The calm before the storm
This morning, as I stepped out the door I noticed the air did not have the chill I had become accustomed to. Rather, it was mild, not at all warm wrap and boot weather.
As I drove into work the announcer declared that it was to be 20C today but don’t get too used to it, it is only the calm before the storm.
At work the topic of conversation swung to the lovely weather and the birds congregating in the trees outside our window.
It is only the calm before the storm some said.
Oh, they have no idea.
At Christmas, Boo decided that he was going to make a movie. The Power Rangers Christmas movie.
In July.
Boo has talked about nothing else for the last SIX MONTHS.
This person will be this character and they will say this and wear that.
And in a couple of hours it will be the first of July.
And I have to break my boys heart when I explain to him, yet again, that all the kids from school are not coming to make his movie. That Steven Spielberg and the whole staff of Pixar are not coming and I was unable to secure an empty movie studio to film his movie.
And the spinoff series.
He made some props today.
A six foot tall bow and arrow, a spear and an axe.
A storm is brewing people. If you need me I will be cowering under the bed.
Well, hello lover…
I have lusted after you for years.
Dreaming of one day holding you in my hands, gently stroking my hand down your shaft.
My whole body shudders at the thought of owning you, possessing you, waking up knowing that you are there waiting for me.
Today I decided to take the plunge. To give in to my desires.
To possess you.
Right now you are waiting for me in the other room. I cannot wait to release you, like a gift to myself, grab hold of you and get you down right dirty.
Oh lover. How you satisfy me.
Worth. Every. Fucking. Cent.
Kitchen shit turns me on. What can I say… *snigger*
Now excuse me, my lover and I are about to go and get hot and sweaty in the kitchen.
Fuck you postman. Or post woman. I mean really, how can you tell these days? No matter what you are offending someone.
This morning I was backing out of the driveway to take Boo to school. We were discussing the virtues of building a rocket to get to America quicker than an aeroplane, cause I had a dream that I went to America to stay the night at Bossy’s house, but she had to take her dog to the vet so I ended up staying at Lotus’s (Lotus’? Lotuses? Lotii’s? Whatever, bewbgirls house…) and we went to a field to pick Reeses Pieces from sunflowers.
Cause that would be awesome.
Boo didn’t like the idea of being cooped up in an aeroplane for hours, hence the rocket theory.
Anyway…
We were chatting and I was being an excellent driver and looking out all my mirrors and driving slowly down the long driveway wondering what shoes one would wear to pick Reeses Pieces from sunflowers, when I came to the end and saw the postman/postlady/postfucker waiting to the side behind the six foot fence that obscures my view.
I waved and she/he/fucker shook its head like I was not in fact an excellent driver but a hoon barrelling out of the drive hoping to hit a puppy or an old person with a walking frame or something…
And I ask you, what is the sport in that? It is only 5 points if you hit an oldie with a walking frame. Twenty points if you hit a jogger. Especially one wearing these:
tool
I resisted the urge to flip the bitch on her motorcycle ON THE FUCKING FOOTPATH at 10 to 9 in the morning on a foggy day, lest she decide to not deliver my mail or spit in it or some shit and then as I was driving down the road and looked back in my mirror and it is still fucking shaking its helmet covered head I realised that all the mail I get is bills and bad news and I should have hit the bitch and then reversed over the motorbike.
I reckon I would have got the keys to the city or an Order of Australia or a free donut and chocolate malted milkshake as a thankyou.
Oh come ON! It is funny! Dude will have to grow a thick skin if he wants to date my daughter… Oh and I have a question.
On Sunday morning Moo came to me and asked if The Boyfriend could come over. She is sick with the Man Flu (cause dramatic princesses don’t get colds, they get Man Flu but WORSE!) and had taken the day off work to wallow in her own self pity.
Apparently, The Boyfriend had an accident and was all cut up. Split lip, black eye, the whole shebang and needed to be comforted by Miss Pathetically !!DYING!!
I was a little concerned, cause I am not a total heartless bitch. Until I found out what happened. Then I was all Bwaaaaa haaaaa haaaaaaaaaa! *deep breath* bwaaaaaaa haaaaa haaaaaa
My reaction didn’t go down well. But I ask you, my lovelies, is this not fucking hilarious or what?
It seems that The Boyfriend was having a hot shower. The fan in The Boyfriends bathroom is not working. The Boyfriend was a little over come with the ’steaminess’ of the bathroom and passed out giving himself a black eye and a split lip in the process.
*snigger*
Moo fawned all over him like he had 2 weeks to live or something, not that he was a big girly man that can’t handle a little steam.
Meh.
The next morning MPS was having a shower and called out ‘Kel! Help! The room is too steamy, I feel faint!’
*snort*
Moo was not impressed.
Fucking funny shit or poor baby got a boo boo traumatic event?
And now for my question. I wandered over to Feedburner, I don’t go over there often cause well, apparently there are stats and shit there and I just don’t wanna know. Ya know? Anyhooha, I went there and noticed this:
The circles and boxes and arrows are my little addition.
And I am all WTF? What is with all the feeds? How the hell do I just make them all one?
Somebody? Somebody?
So to recap:
Is The Boyfriend just a big girly man or victim of a horrific accident that is not getting its due from the heartless Mrs Moo? (and yes, the fucker calls me Mrs Moo. Fucker.)
and
How do I get all my feeds into one? Cause it looks messy, and messy makes me uncomfortable.
Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya…
Last week we went on a ‘team building exercise’.
The senior managers go on this shit all the time. Sometimes it is to a flash hotel overlooking the city lights, others an island on the Whitsundays. On one of these junkets they decided that in order to lift moral they should throw a few shekels the way of the people that actually do the fucking work and send us all on a day out.
A day to let us get to know ourselves and each other a little better. With free food and a little OMFG WE ARE DOING WHAT NOW? thrown in for good measure.
The memo sent out stated it was ‘rustic’ and to wear comfortable shoes.
Okay then.
So I wore jeans, a lacy top and these adorable cute little Mary Janes with red stitching. That totally went with my bag.
And a wrap. You know, for just in case we had to stand around outside waiting for the bus or something. It IS winter after all.
I need to interrupt this tale to say, I grew up in the city. I live in the country, but I am a city girl. I don’t do ‘dirty’ or ‘rustic’ or ‘camping’ or ‘instant coffee’ or any of that sort of thing. Roughing it to me is a 4 star hotel…
So anyway, we all pile into a bus and drive the hour or so to our destination.
We drive up a dirt road and I look out the window and quip ‘Oh THERE it is!’ pointing to a tin shed with no walls on three sides. I am giggling as I turn to my workmates and they all look at me like I have lost my mind and tell me that yes, it is and why are you grinning like a loon?
The look of complete abject horror on my face sent the bus load of officeworkers that have lived in the country for their entire lives into hysterics. One even choked on her own spit.
Cause she is classy like that.
We piled out of the bus, I am still thinking this is a horrible joke when the doors open and I see plastic garden furniture set up in the required U shape of our meeting room.
Wood chips on the floor. Tin roof with SKULLS of DEAD ANIMALS hanging along with rusty dangerous looking (what I surmised) farm equipment. A fucking DANCE FLOOR in the corner and plastic mugs next to a jar of generic brand instant coffee.
I. Am. In. Hell.
There is plastic up against the walls, blowing in the arctic winds and a huge fireplace the size of my lounge room burning with a fucking TREE in it.
Our senior manager is running around taking photos of everyone - probably as proof we turned up - and every single pic is of me looking at the roof. Checking for spiders.
By now my feet are iceblocks. My wrap is wound around my body and the only source of warmth is the forest ablaze near the door or *shudder* instant coffee. The trainer smiles sweetly and informs us we are about to take a personality test.
Fucking brilliant.
By now I am ready to cut a bitch, but I do the test and answer the questions the way I know they want them answered and I come out as an introvert people pleaser and pray that someone, anyone will come and save me from this horror.
Or at least has some rum to take away the pain.
We have lunch - apparently that is what they called the slop - and then are informed that we are to take on MORE work with less time and hey, we are getting new desks! Half the size of the ones we have.
Oh fuck me dead. What?
But the true horror was to come.
A team building exercise.
Oh yes.
I was teamed up with 3 others, one of which is the girl that sits near me that never ever stops eating. And likes to pretend that she knows what she is talking about by talking really loudly over everyone just regurgitating what someone else has said.
We had to throw an egg without breaking it using straws, string, balloons, tape and paper.
I designed an aerodynamic tee-pee construction with the egg tightly wrapped in tape with a cushioning lightly inflated balloon inside. It was fucking awesome.
The others tied fully inflated balloons to it to make it float.
???
We lost.
And fucker face stuffing idea stealing bitch told the manager that she designed the aerodynamic tee pee of awesome.
I lost my fucking shit. In a professional way of course.
And now she is not speaking to me.
So, despite the freezing ninja arachnid infested instant coffee OMFG say what are we doing now personality testing floor covered in bark that could totally catch fire if the forest rolled out of the loungeroom sized fire pit 8 hours sitting on garden furniture, I think the day was a success.
Now if I could only get the bitch to close her mouth while her face is in the food trough, life would be totally sweet.
