Nearly Over

I'm going to buy fish and chips and light the open fire and read, The Five People you meet in Heaven. I thought it was going to be twee, but I'm liking it.

I shouldn't have had those joints on the weekend, as I'm really feeling it today. Furious! I've been furious at the small things that have gone wrong... and at the people who have given me reason.

The day didn't get off to a good start, two air-head Sydney girls, who said I was rude and uncooperative, just because I wasn't giving them the answers they wanted to hear. It's that strange phenomenon that is happening now - if you disagree with someone you are accused of being rude, or worse still, disrespectful.

These two bimbos hadn't done one thing they were supposed to do and then they labelled me difficult when I told them they had to do A, B & C themselves. I wasn't having any of their,

No, no, no, you do it darling. You do it.

Do it yourself, you slappers! Uppity HR girls - trumped up Eastern Suburbs girls with Arts degrees and not a single clue, drowning in the stench of their own estrogen as they all fall into cycle sync. The thing they put their best work into, or most effort, is whining about whether they are called advisors or managers.

Sarah, with a soft 'a' and lots of breath.

Lazy cunts! I'm sick to death of lazy cunts. If everyone just did their bit, we'd all be so much further ahead.

It's weird, in Sydney they are famous for eating their young and somehow I get labelled hard to get along with. Go figure!

Apparently, I'm blunt. Too direct. And too honest. Apparently. (Too honest is a strange concept, don't you think?)

Good thing I'm indispensable. No, apparently I am.

I've got to stop eating peanut butter off a spoon and go get something healthy, like fish & chips.

I knew I shouldn't have bought it, but Lottie told me it was good for me. Perhaps, just not off a spoon, hey?

Stoke the fire. Where's my book? Time to think about nice things.