Silly girl: “Hi, I need [some random shit] copied onto acetates. Can you do that for me?”
Me: “Yeah, sure. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be back with them.”
Silly girl: ”Oh, ok; I need you to hurry. My presentation is in, like, 10 minutes.”
Seriously? You really think that telling someone to hurry up is going to make them do anything other than slow. The. Fuck. Down?
Wow.
There’s an exceedingly irritating woman at work who uses the phrase ‘Sort of’ constantly. She just had a sort of phone conversation where she was trying to sort of direct someone to another sort of department.
“There’s a sort of woman there…yeah, she sort of deals with this sort of thing…she’s sort of called Gemma.”
Argh! I know I have rather a lot of difficulty in getting my words out, but for God’s sake! Think about the words before they leave your mouth, it might help with that little problem you have of being so desperately annoying.
Well I’m being well and truly bitten on the arse this year for having the wherewithall to sort out my annual leave with any degree of promptitude.
I booked EJC, only to have to cancel it after much soul-searching about whether it was worth standing on a Beard stall for 6 hours a day in payment for my plane ticket. (It isn’t.)
And now, after a whole year of being skeptical and pessimistic about the likelihood of the BJC being anything approaching a decent event, and finally being convinced to hand over my pre-reg cash at Chocfest, that’s fucked too. Oh well done. *Slow clap*
So now all we’ve got to look forward to is Bungay, which runs the risk this year of being horribly over-prescribed. My plan is to spend most of the week hiding from people and rolling in the buttercups…
…So no change there then.
A had to scrape myself past two fat lesbians taking up an inordinate amount of the pavement this morning.
They were doing that happy-lesbian thing where they hold hands quite openly and look thrilled with their life in an ‘I dare you to say something’ way. Like they had nothing to be ashamed of.
But I’m sorry; obesity trumps lesbianism. Their ghastly double-wide blubber should have been safely sat at home, possibly eating something, instead of taking up the entire pavement.
And if they were at home they could have been having a bit of lesbian rumpy-pumpy and burning off a few calories.