Office Fun

When bored out of your tiny mind, why not send letters to people who don't even exist?

Mr C
38 Pootle Lane
Ferckley in the Wold
Botswanadon
BB5 4RR


25 May 2007

Dear Mr Cheese & Onion

Please find enclosed a timetable for eyeball pain / headaches this year.

On the 8th of June, a shower of bastards is expected in the morning. Be sure to take the necessary precautions.

Please contact me if this change causes any difficulties for you.

Yours Sincerely

La Receptionista
Office Ham Sandwich

Messages for the Unhearing

To the aging professor who cut me up in Asda's car park:
I hate you. I do not care how new your pathetic car is. I do not care that I may have driven within 20 foot of it.

When your pale, moon shaped, beard wreathed face rose like a guppy's from the gloom I felt disgust, and bowel clenching fury. Why did you goggle at me? Your beady little eyes fixed upon me as if seeing the world for the first time, but surely, with your driving skills, this must happen all the time. And your Paddington Bear hard stare? My God, I swear, I was so scared, no, really.

Thank the unlucky star that shone down on your unfortunate birth that I didn't just ram the back of your precious motor. Believe me, I was imagining doing it, and it was good.
Next time I see you, all bets are off, sucker!

Thanks. I feel better now.

Today, the following exchange took place:

Me: Sorry for being so grumpy. I'm probably just a bit hormonal.

Sidekick: ........You think?

Me: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!

Then I ruined a perfectly good and workable strop by sniggering to myself. Dern it, I was 21 to 13 spats and pulling away too.*

*Gratuitous Princess Bride reference

Delusions of Terror

As usual, I was wasting time skipping merrily amongst the Blogger blogs when I was brought up short by this statement pasted right across the top of the page. Weird:

"Note from the paranoid author of this blog: Due to my increasing (though variable degrees of) paranoia, please refrain from linking to this blog. This is not due to any misconceptions of superiority (even though I may be better than you or anyone else out there), but only to a severe dread of being discovered by my friends or family. If you are my friends or family, please stop reading this blog. If you cannot stop, please do not ever let me know that you know about this blog. If you have to let me know, hypnotize me first, and then make me forget what you tell me. Otherwise, read on."

It was all I could do not to link to this blog just to be contrary. Not sure what that says about me, but it can't be good.
The worst thing is that now I can't find the page again in order to check for salacious and dirty reading matter, although I can reveal that the current post contained......a recipe for........SOUP.

Nasty little munchkin.

I Hear Dead People

I am not entirely convinced that I achieve full consciousness until quite late on in the day. Generally, I stumble around in a fog for several hours before the world around me resolves itself into a comprehensible whole. Mostly this does me little harm, although I have attempted to make coffee by adding fizzy water from the fridge to sugar and coffee granules. The major difficulty is that anyone who talks to me before, say, 10am seems to be uttering prophecies, or speaking in tongues. Things I have misheard this week:

"Fargle, the Binman cometh!" ("Remember, I'm playing badminton tonight.")

"Mixmag, has the cat gone?" ("Did you feed the cat?")

"Give it to Ahab, he'll return the pox forthwith." ("Give me the number, I'll fax it.")

I see two possibilities:

1. I am channeling some long dead seer
2. I need my ears cleaned