am now? I haven’t actually had one in my primary residence since I left my parents’ house; it was threatening to turn me into the Leftover King even then. Now, of course, I just eat cold leftovers, which is much more respectable.
In my list of things that I will never do, “buy a microwaveable ready meal” comes just underneath “buy an SUV”, and just above “go to another retro disco club”.
I’m too tired and annoyed to post about all that.
Okay, I will, actually. First of all, SEPTA had decided to introduce a new timetable today, but not actually change anything on the net or on their automated helpline. So I turned up in good time for a 7:40pm bus, only to find that actually they were leaving at 7 and 9. I ended up getting the 125 to the Mall, and then walking back from there. In the rain.
Then I had to write some guy a cheque for $30 to let me into my own apartment. I’m sure this is an entirely unauthorised payment – he said to write it out in his name rather than the landlords’ – but what was I going to do? Say “no, I want to check with the management first, I’ll camp out here in the hallway until tomorrow morning when I can ask them”? Hit him with my iPod and grab the keys? In any case I bet the management would do nothing since they are completely useless and don’t care.
This would all have been avoided if I just never changed my trousers.
In a week, I’ll be in a new place, with a whole new set of people trying to rip me off or being useless. Initially I’ll think they’re okay and after that, once the first instance occurs, at least it’ll be a slightly different experience to the last time.
I’m not going to do very well on “Monday Rocks”. I’ll do my best.