The Nanna's and the Poppa's
This weekend just past, there were quite a few things on the table. I could have played drunken golf with my 2 LAN Mine bosses. There was a HUGE grand final piss-up at Berrigan that I was invited to, and some other of my friends were hitting the town with a vengeance as well.
But I had loftier plans... I was visting grandparents.
It was actually pretty fun. I can drink any old weekend, I guess, and it was for the best that I took a weekend off. Burning the candle at both ends lately, it seems. Although, the night before I did go to a yr12 breakup party that was on. Put a large dent in a bottle of jagermeister and had a blast with James and a few of his mates.
My two younger sisters (Karlie and Lainie) and I all piled into Karlies little white ford festiva and we hit the tarmac at about 3pm. There truly is nothing spectacular about this trip, unfortunately. Shenanigans were limited to me throwing M&M's at Karlie and annoying Lainie about her new boyfriend. All in all, you take about 2 turns and just follow the road for 6 hours and you're in Ararat.
Last time we went up, I actually missed one of the 2 damn turns that we needed to take. Theres only 2 for chrissake! A piece of toilet paper had flicked out from under the wheel of a car in front of me, and lodged under the passenger side windscreen wiper. I was so amazed that this little piece of paper had stuck, at that speed, and happenned to miss the turn.
Karlie got the shits.
Lainie got the shits.
I tried to placate them with promises of "Swims!, beaches, and drives along the Great Ocean Road!" which were met with a hostile "Just get us the fuck to Ballarat!" and a hail of lollies.
We arrived at Nanna & Poppa's in Ararat at about 8pm and spent the night eating cold leftovers and throwing around hugs to the family. None of us kids had seen Nanna & Poppa in ages, so it was good to see them looking hale and hearty. The rest of the weekend was spent leafing through Nanna's abundance of 'New Idea' and 'Womens Weekly' magazines. Not that I really give two shits, but Brad and Angelina's relationship looks like it might be on the rocks.
I'm shocked too.
We cut back through a little town called Skipton on the way home on Sunday to visit my other grandparents, Grammy and Pa. Grammy put on one of her trademark awesome roasts (Grandparents just dont fuck roasts up. They have a good 40 years of solid roasting experience behind them!) and caught up with our uncle as well.
After lunch, it was time to goad the festiva into life and make the long journey home. I'm proud to say I drove us through both Ballarat and Melbourne. Two of the shittiest places I have ever driven, where every driver has an attitude and their own speed limit. And Ballarat's just plain confusing! Conflicting signs! 80kph signs... then 100kph signs... flollowed in fifty metres by a 60kph sign. And plus, Ballarat is generally a shitty place. If we voted for Australia's biggest Crud Bucket, it would poll extremely well.
No great hassles on the way home. We pulled into a servo for some M&M's and I sat watching some helpful bastard of a man, helping three blonde chicks fill up their radiator. I maintained that they were '3 Swedish exchange students, on a road trip down the highways to explore their sexuality', but neither of my sisters agreed.
All in all, a good trip. Got home safe and no major fights with the sisters!
I need some sleep!
-j
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
One Last Snowboarding Hurrah!
After our sojourn to falls creek last week, there was still a veritable buttload of snow lying around, and despite it being so close to spring, more was on the way. I organised Benny, Max, and Fanky and we decided to hit Falls Creek up for one last day of awkward looking snowboarding and 15ft faceplants (this is my speciality).
The day was freaking awesome. Max is especially good at ice skating, and ran rings around me last week when we had a go at that. So I took great pleasure in boarding around him as he constantly fell on his big ass on the snowboard. To his credit though, it was his first time and he ended up doing a shitload better than I did my first time up. Just get a lesson into the boy and he was away!
There was one incident where I followed Fanky into a series of jumps... he jumped... and dissapeared somewhere into the gap between the jumps where I couldnt see him. This cued a very inelegant manouver from me, which I like to call the 'Spastic Slowdown' before I hit the top of the jump. I dont think his girlfriend would appreciate me doing a '360 Fanky Headgrind with added Spinecrush'.
Personally, I avoided any really good crashes until the very last run. So in my usual stupid style I went down a slope a little bit too fast, turned a little too sharp down the bottom, the front of the board caught in the snow and I ate some serious shit. Snow all wedged up under my sunglasses, snow all wedged up into my pants. It truly was heaven.
Towards the end of the day, all the snow at the bottom of the mountain had turned to slushy mud, which was quite a treat as you rounded the last corner and had to pick the 2cm or so of snow that would bridge the slush. Stopping in that stuff would be worse than death... probably full of the bodies and fluids of lesser snowboarders who had slipped, flailed and sunk into the stinky black mess.
As usual, everything but your wang hurt the next day, and thats only because the cold made it shrink to somewhere in the middle of your chest. Legs, ankles... muscles that have no name, they all ached like a bastard, but it was still well worth it.
-j
After our sojourn to falls creek last week, there was still a veritable buttload of snow lying around, and despite it being so close to spring, more was on the way. I organised Benny, Max, and Fanky and we decided to hit Falls Creek up for one last day of awkward looking snowboarding and 15ft faceplants (this is my speciality).
The day was freaking awesome. Max is especially good at ice skating, and ran rings around me last week when we had a go at that. So I took great pleasure in boarding around him as he constantly fell on his big ass on the snowboard. To his credit though, it was his first time and he ended up doing a shitload better than I did my first time up. Just get a lesson into the boy and he was away!
There was one incident where I followed Fanky into a series of jumps... he jumped... and dissapeared somewhere into the gap between the jumps where I couldnt see him. This cued a very inelegant manouver from me, which I like to call the 'Spastic Slowdown' before I hit the top of the jump. I dont think his girlfriend would appreciate me doing a '360 Fanky Headgrind with added Spinecrush'.
Personally, I avoided any really good crashes until the very last run. So in my usual stupid style I went down a slope a little bit too fast, turned a little too sharp down the bottom, the front of the board caught in the snow and I ate some serious shit. Snow all wedged up under my sunglasses, snow all wedged up into my pants. It truly was heaven.
Towards the end of the day, all the snow at the bottom of the mountain had turned to slushy mud, which was quite a treat as you rounded the last corner and had to pick the 2cm or so of snow that would bridge the slush. Stopping in that stuff would be worse than death... probably full of the bodies and fluids of lesser snowboarders who had slipped, flailed and sunk into the stinky black mess.
As usual, everything but your wang hurt the next day, and thats only because the cold made it shrink to somewhere in the middle of your chest. Legs, ankles... muscles that have no name, they all ached like a bastard, but it was still well worth it.
-j
Saturday, September 17, 2005
3 Litres of Beer, Jagermeister, and a Big Black Poo.Part 2
We got some food into us and jumped in Jez's big red 4wd for the windy trip up the mountain. Jen started looking a bit ill about halfway through the first turn, and was mighty green around the gills when we putted into the Falls Creek car-park about 30 minutes later. She held onto her tea like a little trooper though... for now anyway.
It was snowing lightly and fucking freezing up there. We took a 'shortcut' up a snow covered embankment to get on the snow covered road to the pub (Jen was in her Ug Boots. Quite amusing), and giggled as heaps of people slid down the pub's ice-covered steps while we waited for a friend of liz's to show up.
Finally we entered the sausage fest that was the Big Cup party. One hot snowboarding chick for every 4 guys. Jen and I celebrated a bit too soon as one of our jugs was filled, but the other one was denied by a catty bar manager. Obviously we're two system hatin' rebels playing by our own rules with 'plastic jugs'. Tools of the devil indeed. We settled for a mere 1 litre glass and got sufficiently pissed off that. The thing about Big Cup night is, it sounds good in theory. $7 for a huge amount of beer? sounds awesome! Unfortunately, the beer is Tooheys New. And $7, while it isnt a huge amount, is still too much to pay when it's for a piece of your own death. Secondly, you can only take so much beer before the thought of any more makes you vomit a little bit in your own mouth.
So, on my advice, we all hit the Jager Bombs. These things fuck you up, and give you energy! Its a perfect combination! I think Jen, Liz and I all had the same amount, and when you take into account the fact that Liz and Jen combined probably don't weigh as much as me, and I was pretty messy, they must have been rooted.
After we'd all had enough, it was time to stagger down the snow covered treacherous road back to the car. I mean, it sounds easy, but there were one or two spills along the way. I actually had a hold of the back of Jens jumper, holding her up as she two-stepped, slipped and weaved down the road. I may have pushed her on a bit quicker as Liz and 'The Dude Who We Were Drinking With Whose Name I Forget' were macking behind us.
The car trip home was relatively uneventful. All the drunk people annoying the hell out of the sober people as we sung along to 'Foo Fighters - learn to fly' and 'Green Day - Longview', before I fell asleep on Jens shoulder.
I woke up in the morning to an argument about "Whose spew is this?" because someone (most likely Jen) had ralfed right in between Liz and Jen in the bed they were sharing. Liz left to go instruct snowboarding and Jen and I bummed around the house until we felt human enough to take the drive home. We were about to leave when I walked past Jen with an amazed look on her face in the loungeroom. "I just did the biggest, blackest poo ever". It must have been pretty amazing, because most people I know arent that astounded by their bowel movements.
Well, almost a week after it ended, i finally covered big cup night. I have to actually do some real work now.
-j
We got some food into us and jumped in Jez's big red 4wd for the windy trip up the mountain. Jen started looking a bit ill about halfway through the first turn, and was mighty green around the gills when we putted into the Falls Creek car-park about 30 minutes later. She held onto her tea like a little trooper though... for now anyway.
It was snowing lightly and fucking freezing up there. We took a 'shortcut' up a snow covered embankment to get on the snow covered road to the pub (Jen was in her Ug Boots. Quite amusing), and giggled as heaps of people slid down the pub's ice-covered steps while we waited for a friend of liz's to show up.
Finally we entered the sausage fest that was the Big Cup party. One hot snowboarding chick for every 4 guys. Jen and I celebrated a bit too soon as one of our jugs was filled, but the other one was denied by a catty bar manager. Obviously we're two system hatin' rebels playing by our own rules with 'plastic jugs'. Tools of the devil indeed. We settled for a mere 1 litre glass and got sufficiently pissed off that. The thing about Big Cup night is, it sounds good in theory. $7 for a huge amount of beer? sounds awesome! Unfortunately, the beer is Tooheys New. And $7, while it isnt a huge amount, is still too much to pay when it's for a piece of your own death. Secondly, you can only take so much beer before the thought of any more makes you vomit a little bit in your own mouth.
So, on my advice, we all hit the Jager Bombs. These things fuck you up, and give you energy! Its a perfect combination! I think Jen, Liz and I all had the same amount, and when you take into account the fact that Liz and Jen combined probably don't weigh as much as me, and I was pretty messy, they must have been rooted.
After we'd all had enough, it was time to stagger down the snow covered treacherous road back to the car. I mean, it sounds easy, but there were one or two spills along the way. I actually had a hold of the back of Jens jumper, holding her up as she two-stepped, slipped and weaved down the road. I may have pushed her on a bit quicker as Liz and 'The Dude Who We Were Drinking With Whose Name I Forget' were macking behind us.
The car trip home was relatively uneventful. All the drunk people annoying the hell out of the sober people as we sung along to 'Foo Fighters - learn to fly' and 'Green Day - Longview', before I fell asleep on Jens shoulder.
I woke up in the morning to an argument about "Whose spew is this?" because someone (most likely Jen) had ralfed right in between Liz and Jen in the bed they were sharing. Liz left to go instruct snowboarding and Jen and I bummed around the house until we felt human enough to take the drive home. We were about to leave when I walked past Jen with an amazed look on her face in the loungeroom. "I just did the biggest, blackest poo ever". It must have been pretty amazing, because most people I know arent that astounded by their bowel movements.
Well, almost a week after it ended, i finally covered big cup night. I have to actually do some real work now.
-j
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
3 Litres of Beer, Jagermeister, and a Big Black Poo.
Part 1.
On Monday night, Jen and I headed up to falls creek for the much anticipated (we don't drink together much. She scuttles off to Melbourne a lot when she has free time.) 'Big Cup' party. And, despite the fact that the actual party was somewhat of a sausage fest, it was a rad night.
We pretty much turned Albury upside down (or spent a good half hour at least) looking for a 'Big Cup' for this party. Things were looking grim until we turned up some sturdy numbers generally used for pouring cordial out of, which we thought fit the bill perfectly. Unfortunately this wasnt the case,. We strolled up to the bar (looking like a couple who had invested in matching his-n-hers large jugs) and one jug was filled with 2 litres of glorious beer before the bitchy senior bartender denied the other one because it was a 'plastic jug'. Which it was but surely thats some sort of descrimination when every bastard and his dog seemed to have a bigger, plastic thermos thing going! Jen looked like she wanted to smack the smarmy look off Ms Bitchy Bartender's face, but I settled her down by pouring 20cm of beer and 2.5 metres of foam into her cup. Actually, I think I merely redirected her rage as she stormed outside into the cold to pour out the foam caused by my enthusiastic pouring.
I'm skipping ahead of myself... armed with what we thought were fantastic jugs (heh... jugs. Fantastic ones!) we blasted the ipod and booted Jens little white laser down to Mt Beauty, where we stopped at the pub, drank a little beer, ate a little peanut, and threw a little... dart, before Liz got back home and we could meet her at her house (Liz is Jens best mate. We were crashing at her digs). Now i'm not a creature of outstanding cleanliness myself, but the house was just a tad on the funky side. Three snowboarders who pretty much drink themselves into liver failure every night while smoking themselves silly meant the house smelt like a dirty big sock. I wasn't that phased, but Jen looked a little uneasy as she sat on the couch and complained about a headache. We got a fer paracetamol into her though and she was rip roaring ready to go!
I really need to hit the sack now, but theres more to follow when I post tomorrow! Terrible tales of Jagermeister, "Too Much Beer", and Dragons*!
-j
* Dragons may not be included in said terrible tales.
Part 1.
On Monday night, Jen and I headed up to falls creek for the much anticipated (we don't drink together much. She scuttles off to Melbourne a lot when she has free time.) 'Big Cup' party. And, despite the fact that the actual party was somewhat of a sausage fest, it was a rad night.
We pretty much turned Albury upside down (or spent a good half hour at least) looking for a 'Big Cup' for this party. Things were looking grim until we turned up some sturdy numbers generally used for pouring cordial out of, which we thought fit the bill perfectly. Unfortunately this wasnt the case,. We strolled up to the bar (looking like a couple who had invested in matching his-n-hers large jugs) and one jug was filled with 2 litres of glorious beer before the bitchy senior bartender denied the other one because it was a 'plastic jug'. Which it was but surely thats some sort of descrimination when every bastard and his dog seemed to have a bigger, plastic thermos thing going! Jen looked like she wanted to smack the smarmy look off Ms Bitchy Bartender's face, but I settled her down by pouring 20cm of beer and 2.5 metres of foam into her cup. Actually, I think I merely redirected her rage as she stormed outside into the cold to pour out the foam caused by my enthusiastic pouring.
I'm skipping ahead of myself... armed with what we thought were fantastic jugs (heh... jugs. Fantastic ones!) we blasted the ipod and booted Jens little white laser down to Mt Beauty, where we stopped at the pub, drank a little beer, ate a little peanut, and threw a little... dart, before Liz got back home and we could meet her at her house (Liz is Jens best mate. We were crashing at her digs). Now i'm not a creature of outstanding cleanliness myself, but the house was just a tad on the funky side. Three snowboarders who pretty much drink themselves into liver failure every night while smoking themselves silly meant the house smelt like a dirty big sock. I wasn't that phased, but Jen looked a little uneasy as she sat on the couch and complained about a headache. We got a fer paracetamol into her though and she was rip roaring ready to go!
I really need to hit the sack now, but theres more to follow when I post tomorrow! Terrible tales of Jagermeister, "Too Much Beer", and Dragons*!
-j
* Dragons may not be included in said terrible tales.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
'Get off the stage thanks, mate.'
Just one of the lines I heard last night. Along with "put her down, mate" and "the first time I ever gave head was at a dancing competition!". There were probably one or two other chestnuts in there, but those are the ones that stuck in my pickled brain last night.
Went out with James and some of his mates last night to the Elbow and the Globe. James was cutting a rug in his usual Justin Timberlake style up on the stage, with me nervously dancing next to him in fear of a flailing arm or pelvis swinging around and knocking me the fuck out. I realise i'm painting a florid, homoerotic scene here, but there were girls with us, I assure you. More of James' friends, also laughing at his dancing and desperately hoping they wouldnt be the victim of another Justin Timberlake dance move gone wrong. It's pretty good though. You gotta give a guy kudos for gettin way up there and busting that shit out. I wonder if the endless monotony of going out in Albury will eventually stultify that young boisterous spirit. Time will tell I guess...
On the lady front... well I kissed one. Well maybe two, I can't remember exactly but I can definitely pen in one. I don't really know what to make of her either. According to James, she's dirty... which seems like a pretty strong discouragement. I assume it just mean 'she's easy' but hell, so am I, generally! Plus, she was cute and had a slamming body. Nice and small and toned. Gotta love that! What ended up happening though, was a makeout session on the dancefloor, followed by a "Wait here for a sec Jase, I just have to find my friend. I'll be right back!". Two songs later, she wasnt back and I decided "fuck this! She stood me up!" and walked home with Kit (a mate of James').
Good night though!
-j
Just one of the lines I heard last night. Along with "put her down, mate" and "the first time I ever gave head was at a dancing competition!". There were probably one or two other chestnuts in there, but those are the ones that stuck in my pickled brain last night.
Went out with James and some of his mates last night to the Elbow and the Globe. James was cutting a rug in his usual Justin Timberlake style up on the stage, with me nervously dancing next to him in fear of a flailing arm or pelvis swinging around and knocking me the fuck out. I realise i'm painting a florid, homoerotic scene here, but there were girls with us, I assure you. More of James' friends, also laughing at his dancing and desperately hoping they wouldnt be the victim of another Justin Timberlake dance move gone wrong. It's pretty good though. You gotta give a guy kudos for gettin way up there and busting that shit out. I wonder if the endless monotony of going out in Albury will eventually stultify that young boisterous spirit. Time will tell I guess...
On the lady front... well I kissed one. Well maybe two, I can't remember exactly but I can definitely pen in one. I don't really know what to make of her either. According to James, she's dirty... which seems like a pretty strong discouragement. I assume it just mean 'she's easy' but hell, so am I, generally! Plus, she was cute and had a slamming body. Nice and small and toned. Gotta love that! What ended up happening though, was a makeout session on the dancefloor, followed by a "Wait here for a sec Jase, I just have to find my friend. I'll be right back!". Two songs later, she wasnt back and I decided "fuck this! She stood me up!" and walked home with Kit (a mate of James').
Good night though!
-j
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I am PostBot
At work, Susan (one of the ladies I work with) was in her usual devastating form with the rubber-bands. That lady is crazy with those things! I dont know how many times i've worn a rubber band smack in the mouth from her when she's all the way across the bloody room. I was wise to her ways though, and constructed some armour (a chest / face protecting get up made of express post-packs and internal mail boxes, tacked together and with arm and neck holes). All of a sudden, I was PostBot! wielder of letter openers! Impervious to rubber bands! It was a great minute or so up until everyone got sick of firing at the armour and concentrated on my unprotected crotch and legs. I got cranky after that, realised how ridiculous I looked and ripped the shit off.
This week has been pretty crummy. Work-wise anyways. I seem to miss my bedtime every night, so I get tireder and tireder every day and I just feel more and more like a dirty old handkerchief. But then I stay up again! It's such a vicious circle! Tonight though, i'm going to go and get some Tiger Beer (I've been wanting to try it properly since dave gave me a taste) get some Hungry Jacks and watch the fucking Simpsons for a few hours before crashing early for once. Right now, that sounds like heaven.
Jen and I are going to Falls Creek for a 'Big Cup Party'. Apparently you bring the biggest cup, with a handle, and as long as they can jam it under the taps you can have it filled for $7! That will be freaking awesome. I havent drunk with Jen for ages, so that'll be sweet, plus, i mean, Falls Creek. Can you say snowboard chicks? I knowI can! Heres hoping I find one who ran into a pine tree or sustained some kind of brain-affecting injury to hit on!
I'll probably post again before the actual party, but i;m out now. Simpsons is on!
-j
At work, Susan (one of the ladies I work with) was in her usual devastating form with the rubber-bands. That lady is crazy with those things! I dont know how many times i've worn a rubber band smack in the mouth from her when she's all the way across the bloody room. I was wise to her ways though, and constructed some armour (a chest / face protecting get up made of express post-packs and internal mail boxes, tacked together and with arm and neck holes). All of a sudden, I was PostBot! wielder of letter openers! Impervious to rubber bands! It was a great minute or so up until everyone got sick of firing at the armour and concentrated on my unprotected crotch and legs. I got cranky after that, realised how ridiculous I looked and ripped the shit off.
This week has been pretty crummy. Work-wise anyways. I seem to miss my bedtime every night, so I get tireder and tireder every day and I just feel more and more like a dirty old handkerchief. But then I stay up again! It's such a vicious circle! Tonight though, i'm going to go and get some Tiger Beer (I've been wanting to try it properly since dave gave me a taste) get some Hungry Jacks and watch the fucking Simpsons for a few hours before crashing early for once. Right now, that sounds like heaven.
Jen and I are going to Falls Creek for a 'Big Cup Party'. Apparently you bring the biggest cup, with a handle, and as long as they can jam it under the taps you can have it filled for $7! That will be freaking awesome. I havent drunk with Jen for ages, so that'll be sweet, plus, i mean, Falls Creek. Can you say snowboard chicks? I knowI can! Heres hoping I find one who ran into a pine tree or sustained some kind of brain-affecting injury to hit on!
I'll probably post again before the actual party, but i;m out now. Simpsons is on!
-j
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Screw you Jack Daniels. Fuck you.
Hit the town last night with Max, Matty, Max's dad (Max senior) and their respective partners. When they had enough (Max's dad shouted a few too many black Galliano shots) I met up with James and Warren and we proceeded to have som Jager bombs, chartreuse shots (distilled from Hitlers urine, i'm told) and cut a rug on the dance floor, and yes, the stage at the Elbow. For some reason, possibly my dancing, the Elbow died off pretty soon so we toddled down to the Globe. Warren ponied up for a damn Jack Daniels shot for me. It went down sideways but I swallowed any encroaching vomitous tendencies and hit the dance floor. It was packed, it was smelly, but it was also really damned fun. At around this stage, a lovely looking young lady named J dirty danced up to me, and attached herself to my mouth. And thats pretty much how we stayed for the next half hour in various places within the pub. She had a friend there (another J. Lets call her J2) who I introduced to James. Next thing I know, they are mackin' on! I am Jason, matchmaker extroadinaire!
I started off loving the make out session, then I started thinking "that JD shot is really kicking in", followed by "Jasons gunna vom if he doesnt get out soon. So, loathe as I was to do this, I had to pull out a "I have to go, I have work tomorrow" line. I mean, shit. I was having a great time with a fantastic chick, and it was that dastardly Daniels that pushed me over the line and fucked it all up. I got J's number, stumbled down the steps, and feeling decidedly uncool weaved my sorry-ass home. I actually had a large black vomit out the front of the church, of all places, and took some sort of satisfaction out of that as I hit the hay.
All in all, a good night. I'm going to try and get out tonight, and msg J (she's from Sydney and only up for the weekend) so i'll see how it goes.
-j
Hit the town last night with Max, Matty, Max's dad (Max senior) and their respective partners. When they had enough (Max's dad shouted a few too many black Galliano shots) I met up with James and Warren and we proceeded to have som Jager bombs, chartreuse shots (distilled from Hitlers urine, i'm told) and cut a rug on the dance floor, and yes, the stage at the Elbow. For some reason, possibly my dancing, the Elbow died off pretty soon so we toddled down to the Globe. Warren ponied up for a damn Jack Daniels shot for me. It went down sideways but I swallowed any encroaching vomitous tendencies and hit the dance floor. It was packed, it was smelly, but it was also really damned fun. At around this stage, a lovely looking young lady named J dirty danced up to me, and attached herself to my mouth. And thats pretty much how we stayed for the next half hour in various places within the pub. She had a friend there (another J. Lets call her J2) who I introduced to James. Next thing I know, they are mackin' on! I am Jason, matchmaker extroadinaire!
I started off loving the make out session, then I started thinking "that JD shot is really kicking in", followed by "Jasons gunna vom if he doesnt get out soon. So, loathe as I was to do this, I had to pull out a "I have to go, I have work tomorrow" line. I mean, shit. I was having a great time with a fantastic chick, and it was that dastardly Daniels that pushed me over the line and fucked it all up. I got J's number, stumbled down the steps, and feeling decidedly uncool weaved my sorry-ass home. I actually had a large black vomit out the front of the church, of all places, and took some sort of satisfaction out of that as I hit the hay.
All in all, a good night. I'm going to try and get out tonight, and msg J (she's from Sydney and only up for the weekend) so i'll see how it goes.
-j
Friday, September 02, 2005
Work sucks...
This week was one of the longest ones of my life, or so it seemed. Last weekends escapades left me pretty burnt out, and when you couple this with my particular employment (ie. one thats positively deadshit-boring) it turns into it's own unique little variety of hell.
When you're opening mail at work, you get the magnetic media (disk, CD, what-have-you) and clip it to the form that comes with it, date stamp it and send it on it's merry little way. If you get more than one piece of magnetic media, you stamp the sheet, photocopy the form and clip one to each disk.
On Wednesday, I opened a box with two hundred and sixty five disks in it, with a single damned form! Downstairs uncle Jase goes, amongst the silent (except for the tapping of keyboards and the occasional cough) key edit people. I copped many a greasy from these hard working people as I basically lolled about while the photocopier took 15 minutes to spit out 264 copies of the form in all its whirring, clacking glory. I returned upstairs, triumphant that I had just set some sort of record, but then I realised I hadn't stamped the original form. Now there were 264 forms that needed to be individually date stamped. Everyone had a good old laugh while I ferociously stamped the shit out of the first seventy or so forms before my arm got sore as hell and I had to tone it down a bit.
This incident pretty much explains my whole week. On Thursday I had my lunch (garlic naan bread and rice) clog up in my oesophagus and pretty much fuck me right up until I left work early and pulled, for the first time ever, the old two finger down the throat trick to make myself barf. Not a pretty sight I can tell you.
Theres more to write, but I thinki'll split it into 2 entries. Its boring as hell poking your way through a whole mess of text, especially my text.
-j
This week was one of the longest ones of my life, or so it seemed. Last weekends escapades left me pretty burnt out, and when you couple this with my particular employment (ie. one thats positively deadshit-boring) it turns into it's own unique little variety of hell.
When you're opening mail at work, you get the magnetic media (disk, CD, what-have-you) and clip it to the form that comes with it, date stamp it and send it on it's merry little way. If you get more than one piece of magnetic media, you stamp the sheet, photocopy the form and clip one to each disk.
On Wednesday, I opened a box with two hundred and sixty five disks in it, with a single damned form! Downstairs uncle Jase goes, amongst the silent (except for the tapping of keyboards and the occasional cough) key edit people. I copped many a greasy from these hard working people as I basically lolled about while the photocopier took 15 minutes to spit out 264 copies of the form in all its whirring, clacking glory. I returned upstairs, triumphant that I had just set some sort of record, but then I realised I hadn't stamped the original form. Now there were 264 forms that needed to be individually date stamped. Everyone had a good old laugh while I ferociously stamped the shit out of the first seventy or so forms before my arm got sore as hell and I had to tone it down a bit.
This incident pretty much explains my whole week. On Thursday I had my lunch (garlic naan bread and rice) clog up in my oesophagus and pretty much fuck me right up until I left work early and pulled, for the first time ever, the old two finger down the throat trick to make myself barf. Not a pretty sight I can tell you.
Theres more to write, but I thinki'll split it into 2 entries. Its boring as hell poking your way through a whole mess of text, especially my text.
-j
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