<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d14970419\x26blogName\x3dgot+nothing+but+toejam\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://apositivepessimist.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://apositivepessimist.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-1097020392153637830', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
~got nothing but toejam~
simple hit counter
Thursday, May 11, 2006

Look at my face and spot the interest.


Can someone tell me why am I often mistaken for someone who actually gives a toss?

Is it because of my neutral facial expression?

Yesterday I had to ring the transport division in the main office in the next big town over. Always a joy. Usually I get stuck on the phone with old waffly guts Allan...not anymore, he resigned and they accepted. Gladly I believe.

Speaking with his fill-in it was mentioned that I need to start going to the monthly meetings. Heh. I haven’t been to one since *oh shit aye* November last year...or maybe it was October. *note to self*...check back in the minutes.

I repeated to her what I said to the chairperson just last week...

It ain’t gunna happen if I ain’t got a driver for my oldies...[but with more words inserted and much better grammer]...I mean fuck me they have the meeting on MY Tuesday day-carecentre day. For the first couple of years I used to stress out about trying to get everything organised and running somewhat smoothly with the day-care. Then drive forty-five minutes there...sit thru two and up to four hours of them talking and bickering...90% crap and 10% not so crap.

Drive an hour back home...added time for the wildlife that start to play closer to the road. Hitting a kangaroo at ninety k’s an hour is not a healthy option. Knowing that my pay packet will never be correlated with the hours I put in.

I stopped busting a gut and blood vessel doing what they “expected” of me a while ago. My ex-boss at the club would be turning in her grave...if indeed she were dead. Thankfully she isn’t.

I’m at the stage of fuck ‘em...I’m here just killing time.
Posted by apositivepessimist :: 10:14 pm :: 7 comments

Post / Read Comments

-----------------oOo-----------------