jelly_waffle

Tequila! It makes me...vomit

Mon, 10 Apr 2006 15:52:28 GMT

It is twenty to five on Monday afternoon and my stomach muscles are still aching from the strenuous vomiting I performed yesterday. I am seriously questioning my ability to drink to excess anymore - every time for the past couple of months has involved next-day pukage. This never used to happen - I could knock back the double vodkas and the aftershocks with the best of them and it never had quite such an explosive effect on my digestive system. It was bad enough last weekend when I had to get up after Star to go to a wedding and unfortunately hurled in the bathroom of the very kind strangers providing me with a lift. I would prefer not to be the sort of person who does this. My self image was further damaged yesterday when i found myself running down the hall, dressing gown flapping uselessly behind me failing to cover any modesty, cheeks bulging with vomit - FOUR TIMES. Disgusted by throwing up acidic bile, I started forcing down Cherry Coke to give myself something to throw up and thus made the happy discovery that actually it tastes almost as good on the way up as on the way down, making my vomit a much a more pleasant experience.

Yes, I was drunk on Saturday night - at a very fine party at my own house, and yes I was mixing the most rank and radioactive margheritas imaginable - they are certainly not supposed to be bright green - but my hangover was definitely out of proportion to the drunkenness. This has caused the most terrible dilemma as drinking is one of my favourite activities and puking one of my most loathed.

I don't know where this leaves me. Except with a firm resolution to never again:

Mix my own cocktails
Consume tequila in any form
Do shooters on any occasion
Drink doubles

I miss the iron drinking constitution of the days of yore. I am old and weak nowadays. My prime is far behind me and there is obviously nothing left but death and decay to come.

harrumph

Mon, 30 Jan 2006 16:40:35 GMT

It's so confusing. The sooner I get out of this job with it's random Myspace blocking-unblocking-blocking merry go round, the better. Presumably someone in IT services somewhere keeps going back there, confused and bewildered by the emos - is it bad? Is it good? Is it corrupting our employees? Or maybe it's just that they realise every time they unblock it, my productivity plummets. Fortunately Livejournal has slipped under their radar. However, it's really thrown the Nick & Jenny Daily Haiku Challenge all out of sync. But here is today's attempt:

All weekend I toiled
Tippy tappy typing on
It was all in vain

It is in honour of the weekend I spent devotedly slaving away over the transcription of some incomprehensible and exceptionally dull DVDs for Yorkshire TV, only to discover that they had accidentally given me the wrong ones and my labour will benefit no one. They are, however, paying me considerably more than they intended to for it as it took so much longer than the ones they actually wanted me to do so I really can't complain even if it did suck up my entire weekend. Anyway, I did have time to buy my hamster a car. I hope that my treatment of Dougie doesn't have any bearing on my future parenting abilities because he is now so fat he fills his whole bedroom and I can't stop giving him chocolate drops because he looks so cute when he holds them between his paws and nibbles on them. I think I am like one of those feeders who fatten up their girlfriends to keep them bed-bound and helplessly dependent. Anyway, his new car is actually an exercise ball set into the frame of a car so he will burn some of it off while I clap delightedly at the sight of a hamster driving a car. Genius. I may never let him out of there.

Twenty minutes left at work. I think I will spend them looking up cocktail recipes for our party. Yay!

confusion, disorientation and a little blind hatred

Tue, 20 Dec 2005 16:06:25 GMT

Christmas time is the time of year when I traditionally abandon all of my rage and instead rejoice in all the festivity - namely mulled wine, mince pies, presents and legitimate excuses to eat chocolate for breakfast and get drunk in the morning. This year, however, I have found some space in amongst the unbridled joy for some bitter fury reserved for the following annoyances:

1. I have to work right up until Christmas Eve, the only concession being that we get to finish at 3pm on Friday 23rd. Whatever. I am ready for my holiday NOW please.

2. Christmas shopping.

Obviously, the second point is exacerbated by the first, as working full-time leaves me either twenty minutes in my lunch break to shop (no good for someone with my level of indecision and disorganisation) or the weekend (no good for someone with as little patience as I have for crowds). I attempted to solve this problem by taking a day off work and, knowing this was my only chance, went on a 9 and a half hour shopping marathon. Consequently all of my decisions were made in a state of severe dehydration, low blood sugar and bloody-minded rage. Rage at the whole institution of Christmas, everyone else in the shops including staff and all of my friends and family for being so selfish as to expect presents. I was even furious with myself for asking my parents for new boots and a dress and thus being sent out to buy them myself (I came home with two pairs of ballet pumps and a skirt that looks like a lamp shade instead. A pretty lamp shade though). I started the day weighing up various choices, thinking carefully about what present would bring each person the most delight. I ended up pulling things off shelves in a dead-eyed trance, wanting only to get out with something, anything at all, whether they would like it or not and then over-spending in guilt for buying something crap. Now there are only five days to go and I keep having to scramble into town in every spare minute I get to return it all and replace it with something equally crap because on getting it all home and viewing it in the cold light of day I was seized with violent loathing for it all.

I wish I was still a student and got four months off for christmas, or however long our holidays used to be...happy days.

People with bad manners should be beaten to death with hammers

Fri, 09 Dec 2005 14:31:30 GMT

Well, it nearly rhymes.

I went to London last week to see Franz Ferdinand at Alexandra Palace. I had been looking forward to this for ages, not just because I thought it would be a good gig (and indeed it was) but also because since leaving London as a quivering post-finals traumatised wreck last June I had missed the city.

Huh. To be fair, a December Saturday afternoon is never going to be the best time to enjoy the capital but I had simply forgotten how rude everyone in London is and how much they hate you. They hate you on the streets, they hate you on the Underground, they hate you everywhere you dare to tread. When you live there you get used to it and before long you too stride along in your own personal-space bubble, casting looks of withering contempt on anyone who gets in your way. You learn to travel the tube system in perfect harmony with the delays, the suicides, the uncontrollable rage. You too glare at people who accidentally step on your toe with the kind of fury that would be more appropriate if they had done a poo on your lap or punched you in the face. You understand that a bus queue is everyone for themselves and no matter what order you arrive at the stop in, it's a no-holds-barred race to board first.

Well, I used to be able to cope with that but after six months in Leeds where people are people rather than wild snarling beasts I'm just not sure I can anymore, which is unfortunate as I'm supposed to be applying to do a Masters at Goldsmiths next year. I'm really not sure I can handle it again. I think as much as London hates me, I might just hate London too. Maybe I don't want to pay four million pounds a week to live in a shoebox and have people shove me out of the way all the time. Maybe I am reconsidering my future plans.

Hmmmmmmm...

Jenny's adventures on ice

Fri, 09 Dec 2005 13:01:18 GMT

Today I woke up very angry because a) I didn't wake up - well, not in time anyway and so I was late and b) because it was so damn cold. My fury increased when I finally struggled out of the house because the pavements were icy and in my wisdom I had decided to wear a short denim skirt and plastic soled ballet pumps. This is because I select what I am going to wear in the morning based on what is topmost on the pile of clothing on my floor and what I feel like wearing rather than any kind of practical considerations such as the conditions outside. Thus my already delayed journey was slowed further because I had to take tiny fairy steps all the way, holding onto walls, lamp posts and passing school children to try and keep my balance. When I finally arrived (half an hour late), I had lost all sensation in my legs. They were just frozen lumps on which the rest of my body was balanced. I like it much better when my boyfriend drives me to work.

I think it may soon be time to break out the festival wellies.

However, my day has been vastly improved because instead of spending the morning taking calls from foaming-at-the-mouth crazies (what I normally have to do at work) I got to decorate the new tree. It is a little on the garish side - tasteful christmas decorations are not really my thing - but everyone has been kind enough not to mention its retina-burning colour scheme or its unfortunately lopsided posture. It looks a bit drunk. I don't care.

A Christmas Miracle at Work

Thu, 08 Dec 2005 16:46:27 GMT

After:

- a series of increasingly desperate phone calls to the Christmas tree suppliers (and what an ace job that would be - delivering 7ft bundles of joy to otherwise bleak and grey offices throughout December)
- a succession of tear-stained faxes to the same (note to self: if working in an office next year, God forbid, do not leave Christmas tree ordering until the first week of December)
- several high-tension negotiations with my manager
- a wild last-resort offer to go to Homebase, buy the fucking thing myself and drag it up the hill to my office on my back
- final bitter resignation to the inevitable fake and soulless monstrosity and the reluctant acceptance of a consolation prize, namely the draping of my desk in tinsel and tiny wooden Santas until everything on it including my computer screen is obscured

...and against the express wishes of the regional director...

we have a real live Christmas tree coming to the office TOMORROW.

I am so excited.

ooh so shiny and new

Thu, 08 Dec 2005 13:51:23 GMT

Gosh. So this is Live Journal. I am quite confused by it, being fairly simple-minded and only really being able to understand one thing at a time. All I can really process is that this isn't Myspace. But...it's kind of similar, right? Oooh. Maybe it's cooler. I have successfully made it pink, after all though I have yet to make pictures happen on it.

Anyway I am totally going to master this - change is not always a bad thing and I have been feeling very deprived since the dual blow of no internet at home and ultra-prissy new restrictions on the server at work. I need something to while away the long, slow hours.

Hurray for Live Journal! Hurray!