Forty Questions.

Ok I pinched this from Hillbilly Mansion because I liked it. Please steal it and pass it on as well.

1. What is your occupation?
Database administrator. But working in a bloody call centre to cover the mortgage.
2. What color are your socks right now?
Black. I work on the basis that if there are holes in my shoes black socks don’t show up as much as anything else.
3. What are you listening to right now?
Some dreadful seventies Burt Renolds film (“gator”).
4. Last thing that you ate?
Sweet and Sour Prawn balls (much to my surprise they apear to have bigger balls than I would have imagined).
5. Can you drive a stick shift?
Of course I can, have all the time I’ve driven.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Green.
7. Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Recruitment Agent, he phoned me saturday.
8. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Yes. (As I said pinched it from Hillbilly Mansion, who I particularily enjoy reading).
9. How old are you today?
Fourty One years, eight months, four weeks.
10. Favorite drink:
A good dry Gin martini, thats Gin not vodka.
11. What is your favorite sport to watch?
None (I don’t do sport).
12. Have you ever dyed your hair?
Not enough of it left.
13. Favorite curse word?
bastard (with the northern English flat inflectsion an the “a”).
14. Pets?
Two dead furbies.
15. Favorite food?
Chinese.
16. What was the last movie you watched?
One hour photo.
17. Favorite day of the year?
I don't realy have one.
18. What do you do to vent anger?
Blog.
19. What was your favorite toy as a child?
A large orange stuffed dog called tinfoil (after the lone rangers horse silver, as in “Hi ho Tinfoil” A phrase a freind of the family used to say as I rode round the room on the dog).
20. What is your favorite Fall or Spring?
Fall, autumn.
21. Hugs or kisses?
Hugs as I don’t get enough of them at the moment.
22. Cherry or Blueberry?
Blueberry.
23. Do you want your friends to email you back?
Yes.
24. Living arrangements?
Me, by myself, just the way I like it.
25. When was the last time you cried?
At the end of One hour photo.
26. What is on the floor of your closet?
I don’t have closets I just have floors.
27. Who's the friend you've had the longest that you're sending this to?
Pete. Known him for years now.
28. What did you do last night?
Slept and blogged a bit.
29. Favorite smells?
Freshly washed (womans) pubic hair.
30. What inspires you?
Almost everything. I like writing so gain insperation from almost everything.
31. What are you afraid of?
Heights, deep water.
32. Country you would most like to visit?
Tibet.
33. Favorite dog breed?
Yorkshire Terrier, because they have an intlligence and spirit far in excess of their diminuative size.
34. Number of keys on your key ring?
Four (I just countd them).
35. How many years at your current job?
Three months.
36. How many states have you lived in?
Zero.
37. Favorite holidays:
Winter solstice.
38. Ever driven a Motorcycle or heavy machinery?
No.
39. What's your favorite saying?
Facists!
40. Where did you get the chair you're sitting on right now?
My grandmother (May the gods bless her), got her cleaner to give me my dining table and chairs, one of which I’m sitting on at the moment.

Technorati Tag: Obsession, Rants, Rant.

Postcards From Beyond The Edge.

Ok I am still hating my job. I have moved from the Castle, that now seems a hell (and I mean “hell”) of a lot nicer place. I am now working for a call centre taking inbound calls (listening to people whinge about their broadband, “Where is it”, “when will I be connected”, and “you work for a f*cking ridiculous company don’t you mate?”, yes, yes I know that, arseholes!) for half the day and then actually doing the job for which I was employed the other half of the day.

I work in a company that would have a problem organising a pint in a brewery let alone a piss-up. I thought I’ve work for retards before but this lot make them seem veritably organised compared with this company. This lot really do use the infinite number of monkeys business organisation system. Dilbert really is a management manual for these people. (I kid you not readers).

I have managed to keep the house for the moment (though I have to do a fifty hour week to earn enough to hold onto it). Sod the bloody bank they did try taking me to court to take it away.

I still walk to work (I walk about five miles in total every day). I have managed to reduce my weight from about seventeen and a half stone down to fourteen stone (for the non-uk residence a stone is fourteen pounds, so two hundred and forty five pounds down to one hundred and ninety odd pounds) over the last three or four years.

Sod dieting just eat reasonably, which of course is what I have not been doing. Living on rice and pasta. And I don’t mean pasta and sauce, I mean pasta and salt and pepper if I’m bloody lucky.

As you can see I’ve finally organised my broadband (and not with the bloody company I work for, scum).

I didn’t realise I’d not posted for almost three months. I have just pruned my favourites at technorati and found about five or six of my regular sites (that I enjoyed visiting) had dropped off the blogosphere. Oh and I’ve ported this over to the new “beta”.

I still fight the ever present shadow of depression. I still have good days and bad days.

Finally, I am told that if a man knows he is insane, he is not insane. How then does one stand if everyone tells you that you are insane. If you believe them then you know you are insane, if you disbelieve them then you must be insane because you don’t.

Technorati Tag: Obsession, Rants, Rant.

The Amazing Nose Picking Man!

Every morning we dread it. Will he choose to sit opposite us? Will he choose to sit next to us? Will he sit in clear view of where we have chosen to sit?

Never in all my days have I seen a person able to spend such a high percentage of his time just picking his nose. It’s not as if we live in a particularly polluted metropolis. We live in Portsmouth not London (the land of black snot). I’m sorry but I am told I’m becoming obsessed (Me, Nooo!). But I can not fathom how he can be picking his nose every time I look up from my work. And don’t take just my word for it my close workmates agree, not only is he scanky, dirty and unhealthy but he is sitting there picking away. How can he do so much nasal excavation without having leather re-enforced nostrils? I’m surprised he hasn’t given himself a lobotomy by now the amount of time he spends with at least one finger rammed up his nose. Then he manages to top his previous performance by picking his ears as well. It’s got to the point where we almost sabotage the PC’s near us or collect in little huddles in an attempt to marginalise him so we don’t have to sit near him. But even then if he’s in my line of site I can’t help myself. My eyes are drawn straight to him, he with his hands up to his wrist in each nostril. I have decided he must be a conduit into a different time space continuum. He is actually the bridgehead to some pan-dimensional beings attempt to invade this universe, invasion of the snot beings from universe “X”. Maybe its one being who is passing piece by snotty piece through to this universe.

Please let the gods make him not sit in my line of sight!

Technorati Tag: Obsession, Snot.