jump to navigation

Oh Deer March 30, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Bits and Pieces, Journal , 10 comments

Having finally recovered from my recent corporate escapades (standing up, talking and holding my tummy in all at once) it was time for a reality check last night.

Thursday night rehearsal with the Orchestra of the Undead. I do so look forward to it, as you can only imagine.

I zoomed along, wondering whether a few hours’ blowing would transform my slightly sore throat into a touch of the Mariellas. Oh yes. Tomorrow I would be dead sexy. On the phone, at least.

KER-POW (as they say in Batman). A deer the size of an elephant leapt out of a hedge at 100 miles per hour. I jammed on the brakes. I shouted. ‘Get out of the way!’ I gave a little scream. I am a girl, after all. The deer did not understand.

Oh, it was horrible, horrible. I could see it in my mirror, twitching, lying in a shape it shouldn’t be.

Some men got out of their jeep thing. They attended to the deer which I had broken. I hoped they wouldn’t shoot it in front of me. The deer scowled and ran off. It wasn’t broken after all. Just a bit pissed off.

My car, on the other hand, is extremely broken. Smashed lights and the driver side so caved in that I cannot even open the door. More Mechanical Misery. Oh Deer.

deer

Jumping Through Hoops March 26, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 8 comments

Grrrrrrrr. And harrumph. And sodding bloomin Nora. And other sounds of despair and wretchedness.

The latest attempt to become vaguely less penniless is to be suckered into a ‘development day’ in the bowels of Retail Hell. I really have no idea what form this torture will take. I have to deliver a ten-minute presentation on something I have no idea about. I can give this talk in any way I want though. So that’s good.

I have a scary feeling that there will be Team Building exercises. “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘Team’,” the hyperactive training manager will giggle. We will probably giggle too. Just to be polite.

Sigh. I am not cut out for such malarkey. This sort of day usually involves trying not to drop your sarnies down your suit during the ‘working lunch’ and having to balance on a stick while your colleagues hold a child’s butterfly net out to catch you. Gawd.

Plan of Action (after having achieved nowt all day) is as follows:

  1. Make some notes about said mysterious topic.
  2. Bribe Number 2 Son to turn scribblings into flashy PowerPoint presentation when he returns from Primary School.
  3. Leave early enough in the morning to buy herbal tranqs before the misery commences.

Ripe for promotion? Me? Oh, yeah, bring it on! Oh, b*llocks.

Useless

My New Master Plan March 25, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Bits and Pieces , 3 comments

die rich

Number 2 Son is A Philosopher March 22, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Bits and Pieces, Journal , 6 comments

In response to something or other on TV:

“You can’t just go round having fun all the time. You actually have to be happy too.”

Genius, no? It’s making me Think Things again. Oh ‘eck.

Inspiration March 20, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 11 comments

How odd. I keep getting stuck. Whenever I try to write my novel, or even make notes, my brain seizes, my thoughts stutter, my fingers become arthritic or my pen groans in its death-like grip.

I couldn’t figure out what my character’s problem was. I am an idiot. (Well, yes, we knew that already.) The character, of course, knew what her problem was all along; I just wasn’t listening. It’s kind of groovy when the characters take themselves off on a tangent. Or a tangerine. Or whatever.

A new idea has bubbled up. Fermented. It’s going to take a lot of research that I hadn’t considered. But it’s sort of there. I already know about it, have seen it, experienced it. I just didn’t realise that it should go into The Novel.

Two hours ago, I was almost in tears, planning to give the whole thing up as a bad job. A waste of time. But. Now the words are flowing.

I can’t tell you what it is. I’d have to kill you. Obviously. I’ve given you a tiny clue though. ‘Cos I like you.

I’m having a little drink now. As a celebration research. Dedicated, see?

wine

Wine is bottled poetry.
Robert Louis Stevenson

Patching Things Up March 17, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Bits and Pieces, Journal , 12 comments

I went to the Outside World today. Brave, I know. I hadn’t even made an appointment. I just went. Got in my clapped out car and, vroom vroom, beep beep, tootled off to the patch of world known as Royal Tunbridge Wells. Crumbs, I’m posh.

Anyway. Lovely bf said we could go to the cinema, now that I have ceased with my phlegm-expulsion habits. We watched Becoming Jane. ‘Twas quite good. Not as good, though, as the adverts at the start. There was one which had someone sticking coffee patches on their arms. (It was something like that; I’d had a little drink or two with lunch and was having a spot of bother with my concentration department.) It reminded me of my friend who gave up smoking but took up sticking nicotine patches all over herself to stop her getting grumpy.

I invented a marvelous invention which I had quite forgotten. When considering the patches, I was rather disappointed that said patches came in only two flavours: fags and hormones.

My fabulous idea was for spliff patches. I’m sure they’d be quite easy to rustle up. A bit of spliffy-stuff and a plaster. How difficult can it be?

Prototypes can be sent in a plain brown parcel to:

Mitzy Raven,
Middle o’ Nowhere,
The English Countryside.

First class please. Pretty please?

Trying to be Normal March 12, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 19 comments

Oh, balls. In fact, if you’ll indulge and excuse me, balls and buggeration. Aaarrghh! Double Arrrghhh! AAARRGHHHH!

Fed up with my job, I am. I do a good job. Despite evidence to the contrary (i.e. all previous posts) I am an intelligent person. I compose kick-arse letters to reclaim money from bastard customers who come into the store, buy a barrow-load of designer gear with a cheque which they promptly stop before closing their account. I co-ordinate the training of 200+ staff. I sort out everyone’s problems. I keep everyone happy. I somehow convince people that Retail Hell is a fantastic place to work. I do all this for £6.00 an hour. I am clearly mental.

So. Tomorrow, or today if you’re reading this tomorrow (oh, are you trying to complicate things?) I am going to Interviews. I am going to pretend to be normal. This is, as you can imagine, quite a strain. I loathe interviews.

Scary Interviewer-type scary person: Can you type very fast?

Spazzy Me: Oh, yes. I am very marvelous indeed. Apart from my bunch of fat sausage-like fingers which cannot type at all at this moment in time. Really, I am much less sausage-like on a Wednesday.

Scary, standing-up-type person: Do you often fall over?

On-the-floor me: No, I am quite often upright. When I have fooled you into thinking that I am normal, I will not wear high heels and contact lenses and try to look intelligent all at the same time.

Oh, fuck-a-duck. Wish me luck.

Slumping and Slurping March 8, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 6 comments

Or, after a few Mint Juleps, slumping’n’slurping perhaps. Probably without the apostrophes. SchlumpingSchlurping. And uvver stuff.

Oh ‘eck. I’m talking twaddle. Two of my characters are currently in the throes of one of those fabulously drunken girlie chats, talking total b*llocks which makes perfect, perfect sense. Not, I emphasise, a sensible chat brought about by copious amounts of antibiotics and zero oxygen going into one’s lungs.

My characters are having a better time than me.

It’s not fair, not fair, not fair. IT’S NOT FAAAIR. Don’t worry. I’m not shouting. I cannot shout. I have only very small breaths. Ha. Cue Carry On jokes. Not. Just you dare. Seriously.

I am not drinking Mint Juleps. Instead, I am about to make a pie of shepherds. Yeah. Rock’n'roll, man. Yeah.

Do excuse me. I suspect I am not feeling quite myself.

Normal service will be resumed shortly. Well, maybe. You never know.

sense