Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Guess what I did
I hopefully went to my last work meeting over in the city of Blahyah. I will be seriously pissy [like I mean seeruslee] if I am still around to go to the one in January. Please immigration gods let that not be a chance, oh who am I kidding I will probably come up with some lame-o excuse not to go anyway. Aww no sorry my dog had kittens, can't possibly attend. Normally I would still be on holidays for the January meeting, but at this stage I believe I am only taking two weeks off over Christmas as opposed to my normal get me the hell out of here five weeks.
And bugger me dead if
yesterday's meeting wasn't over and done in forty-five freaking minutes. That's bloody unheard of. Even with the waffly guts Dementia coordinator uhmming and bloody ahhing all through her report plus her then reading aloud some correspondence she received. I nearly jabbed her in the face with my pointy elbow when she asked the committee if they wanted her to read it out to them. Then I pictured myself leaping on top of the table and Mexican hat dancing upon it kicking the various committee members in the chops who nodded their head yes. Instead I had to make do with gouging half moons into my palms whilst mentally rocking myself with....last one, last one, last one, you can do this grasshoppaaah.
Whoa...it might be my last ONE!!!
So I get home earlier than normal and feeling pretty abfab about it when thirty minutes later I am assaulted by the caterwauling from the brats next door magnified by another two visiting kids. Then I am deliiiightfully amused by some stray heathen riding his bike up and down the flats driveway, yelling at the top of his bless his little heart lungs. He goes up...he goes back...he goes up...he goes back. Damn me for not having a set of road spikes. Eventually I got up and had a sly peek out the window wondering where this pedalling brat materialised from...as it certainly wasn't from fucking heaven...ohhh okay that explains it, his father who lives at the top of the street is parked out on the road talking to Friar-Fuck paying no mind whatsoever to what his son is doing. So with the next lap he came screaming through I reefed up the curtain and in my best rabid cat impression I hissed at him. Wahlah. No future driveway laps.
There are times I do so enjoy being the CatWeasel of the flats.
**please note that no stray heathen was hurt in the hissing...although he may have crapped his duds**
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
2:37 am ::
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