Two days

'Money is better than poverty, if only for financial reasons.' - Woody Allen

'I'm tired of Love: I'm still more tired of Rhyme.

But Money gives me pleasure all the time.' - Hilaire Belloc.

The pay day cometh and thank the lord and all his angels that it is so. Being a Tupperware Queen all month has been really quite trying; the novelty wears off quicker than you would think. So, just two more days of being as poor as a church mouse, then back to just being as poor as a girl who can afford the occasional lunch out and buy new shoes.

Which is great, as I have seen the shoes and I simply must have them. I must have them before they go out of stock. It is a matter of supreme urgency.

Counting the minutes, the seconds…

Bring on the weekend. Bring it now.

Oh, this has been such a crappy week. And it’s still only Thursday. It started well, which should have made me suspicious – Monday’s aren’t supposed to be good, are they? Monday was fine though, and this lulled me into a false sense of security for the coming days. Tuesday was an opportunity to experience a new level of horror in the workplace. There was trouble, and I was in it. Everyone always talks about the mistakes they have made via email, and how easy it is to do – a ‘forward’ to the wrong person, an accidental and cringeworthy ‘reply all’ moment etc. Though I live in fear of making such mistakes, I usually steer clear of them. Not so on the Tuesday. Managed to email my boss about some innocent copy checking, forgetting to delete the incriminating stuff under the copy. I’d been messing around with my email signature – you know, trying different fonts and colours and so on…and also, heh, changing my job title on the signature, as if I had already been promoted. Apparently people aren’t allowed to just promote themselves…

So, of course she noticed, and of course it was all absolutely horrific. She returned the email to me, and suggested we ‘take a walk’. (As an aside, I thought that was a bit odd – take a walk? What is this, The Sopranos?). I was running on pure adrenalin at this point, furiously racking my brain to think of an excuse and also, if possible, restore my chances of getting promoted at some point this century. The walk was excruciating, but in the end we negotiated that I could change my job title, but that it would mean NOTHING in monetary terms. So, I suppose it was kind of a positive outcome, though I am still coming down from the adrenalin.

Wednesday was dull and tense and time appeared to have ground to a complete halt at around midday. A colleague in a different department is leaving the company, and Weds was her last day. There was the obligatory ‘stand-around-her-desk-feeling-uncomfortable-whilst-the-MD-embarrasses-her-with-a-weird-speech, then grow old waiting for the slices of cake to be passed around. Whilst it is inspiring that she is leaving – escape is possible! – I also found it a little depressing, because, well, you know, I am still here…

So far, Thursday has not shown me anything good. If we hadn’t got chocolate biscuits, I don’t know what I’d do. I need a holiday. And a lottery win. And…

Aargh

Couldn't get into my site for 3 days! Why, blogger, why? Why must thou forsake me in this manner?

Sheesh. Anyway, I'm back now, and I have stories to tell.

Tune in tomorrow, when I will be blogging for free, on my company's time.

Thanking you.

Attack of the killer mosquito

Can anyone tell me the point of mosquitoes? Anyone?

Why do I ask? Because I got bitten last Monday evening, not whilst I was in the tropics, you understand, but when I was in the less exotic surrounds of my living room. The vicious little bloodsucker attacked my ankle. Whenever I get bitten by any kind of bug, my body likes to react as though I have been injected with a deadly venom, there's usually swelling, a rash, the need for anti-histamines. So, when I get bitten by an evil mosquito, the reaction is that bit more severe. My ankle looks like more like it has been savaged by a rabid dog. And why does NOTHING work to soothe mosquito bites? And before you all start going on about toothpaste/blasting the bite with a hairdryer/witch hazel gel/aloe vera/any other USELESS remedy you care to mention, let me tell you, I've tried 'em ALL. And NOTHING works.

Anyway, the upshot is that the bite has remained swollen for over a week, and also has an odd red line coming out the side of the main swelling. This worried me a bit at first, as I wondered if I had blood poisoning. A hypochondirac can't be too careful. So, I went to the docs yesterday, after a tussle with the receptionist over what consituted an 'emergency', and whether I was eligible for an 'emergency appointment', I showed the doc my ankle. After he visibly recoiled, he precribed anti-biotics and a special hydracortisone cream. So now I can't drink this week and am £12 down after picking up prescriptions at the chemist.

All this for a stupid effing mosquito bite. Oh, and did I mention it itches like a bastard?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhh.

A bit late, but here’s Le Weekend

Ok, I chickened out of posting pictures of me wearing the specs, but I like them now anyway, even the allegedly ‘fun’ pair.

Saturday was a wash due to the excesses of Friday night – it was all I could do to manage boring household stuff like the laundry. I finally washed my sheets. It was getting to that point where if I didn’t wash them, I would have to reclassify myself as a total skank. I normally keep on top of stuff like that, but you know how it is, right? The effort involved in the whole washing + drying of the sheets, the interminable drying of the sheets when you don’t have a yard to peg out in, the tiresome fight to put the duvet covers back on – it’s enough to put anyone off. Anyway it’s all done and dusted now, plus I washed what appeared to be a years worth of clothes. Laundry is an ongoing battle is it not – you never stop – there’s always something that needs doing. And don’t get me started on the ironing – I’ll only bore us both.

What I did achieve on Sat was a load of cooking – I’m having to think economy with a capital e this month, what with the ridiculous bill for the new glasses. So I’ve turned into a bit of a Tupperware Queen and there are 3 nutritious meals nestling in the freezer, which will see me through the Tues/Weds/Thurs and save me some moola. Let’s see how long I keep this up. I have good intentions to do this every month and usually manage a couple of days – but the (very real) lack of cash may force me to change my habits this time round. Am a bit of a gourmand too, doncher know – today it’s pasta alla norma, and tomorrow it will be wild mushroom risotto, then maybe something sautéed in something. Not sure about what I’ll be having the day after that – but a quick peruse of the Jamie Oliver cook book will surely provide inspiration. God bless Jamie, and all who sail in him.

Sunday, saw Tom’s new flat. Very impressive. In uber-trendy Hoxton, nice and light and spacious, felt way more relaxed than anywhere else he’s lived. Plus, crucially, his flatmate was there and appeared to be not only pleasant (and easy on the eye), but also sane. I’m very relieved. Tom even cooked dinner for me before I dashed back off to Greenwich to see Volver with Naomi. Hmm. That Pedro Almodovar eh? He’s a one, isn’t he?

I did really enjoy Volver, it is a very unusual story, quite an odd film, but beautifully shot and the actors are all brilliant. Also, Penelope Cruz just looks stunningly gorgeous in practically every frame. There’s something almost hypnotic about how lovely she is. I just found myself transfixed by her. (I also thought to myself that I should invest in some false eyelashes and try that look out). So, I would recommend it, but obviously, I don’t want to give anything away. I was a bit wary of going to see an Almodovar film, as I had a bad experience with Hablo con Ella a couple of years ago. (I am going to give the ending of that away because of the trauma seeing it caused, so there, you’ve been warned; read on at your peril)

Everyone I speak to raves about Hablo con Ella as if it was a work of cinematic genius. It may be, but I went to see it on a first date. Big mistake. There we were, in the cinema, quietly impressed with ourselves for going to see a foreign film for our first date, with no idea of what was about to hit us. The story is quite bizarre, follows the lives of two women who end up in comas and the men who love them. One of them is a bull fighter, and her story is quite interesting, and the man who loves her is a complex, engaging character. The other one is a dancer, and the man who loves her is an orderly at the hospital who is obsessed with her. She didn’t know him before the coma, and he falls obsessively for her and basically sexually abuses her whilst she is in the coma and gets arrested etc. So because he obsessed with her, he has these weird fantasies about her body. In one of them, her naked body becomes enormous, and he shrinks and shrinks and climbs over her body. That was cringe-worthy enough, but then, then they show a GIANT vagina (I can't emphasise the GIANT enough here) – it completely filled the cinema screen, and the miniature version of this sick character crawls down it, then pulls open one of the ‘flaps’, as it were, then walks into the vagina like he is just going through a door. The horror.

So, as you can imagine, I was understandably a bit wary of trying another Almodovar, but Volver is worth a watch, honest.

Good Morning!!

Here's a top tip to start the day: if you're feeling sluggish after you've just woken up, still a bit sleepy, unable to get it together, try a good, hard poke in the eye with your mascara wand. Oh, trust me, that will wake you up every time.