dead

Like every year, my PC has died on me.
Only now I still have *something*, I still have my "Don't Panic" Hitchhiker's guide desktop. Rather ironic, no?
When I reboot I get some hundred "fatal mistake in temp internet files" messages "cannot be repaired". Well fine, I'll delete them then. Only I can't. Desktop without icons, without "start" thingie, without explorer. No way to get to my documents.
I'm pretty helpless.
Even famous computer wizz Baloo"F2" couldn't help us.
So now what.
Time I get me a nice laptop? Who'll sponsor me? Or should I just hope for some miracle and an even better computer wizz?
But then it'd better be fast before I throw the damn thing out of the window.
Cos then I'll have to pay for the window as well...

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Mea culpa

I know sweeties, I know. Updates are few and far between on this blog lately. Does it help if I tell you I'm not having such a good time? I don't want to bore everyone about it, it just has to do with "work", "too much of it" and "help".
Who you could sometimes have too much work in the social sector?!
And why is it always near the end of my contract?!
I've been "oversleeping" a little every day this week, and I hope this is not a trend that'll continue. I'd like to get to work on time sometime this week.

It's got to the point that I've actually considered going to the gym in order to work off my stress, tension, anger and frustration.
The GYM.
Me.

On the upside, I've got my own (labeled with my name!) folder from work now. With all the burocratic Vogon forms in there, like "permission to go to the loo" and "I'd like some time off, please".
Two whole months of something that's all mine.
My own forms.
I'm so proud.

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Love poem

See, see the annoying sky
Marvel at its big beige depths.
Tell me, Merlina do you
Wonder why the hog ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel tired.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your glurgle facial growth
That looks like
A cheese.
What's more, it knows
Your duck potting shed
Smells of pea.
Everything under the big annoying sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm poos.

(courtesy of the Vogon Poetry Generator, link through Occie or his Husband)

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Workrelated things

You might have noticed my lack of updates lately (well, apart from today obviously). As you can guess I'm suitably busy chewing my nails, pulling out my hair, watching TV, grooming the kitties (that's not slang for anything, no), working, doing overtime, sleeping and ... babysitting. Throw in the occasional "Bavaday" and "Trouble, not to mention the daily checking of blogs and you can see why there's little time left to write.
Help is on the way however! As you know I'll be joining the ranks of the Unemployed again in December so that'll give me plenty of time to write the best nonsense on these pages.

However, if anyone can offer me a job before then, it'd be very much appreciated. I'm very dynamic, as you can tell.
Ahem.

Or if anyone can motivate me to actually send out my CV *again*... do have a go.

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Lost

Finally, at last and about time, yesterday evening Belgian TV graced us with Lost.
This series has been so hyped on my Livejournal friendslist that I was starting to feel like a leper. "What the fuck are you lot talking about?!" I thought more than once.
Now I know. The sweetie and I were glued to our sofa (we could literally hardly move since there were three cats on us) and I have to admit I was terrified about half the time. I hope this feeling of terror lessens throughout the series (or do I?) or perhaps I'll just end up taking the piss, I don't know.
So yes. No longer am I an outcast. I have seen episode 1 of Lost. Episode 2 next week.
I'll try to keep myself from looking up spoilers...
But I want to know what happens so badly...

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Goosebumps

Cameramannen van Eén: Als Sandrine haar "ta ta" shaket, gelieve daar dan ook op in te zoomen.


Met vriendelijke groeten,

Piglet en Merlina.


PS: We zitten met twee te staren naar de borsten van Geena Lisa... hoe heeft ze die in godsnaam in haar kleedje geperst en -belangrijker- hoe blijven ze daar zitten?

Zijn we nu hetero-mannen?

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Internet history

Having to look up some information on the one pc with internet at work (that of our "teamcoach") I had a little browse in the "history".
The results are shocking!
- wooden gates.com
- CD&V.be (Hypocritical Narrowminded Conservatives.be)
- Swiss Holiday.com

Wooden gates...
What a pervert!

Can you imagine the incredible dullness of this man?
32 and not a trace of porn

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Missing

I come home from work a little early and something strange is going on.
The house is filled with a balloon (that used to be tied to the stairs in honour of the sweetie's birthday), our old stuffed animals, crumbs on the sofa, the ironing board (what the hell?!), cartoon dvds, crayons and drawings.
I'm missing a sweetie and a cat.

Hang on, I've just found the cat.

The sweetie left her cellphone here. Very logical of her.

I'll just assume she's bringing the babysit-kids back to their parents.
Either that or she's eloped....
Help!

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Que?!

Visiting a foster parent that I've seen numerous times before the summer holidays about her other foster child (deciding whether or not he would return to his mother), she greeted me with "Julie, isn't it?"

Erm.
No.

My "teamcoach" went into complete "teamcoach-mode" (even though he's had the function a month, since no-one else wanted it after the only suitable candidate dropped out because she hated the person I'm replacing... more or less), closing the door to my "office", enlightening me of the following.
I'll be sharing an office with the nicest (and youngest colleague) for October and November. Very logical since we both work full time and the ex-replaced will be working part-time. But I did expect it.
And for the remainder of my time (two months) I'll be taking on the visits and reports for November and December (foster parents, children and natural parents for a grand total of 14 children) while the ex-replaced will fill her part-time (three months) with the reports for October (4 children) and the visits-to-foster-parents-without-reports in between.
Que?!

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The one you love

The person I'm replacing is coming back in October. Part-time for three months, while she takes up her workleave the other part-time, full time from January 1st. Normally there's no replacement for holidays, but the Big Boss has found enough money to keep me on fulltime for two more months: October and November.
After that I'm unemployed again, unless someone is pushed falls down a flight of stairs.
Preferably a psychologist this time. *g*

I feel strange. On the one hand, it's not the ideal job for me, I'm completely stressed and overworked at the moment (incredilby bored the next) and my colleagues... well, they're in a league of their own, that's the least you can say. On the other hand... you know me. I've an attachment disorder: I attach myself to everything and everyone very easily and it's very very hard to let go or to change.
Can you imagine how incredibly guilty I felt when I interviewed for a psychologist job the other day? They asked me, I'd written a letter in March. I felt sick with guilt throughout the interview, and don't expect much from it. I'd feel too guilty to quit the last two months I've got... even if the other job is a contract for year. If they're mad and offer it to me, I know I should take it. And would. Have to. But still.
Change, yes. Hard. Difficult. Brr.
Attachment. To the sleeveless Gay Supervisor. To the few nice people. To the system that I now know more or less through and through. To the city. The traffic jams. The accents. Anyone diagnose me with ASS please?!

My mother's reaction didn't help much either. Instead of being happy they're keeping me on an extra two months, she went "unemployed! Unemployed! Will you manage?! How?!" Yes, thanks Mother.

PS: Does anyone think me strange or perverted for actually hoping Ted and Sir Ralph on the Fast Show get together? Mrs Ted be damned!
I think I'd even read slash...

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Ah yes

Today I saw people (three, at different times) waiting five minutes for a lift. Only to take it and go up one floor. One. Floor.
(I needed to go up five floors, so sue me)
Idiots.

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Bad idea

You're practically dead from lack of sleep and too much working hours, birthday planning and -celebrating. What do you do? Sleep. Take a quiet week-end. That would be the sensible thing.
What did I do?
- watched tennis till 1am Friday night to see the Clijsters-Sharapova match.
- on Saturday got up at a decent 10am, to go grocery shopping and help out at a christening.
- Go home with an hour to spare for dinner and outfit-selection.
- Leave for a pre-party and party in Ghent.
- Drop in bed at 4.42, having forgotten all about tennis and the big final that night.
- on Sunday you get up at 9.30 because it's Bavaday and you have to go to Bellewaerde (six flags type thingie).
- you get home at 6-ish and you're once again dead.
I have... 11 hours to revive before I'm due back at work...

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Happy birthday Sweetie!



I first thought to post a photo of me... but then I thought... what's the point. You get to look at me all the time. Here's something luscious for you!
Happy birthday!

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Birthday blues

I know what the sweetie is getting for her birthday! And she doesn't! Woohoo! Well, I know what she's getting from me since I spent the past few days wrapping it up, hiding it and trying to make up for having to work on her birthday.
Damn, I hate having to work on her birthday. I feel crap and my stomache aches, you reckon I can pull a sickie?
But just now she tells me "she doesn't really care about birthdays". Tsk. yeah right. That's why she starts bugging me about her birthday sometime in January. Ha! I think it's more to do with her leaving the only age she thought still sounded "young".

Poor poor baby.

Oh. And I got her a card.
I know how much she loves those! *evil, evil laughter*

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I'm off on one again

Cobaltgreen has a few tips on how to get government help to New Orleans. Like, "Announce they are giving late term abortions down at the Convention Center".

Funnily enough I think that would actually work.

I cannot say how pissed off I am that Bush is showing his ugly mug around the disaster area. Must be the most tasteless time (apart from 9/11... when he did the same) to try and pull votes. "Hello, poor black people with nowhere to go, I'm your president. I care. No, really, I do."
Fuck off ya big ponce.
Why doesn't he stay in Washington and actually DO something, like try and organise help, see what funds they can use... what funds they've got left after Iraq.

John Rhinehart, the administrator of a New Orleans hospital without power and water, said: "I'm beginning to wonder if the government is more concerned about the looting than people who are dying in these hospitals."
And let's get something straight: stealing food out of a wrecked shop because it's the only way to keep you from starving to death is NOT looting. Neither is taking diapers, toilet paper, or anything of those things. It's survival. Stealing a big-screen TV... Well, that's just a bit silly without electricity and without a house.

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Some interesting views on the New Orleans floods

Did you know that it's not so easy to determine what "looting" entails? Apparently your race is a crucial factor in the matter. See what you think of this little collage put together by a certain Nate on a totally unrelated gay torrents forum.

And for the students among us who have been ordered to write a paper on hurricane Katrina by their evil evil geography-teacher: You might be interested to know what caused it... beware for trick questions on your test though. Don't start expanding on high pressure, low pressure, oceans, temperatures, wind and whatnot. It's sure to earn you an "Idiot" from said teacher and a firm reputation as the laughing stock of the whole class. For what caused it is rather simple:
"Repent America (a group of Evangelical Christians) says that God "destroyed" New Orleans because of Southern Decadence, the gay festival that was to have taken place in the city over the Labor Day weekend". More information on the exact cause and -more importantly- what we might do to prevent a hurricane from ever occuring again can be found here.


-With my ultimate thanks to Occie's husband Spikey, for being bored at work and coming across these stories.-

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