« March 2005 | Main | May 2005 »
April 27, 2005
If today was a sandwich filling ...
I am not going to blog about work. I'm not going to inflict my shitty day on anyone else, and I have better methods in which to vent my extreme fucking frustration than to write about it. There are a plethora of temporary sources of relief and/or salvation that spring to mind at this moment in time, such as: vodka, punchbags, voodoo dolls of the Evil Empress, a swift call to a Union rep, cake, biscuits, whisky, beer and more whisky. Anyway, on a day like today who the hell is going to want to waste their time reading about self-levitating doughnuts or the orange and turquoise smurfs that are wardancing in my peripheral vision and are for some reason shouting "DEATH TO THE INFIDEL!"
If today was a sandwich filling it would be arseketchup. Music this evening though.
Posted by adhoc at 01:40 PM | Comments (0)
April 26, 2005
when words fail me
When words fail me, all my thoughts get trapped inside my head. And this give me a headache. Luckily this doesn't happen very often, but this afternoon my skull is cracking from the pressure of my throbbing brain.
When words fail me, I don't write 'a Tributary to Martin Newell', which is a shame as I saw him perform last week and he was absolutely fucking brilliant. I even bought a book.
When words fail me, I get easily distracted. So I've been wondering about a few things:
What if I hadn't misheard the Evil Empress when she ordered me to trim at least 5% off the staffing budgie?
Where has my ability to concentrate gone? If I found it, would I then be able to locate my short-term memory?
Why can't I do my job anymore?
Would this be better to read if I was being amusing?
Why aren't there currently any jobs advertised that interest me? I could really do with a new one . . .
Posted by adhoc at 05:30 PM | Comments (0)
April 22, 2005
A Force to Farce meeting with the Evil Empress
I’ve been off wrestling with the Forces of Darkness and lost track of time again. What have I missed in the last few days?
1) The Pope is Catholic. Again. Shock.
2) Apparently there’s a general election happening. Who’d have thunk it? Anyway, I’m sick to death of the bloody thing. Though I now believe that voting should be compulsory, just so long as there is the option of saying ‘none of the above 'cos they’re all useless tossers’. And if this polls more than 50%, it proves a valid point and no-one from that constituency gets in until someone decent comes along.
3) The act of reading this article also proves a point nicely, methinks.
4) The dear hosts of this site have blocked some of the functions of php, which has stopped my Blogrolling thing working.
5) I am good at my job. There is a near consensus on this around this Palace. It is a shame therefore, that the biggest notable exception to this view is held by the one and only Evil Empress, aka my Boss.
At least, I think that this is the case.
Things could be somewhat clearer if only the Empress had been gifted communication skills as one of her special powers. However, I do now know that I was mis-sold this job, and that the useless guarantee it came with doesn’t cover defective parts nor indeed defective labour. Where’s the job security? Where’s the supportive and strategic leadership? Where’s the professional development? And the expensive training courses that I was promised? Looks like I fell for it all again. And so after nearly 9 months here, the gestation period is about over, I’m just about ready to go pop and start screaming.
Hereby follows a paraphrasing of an extract from a recent meeting between myself and the Evil Empress, simply captioned ‘101 Things not to say to an Evil Empress: particularly an Evil Empress whose realm is under attack from the floor below, and who also now knows her dissenting minions are talking of righteous rebellion.’
EE: So do you actually think that you’re the right person for this job?
me: ummm . . . not right now. Though I thought I was doing ok before this meeting with you.
EE: I’m not saying that I don’t think you can do the job, just that you seem to be struggling with delivery and I need to be able to trust you and rely upon you completely.
me: Well for the past couple of months there has just been too much work for us all to do. As for me, I do currently have 2 full-time jobs rolled into one, and there’s the project work on top of that.
EE: I see. So with the project work, are we asking you to work outside your capabilities or beyond your level of competence?
me: No. All the projects I’m managing are bang on target. It’s the management of the department that’s suffering. I have too much work to do now because I am doing a lot of your job, and, quite frankly, you were promoted based on the level of MY competence.
EE: Oh. I see. I was only thinking about identifying the training and development opportunities that I had promised you.
Boy, do I wish my big gob had actually gotten the last word this time. But it didn’t.
So, “Things To Do: Fri 22nd April pm :
Breathe.
Count to 10.
Breathe. [Remember this pattern]
Continue to fantasise of righteous rebellion. [Subtly]
Postpone diffusing tension between EE and the floor below. [makes for a useful distraction]
Ignore demands to plan and deliver at least a 6% cut in departmental expenditure until after the weekend. Stall for time until a decent counter-strategy can be devised.
Look for another job other ways of earning a living.
Goto pub.
Hang on. I’ve got actual work do to. [bugger]
Do some proper work.
Then go to pub.”
Posted by adhoc at 04:28 PM | Comments (0)
April 18, 2005
How to amaze your friends:
Well, that was an odd weekend. Didn't want it to end though. Bah to Mondays! The bastard first day of the working week. I digress. Of course.
I have recently discovered some interesting things. For one, I now realise that even a decent set of in-the-ear headphones turn into a wax-filled useless pile of crap if you don't look after them. A pair of funky new headphones improve iPod listening pleasure hugely. Also I have come to discover that with a good teacher, CSS isn't actually an obscure nonsensical mystery. We shall see how I get on in due course.
But these discoveries are far from extraordinary. In fact, you might even think them mundane and obvious. However, I really have found out something truly and utterly amazing . . .
If you have, or have access to, a car with a remote-control zapper thing for locking and unlocking the doors, then let the fun commence. Every zapper has a maximum range, beyond which any button-pressing has no effect on the car. So imagine being stood a few yards outside of zapper range. Point zapper at car, press button . . . and nothing. Just as to be expected, given you are out of range. So then while facing the car, place the zapper firmly against the side of your head. Press button. Hey presto and holy shite the thing works. Zapper against head “Beep beep - flash flash” . . . not against head . . . nowt. Zapper against head “ beeeeeep – flash “ . . . etc . . .
It's even more addictive than sprout bouncing. And just as satisfying.
This has kept me entertained for ages. Or rather, I have been experimenting comprehensively. This astounding discovery even has practical applications, in so much as if ever unable to disarm your car alarm due to having a flattened battery in the zapper, then holding the zapper to your head could amplify the signal enough to make it work.
Please note that my usual disclaimer and health warnings apply.
Posted by adhoc at 09:10 PM | Comments (4)
April 14, 2005
The Twighlight Zone of the Valleys
Well Daisy has found a surprising offline connection to Em, and was wondering if anyone else has similar offline links.
Thought that I'd join in too . . .
Damn freaky. But strangely lovely, all the same.
Posted by adhoc at 06:15 PM | Comments (5)
C is for . . . Cookie, you muppet.
This is not a post about party politics. I thought about it. And realised that my writing about politics would be about equivalent to my dancing about custard.
I am, however, more annoyed by party politics than I am about custard. I am especially annoyed that all the squabbling over who is going to get the biggest Genereal Erection in May, has been keeping important and unwelcome news stories hidden. I will hereby help right this wrong.
Over in the US, something indescribably wrong has happened. The world will never be the same again.
Posted by adhoc at 12:18 PM | Comments (8)
April 13, 2005
what’s brown and sticky: a book meme
A stick with my name on it.
Thank you for this Karen. And also for the compliment. Though it may in fact be safe to assume that it’s never safe to make assumptions. It makes a pleasant change for a stick pointed my way to not be metaphorical, and also neither pointy nor covered in brown sticky stuff. So Brain into gear, and on with the task in hand:
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Well Farenheit 451, obviously. Someone has to keep a handle on what’s going on, otherwise all hell would break lose.
Which is a good point. So I now change my mind.
I shall have to fight my urge to become a Doctor Seuss story (though I can’t imagine the world being any fun without Green Eggs and Ham), and also resist the temptation to be the Name of the Rose (which would be an essential work for preservation so as to prevent people believing Dan Brown writes the ultimate religious detective stories).
I would chose to become Dante’s Inferno [not an amazon link!]. Or if I was being a show-off, the whole of the Divine Comedy.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Oh yes.
Many many many fictional characters. Including myself once, but that’s a complicated story for another time.
As for characters in books, well there’s always Maggie from Love and Rockets and of course Death from Neil Gaiman's Sandman.
Though getting into the literary spirit of the question and so turning to books without pictures or drawings, I find the question surprisingly challenging. Perhaps it’s the word crush, as a crush for me is the result of visual stimulation. I have different words to use when describing other emotional excitements. However, I can say that Rosalind in As You Like It definitely has it going on, and Moll Flanders has a certain thing or two about her.
The last book you bought is?
I don’t tend to buy one book at a time, though I do generally buy books in odd numbered quantities. On my most recent bookshop raid, my haul included:
1) A Dylan Thomas Treasury
2) a sweet scent of death – Guillermo Arriaga
3) The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and other stories – Tim Burton
4) AA Gill is away
5) Manual of the Warrior of the Light – Paulo Coelho
6) Get Your Cock Out: a romance by Mark Manning (aka Zodiac Mindwarp)
All in all there were nine books. Considering I was trawling the bookshops of Soho, the books are possibly rather tame. Though the actual titles of the other three books somehow escape me.
What are you currently reading?
1) Mr Vertigo by Paul Auster
2) The Gospel According to Jesus Christ by Jose Saramango
3) Get your Cock Out: a romance by Mark Manning
4) a corporate finance and management accounting manual of which the actual title eludes me.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Only five? Well the first five to come to mind are:
1) The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov (as it is a book I can read and enjoy again and again)
2) Ulysees by James Joyce (as I have never managed to read it and perhaps some isolation will help my concentration)
3) The Complete Works of Issac Assimov vol 1 (for something a little different)
4) The Bloody Chamber and other stories by Angela Carter (just because)
5) And poetry. I’d need some poetry. Oh, who would I chose? . . . eeny meeny miney mo . . . uh . . . the Complete Works of William Blake it is.
Of course, I’d want more than five books. I’d invariably leave one lying around somewhere and not be able to find it when I wanted it, so perhaps substitutes may be allowed. Some drama to keep the voices in my head entertained would help. And I could probably make some good use of the Ladybird Book of Practical Boatbuilding.
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
Ah. Ooo. Tricky.
Hang on. Dan seems like he can read. Lets find out. Oi! Dan! Catch!
Umm... we'll see about number two in a while . . . oh go on then Pix
And I also throw the stick out to whoever reads this, just to see where it lands.
Posted by adhoc at 12:41 AM | Comments (4)
April 07, 2005
modern methods of torture
I live in a Castle, and I work in a palace. It's not a glamourous palace, and for now I'll keep using the indefinite article without a preceeding adjective, as my alliterative tendancies only produce pain, persecution and purgatory.
Today I have uncovered an enormous secret. Today I have inadvertently stumbled across some illicit research that is being covertly conducted on me, my team and other colleagues. Today I know what is going on around here.
Someone, and I've yet to discover who, has been using us all here as guineapigs on which to refine their modern methods of torture. Methods so far uncovered include:
1) corporate strategy
2) activity based budgeting
3) meetings
This explains why we spend an inordinate amount of time on the above activities, yet no one can actually explain why.
Posted by adhoc at 02:27 PM | Comments (2)
April 06, 2005
Mourning of the Top, to you . . .
Following the casting of aspertions on the locale of Castle Chaotique, I feel the need to leap to the area's defence. After all, the Castle is set in a conservation area, for starters. Round and about my manor, we're all class. And questions of class are hardly black and white issues, which is both my point and a different matter entirely.
As it goes, I've never understood the casting of nasturtiums. The seeds, being hard and the size of large peas, make excellent catapult ammunition. Allegedly. And in contrast, nasturtium leaves are very tasty and their peppery taste makes them an interesting addition to any green salad. The taste is also the origin of the name, from the Latin nasitortium - meaning nose torture. So there you go.
[I've noticed that I'm more prone to erratic sentence structure and wandering tangents when I'm writing in the office. Which is probably indicative of something significant, if I'd actually care to analyse it.]
So to return to the intended subject.
Which for clarity's sake, is that the class of the setting of the Castle, when judged against an absolute scale, has pros and cons, the relative balance of which is a matter of personal taste and/or prejudice. I can illustrate this point with a double-edged tale from last night, which both bought a light to my heart while my brain was designing me a more substantial drawbridge.
In the past few days I have been bemoaning loudly the disappearance of one of my favourite tops. By bemoaning, it may be more accurate to substitute the phrase 'shouting at myself like a twat about'. And by loss, the substitution of 'my probably leaving somewhere stupid in a bout of brainless fuckwittery, but where the hell is it. . . it must be here somewhere . . . it bloody just must be . . . what a twat . . .aaaggghhh' adds an improved touch of realism. Suffice to say that the merits of the top are many, and I like it a lot, and its loss was entirely my own fault.
But just how can I be sure that my self-deprecation was so deserved? Well one of the more overlooked merits of the top was the functionality of the pockets. In one of the pockets, amongst a magnificent array of pocket detritus, was a piece of paper with a friend's address and phone number on it. And so when, as it transpires, I shamefully abandoned the top on a garage forecourt while nourishing my car with a variety of necessary fluids, the person who found my top opened the pockets, read my friend's number, called it and delivered my top to them without even stopping for tea. My friend then came over last night and reunited me with the top. Yet the identity of the Saviour of the Top remains unknown.
So thank you mystery top-returning person. I salute you and your kind heart-warming altruism.
Then on the other hand, this happens within a short walk of the Castle gates. In fact the person who came round to return my top last night got home to discover they'd been evacuated in their absence. [Oo'er matron and 'Ouch!', ed.]
One interesting point of information to note in the news article is that the Granby [NSFW] is about as far from an emergency rest centre as you can possibly get and usually doesn't get such positive press coverage locally. Though it has to be a good thing that a few more of the locals paid a visit, and I'm sure the 6' 4" tranny in a nurse's uniform that I met on my last visit was right in her element.
And so in summary I declare that the parts about Castle Chaotique are both classy and colourful. I find having interesting parts makes for a classy and colourful life. And I like having classy and interesting parts. The case for the defence rests.
Posted by adhoc at 05:34 PM | Comments (0)
Ceci n'est pas une blague
The ghost of Dick Emery was looking for some new chains that were suitably chunky for rattling and haunting purposes, yet were also stylish and sparkly. He went to B&Q, but was disappointed to find that in store the heavy gauge chain was only available in dull steel or powder black finishes. So then the ghost of Dick tried looking on the B&Q website, but after wasting half an hour of his undeath he gave up in despair. In order to register a complaint he rang B&Q Customer Services and howled, 'Oooooo . . . you are awful . . . "
Posted by adhoc at 05:10 PM | Comments (0)
April 05, 2005
Castle Chaotique
This evening, I was going to write the promised introduction to chez moi, aka Castle Chaotique. Whilst on the train home I was planning the essential naming ceremony of a cast-list, and I’ve been thinking of a few brief tales that could provide a teasing taste of just how unfeasibly strange, challenging and lovely living in this unique place can be.
However, it is currently past midnight, and we have a friend taking refuge in the Castle. He came seeking sanctuary from the unwelcome attentions of a seemingly psychotic craving-addled crackhead. A ranting psycho crackhead who is currently lurking in the Castle grounds. In fact, I can hear him shouting right now. Shouting in a primal fit of gutteral incoherence interspersed with the deafening explosions of a rapid-fire artillery bombardment of obscenities. I tried to take his photo through the window, but in my haste forgot to disable the flash, which just bounced all its light back off the glass. Shame. It would have been a nice touch to include it here.
For the record, I have crossed ‘less risk of psycho crackheads in garden’ off my ever-dwindling list of explanations as to why I am living in not-London.
Am currently listening to: my heartbeat and the rustling in the bushes. The shouting has stopped. But the silence is more unnerving.
UPDATE: He, Mr. Shouty Crackhead, went away after some not-entirely-gentle encouragement. All of the Castle inhabitiants survived unscathed, though the grounds have experienced some petty pilferage. As for me, I'm now more worried about being very late for work. Which is where I ought to be right now, but after sleeping through my alarm, I'm still at home. I have a plan though. Of course I have a plan. More coffee is always a good plan.
Posted by adhoc at 12:34 AM | Comments (3)
April 04, 2005
Pope Idol 2005
And so Pope John Paul II has died.
The world has lost one of the greatest and most influential men of the last 100 years.
During his 27 years at the head of the Roman Catholic Church, he spoke out for compassion, tolerance and social justice in the arena of world politics. His achievements transcended the spiritual. His support for the Solidarity movement was instrumental in the collapse of Soviet Communism in Eastern Europe. As a world leader who asked moral questions of political issues on a global scale he was unique. He united his Church around a doctrine of absolute moral values in an increasingly materialistic and selfish world.
Yet he did so much more than this.
As a leader who lived by the principles he preached, Pope John Paul II inspired goodness within and between people of all nationalities, cultures and beliefs throughout the entire world.
Karol Wojtyla was a truly good man.
Pope John Paul II was a truly great man.
He will be a tough act to follow onto the World Stage.
So as the Roman Catholic Church enters this period of Sede Vacante, who can be found to fill this ultimate Vacant See?
183 Princes of the Church will gather,
But only one hopeful can be granted the ultimate accolade,
Only one can become the next Pope.
Over the coming weeks, brought to you live from Vatican City,
. . . the Mystery of a Secret Conclave,
. . . the Glamour that is the Sistine Chapel,
. . . the Drama . . . the Intrigue . . . the Unmissable Spectacle that is . . .
Pope Idol.
Posted by adhoc at 01:51 PM | Comments (4)
April 02, 2005
the wheel's still spinning, but the hamster's gone down the pub
As the steaming hot custard of self-criticism dribbles down the spotted dick of my sanity, I’ve not been having a great week.
I mentioned before that I was off work this week. As it turned out, I've been not working in many more ways than I expected. Though I can't actually pin down how many ways. Perhaps this is because broken is an uncountable adjective. Or perhaps I just haven't got enough fingers. Anyway, I've not been functioning within normal parameters. It's as though I've spent the last few days in standby mode.
This week I haven’t been out of the house much.
And even though it's an amazing house and there are some interesting folks living here with me, this is not a healthy state for me. I'll write about Castle Chaotique, its intriguing cast and the current shenanigans sometime soon. But not until I've thought of a better name for the place.
This week I have spent an inordinate amount of time curled up under the duvet in the company of a TV, an internet connection, my MP3 collection, a guitar and the liquid satisfaction of Mr Grolsch. Actually not a bad place to be, and I've discovered some amazing new stuff in blogland. Well stuff that's new to me anyway. As well as being continually amazed by sheer quantity of high quality writing, I found a lot to admire and a lot to empathise with. More of this later, I expect. And I even found some words of my own in some unexpected places.
This week I have enjoyed the fruits of successful shopping. Without leaving the house, of course. Whoever says that material possessions don't make you happy is quite blatantly talking bollocks. And this is especially big bollocks if the possessions are shiny. This week I've become the proud owner of a shiny secondhand laptop and a shiny new fridge. And both have made me smile.
This week I've ordered the dick out of Dick and Dom to be beheaded. Just who the hell do they think they are?
Good. I've written something. And this pleases me, even if it has now gone three in the morning. And tomorrow I WILL be getting up and going to see people. And talk to them, and everything.
Confidence, security and control. The holy trinity of my sanity. And which, as a concept to be grasped, is about as slippery as a well buttered ice rink.
Posted by adhoc at 02:20 AM | Comments (1)