all by myself

Tomorrow's my last day at work. Expect some kind of black hole after that. It's quite something to go from stressed-at-work to stressed-out-of-work overnight. After the sentimental speech by the Big Boss a while back (with H&M voucher) I had the sentimental speech by the Sexually Repressed TeamChristian (with Book voucher and card) on Monday. I guess this leads to my sentimental moment tomorrow when I give my ex-colleagues chocolate and oranges (for the healthfreaks) and a card.

I discovered today (by looking at the team schedules) that my "goodbye chat" is not only with Gay Sleeveless Supervisor, but also with Sexually Repressed TeamChristian. That's not so good since I'd planned on bitching about the team atmosphere during it and I lack the nerve to do so when one responsible for it is seated across from me. Why hast thou deserted me, Gay Sleeveless Supervisor!? Why am I to be used as a guinea pig for the TeamChristian's "leader"ship techniques?
That just earned you one choccie less, you prick.

Oh. En ik wil botjes!

|

Eurovision disappointment

Please, wake up from your catatonic stupor, dear readers. I know you never expected these two words to be in the same sentence, at least not on this blog, but yes, here they are. And I shall even tell you why.

The lovely Dominiek brought us his tape of "Congratulations", the 50 year anniversary show. When I say "brought" I mean he hung it in a little plastic bag on our door handle, nearly alerting the bomb squad of Iz who thought they were dealing with yet another attack on our lives. We got there just in time before they blew up the suspect package.
And I nearly wish they had blown it up.
What a crap show that was. The only good things about the show are the few original performers, the medleys and the compilations. I could have done without all the rest, which would have diminished the show to a good hour.
Thank god we could fast forward!

And then there was yesterday. Junior Eurovision doesn't hold that big an appeal to me (camp is just not camp when performed by minors), but the few Bosnian dialects are always good for a bit of Piglet's attention, as you all know. Needless to say I was a big fan of Serbia & Montenegro (the thing about the football, with a lot of "la la la") who probably only got points from other Yugoslavian countries.
But that horrible poodle thing that won the contest, my god, have Eurovision viewers got no taste left?! It sucked! It blew! It was awful! I know people must have been traumatised because of Marcel Vanthilt, but seriously.... there was no need to react that heavily to it.
No, Piglet does not agree with Europe. Long live Serbia & Montenegro. Long live Lindsay!

|

... gets me going, in the morning


I love this man.
I wasn't 100% convinced beforehand, but after his show yesterday, I'm a devoted fan.
He is just too cute.
And talented too, of course.
Must get me his other cds...

|

I have seen! I have seen!

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
And in my opinion, it was the best of the four films.
Sure, the script sucks, but by now I'm expecting that. Not enough Severus, sweetie, I'm glad he even gets a mention! Book, what book? Well, it helps that I can hardly remember what was in the book myself.

What made it worth watching for me?
(cut for spoilers)

One huge question though... what the hell happened to Flitwick? Are we to believe he shaved his beard, cut off his hair and dyed it brown?

|

Grind

My teeth hurt from grinding them, a result of a day at work or my excruciating job interview? I don't know.
The day at work was rather productive: finished two reports, visited a Pakistani family (finally met the mother, halleluyah) and then off. Go me. The job interview was part two of the Bearded Psychologist one. Yessss for some reason or other (either he treats all the people he likes like idiots or there weren't enough candidates) I made it to round two. Great. All week long I'd been debating whether or not to call it off: only for two months, part time, I really need some time to recuperate from my current Job Adventure, what about the little midweek the Sweetie and I have planned, what about my dole afterwards, how will I fit in in only two months, what will I exactly achieve... I wasn't really enthusiastic. I should've called it off, but I have this fear that if I ever do that the gods of something or other will punish me for it "you don't appreciate the stuff we give you, bitch, may you be unemployed for years until you're forced into a conveyor belt programme"...
And then I'd be royally fucked, wouldn't I!

I've got two days off... just enough to recuperate before the last three days of my contract. After that: no more Gay Sleeveless Supervisor, no more nice cellmate, no more sexually oppressed christians, no more "give me some scissors so I can cut the tension here"-team meetings ...
Well. Until the next job, I suppose.

|

The Man

The Sweetie and I -and a couple of unknown poofs- were at Bietje's yesterday.
The experience was so overwhelming that to blog about it in detail could not possibly do it justice. Should I start out by saying that the minute we arrived in the flat he marched us to his bedroom?
He did.
We saw (on DVD) why we're going to see Rufus on Thursday. I also found out that some people (like Rufus) are just... unmistakably gay. They don't have to say anything, they don't have to walk, they don't have to bat an eyelash, but by looking a photo alone your gaydar goes in overdrive.
It must be handy in finding a boyfriend.

We sat in the Klippan and bargained for the Little Britain DVD a certain someone still has not paid for... we were there, we had the money, we have boobies. What else could you expect?

|

Your daily dose of incoherent ramblings

V to the P to the Icky to the Ollard!
It's back, ladies and gentlemen, and this time on BBC1.
Faaaaabulous.


Yesterday we also found out Donna (from Eurovision Fame Donna & Joe, Ireland 2005) is a lezza! Hurraaaaaaaaaaay for lezzas.

I'm sorry for all the "aaaaaa"s, but it's the weekend, is it not?
Besides, I'm "well 'ard!"

In other news, my computer is a tad wrecked. The girlfriend did didn't do it, honestly. Something about the contact and the plug, and god knows what. I'm stealing her PC till she fixes it for me, or sells her body to get me a new one.
Love demands sacrifices after all.

|

When loving gets stronger, I run away from you

seeing how the girlfriend shamelessly abandoned me for the day it's the time for blogging listening to rather depressing music and blogging the lyrics.
Beware autumn depressions, here comes teenaged!Piglet, though safely behind a link so as not to bother the casual observer.
It wouldn't do to let teenage!Piglet out in the wild, after all. She's done enough damage in her time.

|

Smelly cat

I love my cats, I really really do. But right now, when Soes (the evil one with the grey stripes) jumps on my lap, I throw her off immediately.

She stinks.
I'm sorry, but she's got body odour that even the survivors of Lost could not imagine.
Perhaps she enjoys rolling around in kitty litter, perhaps her nostrils are blocked and she doesn't realise her handicap, but I wish she'd wash herself.

Or I fear we'll do it.
With soap. And lots of... water.

|

War

Ladies and gentlemen, I foresee many an argument in the near future in the Piglet & Merlina household. It has everything to do with the picture you see on the left. Yes, as you might have guessed, my computer screen has finally died on us.
The form in the photo is the form my desktop has these days. I call it "corsetitis". A few days ago I just had to smack the screen, and it would expand, but alas, that high-technological procedure isn't working anymore.
Perhaps I should steal the screen from work, as a farewell present? I mean, by god, I've earned it! No? Ah hell...

|

Juggling act

Fact: Bearded Psychologists are evil. Remind me never to grow facial hair.
I had a job interview today, with a Bearded Psychologist, and he was probably the most annoying person I've ever had the chance to meet. Ok, so he didn't quite meet the standards of "CLB-director" in 2003, but he was getting there.
I think I annoyed him back though. Hah! Fuck off ya cunt!

Coming home all I could do was snog the girlfriend and of course do the dance routine to Tragedy (Steps version, of course). What else is a girl supposed to do?

|

Patchwork

To all the idiots in Belgium who think it's "fun" to put things on fire because there are riots in France and it gave them an idea of a new hobby: cut it out. You're idiots. It's not funny. Want to change the world? Go into politics. Don't steal other people's grief because you've got nothing better to do at night.

To the people in the chamber commission who approved gay adoption: woohoo. I love you and will kiss you all senseless.
Now onto the rest of the house of representatives ....

I've been re-reading the Wraeththu books (well, the three first), driving the girlfriend mad with neglect. I'm sorry, sweetie, but I'm just obsessed again. Unfortuntaly work is cutting into my reading time. I am not amused with this. I think they should let me take my gorgeous Lunna-seat, some good lighting and nibbles to amuse myself when I'm there.
Alas, I don't think they would.
Bastards.

|

Dear God of Travel,

I know you're probably pissed off at me for polluting the air with such an amount of diesel fumes (over 40.000 kms since I got my license) and I apologise. But surely you know I need to do so for my job.
I promise to cut back if the God of Work provides me with a nicer job, closer to home, in December or January.
And I'll plant a tree.
Or a hundred.
But please stop wrecking my car.

Sincerely Yours,
Piglet

To the people who drove on the E403 between Izegem-Roeselare and Izegem-canal this morning. If you happen to find a piece of exhaust pipe, kindly give it back to me.
I thank you in advance.

This morning I was awoken out of my chickensoup daydreaming by an immense rattling noise as I tried to get on the motorway.
Great. My third car problem this year.
First, I return from Kylie with a hole in my exhaust, then my tyre gives up and now this "rattling thing".
Thankfully the parents were home to lend me their shiny gold pimpmobile (I had a house call today) and to take my car to the garage.

|

Oh, for that overpowering sense of doom

After some time off work, a week like now, a long week-end, or fuck it, even just a week-end, I'm filled with this sense of dread at having to return to work.
I just don't want to go. I want to stay at home. Safe and away from everything. Enjoy my time to read, chat to people, do my housework, and not get up before 7am to rush to work and be bombarded with problems and co-workers.
I remember this feeling from school. Such fun.
I know that once I'm there the feeling goes away and it all resembles normalcy, but for now... urgh.
I do not want to go.
Three more weeks.
And then I'll be unemployed, free to do what I want, and undoubtedly begging for a new job.

|

Squee

I found Wilde on DVD yesterday!
Viva Fnac!

And I've just been watching the infamous Robbie Williams performance in Pauls Parenavond. Bloody hilarious.

Back to work tomorrow.
Bugger.

|

Oh yes, again



Piglet is proud to present the return of "Driving School, Part 2: The Girlfriend".
She passed her theoretical test and we'll be making appointments for classes tomorrow.
Go Sweetie Go!

|

good karma

So far this holiday has all been about bringing my karma levels back to "positive". I've been driving my parents around, buying their groceries, buying people birthday presents, cleaning the house, opening my house to people desperate for a game of Scrabble, assisting the Girlfriend in her theoretic driving studies, and today I even overcame the sense of impending doom I get when I have to pay bills and went to the bank. These bills were serious: cable and car insurance. Unfortunately since my PC last died on me, so did my internet banking. I do not enjoy digging myself further into the red with a bunch of onlookers in a self-banking office. But hey, that's life.
The bank had a rather nice surprise for me though. Instead of my usual meagre wages, the sum that appeared on my account was more than double the usual. A special thank you for all my hard work? A mistake? Or just my holiday-money in advance?
I guess I'll find out next week.
But for now, it worked as an inhaler would for an asthmatic. Thank god. Money.

Unfortunately my Marginal Self wanted to celebrate this windfall with a visit to the BookFair in Antwerp... halls full of books. Books shouting "buy me! buy me!", "Go on, browse, feel me, smell my fresh ink, it can do no harm", luring me into their net of spending money.
The Girlfriend was wise and vetoed it.

|

update

For all those people kind enough to ask about my dad: he's fine. The operation was a success apparently and he might even be going home tomorrow.
Meanwhile I've been cooling my nerves by cleaning the house, killing my back, and irritating the girlfriend.
Fun!

|