My legs feel hollow and ache. I suspect it is the hangovery-gouty-old-hypochondriacal-atypical-day-after feelling. I’m feeling a bit iffy about my post-work Friday ritual too. I should stick to it because I missed out last month having to stay at Lindsey’s.
I’m concerned because things don’t seem to anger me as much lately and thus not inspiring me as much (still it keeps you lot in memoirs dunnit?). I’m worried I’m mellowing out and becoming middle aged. Roll on January, hopefully then I’ll have something to write about…..
One thing, however, really annoys the tits off me. People saying things like “Oh you’re a smart kid you’ll find something soon”. I know people are meaning well and that by saying it but really gets on my tits. Like “If I was that smart I’d be in a fucking better situation than I am now!”. I was going to write about how that annoys me but then I got thinking of the other fucking unhelpful things people say to me…..
stegzy – Have you seen my missing key?
Wife – Where did you last have it?
stegzy – I can’t find the remote control. It has gone missing.
Wife – Well it must be somewhere.
Gahhh!! If I knew where I had my key last I’d still have the wanking thing. As for the remote control…Of course it must be Somewhere it can’t just cease to exist. Can it??
I’ve probably babbled on here about this subject before, but it is such a tinderbox subject to me that I had to write about it again.
stegzy – Ooops I’ve stumbled.
Someone – Did you have a nice trip?
was funny once….but at an age approaching 33 the gag has worn so thin you can see next door through it. I’m sure you have similar situations. That is what the comments feature is for though innit??!
On another annoyance…On hold music…one of the IT companies that Bossman calls on a regular basis has this really seedy on hold music. Every time he gets put on hold Bossman puts the telephone onto loud speaker and together we chuckle about how it sounds like a soundtrack to a 1970’s porno movie. So, as exciting as my life is at the moment we got discussing different companies “on hold” music.
One such company, Jungle, plays jungle based songs like Hey Hey We’re the Monkeys, The Lion Sleeps tonight and Welcome to the Jungle as their “on hold” music. The worst I’ve heard though was a Stylophone version of A la Clair d’lune played by the Housing Benefits office in Liverpool. I was on hold for 10 minutes and a fortnight later that tune was still going round my sodding head.
do do do de dooo dooo do de do do dooooo
Over and over and over and over again. Still could be worse….it could be “We value your call” or “We know you are waiting one of our operators will be with you shortly” or “You are in a queue we value your call”….Of course you value my fucking call thats why your thing broke in the first fucking place! So I’d have to sodding well call you and justify why you have a fucking call centre in Dehli! When if you’d have done your fucking job properly there wouldnt be any need for me to call your fucking call centre now would there?!!?!?!!?!?1!? In fact if you spent the same amount of money you’ve invested in your sodding call centre and infrastructure on getting your product right in the first place there wouldnt be any need for your sodding call centre, the world would be a happier place and you’d not look like a complete bunch of sodding monkeyshites!
Finally I’ve recently come to the horrific conclusion that I am a fat bastard and I need to lose weight.
We knew this already but the reality hit me last night when trying to find a clean pair of smart trousers…..nothing fitted me anymore…My size 40 waist trousers are either too tight or too baggy…I’m on the cusp of large mens and specialist size trousers. This is not good. I hate shopping for clothes as it is never mind having to buy more cos I’ve put on the pounds….there is only one solution. Again…that will have to wait until January. Thing is I haven’t noticed until I’ve put trousers on that I havent worn for a while…I mean my jeans still fit me (kind of) and my shirts are still kind of baggy (in places) and my socks…well…if I can find the sodding things…they still fit me…
Socks, you see, have a habit, in chez Gnomepants anyways, of morphing into Mrs Gnomepants’ socks. Collectively our socks are pooled into one basket. Sometimes they are paired in advance, other times they are simply thrown in willy nilly until the barefooted require vestige. I fear the wifes socks are either sentinent beings that devour my socks or there is a worm hole in the sock basket which the wifes socks are immune to. Though it does appear like the wife has more socks than I do but they are significantly different (she has titchy feet) to my socks. This week, I confess…I have worn the same pair of socks 2 days running purely because I couldnt find a clean pair in the sock basket. Shameful I know….but my previous life as an unemployed bum has prepared me for eventualities such as no clean socks. Indeed, my life as a bum taught me other skills such as Stub Rollies: How to make a pack of 10 cigarettes last longer, Free Money: Where to look for it, Keeping Warm the Bedsit Way and my all time best seller Lard: Mans Best Friend (10 alternate applications for lard) . Such gems of frugal living will remain secret to the general LJ population until January methinks….