nonsense

It is completely unimportant. That is why it’s so interesting!

I feel like I have no brain at the moment.  If anyone were to prise open my skull they’d find nothing but icky mushy stuff.  It’s probably pink, light not dark, and has the consistency of jelly when it’s made out of milk. I’d like to think that there are fine [baby-blue] candy-floss strands protecting the mushiness, but I doubt this to be true. 

My [work] trousers are too big for me.  This makes me happy.  It means that my visits to Gym have had some benefit.  I’m still in two minds about Gym.  On the one hand he’s quite nice, quite cool … but he has such atrocious taste in music.  And sometimes he gets very noisy, and even grunts a little, which makes me want to laugh because I always laugh at stupid things.  This accounts for why people give me odd looks sometimes. 

I’ve fallen in love with Sweetcorn.  Yes, Sweetcorn.  Why [oh-why] have I fallen in love with Sweetcorn? 

The Blokey is ill.  Well, he’s sort-of ill.  For the rest of his life.  But it’s treatable [with a pill, daily], it’s non-life threatening, and it accounts for a variety of things that have been going on.  My MiL suffers from the same ailment.  When we told her at the weekend she said, “Well, I did wonder.  Some of your symptoms sounded so much like mine.”  Well, that’s fandangly MiL – but why not tell him to toddle off to the doctor and get it sorted earlier then.

*sigh*

I have a new addiction, and now that Vista has made me feel all fuzzy and warm inside by re-entering my life, my addiction is so much cooler.  My addiction is Spider Solitaire.  Why [oh-why] have I become addicted to Spider Solitaire?

I do have a lot of stuff to write about.  But my life is being taken over by something called having-things-to-do and thus, the Internet gets mislaid, and the xlog gets forgotten, and Gym gets to see more of my miserable face.

Ah, Gym. 

please God bless this nonsense xxx Elsabeth

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I wouldn’t recommend sex, drugs or insanity for everyone, but they’ve always worked for me.

We did drugs yesterday.  Lots of drugs.

Drugs remind me of The BullyBoy. 

But whilst we were sitting there, doing drugs, this random little thought ran laughing across my forehead [so, not strictly my forehead, but it always seems that random little thoughts pop up in that one particular area of my head] gurgling, ha! you haven’t really had a holiday,  it was just a long weekend!  again, ha!

Little b.astard thought.

It is odd though.  Within education there’s this long glorious holiday, which whizzes by barely giving you time to breathe, and the moment you step back into the place where you work it’s as though it’s just Monday morning and only a couple of days since you were last in.  Or maybe it’s just me that this happens to.  Oh, and the day you go back is the day the sun decides that it’s time to make an appearance.

*sigh*

Anyways, once we’d had our fill of drugs Ms. Hippy looked at me sternly and exclaimed, I need to talk to you! … then she made A Face.  Yes, A Face.  I don’t like it when people make A Face at me.  It either means that I’ve done something terribly wrong, or that I’m going to hate what they’re going to tell me.

katiefinger: What?
Ms. Hippy: You’re not going to like this.  Actually, maybe I’ll tell you next month.
katiefinger: Oh, ‘k. 
*turns around to walk away*
*pauses and does a little turn-around skip*
katiefinger: So, on a scale of one to ten how bad is it?
Ms. Hippy: About fifteen.
katiefinger: With ten being the best, yeh … ?
*Ms. Hippy makes A Face again*
*katiefinger sits down*
katiefinger: Go on then.
Ms. Hippy: Well, you know your nice new office that’s all yours?
katiefinger: Yeeeess.
Ms. Hippy:  You won’t be spending much time in there.
katiefinger: *gasp* OhmyGod, I’m not having my room?
Ms. Hippy: Oh, you are having your room.  But you’re also having another room and you’re going to basically just babysit while these kids get on with their work for this particular reason [details withheld to protect the innocent].
katiefinger: Oh, is that all?  That’s about a two on the scale.
Ms. Hippy: But you’ll get terribly bored!  It’s just babysitting!
katiefinger: Yes, but I’m getting paid lots of money for being terribly bored/babysitting.  And I know that you’ll find me lots of work to do to stave the boredom off.  And if you don’t, I get to browse the Internet for hours and hours! 

I’m just happy because I have two rooms, and I’m getting a laptop!  I am so jammy!  And I know that all this babysitting nonsense will die a death when it becomes apparent that the naughty teenagers I’ll be supporting can’t actually access the thing I can’t talk about.  And then I won’t be bored because I’ll be doing something proper.  And life will return to something resembling normalcy.

Huz.  Zah.

Next week we’re doing doing sex.

please God bless my job xxx Elsabeth