Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Lock up your children, and tie up the family pets...

... for I, dear friends, am a fully licensed driver... *gasp* DEAR GOD!
Yes, it's true, I was deemed road-competent this morning by a disenchanted civil servant smelling of stale cigarette smoke, who made me do a three point turn, but dispensed with any parallel parking whatsoever.

Hail the conquering...

Friday, July 23, 2004


PV feeds the dwarves who run the mail cart left over cookies from break Posted by Hello

Thursday, July 22, 2004

I AM CANADIAN

... and therefore I say yoghurt, not yogurt.
So there.
I don't know what this proves, but hey, now it's out there.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

The Countdown has begun

Behold, the Countdown, in all it's technicoloured magnificence:
 
3 weeks of work (as of today, 14 work days, minus the stat holiday, so 13 days)
6 weeks of Canada (exact days as yet undecided, because the idiot travel agent can't pick up a phone)
1 week till the dreaded Driving Test, which I will not fail, I will not fail I will not fail...
2 days till N comes! Hurrah!

Monday, July 19, 2004


sucked! Posted by Hello

Air Ducts of Death

~Duck tape? what's duck tape? Do ducks use tape? Do you ever need to tape ducks? Have you ever seen a duck and said, "Woooah, that baby's coming loose, better tape it"?~
 
So it's Monday...
I'm sitting here eating my cup of yoghurt using the lid as a spoon... the tried and true method of the kid who always forgets a real spoon (and the mini plastic back-up one is in the lunch bag, which I also did not bring), and getting yoghurt freaking everywhere, and watching the clock.  Longest day ever, and tomorrow's only Tuesday.  Was there a point?  Oh yes.  I sit here, day after day, and (when it's not on the blitz) the air filtration seems to work in reverse, little by little, sucking out my oxygen, sucking away my soul.  I feel soulless and lifeless sitting here.  Panic? no, people without souls don't panic.  They sit calmly with their hoods up, pretending not to be falling asleep and flick yoghurt off of their pants on to the rug.
How long can you go without oxygen before you begin to get brain damage?
Then the soulless person ignores the pile of unsorted docs on her desk and draws a nifty picture of her soul being sucked away by the air ducts.
 
 

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

World Hate

There's someone carrying on a super extended conversation near my cube who has some vocal affectation in which she must repeat one syllable words at least 5 times before she can complete the sentence. "um um um um, is is, that that, so so so so so so, and and and and and"
I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm Goddamn pissed already, and it's the most annoying thing in the whole WORLD to have to listen to involuntarily, so would you PLEASE fuck off out of it.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

The unquestioned discipline of unabridged books on tape

So, where have I been? where oh where.. HAVEN'T I been? Just kidding, I don't do anything interesting anymore. The whole of my entertainment value is limited to the poor disenchanted student workers of our backdoor government community. Does that make sense? Only to me. So, my wit is only excercised in daily e-mail rallies and around the picnic table at lunch. You know what they say -- all work and no play makes me a dull girl. The only thing keeping me alive is the library's stash of unabridged books on tape -- a wealth enjoyed probably only by me, and Jean Little -- I listen so avidly to my narrated lifeline that I haven't posted here in... forever? 2 weeks seems like that in my world.
Anyway, today I'd like to make a little shout out to architects, contractors, people who make buildings and the like.
Guys, could you stop making buildings with windows that don't open? To hell with energy efficiency, you have to think of your responsibility to the people who will occupy those buildings. Currently, the occupants of the NE corner of our glorious blue palace, myself included, are being slowly asphyxiated because the air distribution system has had a nervous breakdown. And while the maintenance men are labouring slowly over its shivering, gibbering mass of ducts, we are being deprived of oxygen, crammed inside a transparent blue box that we can't manipulate. I feel... like a hamster.
This is some cruel joke.
And while I've got your attention... could we have a word about women's washrooms? Two words: More stalls. We can't stand up (without a lot of practice), so allow for more space and more stalls in the women's washroom! Trust me, the boys won't miss'em.