Musty Dusty

There are so many things I could tell you about the new job. But I won't. Since I've only met two out of the amazing total of four colleauges, it wouldn't be fair. Also, first days generally suck when you're practically autistic like me and haven't found a routine yet.
But ... there is a person who's yet to discover deodorant and has the worst dress sense you can imagine. There are musty 15-year-running files that I'm meant to follow up with a housecall this month (Hi! Yes, I know you've seen someone else for 15 years, but I'm doing this visit because... well, they need a report. This month. While the other person is ill. So you can tell me all you like and I'll be gullible and believe it all). I have a tiny office in the attic ( a nice attic) with more dusty files and the strange collection of goodies the person I'm replacing has (including a bowl of old train tickets and tiny sea shells... what the hell?!). Oh, and a computer that runs on Windows 95. -You've got to love the social sector and their belief in informatics!-
They told me the "team spirit" wasn't all it should be, before I started working there. And well... they were right. Undoubtedly the dynamics change (get better? worse?) when everyone is in the office, but for now there are lots of silences during breaks and superficial pleasantness.
Today I was asked if I had any "special hobbies". There is the whole gay thing, do you think that would go over well? Perhaps a topic for lunch tomorrow...

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I'm the little green fairy!

Kylie was magnificent.
Feathers.
Arse.
Gay boys.
Dancing.
Giggling.
In Denial singing.
Piglet is impressed.

On the way back (at 1.30am), nearly home, my car started shaking and making a huge amount of noise. No car for piglet to get to the new job today, so I checked bus and train timetables, got up even earlier than planned and went by train/bus. Thank god I didn't have to visit anyone today. Apparently my exhaust pipe was buggered, but all that is solved now.
I even went working after three hours of sleep, just for Kylie.

And the job? Well, my colleagues (all four of them) don't really like each other. Which isn't very handy for the atmosphere. But I'll be alright. There's always Solitary on the PC isn't there?

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Tonight



I shall be seeing Miss Kylie (provided I bring some binoculars to see the tiny creature), after being stuck in traffic for hours. Then I'll get home at an inhuman hour, to start my new job a few hours later. At an even more inhuman hour.
The first vision my colleagues will have of me will be that of a sleep-deprived smokey-haired, hyper, hoarse discobunny.
Pretty realistic one might think...

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I'm sorry

I'm so sorry for all those that were expecting multiple updates each day and plenty of stories of failed job interviews. I do apologise. See, the thing is. I've found a job. Not the awful one of yesterday, thank god, but another one I applied for this afternoon. At least for another month (I replace someone on sick leave) Piglet is employed (again).
I even get my own office this time. And colleagues who don't get along, apparently. Oh what fun. But hey. At least I have my own office.

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ok.....

Just had possibly the worst interview since the CLB one last year.
"Do you live alone Piglet?"
"no, I'm living together"
"with your girlfriend then?"
My mind boggled. Can you tell just by looking at me? Am I really that butch? Is it the hair, the bright pink cardigan? "Er... why do you ask?"
"It's on your home-answerphone. This Merlina, is she your "friend" or your "girlfriend". Not that that's an issue of course"
"Well, she's my girlfriend"
"ok, that's fine, that's fine. So how do you feel about families? No need to look so strange, I ask everyone this question"

She asks straight people how they feel about families? Sure.
When I glanced at her notes a few minutes later I saw she'd already written down "Girlfriend?" as a must-ask question. Suddenly the crucifixes on every wall and the Virgin Mary statue made a lot more sense.

That started off well didn't it.
The interview went on in pretty much the same way. A lot of misinterpretations of what I'd said ("you're not making yourself pretty clear piglet"), she interpreted everything I'd said in a very narrow, negative way ("so when you say you're not very dominant, that means you don't say anything during team meetings?").
Fine. To be honest I don't want the job anyway. Working nights, weekends. No thank you. Not for me. Of course I should've just said that, but when she asked if I was up for the job I just managed a shallow "yes sure".

Let's hope she doesn't -in some inexplicable way- decide to give me the job anyway.
Though I doubt that very much.
I have another interview tomorrow, for a month's replacement. Way too short of course, but it beats nothing. The interview today however hasn't done much for my self esteem, I can tell you that.

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Tomorrow tomorrow

Tomorrow's my last day at work. Well, it's my last "employed" day for a little while. On Tuesday, the girlfriend and I will be in the line for our little stamp. Oh goodie. (I presume it'll be Tuesday, seeing as the 26th is a Saturday... it IS still on the 26th isn't it?).
And then the two of us can slob around all day, in front of the TV, behind the PC, eating bonbons and getting fat. Wahey!

This is so weird, I don't know what to write about it.
I think I might just get sentimental about leaving the place.
I'll miss it.
There. I've said it.

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Ah well, piss off then

In the true spirit of uniting all nations, Lebanon decided to withdraw from the Eurovision Song Contest when they were told they HAD to broadcast the entire show, including the Israeli entry.

This is too incredible for words.

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Job search - end

- I'm a psychologist
- another candidate had experience in exactly the same job as this one
- I seemed very nervous and unsure of myself in the second round

All these things added up to the fact that I didn't get the job.
But I did very well in the role-play.
Well, it's not dressing up as a French maid, but it's good to know one has some qualities.

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Togas!

Juvinile court at the end of the civilised world (i.e. where I work) is not as professional as you might think. Everyone has to be there at the same hour for a start, which is not very handy. Then everyone also has to go in twice. They make two rounds. A "getting to know you"-round and a "decision"-time round.
And then there's the pro deo lawyers.
They barge in, in their togas and with mountains of folders under their arms. They've never seen the people they're meant to represent. They stand a bit away from the "ordinary folk" and start gossiping among themselves. Not even whispering. No, in a normal tone of voice. So I, and everyone else there, could hear them exchange theories on how one of them could get a serial child molestor off with the lowest sentence ("have your tried irresistible urge? That might work"), their hero-stories of how "they once got a sexual predator off with no sentencing at all" and their talk about a fellow lawyer who likes his pints.
Interesting. And terribly professional.
During their heroics my mind kept screaming "what about the victims, what about the victims", but I guess that's just a force of habit.

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Cheater

"Piglet,
Is it possible that you only started work at 10.45am last Friday, instead of what you filled out in your roster? Could you perhaps check your schedule?"

Dear Smiling Boss,

Last Friday I started work at 11.10, since I came from a job interview and couldn't tell how long exactly I would be. You know, that interview everyone but you remembered about? Now, 11.10 is even later than you presume! And the funny thing is, I filled in my roster correctly. I put a 0.75 for the hour between 11 and 12. 75% of 1 hour is 45 minutes. In fact, I even worked 50 minutes, but I'm not one to nitpick. I'm a bit surprised you don't trust me and feel the need to check my roster, but I guess it's only normal. After all, I've still got 15 hours of overtime that I'll never be able to take since I leave work next week and you keep giving me extra work every day. Hey. It's ok. I understand that you wouldn't want an hour added to that, to make the total a 16 hours that I can't take. I'm not even going to harass you about the fact that you didn't understand the fact that I filled it out correctly. Although I would appreciate it if you checked my roster more than once before you start making "possible accusations" about my time-embezzlement.
What I find a bit insulting though is that you felt the need to communicate this with me through a post-it note on my roster. I mean, surely it's not the most adult way of handling things. But perhaps you didn't want to embarrass me in front of the colleagues. Of course you would've only embarrassed yourself, but hey.

So, if you want to make things better by paying me for the 15 hours I worked but never got, that's fine by me.
No?
See, I didn't think so.

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Argh. Tough day at work.

I didn't get the job I applied for yesterday, which is no big surprise. Well, when you hear that two of the interviewers (out of four) are related to the Smiling Boss... And it wasn't really my cup of tea to be honest. Sitting behind a desk, "coordinating". Nah, I'd rather get my hands dirty and deal with the messy and crap stuff that is "real life".

Like today. Pretending everything's normal when you know a social worker from the Court is going to tell a mother her children will be taken into care. It's not my message to bring, it wasn't my decision. But I'm very very bad at hypocrisy. Of course then she goes and makes it worse by saying how sad she'll be to see me go. She won't be so sad about it tomorrow, I can just imagine... Talk about messy and crap.

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obligatory



Wahey! Happy St Paddy's day!
For some reason I can't get bloody Lord of the Dance and images of Michael Flatley's bare torso out of my head... I could've done with a better vision for Sint Patrick's day, I can tell you!

Not only is it St Paddy's day, it's also my one-year-driver's-license anniversary!

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Funniest question

...in a job interview ever: "so, your thesis, did you type it yourself?"

All this to know if I can work with computers.
I'm 24, you idiots, of course I can work with computers.

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grmbl

I fucked up.
Let's just say I wasn't the pillar of "olympic calmness" I should have been.

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Holy Premenstrual Lesbians, Batman!

I've been up since 8am this morning.
Can you imagine it?
Up and about. Drug-shopping, health insurance-note-in-handing, sticker-against-crap-through-letterbox-acquiring at city hall (why does one have to get those at city hall anyway? What's wrong with just making one yourself? "no crap flyers in my letterbox, thank you", "not interested in the latest sales and even less in the free regional contact adds", "I get enough spam through my e-mail, thanks anyway"), buying bread and in a minute I'm starting on the ironing and the cleaning of the kitty litter.

I do hope I'm not ill!

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Comic relief

I don't know why but I found Peter Kay miming "the road to Amarillo" hilarious.

(and I cried at seeing the young boy who'd been kidnapped and was brought back to his parents. Damn you Comic Relief!)

(Go Edith! Go Edith! Go Edith!)

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Interview

I'm through to the second round.

*tiny squee*

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Quote

Karen: Good Lord. I can't believe I'm at a public pool. Why doesn't somebody just pee directly on me?

This to say we've borrowed Will and Grace Season 1 from Warskinny and are currently holding nightly marathons.

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Nerves

This is no longer funny.
I've lost count of the amount of job interviews I've been on, because I'm notoriously crap at them. So usually, when I get an interview nowadays I can put it into perspective. "Yeah, right. They'll find something wrong with me". Because of that thought Piglet is calmer, can more or less be herself and stands a better chance of actually getting the job than when she's tense, desperate and nervous.

However that's not working for the interview I have Friday morning. I've been bloody nervous all week. Yesterday I even had one of the typical school-dreams, adapted to the setting: I was applying for the job, but all the people I couldn't stand that graduated with me were applying as well (including all the culturally acclaimed Burberry scarfed ones employers seem to drool over), I was so nervous the sweat was forming drops on my forehead and my hands were so clammy I couldn't hold a pen for the written part of the interview. Yep, there was an exam. I forgot my name. After I wrote a name down and realised that actually, no, that wasn't my name, I tried to erase it with tipp-ex, only to have the white tipp-ex turn black and make smudges all over my hands, the paper and the table.
And then I woke up.
I never even had these dreams when I was in school!
Dear brain, kindly lighten up already before I ask for a lobotomy....

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So...

The last few weeks of my job, so this is probably the last bitch-post about it. (I did like my job by the way, when I had enough work to do and I enjoyed the nice colleagues. The bad colleagues were a bit less enjoyable, but they're everywhere). I've been complaining for 9 months how I didn't have enough work, you can all vouch for that. Well, the Powers That Be have decided to make up for that.
Unfortunately they expect me to do all the extra work I could have done in the past 9 months in the one month that's left. So with two 29.5 hour-weeks and two days left I'm meant to become an introduction-leaflet-factory, look for new methods of working, develop a methodics file, and enlighten everyone of the colleagues with texts on all the books I've read. Oh, and visit the families, write an endreport and an evolution report. And there's still the 10 hours overtime I'm meant to take up.

It's stressful, but it definitely beats having nothing to do. So last week I worked my arse off working out the kinks to the five new introductions folders (parents, adolescents and children in the families we're working with and information folders for parents and adolescents to put in other centers), making several of each, re-making them, doing them again, making a power-bloody-point presentation, change the e-mail address, change it again. The lot. All to be ready by the Board of Directors' meeting yesterday evening. So when the Smiling B Boss told us how the meeting went, how they'd also really liked the folders, were very impressed with our team effort etc, you kinda expect she'll say "thank you". Not that I have to be worshipped for every little thing I do, but this was a rather gruelling effort. I would have thanked the person who managed to have them done by the deadline you put forward two times, while sharing a computer with a colleague. Not Smiling BB. I kinda get the feeling she walked away with all the credit.
Which is not nice.

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Girlfriend, free to a good home

The girlfriend is watching Oprah.....

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Fruitfulness

"I'm bored" he squeaked "Come over. I've been to your place so many times already and it's been ages since you were here."
Playing on our guilt. The nerve.
"And rent a DVD for me... Shark Tale or something."
But it worked.
So off we went, to Ostend. Only to be stuck in some sad, misguided carnival (it's been Lent for two weeks now, you idiots! Carnival is a celebration of the last days before Lent, not during it. That's fucking up the whole purpose of the thing!), confetti everywhere (The Sweetie: "oh fuck, it's snowing again"...), drunk people, no parking. You catch my drift.

The Sweetie also decided she wanted a book. Sarah Waters or Katherine V Forrest, any would do. So off we skipped to the "open-on-Sunday"-shops. Of course then I thought it would be a good idea to pay a visit to the "big-and-rather-cheap"-multimedia shop. Bad, bad idea. NOt only did we discover that Season 3 of Alias was out, but the Girlfriend found some new dyke DVDs (including... the awfully crap Kissing Jessica Stein, which she can pay back from her own account cos there's no way any of my hard-earned cash is going to that anomaly!), I saw they had a ridiculously cheap copy of American Beauty and well... Suddenly, not having a Visa card didn't mean a thing anymore.

This is not the end of it, though. After the Girlfriend and Monsieur de Perrie finished playing Mario Kart, they discovered the rented DVD wouldn't play on his DVD player... so off we went back to PigletTown. We had to podcast, then we just had to see if Alcazar had made it to the Eurovision Finals in Sweden (they have, with the already highly original song title Alcastar), watch Eurovision 2003 again for our next Mystères project... And before we knew it, it was past midnight and Monsieur De Perrie had to drive back to Ostend and head to work this morning.

Just another Sunday, one might think.

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Just lovely

First task of the day: cleaning up cat-puke.

Fabulous.
I can't wait till I have kids.

Meanwhile I'm already stressing about another job interview next Friday... only this time for a job I really, really want. Bugger!

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Obligatory snow/cat post


Kiwi All by Himself 


multi-pawed 


Street 

meanwhile i can also promise you a photo of the inside of our dead cactus, which seems to have turned into slime...

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Haiku written by cats
through Mortifyd

So you want to play. Will I claw at dancing string? Your ankle's closer.
----
There's no dignity In being sick - which is why I don't tell you where.
----
Seeking solitude I am locked in the closet. For once I need you.
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Tiny can, dumped in Plastic bowl. Presentation, One star; service: none.
----
Am I in your way? You seem to have it backwards: This pillow's taken.
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Your mouth is moving; Up and down, emitting noise. I've lost interest.
----
The dog wags his tail, Seeking approval. See mine? Different message.
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My brain: walnut-sized. Yours: largest among primates. Yet, who leaves for work?
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Most problems can be Ignored. The more difficult Ones can be slept through.
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My affection is conditional. Don't stand up, It's your lap I love.
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Cats can't steal the breath Of children. But if my tail's Pulled again, I'll learn.
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I don't mind being Teased, any more than you mind A skin graft or two.
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So you call this thing Your "cat carrier." I call These my "blades of death."
----
Toy mice, dancing yarn Meowing sounds. I'm convinced: You're an idiot.

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Ypres

City of world wars, narrow roads, indecipherable streetsigns and taking wrong turns. Causing me to be ten minutes late for my doomed-in-advance job interview. Thankfully some IT guys were in with the Grand Boss, so my lateness wasn't noted all that much. My profuse apologies probably did a lot as well.
Unlike his profession and his institution would have you think, the man who interviewed me was very nice and rather flattering. Apparently they don't just interview anyone there, no no, it's quite an honour to be invited. He even gave me a nice flattering reply to my question why the hell I was invited for one when I have no idea what to do in "that" kind of job. With bimonthly evaluations by the Board of Directors and obliged specialisations.
Urgh.
I have no illusions for a second-round interview, (but am highly flattered to have been the youngest invited for an interview) and to be honest, the high demands for the job intimidate me so much that I probably wouldn't last a month there. Or as he said "the contract we offer is for a year, to begin with. But it doesn't always last that long". Ok. Nnnniiiiiice.

High demands and non-bastards in a CLB? Who knew!

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Just not my day

- This morning I woke up from a dream that I 'd be too late for work. What a thing to dream about.
- As I wanted to park my car at my workplace (only 1 minute late), I didn't slow down enough, for the wheels blocked on a thick layer of snow and I crashed into the pavement. I couldn't turn my wheels anymore, nor could I drive back out, so I just left the car there. Nice and crooked.
- I cut out, laminated and did a lot of ergotherapy-for-psychiatric-patients stuff to the new kids' leaflet at work (a series of drawings with the hands of a clock to point them out)... only to discover (through the ditzy but nice secretary) that I'd picked the wrong drawings... and had to start all over again.
- A boyfriend-of-a-mother yelled at me and called me "missy". I wanted to kick him in the balls so badly.
- And I still have that bloody job interview tomorrow. Urgh.

One nice thing though. As I was driving to work I saw a man get out of his car and take a photograph of the scenery. Did I finally see one of those freaky people who send their photos in for the weather forecast?!

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Questions on the oscars

yes, I know I'm late, but I'm not silly enough to watch the whole show, I had to wait for the highlights.

Ahem.

1. Who -in the long history of the oscars- started thanking people and did they not realise how annoying this would be?
2. Why Beyonce and er... was that French? Sounding nasal does not constitute the French language. (No, it doesn't. It does not. No! No arguments from any of you lot!)
3. Canthe voice-over who gives additional information also be heard in the auditorium? I always wondered about that...
4. Gay jokes in the Oscars, is that allowed?
5. Bush jokes in the Oscars, is THAT allowed?

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Through Grover

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

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Oh no! Crossdressing!

The picture of a lesbian student dressed in a tuxedo will not be permitted in her school's yearbook, the Clay County school officials decided

Through Alsion

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The things I could tell you

"You don't update that much anymore do you" I was told, rather accusingly by someone. Er well... I was hoping no-one had noticed. I know, I've been bad, but I'm trying to do better.
See, here, a post!

I guess I could tell you all about how there's snow, how the Smiling Boss Lady doesn't like "het eiland" (I think it's because she recognises too much of Protut in herself), how one of the families of my colleague lost everything (including their dog) in a fire, which nearly brought me to tears. How I tried to weasel my way out of a job interview in the CLB, only to just have it rescheduled to Thursday. How I've been making "introduction brochures" for kids at work, only to discover a typo and have to start over from scratch. How I'd been driving the girlfriend mad yesterday. How my ridiculous knowledge of Eurovision and Harry Potter theme tunes (and that alone u-huh) helped us to victory during a quiz on Saturday night. Well, that and the shamefulness of Ellen knowing where most seedy discos in Belgium are.
(I guess that's not entirely true, but then this is my blog so I can try and steal the honour, can't I).

I guess I could tell you that.

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