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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I posted up something really quite long and boring on Friday, and unfortunately blogger seems to have lost it for good - it was published and present over the weekend, but seems to have disappeared. Have you seen it? In fact, did you steal it? If so, please return it. Although most of it was a bit dull, some of it involved stories about my lovely dogs, and they were quite entertaining. I thought. I might have been wrong.

Perhaps someone is now editing my posts. Have you guessed my password? It's not too difficult. In fact, it's a little too easy to work out, seeing as how it's the same password that I use for everything. I think I will leave it for the present moment, seeing as how I'm getting on two planes on Friday, and that always puts me in to a morbid mood.

A few months back, I was surfing about - I was probably at work, with nothing better to do other than ignore all the things I was being paid to do - and I found a blog, ordinary and slightly dull, written by a 17 year old American girl. The only thing that made it endlessly fascinating was the fact that this girl had died, and one of her friends had guessed her blogger profile and password, and posted up a memorial for the girl, along with links to the local news websites which featured stories on the car accident that killed her. They also created a guestbook so people could leave messages.

Because of that thing that happens when people die, every post she had posted for the preceeding two months seemed so sad and fascinating and profound and profoundly dumb. I can't quite decide if I would be embarrassed for people to find this if I died, or if I feel it reflects me quite well. I think it's a great mixture of both. (Which is probably why I've avoided actually putting my full name on it, lest one of my many stalkers come across it and use the information provided here to follow me home or sit in my garden at night crying in to the fish pond).

Now, I'm not suggesting I'm going to die. I think, in fact, that these two flights will pass without incident and I'll be back to posting on this on Saturday, probably talking about the fact that I still don't have a job - if you did manage to read Friday's post before it was hurled recklessly into the ether, you'll know why - and the plane journey will be but a vague memory misted by the double dose of valium I intend to take on the flight over and back.

Now. For those of you taking notes, I shall assist with a brief summary of my life since Wednesday:

Had job. Job fell through due to not being the job described to me by agency. Weekend was lovely, on my own for most of it with the company of lots and lots of dogs. Thunder and lightning gone, now replaced by fireworks and bangers, so dogs still not particularly calm. Finished unpacking, room now looks presentable. Had another interview today, was offered job pending references. References either very bad or not produced by my referees, since job is still pending. Tomorrow, day off. Friday, flying to Edinburgh and back. Ignoring all events of Friday right now, but sure will post very maudlin posting on Thursday night. Perhaps if you know me, you could text me messages of encouragement / mocking messages about my obvious cowardice. Many thanks.


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