Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Relax. Take it easy
In a fabulous pre-emptive strike my co-workers take issue with the new temp because she goes outside to have a cigarette during her lunchbreak.
(The only thing I have a problem with is that she put the radio on Q Music one day! Aaargh!)
Hearing snippets of Take That (Patience),Pet Shop Boys Robbie Williams (She's madonna) and the fabulous Mika on the radio kept me sane. Is "Radio 2" starting to grow on me?
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In a fabulous pre-emptive strike my co-workers take issue with the new temp because she goes outside to have a cigarette during her lunchbreak.
(The only thing I have a problem with is that she put the radio on Q Music one day! Aaargh!)
Hearing snippets of Take That (Patience),
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Eurovision!
The Krazy Mess Groovers are going to Eurovision for Belgium.
I have no idea who they are, but they sound trumpet-y.
Scarily enough I found out through bernard who pointed me to this blog.
Yup.
I found out who will represent our country in Helsinki through Bernard.
Those Jehova's witnesses might have a point after all.
(thanks Bernard)
Even more hilarious: Switzerland is apparently sending DJ BOBO (oh yes!) with the horrid "Vampires will survive" to Helsinki. (the song can be heard on All Kinds of Everything). The lyrics are as follows: "Vampires are alive, the legends will survive. We'll never come undone. We will be forever young" (until we meet Buffy and she stakes us, obviously)
A very small consolation after the sad disqualification of "My Homey Dracula, from Transylvania".
Is this the new theme though? Vampires?
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The Krazy Mess Groovers are going to Eurovision for Belgium.
I have no idea who they are, but they sound trumpet-y.
Scarily enough I found out through bernard who pointed me to this blog.
Yup.
I found out who will represent our country in Helsinki through Bernard.
Those Jehova's witnesses might have a point after all.
(thanks Bernard)
Even more hilarious: Switzerland is apparently sending DJ BOBO (oh yes!) with the horrid "Vampires will survive" to Helsinki. (the song can be heard on All Kinds of Everything). The lyrics are as follows: "Vampires are alive, the legends will survive. We'll never come undone. We will be forever young" (until we meet Buffy and she stakes us, obviously)
A very small consolation after the sad disqualification of "My Homey Dracula, from Transylvania".
Is this the new theme though? Vampires?
Labels: eurovision
Sperm wanted!
The Girlfriend and I are broody. We want babies. we'll start with just one, of course, but in an ideal world, we'd like to have more. Of course, in an ideal world we'd get twice the paychecks we do now and our parents would have given us thousands of Euros when we moved in together. Alas, that couldn't be. We also found out that no amount of "wishing, hoping and praying" (or Dusty -quoting) can get either of us pregnant.
Duvel and Bietje each gave us a bottle of their "goods" one New Year's Eve, but more than a year later... we're beginning to suspect they're either sterile (sorry guys) or they tricked us and put something else (like, oh, I don't know... glue for instance?) in the bottles. If they did, they're idiots, because no one messes with a Dyke On A Mission and gets out without a scratch, just ask Jim Fenner (I was gonna say "gets out on top", but that might just be too easy...).
So, any gentleman with reasonable genetic material (that is to say: no total madness in the family), feel free to make yourself known or anonymously give us your donation. We'll be ever so grateful and your child might become the next er... well... Idol or summat!
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The Girlfriend and I are broody. We want babies. we'll start with just one, of course, but in an ideal world, we'd like to have more. Of course, in an ideal world we'd get twice the paychecks we do now and our parents would have given us thousands of Euros when we moved in together. Alas, that couldn't be. We also found out that no amount of "wishing, hoping and praying" (or Dusty -quoting) can get either of us pregnant.
Duvel and Bietje each gave us a bottle of their "goods" one New Year's Eve, but more than a year later... we're beginning to suspect they're either sterile (sorry guys) or they tricked us and put something else (like, oh, I don't know... glue for instance?) in the bottles. If they did, they're idiots, because no one messes with a Dyke On A Mission and gets out without a scratch, just ask Jim Fenner (I was gonna say "gets out on top", but that might just be too easy...).
So, any gentleman with reasonable genetic material (that is to say: no total madness in the family), feel free to make yourself known or anonymously give us your donation. We'll be ever so grateful and your child might become the next er... well... Idol or summat!
Labels: girlfriend, kids
Temping
Temping sucks because you can never make a "case" "your own". You work with people and then -before all the work is done- you have to leave and hand them over to another person. That's alright for adults. I mean, it's crap, sure, because in a way they have to start from scratch again with someone else, but it's so much worse for the kids. Because they don't really understand why you have to go.
"Why are you leaving?"
"Because the minister doesn't give the social sector enough money for more personnel and apart from that I'm not even sure I could do this job for years without going into total meltdown" is not an answer a child will understand.
See. I told you I'd start missing this job as soon as the end was in sight.
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Temping sucks because you can never make a "case" "your own". You work with people and then -before all the work is done- you have to leave and hand them over to another person. That's alright for adults. I mean, it's crap, sure, because in a way they have to start from scratch again with someone else, but it's so much worse for the kids. Because they don't really understand why you have to go.
"Why are you leaving?"
"Because the minister doesn't give the social sector enough money for more personnel and apart from that I'm not even sure I could do this job for years without going into total meltdown" is not an answer a child will understand.
See. I told you I'd start missing this job as soon as the end was in sight.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Tired
I am so bloody tired. The Girlfriend might have something to do with it: as she's working the early shift today and tomorrow she thought it would be fun to wake herself (and me) up with incredibly loud music in the bathroom. This was at 5.30 am, so it was non-stop "night" music. Surprisingly, I wasn't even that angry. I just gave her a sloppy "morning breath"-kiss in revenge. Muha!
Unfortunately my workday is not over yet. I've got an appointment at 7pm tonight. I wonder if I'll stay awake that long.
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I am so bloody tired. The Girlfriend might have something to do with it: as she's working the early shift today and tomorrow she thought it would be fun to wake herself (and me) up with incredibly loud music in the bathroom. This was at 5.30 am, so it was non-stop "night" music. Surprisingly, I wasn't even that angry. I just gave her a sloppy "morning breath"-kiss in revenge. Muha!
Unfortunately my workday is not over yet. I've got an appointment at 7pm tonight. I wonder if I'll stay awake that long.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Nice
A ribbed condom in a lesbian household, it's kinda like a fish on a bicycle.
Can we giftwrap this for anyone?
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A ribbed condom in a lesbian household, it's kinda like a fish on a bicycle.
Can we giftwrap this for anyone?
Monday, February 12, 2007
Allsorts
You can watch Denmarks entry (a man pretending to be a heavily made up woman! With feathers! What is this world coming to?) for the Eurovision song contest here (thanks to Jawnbc). After "My Homey Dracula"'s elimination in Romania last week (bastards!) this is some consolation for little old me.
As I'm typing this I'm surrounded by three hungry cats alternately eyeing me and the chocolate bar I'm nibbling. Any moment now they'll attack...
Ah, I see Soes has given into my death glare and is now lazily licking her arse...
I win.
I've also finally taken my work home with me. Actual work, this time, not just worries about work. If that's what it takes to allow me to relax and actually "help" people instead of being buried under mountains of paperwork, I'll give in and do it.
Most importantly though, and perhaps the earth-shattering news you've been waiting for (I'm now being attacked by a ginger tomcat, jumping on my lap and attempting to headbutt the keyboard...)... (no, that wasn't it)...
Yesterday.... I sewed a button onto The Girlfriend's pyjama top!
I did. Me. Yes.
And it hasn't fallen off yet.
Score for Domestic Piglet!
(and when I write "sew", I first type "sex" and then have to correct it)
We also battled against having our very own swimming pool in the garden, by cleaning out all the rubbish (left there by previous tenants I might add) that was in the drains. Urgh. Thank god my dad came to the rescue.
Score for Butch Piglet, nonetheless.
And today my Blonde Boss apologised for shouting at me once when I was one minute late. This happened five months ago, I might add. She also told me I would be missed and well... a lot of good stuff. Let's leave it at that.
Score for Work Piglet!
I'll feed the cats now, before theyeat my chocolate attack.
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You can watch Denmarks entry (a man pretending to be a heavily made up woman! With feathers! What is this world coming to?) for the Eurovision song contest here (thanks to Jawnbc). After "My Homey Dracula"'s elimination in Romania last week (bastards!) this is some consolation for little old me.
As I'm typing this I'm surrounded by three hungry cats alternately eyeing me and the chocolate bar I'm nibbling. Any moment now they'll attack...
Ah, I see Soes has given into my death glare and is now lazily licking her arse...
I win.
I've also finally taken my work home with me. Actual work, this time, not just worries about work. If that's what it takes to allow me to relax and actually "help" people instead of being buried under mountains of paperwork, I'll give in and do it.
Most importantly though, and perhaps the earth-shattering news you've been waiting for (I'm now being attacked by a ginger tomcat, jumping on my lap and attempting to headbutt the keyboard...)... (no, that wasn't it)...
Yesterday.... I sewed a button onto The Girlfriend's pyjama top!
I did. Me. Yes.
And it hasn't fallen off yet.
Score for Domestic Piglet!
(and when I write "sew", I first type "sex" and then have to correct it)
We also battled against having our very own swimming pool in the garden, by cleaning out all the rubbish (left there by previous tenants I might add) that was in the drains. Urgh. Thank god my dad came to the rescue.
Score for Butch Piglet, nonetheless.
And today my Blonde Boss apologised for shouting at me once when I was one minute late. This happened five months ago, I might add. She also told me I would be missed and well... a lot of good stuff. Let's leave it at that.
Score for Work Piglet!
I'll feed the cats now, before they
Monday, February 05, 2007
Piglet: een flurk?
Piglet wenst hierbij te ontkennen dat zij ooit, al is het maar één seconde, normaal zou kunnen bevonden worden.
Dit gezegd zijnde, vijf redenen waarom ik, inderdaad, een beetje een rare flurk ben.
1. Afval op borden.
Ik kan er absoluut niet tegen als mensen hun afval (snoepwikkels, fruitschillen) op hun bord of brooddoos deponeren. Een appel moet geschild worden boven een keukenrol-papiertje of boven een snijplank. Schillen hebben geen plaats tussen de kruimels van opgegeten boterhammen, in een leeg yoghurtpotje, of -nog erger!- op een bord met de restanten van een warme maaltijd. Nog erger wordt het als mensen hun fruit schillen met het mes waarmee ze hun boterhammen/warme maaltijd gegeten hebben.
Snoeppapiertjes of andere afval moeten in je hand naar de vuilbak gedragen worden. Je gooit ze niet zomaar op je bord! Ik moet gewoon wegkijken, ik word er misselijk van.
(zie ook: de Pigleta en haar AutismeSpectrumStoornis)
2. Slofjes.
Als ik mijn pantoffels niet aan heb, ben ik nog niet thuis. Als ik een uur thuis rondloop op mijn schoenen, heb ik het gevoel dat ik "nog maar net" thuis ben. Als ik mijn pantoffels even aangehad heb, is alles goed. Ik heb een chronisch onbegrip voor het feit dat sommige mensen de hele avond hun schoenen aan kunnen houden. Tsk. "Ben je niet thuis misschien!?" (Piglet en ASS, deel 2)
3. Slaaprituelen.
Ik neem altijd water mee naar boven voor "het allerlaatste slokje". Als ik te lang wakker gehouden word (oorzaak: "De Schattie") en een nieuwe slaap-poging onderneem, neem ik eerst opnieuw een slokje water. Zo ook als ik naar het toilet geweest ben.
Mijn hoofdkussen moet koel zijn. Als ik "te lang" in dezelfde houding wakker lig, draai ik het weer om, om op de koele kant te liggen. Dit kan zich een paar keer per avond herhalen. (Piglet en ASS deel 3)
4. Lage bloeddruk.
Ik ben een zenuwpees. Mijn nagels zijn afgekloven tot op het vel (of er nog onder), ik kan uren stressen over wat er de volgende dag zal komen, of ik misschien geen secnode te laat op het werk kan zijn, dat ik nog dit en dat zou moeten doen, en oh! Binnen twee weken verjaart die en die! Help! Maar ondertussen blijft mijn bloeddruk -ondanks mijn bloeddrukverhogende pilletjes- onder de normale waarden.
5. Ze Gays.
Ondanks mijn lesbische geaardheid en een gebrek aan seksuele interesse in hetero-piemels, ben ik wel gefascineerd door homofiele heren en wat die allemaal in (en uit) bed doen. Als ik kan kiezen tussen een potten- of jeanettenfilm of -boek, is mijn keuze heel snel gemaakt. De Schattie leest AfterEllen, ik lees AfterElton. Zij kijkt naar het afgrijselijke The L word, ik zou naar het al even slechte Queer As Folk (US) kijken (QAF UK is fantastisch en valt daarom buiten deze categorie). Ik verzin homofiele relaties tussen mannelijke personages op tv en in boeken en de schattie... tja, die zegt dat dit mij een rare flurk maakt.
Tsk.
As if.
Ik zou van veel mensen wel willen weten wat hen een rare flurk maakt (misschien formuleer ik dit beter als "ik zou van veel mensen willen weten of zij ook beseffen wat van hen een rare flurk maakt", maar goed), maar ik denk dat de Heer Duvelman nog voor verrassingen zou kunnen zorgen. Et tu, Fresco?
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Piglet wenst hierbij te ontkennen dat zij ooit, al is het maar één seconde, normaal zou kunnen bevonden worden.
Dit gezegd zijnde, vijf redenen waarom ik, inderdaad, een beetje een rare flurk ben.
1. Afval op borden.
Ik kan er absoluut niet tegen als mensen hun afval (snoepwikkels, fruitschillen) op hun bord of brooddoos deponeren. Een appel moet geschild worden boven een keukenrol-papiertje of boven een snijplank. Schillen hebben geen plaats tussen de kruimels van opgegeten boterhammen, in een leeg yoghurtpotje, of -nog erger!- op een bord met de restanten van een warme maaltijd. Nog erger wordt het als mensen hun fruit schillen met het mes waarmee ze hun boterhammen/warme maaltijd gegeten hebben.
Snoeppapiertjes of andere afval moeten in je hand naar de vuilbak gedragen worden. Je gooit ze niet zomaar op je bord! Ik moet gewoon wegkijken, ik word er misselijk van.
(zie ook: de Pigleta en haar AutismeSpectrumStoornis)
2. Slofjes.
Als ik mijn pantoffels niet aan heb, ben ik nog niet thuis. Als ik een uur thuis rondloop op mijn schoenen, heb ik het gevoel dat ik "nog maar net" thuis ben. Als ik mijn pantoffels even aangehad heb, is alles goed. Ik heb een chronisch onbegrip voor het feit dat sommige mensen de hele avond hun schoenen aan kunnen houden. Tsk. "Ben je niet thuis misschien!?" (Piglet en ASS, deel 2)
3. Slaaprituelen.
Ik neem altijd water mee naar boven voor "het allerlaatste slokje". Als ik te lang wakker gehouden word (oorzaak: "De Schattie") en een nieuwe slaap-poging onderneem, neem ik eerst opnieuw een slokje water. Zo ook als ik naar het toilet geweest ben.
Mijn hoofdkussen moet koel zijn. Als ik "te lang" in dezelfde houding wakker lig, draai ik het weer om, om op de koele kant te liggen. Dit kan zich een paar keer per avond herhalen. (Piglet en ASS deel 3)
4. Lage bloeddruk.
Ik ben een zenuwpees. Mijn nagels zijn afgekloven tot op het vel (of er nog onder), ik kan uren stressen over wat er de volgende dag zal komen, of ik misschien geen secnode te laat op het werk kan zijn, dat ik nog dit en dat zou moeten doen, en oh! Binnen twee weken verjaart die en die! Help! Maar ondertussen blijft mijn bloeddruk -ondanks mijn bloeddrukverhogende pilletjes- onder de normale waarden.
5. Ze Gays.
Ondanks mijn lesbische geaardheid en een gebrek aan seksuele interesse in hetero-piemels, ben ik wel gefascineerd door homofiele heren en wat die allemaal in (en uit) bed doen. Als ik kan kiezen tussen een potten- of jeanettenfilm of -boek, is mijn keuze heel snel gemaakt. De Schattie leest AfterEllen, ik lees AfterElton. Zij kijkt naar het afgrijselijke The L word, ik zou naar het al even slechte Queer As Folk (US) kijken (QAF UK is fantastisch en valt daarom buiten deze categorie). Ik verzin homofiele relaties tussen mannelijke personages op tv en in boeken en de schattie... tja, die zegt dat dit mij een rare flurk maakt.
Tsk.
As if.
Ik zou van veel mensen wel willen weten wat hen een rare flurk maakt (misschien formuleer ik dit beter als "ik zou van veel mensen willen weten of zij ook beseffen wat van hen een rare flurk maakt", maar goed), maar ik denk dat de Heer Duvelman nog voor verrassingen zou kunnen zorgen. Et tu, Fresco?
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Applauds madly
"Today is the tomorrow of yesterday we worried about. And all's well."
(Oscar Wilde)
Shamelessly stolen from bietje
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"Today is the tomorrow of yesterday we worried about. And all's well."
(Oscar Wilde)
Shamelessly stolen from bietje
Bitchy me
One of my worst qualities is my work-bitching. Whenever I have a job, there's something I hate. Well, generally there are more things I hate: co-workers, the type of work I do, the type of people I'm trying to "help", general frustrations, incompetence, and so on and so on. Straight after I finish at the workplace however, I have a change of heart and only remember the nice things. "Ooh, I'd never have had that problem at my previous workplace", you can hear me whine then. Whereas I did nothing else but bitch about the unfairness of said workplace when I was actually working there.
So I'm trying to take that into account and quit the bitching.
And this job, well... it's been bloody tough on me. There have been times when I absolutely hated it, and I've been counting the weeks till the day my predecessor comes back for well... 6 weeks now. After this weekend there'll be 5 weeks left, then I'll be back to Gay Sleeveless Supervisor's place.
But I'll miss this place. Despite all the whining and the horror and the sleepless nights even, I know I will. Already I'm getting sentimental when I think about "my" families and how they'll fare with the "new" counselor. Will they accept her or not? What will happen to the kids in the long run? Will they be able to stay at home with their parents or will they have to go back into care?
As I came home tonight, with irritated eyes (from cigarette smoke, and whatever the family I was with this afternoon was burning in their wood-stove), smelling like smoke, throwing my clothes in the dryer to be aired out,... I thought "damn. I'll miss this".
It's probably due to the fact that the end is in sight, because I can't imagine myself saying this a month ago. But still. I will miss them. My mysogynistic, disrespectful, racist homophobic families.
And the other ones too.
(I might also be a little bit happy to be rid of them)
(You've all got permission to remind me of this post next time I bitch about my job)
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One of my worst qualities is my work-bitching. Whenever I have a job, there's something I hate. Well, generally there are more things I hate: co-workers, the type of work I do, the type of people I'm trying to "help", general frustrations, incompetence, and so on and so on. Straight after I finish at the workplace however, I have a change of heart and only remember the nice things. "Ooh, I'd never have had that problem at my previous workplace", you can hear me whine then. Whereas I did nothing else but bitch about the unfairness of said workplace when I was actually working there.
So I'm trying to take that into account and quit the bitching.
And this job, well... it's been bloody tough on me. There have been times when I absolutely hated it, and I've been counting the weeks till the day my predecessor comes back for well... 6 weeks now. After this weekend there'll be 5 weeks left, then I'll be back to Gay Sleeveless Supervisor's place.
But I'll miss this place. Despite all the whining and the horror and the sleepless nights even, I know I will. Already I'm getting sentimental when I think about "my" families and how they'll fare with the "new" counselor. Will they accept her or not? What will happen to the kids in the long run? Will they be able to stay at home with their parents or will they have to go back into care?
As I came home tonight, with irritated eyes (from cigarette smoke, and whatever the family I was with this afternoon was burning in their wood-stove), smelling like smoke, throwing my clothes in the dryer to be aired out,... I thought "damn. I'll miss this".
It's probably due to the fact that the end is in sight, because I can't imagine myself saying this a month ago. But still. I will miss them. My mysogynistic, disrespectful, racist homophobic families.
And the other ones too.
(I might also be a little bit happy to be rid of them)
(You've all got permission to remind me of this post next time I bitch about my job)
