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Dreadful Nonsense

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

Day Three of RNJ. 5pm. Half an hour to go.

Ladies, gents, Moo, you find me sitting here in my new office. I've done all I can, I've resisted thus far all afternoon, but it's finally come to this - I'm blogging at work. It's disgusting, I know. You'd think I'd have the moral fibre to resist, you'd think I'd been blessed with a backbone, although damaged, still strong enough to fight this kind of ridiculous urge, but no. I'm blogging at work, and I'm secretly delighted. It's a dirty, cheap, thrilling thrill and I don't care what any of you think.

Working in the afternoons sends an odd spiral in to your day. The mornings I'm still treating as if I've got all day to do the things I spend all doing, and then from 12 o'clock onwards it's a crazy hour where I try to get dressed in to clean(ish) work clothes, find my shoes, eat breakfast/lunch, drink a vast amount of coffee, get the dogs outside and then back inside again, collect the post, lock the house up and leave. Leaving at 3pm, when I finally start doing my regular shift here, will be even odder, I assume, although by 3pm I was usually getting so bored I wanted to do anything but be at home anymore, so this should be quite easy to get used to.

The only problem I have re working at the moment right now is that (a) I aint got two cents to rub together, which means that I have to borrow money off my parents to come in to town to work and (b) I aint got any work clothes whatsoever. It's been over a year since I worked, and none of my work clothes fit me any more. They're all far too big, and even strategic use of belts won't make them look like anything other than the trousers Charlie Chaplin wears in his films, so I'm restricted at the moment to a pair of trousers that Moo lent me and a black jumper. It's not good. Dee made the wise suggestion of investing in a good pair of sensible thick tights, and then I'd be able to branch out in to skirts, and I might just follow that advice. I'm sure otherwise after about two weeks they'll start wondering why I'm constantly dressed like a weirdly smart looking goth.

My first pay cheque will be spent on:
1. Giving back money to parents.
2. Paying some of credit card third world style debt.
3. Paying phone bill.
4. Buying new clothes.
5. Special treat of black converse runners for me.

I hope I get paid more than EUR800 then, because adding up that short list above just made me want to run away and cry. Except for the runners bit. That's definitely going to happen.

This entry was posted on 14 January 2005 at 6:51 pm. 0 comments

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