Thursday, August 01, 2002

content snaffled from:
www.freewillastrology.com
www.beautyandtruth.com

Your lucky number is 3.14159265
Your secret name is Squeeze
Your special emotion is skeptical faith
The garage sale item you most resemble
is an old but beautiful and sonorous accordion
with a broken key
Your holiest pain comes from your ability
to sense other people's cracked notions about you
Your special time of day is the moment
just before the mist evaporates
The shape of your life is oval with soft dark sparks
Your lucky phobia is epienopopontonphobia,
or fear of crossing the wine-dark sea
Your power spot is here and there
The flavor that identifies you most
is grapefruit smeared with honey

ARIES (March 21-April 19):Studies show that if you're
normal, you're in a weird mood ten percent of the time. You have
a bad hair day five times a month and you say something you
shouldn't at least once a week. But all this could change, Aries. If
you align yourself with the exuberant cosmic mojo that's
currently accumulating in your vicinity, your bouts with off-
kilter emotions may shrink dramatically. Your coiffure
problems and your tendency to misspeak would also diminish.
Ahhh, but could you bear that much happiness and well-being?
Would you feel at a loss without the higher levels of discomfort
that normally keep you motivated? Would you dare to explore
the mysteries of cheery sweetness? The answers to these
questions will soon be revealed. You are about to be tested.

Tuesday, August 06, 2002

I was going to say something then.

Couple of people have asked where on the beautyandtruth.com website I snaffled the content for my last entry - the thing is I didn't get it from the website, it was in the email newsletter that arrives from there every Thursday. If you liked what you saw, why not go sign up for your weekly dose of Beauty and Truth.

If that last paragraph was perceived to have *tone* it is unintentional. [stop reading something into everything]

I still can't remember what it was I was going to say.

An expectation: without even realising that I do, [and then I realise and say "of course you do, why wouldn't you?"] I expect people I call friends to observe unmentioned standards. Honesty, Loyalty and Trust. Discretion and decency. There is a fine line between humour and vulgarity and although I straddle it falling on the wrong side on many occasions, I become irritated when aquaintences do the same.

Nope.. no sign of the stuff I wanted to say.

Balls - I admire people with fortitude. Confidence and articulation, even when considered brash, are such interesting qualities. So even though I grump at you and tell you you're a pain and rude and loud and roll my eyes when you ask people infinitely personal and inappropriate questions, like the slimey stuff on the underside of tiles, you seem to be growing on me. But, please - put your boots back on.

It amazes me that the people I know who are in the business of "communication" seem to be the worst at it.

Where do you want to go? Who do you want to be? What do you want to do?

Thursday, August 08, 2002

Dare to be Boring Week

ARIES (March 21-April 19): To ease yourself into alignment
with the astrological rhythms, give each of your two closest
companions a gift. What kind of gift? It should fire up their
ambitions, not appeal to their urges to be comfortable. It
shouldn't be a practical necessity or ho-hum consumer fetish,
but rather an adult toy or provocative tool. It should be an
imaginative boon they've been hesitant to ask for, an
extravagantly beautiful thing that expands their self-image, a
surprising intervention that says, "I love the way you change
me."

Friday, August 09, 2002

I don't wear skirts very often - today wasn't a great day to decide to wear a skirt. It was very cold this morning. Right before I left the house the heavens threw hail at the ground. Lots of opaque beanbaglike balls of ice all over my car and chilling the air and my knees. Because it's all about me as we all know.

Friday night and my eyeballs are hanging out. tired.. so tired. I should perk up soon and get a second wind so I can crash in a happy pile later on tonight. Happy to be crashing.. happy to be falling off the awake cliff and falling falling falling asleep.

Monday, August 12, 2002

James is leaving. He is not being replaced by a whole-nother-james but being dissected and distributed amongst the multimedia department. Who has the skills to fill the puzzle that is James? Can Jonathan be the programming brains that was James? Will Todd be the person we run to with our database worries? Will Rosie be the person who can add and delete client access to and from information? Who will fix my computer when it doesn't work? What if a client needs to know something about the compatibility of their networks and our programs? Can James be divvied up this easily? Maybe. We won't know until all the invisible things start not being done after he leaves I guess. And which part of James do I get? nothing.. because there is nothing I can do that is anywhere near Jamesy enough to count. All I can do is go get bagels by myself - or sit and eat lunch and stare at the skinny tattoo'd freaks alone or not giggle at strategic eye rolling during staff meetings and Friday drinkies.

It's not a good thing that he's going. I don't care if he needs a holiday or wants greener pastures. It's not a good thing that he's going.

Tuesday, August 13, 2002



Poor Chopin's Ghost: a moment of carelessness and he's got a whole new hair style going on. Makes me remember [because it's all about ME] all the times I had disasterous things happen to my hair. Like the time my mother arranged for me to have a 'trim' with her friend's hairdressing_apprentice_daughter. My hair wasn't all that long, just past shoulder length but it was as short as a boy's hair by the time that hairdresser was finished with it. Or the time I was at dinner with my ex's boss and his wife and the managers of the company at a Korean bbq restaurant. All 80's hair and swept back and hairspray.. I leaned to light my cigarette on the gas burner in the center of the table, sitting back, smoking and looking cool and wondering why there is a rapidly growing look of horror on the faces of my companions. The Boss started hitting me on the head and it took a couple of hits before i realised he was putting out the fire and not just smacking me around. I had burned the hair right back to my scalp, that took years to grow back properly. Or the time I had a perm and half on it feel out.. the left half. Half a curly head half a straight head. Or that time.. no wait.. I'm not going into all the "colouring disasters" I'll be here all night.

There are plenty of things worse than that sick feeling when you've done something so visibly stupid to your appearance, and its where that saying comes from "whatever doesn't kill makes for cheap content for your website".

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

Jam: my lunch? this is just an empty plastic bag.
Greg: oh man, it must've fallen out *driving and grappling with things on the back seat*
Jam: *looking* i can lean back and pick the sandwiches up
Greg: *cringing* it wasn't sandwiches. Damn I bet it's.. it's fallen out hasn't it? the lid has fallen off.
Jam: what lid, what? *seeing* oh god it was spaghetti bolognase? *seeing the pile of spaghetti and sauce on the floor of the car*

Boss: So what are we going to call Marshall when he gets here?
Other Boss: You mean Job Title?
Boss: yes, his Job Title.
Jam: how about "Mr Marshall, Sir"
Rosie: how about "Love Muffin"

Greg: *pulling into the driveway* oh man, is that Amy?
Jam: yeh, and she's carrying something furry, oh god please don't let it be another kitten.
Greg: well if it is, it won't be for long.
Jam: mmm kitten for dinner *out of the car and talking to amy* you can't keep another pet
Amy: it's not a pet its a stray rabbit I had to save it there were cats after it. I'll put it in the hutch with my rabbit and then make a sign for the dairy in the morning.
Jam: *greg finding rabbit stew recipes* better make sure it's not a girl or you'll have 43 million more rabbits by the end of the week.
Amy: I checked, its a boy .. look *showing the rabbits disproportionately large testicles*
Jam: oh I hope you're right.
Amy: *puts large well endowed black rabbit in the cage with her large grey rabbit* ohmy god!!
Jam: what??
Amy: they keep humping each other oh god thats his head don't hump his head *trying to save the rabbits from each other*
Jam: are you SURE they are both male?
Amy: *looking at me like I'm the most stupid person to ever walk the earth* they're both trying to climb on top. They must be males.
Jam: so you're trying to tell me females never climb on top?
Amy: oh man they're at it again.. dirty..d irty rabbits. Oh god they're gay I have gay rabbits.. that's so disgusting.
Jam: why? they get to vent their sexual frustrations and we don't get to get rid of millions of baby rabbits. that's not disgusting, that's great!
Amy: oh god they're in the hutch now God only knows what they're doing in there. Actually, it's quite cool, I have homosexual rabbits. I rock.

Simon: Hey guess what.. I learned some sign language today look *signs*
Jam: *not looking eyes firmly fixed to the television* there is no way anything you can say is more important than Buffy and Spike getting it on for some dirty dirty vampire sex.
Simon: Buffy and Spike get it on??
[brief pause of sound and movement]
Simon: *powerwalking through the kitchen to the top of the stairs to yell down to his girlfriend* Jacqui.. come upstairs NOW, we're watching BUFFY!!

Thursday, August 15, 2002

ARIES (March 21-April 19): There is an infinity of possible answers to the question "What is the meaning of life?" Last week, the meaning of life for me was embodied by a drunken Zen master who came to me in a dream and drawled, "Think with your heart and feel with your head." This week brought a new answer: In a San Francisco café I found a bar napkin on which someone had drawn a three-panel cartoon depicting a butterfly crawling into a cocoon and being transformed into a caterpillar. For you this week, Aries, the answer to "What is the meaning of life?" is an image that came to me as I meditated on your astrological omens: On a dry lake bed, a dozen long-stemmed red
roses rise out of an ancient Greek vase as a thunderbolt cracks through the sky and a downpour begins.

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

Michelle : "I've lost the will to live"
Rosie : "I think I saw it.. it fell down behind your desk"

Sunday, August 18, 2002

Thursday, August 22, 2002

Yesterday, for the second time in less than a week, the Lift fell from Floor 9 to Floor 4 to scare the beejeebies out of me. This time, we went up to the top floor to advise the Building owners of the problems with Lift 3. I got the distinct impression the polite receptionist took our 'statement' but didn't believe us. Late yesterday afternoon, a Lift maintenence man came in to talk with our Office Administrator and basically said we were all imgagining the problems with Lift 3. Don't you hate that? I know when I'm falling man and I was falling - it wasn't a faulty LCD display and it wasn't a 'particularly' fast ride, that lift FELL and made us deep_knee_bend and grab for the railing as it stopped falling at Floor 4. No more pussy-footing-around, I'm writing to the Occupational Safety and Health people and see what *they* have to say about all this. [insert grrring sound here]

Meanwhile, back in the jungle.. I miss James. He's ponced off to England. Unfortunately, he took his ears so I have no one to tell things to. Important things - things like how so many women are wearing really fugly shoes at the moment, and exploring the ideas presented in Buffy last night [more dirty dirty vampire sex but this time Buff was invisible]. The Bagal run up and died. I've been down to Abe's Bagals a couple of times for coffee but fetching Bagals alone is too sad. Beverley is using James' office and so I tried to fill the void by looking out the window as I did when James was there but it just wasn't the same.. it was too light in there for a start.. James always sat in the dark. [James, what are you doing sitting in the dark? oh, the usual things. James? scorched almonds? no, it's just the way I'm standing]

Sunday, August 25, 2002

I feel like a train hit me sometime during my sleep. And what a waste of a weekend - sleeping through (almost) the entire thing. Eating at my family's house tonight was a nice break but really I could quite happily have stayed in bed and continued sleeping instead of rousing myself at 5pm and dragging my sad little self off for roast lamb and veggies. Now at a good half past eleven its time for bed again.

And tomorrow's another day of work - I wish there was a smidgen less to do and then I could just stay in bed another couple of days and get over this stinking flu.

Thursday, August 29, 2002

Happy Birthday, Jeffrey.