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"...I do not peddle flesh; I sell dreams..."
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[Dec. 30th, 2009|09:56 pm] |
On behalf of 'phone-monkeys everywhere, I would like to offer all those customers who called up whining about us being closed over Christmas a delicious steaming mug of SHUT THE FUCK UP, served with a complimentary slice of DIE IN A FIRE! Maybe if you spent less time on the 'phone acting like a twat and more time interacting with people like a civilized human being, you would have actual friends and family to spend the holidays with.
I'm watching Lockdown now. YOUR SUFFERING MEANS NOTHING TO ME TOM BALDWIN! Testosterone-crazed Marines are as insects compared to the fucktardery of the general public. GOD!! |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 18th, 2009|12:13 am] |
Okay, which of you 'tards (apart from Snithy, obviously) voted for Edward Cullen? Get off my LJ. I can't have more than one insane, non-taste-having friend.
Also, today I accidently called everyone at work stupid. I say "accidently" because I said it to their faces, not because I didn't mean it. They are, in the main, very stupid.
I just watched Pain in the Heart and OH ZACK! Bones, why must you hurt me so? |
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[Nov. 30th, 2009|10:50 pm] |
I was going to come on here and rant about how I hate my job and the fact that I work with utter brain-dead twatosaurs, but I decided to put Big Wolf on Campus on while I waited for my tea to cook and OH GOD!
Seriously you guys, OH GOD! It is so beautiful and hilarious and occaisonally MASSIVELY WRONG and I actually hurt a little bit from laughing so hard, OH DUDES YOU MUST ALL WATCH IT AND MARVEL AT ITS WONDERMENT!
I feel like I should make some kind of announcement at work, like, ASSHOLES! BWOC JUST SAVED YOU FROM GETTING YOUR FUCKING THROATS SLIT, YOU GODDAMNED RETARDS!
Oh, Big Wolf on Campus, ILU. |
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[Nov. 23rd, 2009|11:08 pm] |
Oh my God, sometimes I just want to stab myself in the face to avoid being confronted by the fucktardery of the people around me. One of the brand-new fucktards on the team - I'll call her Pugfaced Chav, or PFC for short - actually asked me how to work out three percent of a bill. I was like, "Well, first you go back to school, in order to attain a basic fucking grasp of maths, you idiot, and then you throw yourself from a high building!"
I mean, are you fucking kidding me? The calculator on your computer even has a little percentage button! Christ, some people should never have been allowed to survive into adulthood.
Anyway, now I am watching How To Rob A Bank and it is beautiful - ninety minutes of Ben from Carnivale and Balthazar from Constantine trading insults through a bank vault door, could anything be more fun? I would totally watch a spin-off series based entirely around that concept. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 10th, 2009|03:35 pm] |
Dudes, oh my God! I have just read the most unbelievably cheeky email from the House of Gas that I have ever recieved during the two and a half years that I have spent being slowly tortured there. After putting us on the 'phones pretty much constantly last week, the Powers That Be have decided to "offer" overtime to the Advocates so that we can come in and work our overdue caseloads, and they're acting like this is the biggest damn favour they could give us in the entire fucking universe.
So, let me get this straight: you want us to come in on our God-given, much-needed day of rest, for a lousy time-and-a-quarter, which by the way actually works out at less than what we make in our normal forty-hour week once you take taxes and NI into account, to clear up a mess that you got us into in the first place? A mess that, by the way, we warned you would happen if you kept using us to answer the fucking telephones instead of doing the work you specifically trained us to do? The mess that you then told us you were "confident" would not arise if we "managed our caseloads effectively", while also managing to get in a cheap shot about our "negative attitudes" during the same briefing?
Because in case I was being too subtle for you, dearest House of Gas, that was both an "I told you so" and a "Kiss my ass, you stupid motherfuckers, I'm not coming in on my day off just because you screwed up." It's your fuck-up, you fix it. Or, here's a notion: take us off the fucking 'phones, you slack-jawed corporate-cock-sucking halfwits.
Goddamn assholes. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 30th, 2009|09:48 pm] |
Fucking hell, I hate my job. Apparently, Lord o' Leeds Gas has decreed that all advocates (that's House of Gas speak for Helper Monkeys) will do a minimum of three hours 'phone time every day. That's three hours taking meter readings, producing bills and taking card payments. That's three hours of the House's supposedly best and brightest doing a job someone who's been there a month could do, instead of supporting said newcomers and all the other Phone Monkieys with complicated or confusing enquiries that we, the Helper Monkeys, have been specifically fucking trained for.
Of course, we're still supposed to do all our Helper Monkey cases at the same time, not to mention also being Quality Assessing Monkeys, Debt Reduction Champion Monkeys and Call Our Dillholiest Unsatisfied Customers Back Monkeys. And while I may have changed the titles, I'm not joking about having to do another three jobs besides being Helper Monkeys who only get five hours a day to actually help.
Then to add insult to injury, the Resources Monkeys have decided that,e ven when it gets quiet and all the Phone Monkeys get taken of the 'phones, Helper Monkeys will not. That's right, the Phone Monkeys, who have no other work to do, get to come off and look at AutoTrader for hours at a time, but the Helper Monkeys, the ones with the massive backlog of enquiries, can sit there and explain direct debits to our customers. Because that is an effective use of resources.
And what, when challenged on this, is the Resources Monkeys response? "It's a call centre. It's about bums on seats. Everyone has to take calls." Now there's a bit of logic that could only come from a team that spend all day with pivot charts and spreadsheets and no time out in the call centre, taking calls and actually dealing with the reality of life in customer service.
And when we take it further, what do we get? Apparently, we need to manage our time more effectively. Yes, this comes straight from the Lord o' Leeds Gas, our esteemed site manager, who "wants to know what the Helper Monkeys do all day." But rather than sit with a Helper Monkey for a day, or come to one of the Helper Monkey review meetings, or, and I may be talking crazy talk here, actually ask us, he delivers this little insult by proxy via the Helper Monkey Manager. Because the only thing more fun than being given a job to do and then not being given the time to do it, is being criticised for how you use that non-existant time and then insulted and having it implied that you're lazy by someone who's too much of a coward to say it to your face.
But our woes do not end there. Swine flu, holidays and the common goof-off have taken it's toll on our noble Helper Monkey ranks. As everyone struggles under the ever-increasing workload, Lead Helper Monkey decrees that we should put all new cases into a communal pot and allocate them out as he sees fit. Of course, nobody actually knows how to set that up, and despite what Lord o' Leeds Gas may think from his lofty vantage point with his head up his ass, we really don't have time to dick around figuring it out, so it's not going to happen.
Instead, Lead Helper Monkey asks that, at the end of each day, we send an email letting him know how many new cases we've had in that we haven't had time to raise processes for. To his credit, and a rare event in the House of Gas, this is quite a good idea - a Helper Monkey may have only five open processes on a Monday morning, but that doesn't mean twenty queries haven't come in over the weekend and are sitting in his inbox by the end of his shift.
Of course, the first day this gets implemented, everybody forgets to send this information to him. Lead Helper Monkey sends a perfectly polite email out the next day asking for this information. Helper Monkey Manager, or as she will henceforth be known in my mind, Cuntrag, sends out an incredibly abusive and excessively punctuated email wanting to know why we haven't done this??????!!!! how do you expect to work together if you can't even do this????!!!!???!! and why isn't the work being shared out?????!!!!!
Let me answer your question, Cuntrag. I didn't send out the email at the end of the day because a) I was taking calls for the last two hours, b) I am so swamped that I was endevouring, in the three second gaps between calls, to try and work some of my overdue cases, and c) OH MY GOD FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING IGNORANT BITCH! Learn some manners, learn proper respect for the exclaimation mark, and go throw yourself off a bridge.
As an extra-special treat, tonight I got the distinct pleasure of being screamed at for over an hour by an irate social worker over something I had absolutely no power to fix, and for an added bonus, the department whose fuck-up it was and who could have actually fixed it refused to take any responsibility for it. The outside contractor we needed, who would have taken ther instruction from a Reconnections Monkey, would give no aid to me, and the social worker is making the totally fair point that, having disconnected the electricity meter of a mentally ill double-amputee and then refusing to book a replacement job until a week later, the House of Gas would get reported to our Ombudsman, various charities and the media. At that point, I would have said we pretty much had it coming, but it still wouldn't get this guy reconnected.
So I email King Gas. And I copy in Lord o' Leeds Gas and of course my own Manager Monkey. The customer is going to email him anyway, and I figure an email from lowly me is better than opening his newspaper tomorrow to see the legend HOUSE OF GAS HATES DISABLED PEOPLE splashed across the front page.
Ten minutes later, my Manager Monkey is getting a lecture on chain of command from the Lord o' Leeds Gas. Apparently, after Manager Monkey was unable to resolve it, I should have directed the customer to write in to our complaints department. No doubt they would have responded in their usual 28 day time frame, by which time effigies of the Court of Gas are being burned in the streets and I get to spend even more of my day on the 'phones dealing with the backlash of public opinion. Because yes, some people will wait in a queue for forty minutes in order to tell you that they think the company you work for is despicable. Obviously these are the people that have never suffered the indignities of working for a company that occaisonally makes choices you don't agree with, probably becauser they are dole-bludging scum.
Fortunately, Manager Monkey is Scouse, and while I don't want to resort to cultural stereotyping, I don't think I'm out of line in saying that Scousers traditionally have a fair amount of common sense, and extremely limited bullshit tolerence. She points out that, yes, it has been escalated to her, and yes, we have spoken to the third party contractor (let's call them Ponstream) and yes, we essentially got a raspberry blown in our faces.
Of course, Lord o' Leeds Gas isn;t going to do anything so common as sort it out himself; no, instead he grudgingly tells Manager Monkey that she can use King Gas's name to force a response out of Ponstream. Then he tells her to "discuss appropriate escalation routes" with me, so that I never bother him with such petty concerns as customer service ever again.
No, Lord o' Leeds Gas. I think what you meant to say was, "Thank you, Froodle, for sparing the House of Gas a very public and unlubricated assfucking on GMTV. I am so glad you decided to show some fucking initiative. Maybe we had better put in a clearly defined escalation route for dealing with meter operators as well as within our own departments, since at the moment it seems these meter operators have free reign to ignore our customers and deliver bad service with impunity, leaving our unfortunate Phone Monkeys to face the wrath, while at the same time having absolutely no power to ask a meter operator to do anything."
I hate being a Helper Monkey. I worked so hard to get here, and in the end, all I have done is manage to fuck myself in the ass. And that is impressive for three reasons: one, I'm female so I don't have the equiptment to assfuck myself in the normal course of events, two, even a giy would have to be unusually limber and/or exceptionally well-hung to carry out an effective self-assfucking, and three, the House of Gas is also currently endevouring to fuck me in all three holes, so things are pretty crowded up there as it is. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 24th, 2009|09:51 pm] |
OH MY GOD THE JOY! The first wave of Halloween stuff is out already. ASDA are being totally lame and still have all their back-to-school shit in, as if stupid school is as important as Halloween, but TK Maxx are off to a flying start. They had these supercute snowglobes that play "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" (I got the skeleton couple in the car, the skeleton undertaker driving a hearse and the haunted tree with ghosts in it) and this awesome haunted house tealight holder that is black and made from tin and has crenelations on the roof. Crenelations, dudes! That means added spookiness!
There were also scary mummies in coffins (we'll leave aside the fact that mummies don't live in coffins for the moment) and a voodoo dude in a tophat who was all big and had a bowl for putting sweets in, but I didn't get him because he was big and I had to walk home, and a lot of glittery things or things with spiders that I didn't like, but dude, Halloween stuff. In August! Yay!
Also, I bought this completely made-of-win spooky soundtrack from Poundland that is just howling wind with like, occaisonal crow caws and wolves holwing in the distance. This is super-important because most Halloween soundtracks totally overdo it and have fake-ass screaming and creaky doors and what I assume are supposed to be scared panting noises but really are more like porn sound effects.
Hah, and when I was in TK Maxx, there were these little kids asking their mum if they could buy some of the stuff, and she was all like, "Wahh, no, it's too far away and I am mean and want my children to suffer!" and then I came along and bought things and they were all, "But that lady's buying things!" and she was like, *glare* and her kids were like, *sad cries* and I was like, that's right kids, I can have Halloween whenever I want and you can't, because your mummy doesn't love you! Mwahaha!
Also, I was randomly given some champagne at work today. It doesn't mean the day didn't still suck, but it sucked slightly less than it would have done if nobody had given me a bottle of champagne. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 17th, 2009|10:26 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | 4400, american gothic, angel, buffy, carnivale, cornelia funke, eerie indiana, escaflowne, job of doom, joss whedon, meme, numb3rs, the tribe, thief lord | ] |
Dudes, I just saw the last episode of the Tribe and really, how fucking stupid do you have to be not to realise that an AI with the combined personalities of a dead sociopath and a live megalomaniac is going to wind up going SkyNet all over the place? What an idiot!
Man, I so want a Zoot AI of my own now. Especially if I could put it on the PCs at work and have it smile creepily every time someone tried to ask me an inane question. Which would actually be all the time. Maybe if someone asked me a non-retarded question, he'd Vogue.
And now, meme answers!
Scheherezhad wanted to know my top five Eerie moments:
1: The scene in the Hole in the Head Gang where Simon and Mars see the fake ghost head for the first time, and Mars is like ARRRRRGGGHHHH-*takes picture*-AARRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
2: The scene in Scariest Home Movies where Harley steps on the female leads' dress and it rips and you see her knickers and then he turns and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the audience - is there anything funnier than a pervy six year old?
3: The scene in Who's Who where Simon tells Sarah Sue-Bob that she should try telling her family how she feels, and Sarah Sue-Bob says that she hopes "this isn't some New Age peaceful thing that will backfire on me," and then it does!
4: Dash and Mars' almost-kiss in the alley behind the Loyal Order of Corn. Yes it was, shut the fuck up.
5: The Foreverware Wave.
Chibimarchy wanted to know my top five canon or fanom pairings from any fandom:
Canon pairings:
1: Buffy and Angel (BtVS/Angel) I swear, I will be like sixty and watching it on the DVD player surgically grafted onto my face as I zoom around the Moon Station with my personal jetpack, and I will still be crying over that scene at the end of season three where he shows up to take her to the prom. And then I'll probably crash into a satellite because I can't see where I'm going through the tears.
2: Van and Hitomi (Escaflowne) Even though in the end Hitomi chose indoor plumbing and electricty over young love and an early death from cholera due to Fanelia's appalling lack of infrastructure, I got a bit choked up during that scene where she decides to go back to him and as she's running on the track, he appears on the Escaflowne in a pillar of light and he's about to speak and she just throws herself into his arms. Having said that, I also quite liked the scene in Operation: Golden Rule of Love where he was trying to tell her how he felt and he ended up saying he wanted her powers instead and she bitchslapped him.
3: Rita Sue and Jonesy (Carnivale) That first time, where she takes off his brace, was so bitter-sweet and beautiful, and afterwards they were so hot and heavy together, the way they couldn't keep their hands off each other - Rita Sue is so jaded and worldly when it comes to sex and love and marriage, so having her fall for Jonesy that hard made it all the more meaningful. And of course all the more heartbreaking when he broke it off.
4: Jack and Ellie (the Tribe) I just think they're adorable together - like when he renames their newspaper the Amulet and she says he's beautiful, or the conversation with the walkie-talkies where neither of them want to hang up - and that scene where you find out that it's Ellie sending Ebony all the death threats, because she blames her forJack being taken, and Ebony gets her trademark sass on and Ellie just lunges for her and Ebony's like OMGWTF and even Techno Ranger almost manages an expression.
5: Lucas and Selina (American Gothic) Because... because they're Lucas and Selina, come on, like I even have to explain that!
Fanon pairings:
1: Jordan/Shawn (4400) Because the debauching of underage boys by morally ambiguous, totally hot, beard-having Messiah figures is awesome.
2: Bray/Lex (the Tribe) Because alpha-male power struggles are also awesome, especially if one party habitually wears a lot of leather and eyeliner, and especially-specially if it tends to devolve into homoerotic wrestling matches.
3: Scipio/Prosper (the Thief Lord) Because underage boylove in Venice? Yes, that too is awesome.
4: Mars/Dash (Eerie Indiana) As above, but in Indiana.
5: Colby/Charlie (Numb3rs) Because... dude, look at them! That's why!
itsjustc wanted to know my top five Tribe characters:
1: Jack
2: Lex
3: KC
4: Ebony
5: Bray |
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[Aug. 11th, 2009|09:16 pm] |
Blargh! i have been off work the last two days with an ear infection and it is utterly horrible. Not being off work, obviously, although given the choice I would prefer to save my sick days for times I don't feel so awful, but the ear infection part of it. I get them a lot, so I pretty much know what to expect, but that doesn't make it less shitty.
So, I'm sat here trying to eat this bowl of cereal, because I'm starving but also kind of nauseous from the pain in my head, and I'm watching Power Rangers (because I've finished the third season of the Tribe and damn it, I'm ill, I deserve more Dwayne Cameron!) and you know, off your face with pain and exhaustion and sleeping pills that don't fucking work for moer than an hour at a time, it becomes strangely compelling. Dwayne Cameron will now be known as Pretty Soldier Sailor Bray for the rest of his days, due to his excessively sparkly transformation sequence. No kidding, it's approximately 98% more sparkly than any of the other Rangers. He even does the Sailor Mercury staff-twirly-around thing.
There was something else I came on here to say, but I can't remember what it was. Pretty Soldier Sailor Bray and Falcor should totally team up though. FALCOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Oh my God, I am so out of it. |
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[Aug. 6th, 2009|10:29 pm] |
Dudes, I'm starting to think I was wrong in my assumption that living an indoor life causes bunnies to lose their inborn survival instincts.
Illustration: I get up this morning, full up with the usual mixture of misery wrapped in rage with a sprinkling of despair on top that is my workaday mindset. The "low battery" light on my 'phone is beeping. "Shit," I think, "I cannot go a whole day without sending someone vitriolic text messages about how much I hate the people I work with." I go to pick up the charger... and it's been chewed clean through.
I know right away that Kagame is the guilty party. For one, she's the only one big enough to jump out of the cage - in fact she woke me up at four am doing just that. And two, she has developed a fondness for phone chargers since this is the second time she's done it in less than four weeks.
I'm enraged. I'm so enraged that on my lunch break, which was forty-five sweaty minutes running around town trying to find a replacement charger, I actually yell at the pair of fucking elephants that insist on waddling side by side down the street, taking up the entire pavement and forcing me to walk on the road. Not that it does anything, of course - they're still fat selfish fucktards and no doubt they're waddling two abreast back from the takeaway right now and forcing some other poor bastard to walk in the path of oncoming traffic.
By the time I come home, my mind is made up - Kagame has to go. I'm too poor and vile-tempered to keep a pet that continually destroys my things. As I'm sweeping the floor of the pen, part of me is composing the post I'll put on rabbit rescue to secure her a new home. The other half is considering just dumping her outside the back door and letting the Lumberjack Cat and the Cat With The Pointy Face have her.
I kneel to sweep the litter into the dustpan. Thlayli and Fluffi-Wan, who have been eyeing me nervously since I stormed into the house, continue to maintain a careful distance.
But Kagame comes up to me and starts licking my legs.
So it turns out rabbits don't lose their survival instincts when they live indoors - they evolve methods more appropriate for the situation, such as avoiding being thrown from a window by your furious and now even broker than usual owner. Of course, a cynical person would point out that I spent the day in a huge glass office where the air conditioning is broken and there's a computer every seven inches, which lends credence to the position that call centre work is merely a Westernised version of the sweat shop, and therefore Kagame just wanted the salt on my skin, but I prefer to think of it as a gesture for attonement.
That being said, does anyone in the Leeds area want a rabbit? |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 5th, 2009|09:23 pm] |
GROSS! I was coming home tonight, and I'd just come into the little driveway/parking lot thingie in front of my house, and this dude is just driving out, and he stops and smiles at me out the window, so I sort of smile back in that "I'm polite and friendly but also terribly busy and distracted so don't try to engage me in conversation, random person" way that I do, and he's all like, "You don't remember me, do you?" So I'm all, umm... and he tells me he used to deliver my groceries from ASDA* and I'm like, oh, and he's like, "Yeah, I used to really fancy you," and I'm like, slightly more uncomfortable oh, and then, THEN! He says, "Well, aren't you going to invite me in for a coffee?"
Because, what, ten hours in a job I hate isn't enough misery for one day? I want to compound my pain by letting some deviant rape me in my own home? And even if I were to give him the benefit of the doubt and not just assume he's a creepy rapist, what man is stupid enough not to realise that any woman you say that to is instantly going to automatically think that you're a creepy rapist?
The moral of this story is, people need to stop acting like creepy rapists!
*And dudes, I'm not being stuck up because I too work in a low-paying monkey-level job, but who the fuck remembers someone you see for ten minutes once a month? |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 28th, 2009|10:44 pm] |
Oh dudes, sometimes I am just so dumb I want to stab myself a bunch of times. Even in the midst of a squeefest, I am a little bit disgusted with myself over how excessively gleeful I got when I read this.
Butbutbut it's the Lost Boys, and it's always going to be a bit beautiful even when it isn't, and I want more of it and also why is there still not any Shane/Chris porn from the second movie? Boo!
In other news, at the end of this week my manager is leaving our team in order to work for another part of the House of Gas. I am kind of... insanely gutted by this fact, partly because it's pretty rare for me to genuinely like anyone I meet, ever, and I sort of almost nearly like him, but more importantly because this is only the second time in my entire working life that I've been managed by someone I actually respected, as opposed to someone I just pretended to respect because the alternative was being honest enough to inform them that I regard their existance as an affront to Darwinism and thus getting fired, although I have done that once and it was totally worth it at the time. But anyway, wahh! |
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[Jun. 29th, 2009|11:45 pm] |
Dudes. What a complete and utter shitter of a day. I'm in the office five minutes and this fucking retard is on the 'phone, whinging because "you were supposed to call me today." Yes, dilhole, and I made a point of saying I worked from ten 'til eight, so don't be getting in my face acting like I've let you down because it's four minutes past ten and I haven't called yet. And then, after explaining to her what she needs to do, she calls back twenty minutes later when I'm in the middle of explaining something else to some other 'tard. And then she calls back. Again and again and again. Fuck off! "She will call you when she's off the 'phone" does not mean "please call every five minutes to be told exactly the same thing you were told five minutes ago and keep harrassing Froodles who already have a full job with both their caseload and their absentee "buddy" advocates caseload AND answering questions from every dimwit who can't follow a three-page PowerPoint presentation."
And oh, my God, I hate my team/s. It's not even the fact that they're stupid, which they are, and which is enough to piss me off even on a good day. I can almost come to terms with the fact that watching them try to form a coherent thought is like watching a train derailment in slow motion, or that after ten minutes in their presence I have to leave the room in order to suppress my evolutionary imperative to murder them before they can breed. After all, it's not as though they have a time machine to travel back twenty-odd years and beg their mothers to please stop swigging wood alcohol for five minutes while pregnant, or a rocket ship to fly to Heaven and beg God to give them the basic reasoning skills He imparts to the average six year old.
No, it's the fact that they won't even try to figure things out for themselves. I've got one halfwit who apparently thinks that boxes labelled 1, 2, 3 and 4 should contain the exact same information as a set of boxes on the following page labelled 5, 6, 7 and 8. I've had to explain to one of them that a meter cannot be passing unregistered energy if the dials are spinning when energy is being used, because in point of fact that is how a meter registers the use of energy. I've got a dink who "accidently" raises callbacks for a day when she knows she's going to be on holiday and then "oopsie-daisys" out of it and lets me pick up the slack. I've got one bloated speciman who snaps his fingers to get my attention, and since his fingers are like enormous swollen sausages, I can't even break them in retribution for his lack of manners. Maybe if you'd waddle the ten feet to my fucking desk,you wouldn't weigh four hundred pounds, you fat fuck!
At lunch tomorrow, I am going to buy a bottle of drain unclogger and a box of injectin' needles, and every person who wastes my time with another soul-destroying display of dimwittedness is going to get stabbed in the neck with a syringe full of agonising death.
I was going to friendslock this post in case any of them stumbled upon it, but frankly I doubt most of them can read, so I won't. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 6th, 2009|12:35 am] |
Give me a character from any fandom, tv show, movie, book you know that I know and I will tell you:
a. My favorite thing about that character.
b. My least favorite thing about that character.
c. One person I would ship them with in their own verse.
d. One crossover ship for them I think would be neat.
e. One crossover universe for them I think would be even neater.
f. Their ship from hell.
g. Their song.
h. The title of their biography or autobiography.
i. The last bad dream they had.
j. How they're gonna shuffle off the mortal coil, if they haven't already.
In other news, I am seriously thinking about going back to school full-time. Not to do law (my parental-inflicted enemy of five and a half hideously boring years) or even english (my first love, and like the first guy I fell in love with, a lot of fun at the time but a total waste in the long run) but something practical. Automotive repair or something.
As things stand at the moment, I have absolutely no transferable skills from the three years I have wasted in call centres. So I give great customer service? All that really means is that I'm adept at taking shit from sub-literate fuckwits. And even with the promotion, so now I'm also good at supporting my team with difficult queries? Great, I have the ability to explain incredibly simple concepts to developmentally-challenged clods. Yay for me.
I've survived this long by telling myself I would take my experiances and shape them into a zeitgeist-capturing satirical novel about a phonemonkey who is driven to become a serial killer by the stupidity and rudeness of the general public, but more and more it feels like I might just skip the writing and go straight to the cutting of throats in real life.
If I could do something where I worked with machines instead of people, it might improve my day-to-day moods, if not my habitually grouchy disposition. Not to mention, I may develop the technical skills I need to build my dream invention, the Deppotron. It's the next generation of my initial dream invention, the Deppbot, but where the Deppbot was purely about sex with a robot that looks like Johnny Depp, the Deppotron comes with added features, like the ability to fly and cook and clean and perform household DIY. And of course it shoots lasers from it's eyes, for those inevitable days where sex and cake aren't going to cheer me up and all that will work is a massacre.
Because sometimes even sex with Johnny Depp isn't as satisfying as really fucking someone up. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 22nd, 2009|01:18 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | bones, james purefoy, jeremy renner, job of doom, moonlight, nip/tuck, people make me sick, rome, supernatural, torchwood, true blood | ] |
Do you think that if I could get a doctor to certify me as being wanktard-intolerent, I could go on permanent medical leave and never work again? Because pretty much all jobs are going to involve some level of wanktardery, and if it was possible I might die from it, they'd pretty much have to pay me incapacity benefit or something, right? That would be awesome.
What is decidedly not awesome is when some numbnuts decides to pull me away from my massive workload in order to "talk to you all about NPS." Dick, I know what NPS is. I am part of the motherfucking trial. I am at my desk every day calling these jizzstain customers back and recording their moronic comments verbatim. I do not need a fucking presentation on your lameass board with it's lameass charts. I MADE THE FUCKING CHARTS! I KNOW WHAT THEY MEAN, DILHOLE! And it especially pisses me off when I am subjected to their idiotic attempt at a peptalk. I do not respond well to peptalks. I don't respond well to pep. In particular, I do not respond well to peptalks about how a certain thing is working fabulously when I know that is not the case because, and pay attention here, I AM PART OF THE GODDAMN TRIAL TEAM! Do not fucking lie to me, I am by nature both smart and cynical, and when someone shines shit and tries to call it gold it makes me very fucking cranky indeed!
Urgh!
In other news, I think there should be a show that is made up of characters who are either too good for their original show or who wound up being screwed over on it. Lafayette from True Blood and T-Bear from Supernatural would be the stars and they would fight crime, in between T-Bear's bouts of crying and attempting to kill himself and Lafayette's secondary but much for lucrative career as a go-go dancer. Josef from Moonlight would be the local crime kingpin - he'd sort of be their stated enemy, but really it would be one of those relationships where they have a grudging kind of respect for each other and sometimes Josepf would help them out dealing with other, baddier baddies. The main baddie would be the Carver from Nip/Tuck, only back when the Carver was still really fucking terrifying, before we found out it was just dumb old Quentin behind the mask. Zack Addy would be the adorkable gender-ambiguous lab assistant nature always intended him to be, and everyone would keep a stern eye on him to make sure it stayed that way. Mark Anthony would pop up every now and then as a time-travelling manwhore/adventurer - a bit like Jack Harkness only not rubbish or in Wales. Also, Jeremy Renner would get to be in it all the time and not die. |
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[May. 18th, 2009|11:37 pm] |
The House of Gas are cocks! Seriously, my workload is a fucking joke: take all the fresh advocate cases from my team, cover Ollie's team half the time while he's off being "upskilled" or what-the-fuck-ever, check all of my pended cases to see how they're progressing, answer any and all fucking retarded questions from the fucking retarded CSAs, do two hours of CET backlog work, listen to all the same day and next day repeat calls, call back every customer who gives us a score of 2 or below on the Net Promoter survey and ask them why (as if we don't already know it's because our customers are unreasonable malicious fuckheads), answer more fucking retarded questions, check the RB55 report, earmark anyone who alters a payment scheme by more than ten percent, check those accounts, listen to the calls and give feedback as required and do two hours of answering 'phones on the General Enquiries line?
Okay, great, and after that, I will fly around the world backwards in order to bend time and space and therefore somehow pull off doing twenty hours worth of work in a ten hour shift, because I am in fact Superman and I can do that shit. Fuck you all.
Not to mention this new "Debt Champ" bullshit they're rolling out, which might as well be subtitled "I know it's a recession, but the House of Gas doesn't give a fuck about your financial hardships and in fact we're going to give our people less flex and train them to be even bigger hardasses in order to get our money," and is going to be used as an excuse for every lazy piece of shit manning the 'phones to pass off everyone who doesn't like his direct debit amount to their advocate. FUCK OFF! I spent months last summer explaining direct debits to these retards, and I worked fucking hard to get made adovcate so I wouldn't have to waste my time trying to get these braindead fucks to understand basic maths, and I will not fucking well do it again.
And last Tuesday, I'm in training for eight hours, then I get back and I'm on the 'phones until the end of my shift, but do I have any cover for the fresh caseload? No, I'm expected to make that shit up the next day. Yet Ollie gets pulled for half a day on Wednesday, and I'm supposed to take his new cases? While managing my own backlog? Fuck off! His guys can wait a single fucking afternoon while he gets to them, rather than putting me two days behind on everything.
At least Twatby, my fuckwad of a stand-in manager, is dead or in Thailand or whatever. Piece of shit kept trying to get me to do his fucking manager calls, claiming he was busy, all the while sat there talking about whatever piece-of-shit House of Gas football league he plays in with some other no-concept-of-an-indoor-voice shitsacks. DIE!
I feel like shooting a whole bunch of people in a whole bunch of fucking places. |
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[May. 11th, 2009|10:26 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | addams family, antonio banderas, brad pitt, christian slater, coraline, hairspray, halloween, hugh jackman, i am sick, i hate ben affleck, interview with a vampire, job of doom, nbx, neil gaiman, people make me sick, supernatural, the wire, tim burton, tom cruise, xmen | ] |
God, there are some right divs at the House of Gas. The fire alarm went off today and, I kid you not, our fire warden stood there in the middle of the corridor, blocking the way, bleating about whether or not we knew where the assembly point for our call centre was in the event of a fire. I was like, "Hmm, is it perchance outside of the burning building?" How do these people make it to adulthood? Fuckwad.
Anyway, some important points to note:
- The Wolverine movie is beautiful. It's a bit soap-opera-ish with the evil long lost brother thing and of course it has Gambit in (boo!) but really, this is about Hugh Jackman wearing leather and lots of hairspray, and a flimsy excuse for a plot strung together wuth awesomely choreographed fight scenes.
- Hairspray has a bit wrecked the earlier X-Men movies for me. Well, not X3, that one came pre-wrecked. But now I cannot look at Cyclops without seeing Corny Collins and wanting him to dance and sing and be massively inappropriate on a daytime kids TV show. And then I feel sad when it doesn't happen.
- If the Wolverine movie is beautiful, then Coraline is even more beautiful. I cannot describe the wonder. Go watch!
- I love the movie version of Interview with the Vampire. I sometimes forget how much I love it because I'm a bit shallow and there's nobody I really think is hot in there,* and also nowadays it's a bit tainted from the combined batshittery of Tom Cruise and Anne Rice, but I was watching it on Sunday and as soon as I heard those first few bars in the opening sequence, all my love for it came rushing back.
- The first half of the fourth season of Supernatural is semi-awesome. That's not the same as being full-on good, by the way. It's like, a bit good. There's a lifesized walking, talking, suicidal teddy bear (awesome), a stubbly angel who's a bit gay for Dean (awesome), an episode which is basically Supernatural does the Universal Studios Monster Mash (awesome to the power of a sideways eight thing) and BUNNY! Unfortunately, there's also creepy Padaleckisex, the stubbly angel isn't as stubbly or as overtly gay for Dean as I feel he could be, and Bunny is really mean. To like, everyone. Oh Bunny, how have we come to this? Also, there were these totally mean witches who tried to ruin Halloween for everyone. Boo, mean witches! You're lucky it was only Sam and Dean that showed up to punish you with guns. If Jack Skellington had been there, then you'd be sorry.
- I had better have pig flu! I feel like shit and the only thing keeping me from curling up and dying in misery is the thought that I am actively spreading a contagion that will wipe out billions of humans. If this turns out just to be a bad cold, I will be pissed.
- The Assassination of Jesse James is soooooooo booooring. Casey Affleck may be mildly less hideous than his sibling, but they are both gaping voids in the fabric of the universe, into which any semblence of talent or charisma is dragged, screaming, into the darkness, ne'er to return. Also, it is so badly directed, they have to have some random narrate what's going on in every scene.
Anyway, I think that's all the important life lessons I learnt this week - I trust you will all take them on board and be enriched by my wisdom. I'm going to watch the Wire and bemoan Bunny's fall from grace. Oh Bunny!
*Okay, it has Christian Slater, but he's in it for like ten minutes, and althoughg Antonio Banderas is normally hot, let's face it, white base and a Morticia Addams wig are not a good look for him. |
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[Apr. 30th, 2009|10:50 pm] |
Man, I hate being poor. You know what I'm eating right now, as part of my celebratory "yay, you survived another week at the House of Gas and you haven't been fired or even shot anybody in the face!" meal? Couscous. That's right, fucking couscous. No take-out pizza for Froodle, oh no, because despite working a forty hour week in the belly of the hideous beast that is customer service, she's too poor to waste a whole fiver on delicious jalapeno-laden pizza. I mean, I suppose I could console myself with the thought that staying off the junk food will ensure I look even more fabulous than ever in this cute dress I saw at Rose and Co, but oh wait! I can't afford it anyway!
Fucking couscous. Seriously. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 24th, 2009|10:38 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | 4400, blade, cadillac records, colin farrel, constantine, coraline, ewan mcgregor, heroes, hugh jackman, job of doom, neil gaiman, numb3rs, profit, push, stab woody allen in the face, star trek, supernatural, tim burton, underworld sucked monkeyballs, xmen, year of the pasdar | ] |
Notes From This Weekend:
- Cadillac Records is fucking awesome. Also, Beyonce is totally not-fail as an actress. I wasn't even a little bit embarrassed for her at any point. Well done, Beyonce.
- Push is okay. It has Papa Midnite as the main baddie, and he's cool, but the main dude is like the love child of Dean Winchester and that dude who plays Dracula in Blade: Trinity. Not as hot as it sounds, guys. Also, the cast list was all, NOW WITH ADDED TOM BALDWIN! and then I watched it and Tom Baldwin was in it for like ten seconds before he died. Not cool, Push. We do not go around killing beautiful earnest Tom Baldwin.
- Zachary Quinto was put on this earth to torment me. They showed the trailer of the new Star Trek movie and I swear, it's like God is sitting there going, "Hey Froodle, here's a really seriously fucking hot guy for you to stare at, but the catch is, every time you see him on-screen, he's going to be playing a character that you want to kick in the nuts." Why, Zachary Quinto? Why?!
- There is a new Fast and Furious movie. Paul Walker was being failsome and excessively American as usual. Vin Diesel was being retardatical as usual. It was all very disgraceful.
- CORALINE WHY ARE YOU NOT OUT YET?
- Likewise, WOLVERINE MOVIE WHY ARE YOU NOT OUT YET?
- Mohinder, you fail at science so much. I am completely filled with distain for you. SCIENTISTS! PLEASE DO NOT INJECT YOURSELF WITH UNTESTED SHITTERY! IT NEVER ENDS WELL!
- I really hate Woody Allen. Honestly, I want to kick him in the nuts so badly, Zachary Quinto will probably end up playing him in the biopic. Cassandra Dreams is fucktarded beyond belief. How anyone can take Colin Farrell and Ewan McGregor and turn it into a bloated, self-important, mind-numbingly dull wankfest is beyond me.
- Profit is beautiful. Oh Profit. You are my only friend.
- The fact that there is yet another Underworld movie makes me hate God.
On a totally unrelated note, the House of Gas has arranged an hour and a half lecture on the Golden Ratio and Fibonacci sequences. At work. For the workers. Except that if you're scheduled to be on the 'phones, you don't get to go, which begs the question, who the fuck is expecting a bunch of phone-monkeys to give up their free time to go to a lecture, at work, on advanced mathematical concepts? Are we going to be fighting crime with them? Will the FBI and adorkable curly-headed mathematicians be involved? No? Fuck off then. I'm just so confused by the rational behind it - most of our retardo customers can't add VAT to a fuel bill without having a meltdown - is this something King Gas thinks is going to be useful in our day to day lives? WHAT IS GOING ON?! |
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[Dec. 3rd, 2008|09:14 pm] |
There are days when I really, truly hate my job. Like, even more than usual. This is one of them.
Let us set the scene. Sat at the end of a bank of computers, being slowly crushed to death beneath the massed stupidity of the general public, Froodle toils in ten hour blocks of misery in order to earn a crust of bread and a bowl of thin, mealy gruel. Or, you know, a shitty just-above-minimum wage. Whatever.
The 'phone, that ever-lasting instrument of soul-destroying torment, bleeps. Froodle sighs, a sigh indicative of almost unbearable pain, takes the dread beast off mute, plasters on an erzatz smile and chipper attitude, and speaks:
Froodle: Good morning, welcome to the House of Gas, my name is Froodle, how can I help you today?
The Human Jizzstain: Well, this is the Human Jizzstain and I have been waiting fifteen minutes to get through to you!
This is a lie. Froodle glances at the All-Powerful Saturn Screen of Doom and sees that the longest wait time is 3.36.
Froodle: I'm terribly sorry for the wait, Mister Human Jizzstain, we are extremely busy at the moment, how can I help you?
The Human Jizzstain: Well, you can answer the 'phone faster!
Froodle rolls her eyes and makes the time-honoured gesture for "wanker" in the direction of her computer screen.
Froodle: I'm very sorry for the delay you've experianced, Mister Human Jizzstain; now that you're through to me, what can I help you with?
The Human Jizzstain: Well, I want to give you a meter reading for my gas.
Froodle: Fantastic, can I take that off you now?
The Human Jizzstain: Yes, it's 1234.
Froodle: And is that reading from today?
The Human Jizzstain: Yes.
Froodle: Great, your balance today is [XXXX]. Just so you know, your direct debit has been adjusted to-
The Human Jizzstain: NO! NO NO NO! My direct debit is not going to change!
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, in order to cover your consumption over the next-
The Human Jizzstain: NO! I am telling you it is staying the same!
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, if you would allow me to finish-
The Human Jizzstain: No! I am an old age pensioner! I am nearly eighty and I am telling you my direct debit will stay the same as it always has been!
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, if you'll please stop interupting m-
The Human Jizzstain: Listen you, I've been on the 'phone twenty-five minutes now, this is costing me a fortune!
Froodle: Actually, if you've called the number on your bill, this is a freephone number.
The Human Jizzstain: Well I haven't, I got this number from the Yellow Pages, this is an 0845 number.
Froodle: Well, those calls only cost three pence per minute from a landline, but if you have a pen and paper, I will give you our freephone number for future reference.
The Human Jizzstain: Yes!
Froodle: 0800 GO FUCK YOURSELF YOU OBNOXIOUS OLD CUNT ITS NOT MY FAULT YOU CAN'T FUCKING READ.
The Human Jizzstain: Right well I'm still not happy about my direct debit, you're going to leave my direct debit as it is.
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, if you'd allow me to explain-
The Human Jizzstain: No, I'm not interested in your explaination, I want to speak to your manager! You are being impertinant!
Froodle: I'm sorry you feel that way, Mister Human Jizzstain, but if you'd let me try and resolve this for yo-
The Human Jizzstain: I want your name! Give me your name!
Froodle: Okay, my first name is Froodle, with an F, and my last name is Von Froodle. Would you like me to spell that for you?
The Human Jizzstain: Yes I want you to spell it, I've never heard a name like that before, of course I want you to spell it!
Froodle: V-O-N-F-R-O-O-D-L-E.
The Human Jizzstain: Right, well now I have your name, I am going to call a doctor, I have your name, you are giving me a heart attack, I'll give him your name! I want to speak to a manager!
Froodle: Alright, Mister Human Jizzstain, are you okay to hold for a moment while I see if one is available?
Mister Human Jizzstain: Yes.
Froodle places the Human Jizzstain on hold, explains the situation to El Manager, who advises Froodle to put the Human Jizzstain's direct debit down to it's original amount if the Human Jizzstain agrees to pay any remainder at the end of his payment plan.
Froodle: Thank you for holding, Mister Human Jizzstain. I've spoken to my manager and-
The Human Jizzstain: WHAT IS YOUR NAME?!
Froodle: Froodle Von Froodle. Would you like me to spell it again?
The Human Jizzstain: No I don't want you to spell it, I've never heard that name before but I have it written down here, I don't want to hear it again!
Froodle: Okay, Mister Human Jizzstain, I've spoken to my manager and-
the Human Jizzstain: You listen to me, I am not paying any more on my direct debit, I have already said that, it's my mon-
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, the more you talk over me and interupt me, the longer this conversation will take. Will you allow me to finish my sentances, please?
The Human Jizzstain: Well go on then, hurry up!
Froodle: As I was about to say, I can put your direct debit back to [ludicrously small amount that will result in you owing a shitload of money on your bill by the end of winter) as long as you understand that this may result in you being in arrears at the en-
The Human Jizzstain: I won't be in arrears, I've told you I won't be in arrears because that's my money and I read the meter too often!
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, please allow me to finish. If you are in arrears-
The Human Jizzstain: I won't be I said! Aren't you listening?!
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, please don't interupt me again, I am trying to tell you I have a resolution for you. As I was saying, if there are any arrears at the end of your payment plan, you will have to pay those in full at that time. Is th-
The Human Jizzstain: Yes I'll pay the arrears! Never mind all this "Mister Human Jizzstain, Mister Human Jizzstain," I tell you, you've been speaking to me as if I'm extremely unintelligant, I want to speak to your manager.
Froodle: I'm sorry you feel that the way I have spoken to you is impertinant, Mister Human Jizzstain; I feel I have been extremely polite and professional, especially given the way you have been speaking to me. I have treated you with the utmost respect and I feel the least you can do is have the decency to treat me the same way.
The Human Jizzstain: I tell you, I'd hate to have someone at home like you, always going on and on, you must drive your boyfriend mad, I'd hate to live with y-
Froodle: Mister Human Jizzstain, those sort of personal comments are completely unacceptable, and I am now terminating this call.
Froodle hangs up.
I mean, seriously, how retarded do you have to be to pick a fight with someone who not only knows your name, address and telephone number, but also your bank details? Congratulations, Jizzstain, you just made the KILL list. My only quandry now is what to do with his personal information - arrange to have all his bills sent to an address on the other side of the country? Subject him to a rash of magazine subscriptions and credit cards addressed to Mr Gaping Asshole? Set up a bunch of ruinously high direct debits to the Miss Manners How Not To Act Like A Twat On The Telephone hotline and other organisations doing similar good work in the community? Or how about just leaking his bank details to one of the various email fraudsters whose missives end up in my Spam folder on a daily basis? Suggestions on a postcard, please. |
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[Nov. 27th, 2008|09:08 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | 4400, firefly, i am sick, job of doom, serenity, snithy, stargate, summer glau, the downey, x-files, zac efron blows goats | ] |
Whelp, I have food poisoning. At least, I hope it's food poisoning and not a stomach virus, because El Snithador is visiting this weekend and I feel Downeyfest will be somewhat lacking if I am lying on the sofa bemoaning my state of unwellness the whole time, and food poisoning usually passes in 48 hours whereas a stomach virus will kick my ass for much longer. Although at least if she does carry out her threat to subject me to the hideous evil that is Zac Efron, I'm already puking and wanting to die, so it will not hurt me as much as it would otherwise.
Anyway, I'm off work, I'm bored, I'm exhausted, I'm cranky and I'm in that place where you're starving but the texture of food in your mouth makes you want to start hurling again, ao to cheer myself up, I thought I would look at some pictures of Jordan and his beard of wonder. And then, because I am so generous of nature, I thought I should come on here and share them with you. And then I thought, "Why stop at Jordanbeard? This is the perfect opportunity to win people over to the cause of the 4400, and possibly trick them into writing porn for you as a get-well gift."
And so, without further ado, I present to you:
The 4400: A Brief Introduction
This is TOM BALDWIN. A long time ago he was a super-badass FBI dude. He was so badass that when his FBI boss took a job at NTAC, he insisted on bringing Tom with him. Then his son KYLE and his nephew SHAWN went to a beach to drink some BEERS. Shawn vanished, Kyle fell into a COMA and Tom took an extended leave of absense to try and solve the TERRIBLE TRAGEDY that had BEFALLEN HIS FAMILY. Tom is very EARNEST and BEAUTIFUL while being MANLY and FORCEFUL at the same time. We love Tom.
This is DIANA SKOURIS. She is TOM'S PARTNER AT NTAC. She likes SCIENCE. She's pretty COOL but she doesn't have a BEARD, so I won't talk about her much.
This is MARCO. He lives in the basement at NTAC. Nobody on the show seems to have a problem with this. He and two randoms that I can't be bothered to find the names of are Tom and Diana's version of the LONE GUNMEN. Marco is in love with DIANA. Unfortunately he looks like a thirteen year old emo kid, so Diana cannot be with him without feeling like a CHILD MOLESTER. That wouldn't bother me, but Diana is a lady of PRINCIPLE so unfortunately their LOVE is DOOMED at least until MARCO hits PUBERTY. Poor MARCO.
This is SHAWN. He is TOM's nephew and one of the 4400. He went missing THREE YEARS AGO and suddenly reappears in a GIANT BALL OF LIGHT. He can HEAL THINGS WITH HIS HANDS. He can also KILL YOUR BITCHASS DEAD if he wants, but he hardly ever does. In the second season, he becomes Jordan's NUMBER ONE BOY WENCH, but after Jordan DUMPS HIM FOR KYLE he becomes very BITTER and ANGRY.
I cannot blame him, as Kyle is FUCKING UGLY and Shawn is BEAUTIFUL.
This is JORDAN. He is BEAUTIFUL BEYOND WORDS. He has a MAGNIFICENT BEARD and may or may not be JEBUS CHRIST. When he is not SAVING MANKIND, he enjoys BREAKING UP MARRIAGES, SEDUCING UNDERAGE BOYS, conquering SEATTLE and BANGING SKANKY ACTRESS HOS. At the end of the series, TOM tries to encourage him to get back together with SHAWN. I thought that was sweet, until I realised he's probably just trying to get Jordan away from KYLE.
This is ISABELLE. She is FUCKING CRAZY and the HARBINGER of the APOCALYPSE. She was engaged to SHAWN, but he broke it off when JORDAN came BACK FROM THE DEAD. She was VERY CROSS and put him in a COMA. Then she took up with KYLE. That was pretty trashy on BOTH THEIR PARTS, I feel.
This is KYLE. He is FUCKING UGLY. Nobody cares about him.
This is TESS. She is MADE FROM CRAZY. Also she can KILL YOU WITH HER BRAIN. It's nice to see Summer Glau apply herself to such a wide and stretching variety of roles.
This is KEVIN. He is WONDERFUL. He is a CRANKY SCIENTIST. He likes SUNFLOWER SEEDS and DOING ILL-ADVISED EXPERIMENTS on himself and others. He is also the only one who really sees how full of crap JORDAN is. JORDAN gets very cross about this, but he can't do anything because Kevin has SUPER HEALING POWERS. Also he is FAR TOO AWESOME AT SCIENCE to be easily replaced.
This is MAJOR LORNE. For some reason he calls himself JED GARRITY in this show, but that is probably because he is a SPY or SOMETHING ELSE COOL. He doesn't really serve any purpose on this list, I just added him because I thought this picture was PRETTY.
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[Oct. 29th, 2008|10:00 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | batman, eerie indiana, family von froodle, heathers, i hate bugs, job of doom, meme, numb3rs, snithy, thlayli, transformers, val kilmer | ] |
Tagged by thestorymaker:
A) People who have been tagged must write their answers on their blogs & replace any question that they dislike with a new question formulated by themselves.
B) Tag 8 people to do this quiz & those who are tagged cannot refuse. These people must state who they were tagged by & cannot tag the person whom they were tagged by. Continue this game by sending it to other people.
1. What is your favorite show on TV?
I don't actually have a TV aerial, so I never see anything until it's out on DVD or a friend pimps me an illegally downloaded copy, but I'm going to say Numb3rs because it is airing right now and also I am watching the fourth season as I type this and it is so beautiful and filled with Colby being tortured by Batman, you guys. Okay, it was only Fatass Kilmer Batman, but still.
2. Name five things you’d want with you if stranded on a desert island:
The Intarweb (for reading porn)
A laptop (to read intarweb porn on)
Cake (for eating while reading porn on the Intarweb)
Some DVDs (to watch on the laptop when not reading porn or eating cake)
Thlayli (for companionship/emergency source of protein)
3. What was the best part of your day?
That beautiful moment when the revolving door at the entrance to the House of Gas span me out into the free world, away from the fuckery of the general public.
4. What is your favorite scent?
Cinnimon, orange and clove
5. What is your favorite drink?
Maya Gold hot chocolate
6. What do you drink the most?
Coffee
7. What is your favorite restaurant?
Tintins, a wonderous (but ruinously expensive) Cantonese restaurant in Leeds
8. What will you be doing after finishing this?
Probably watch more Numb3rs, maybe drink some hot chocolate
9. What did you want to be when you grew up?
Alone
10. Your favorite romantic movie?
Heathers
11. What kind of person do you think the person is who tagged you ?
Pretty awesome
12. What are you afraid of?
Pretty much any kind of creepy-crawly.
13. What's your favorite item of clothing?
My "robots in disguise" t-shirt - it's got the Transformers logo wearing the GM 20-20s aka Groucho Marx glasses and "robots in disguise" written underneath it. LEGEND.
14. What time do you usually go to bed?
About 12.30am
15. What's the meaning behind your LJ username/name/nicknames you go by?
Back when I still lived at home, the two youngest Froodlebrothers, Buzz Lighthair and Kaizer Wilhelm, went on this camping trip thing with their Scout group. Kaizer Wilhelm came back with a toy monkey that had long dangling arms and legs that hung like limp noodles, and staring crack addict eyes ala Elijah Wood in Lord of the Rings. Frodo+Noodle = Froodle. The name amused me so much I co-opted it for my own use.
I tag:
ajmckay, alt-baie, chibimarchy, Snithy, girlofprey, marystmatthew, yume623 and itsjustc. |
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[Oct. 23rd, 2008|09:46 pm] |
Cramps. CRAMPS! Argh why! Why would you turn up now, at the start of the weekend, when things should be beautiful and full of joy? Why not turn up on Monday when your evil agony would just merge into the general agony of having to work in customer service and I would barely notice the difference? Bastards!
On a related note, work was even more annoying than usual today. I was mentoring - which essentially means I sit with some poor recently-employed sucker and lie to him about the many and varied joys of being employed at the House of Gas - and I had to write up a bunch of quality assessments and a "personal development plan*" for him and hand it to his training manager and the guy who will eventually be his full-time manager, and once I'd done it I got emails from both of them praising how thorough I was and how professional it looked.
And all I could think of doing was emailing them back and saying, "Yes, don't you think I should be on the fucking Correspondance team?!"
Ahem. Not that I'm holding a long-festering grudge or anything.
Anyway, I'm going to try and be happy and watch Numb3rs and eat this chocolate orange I bought at lunchtime. I just watched that episode where Papa Eppes has to go to a scary old lady birthday party and Charlie and Don have a spat in front of the FBI building about who has to go with him, and Charlie walks off in a mood and then you get this shot which is just Don standing there fuming for about ten seconds before he goes back to work, and it's beautiful. Oh Don, ILU even if you don't pistol-whip people enough anymore.
*Which, by the way, is a fucking joke - you only get put forward for non-Phone Monkey-related tasks if your manager decides to do it, meaning, in essence, it's not what you know, it's who you blow. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 22nd, 2008|10:23 pm] |
Lately I've been trying to convince myself that even though working at the House of Gas is slowly destroying my will to live, it's really not a good idea to leave before I've found another job. So this morning, Grantil and I were making the dread journey in together, amidst our own pitiful attempts to shore up each others spirits in preparation for the soul-sucking morasse of pain that awaited us:
Grantil: Well, we do get three days off every week. I mean, that's not bad, most people don't get that.
Froodle: Yeah, I actually sat down and worked it out, and we spend more days of the year away from work than we do at work.
Grantil: Seriously?
Froodle: Yeah, it works out as 180 days on, 185 days off. I mean, you have to count bank holidays and vacation time, but still.
Grantil: But how many vacation days did you add? 'Cause they say 23, but it's really less than that because they count eight hours as a whole day.
Froodle: Yeah, that's 19.89 days for us.
Grantil: Oh my God, you actually did it properly! You should be on Numb3rs.
Froodle: I should. I'd be like, "Using science and fucking retarded analogies I have calculated an algorithm that scientifically proves that our jobs are shit and we should all bunk off and drink coffee and then maybe gang-bang Charlie."
Grantil: That would be the best episode ever.
Froodle: That's what every episode is like anyway. They don't say it explicitly, but it's pretty clear the whole point of Numb3rs is that everyone wants to gang-bang Charlie.
Grantil: We need to go and work for the FBI.
Froodle: Seriously. We should say that in our exit interviews. "Qutting due to lack of gang-bangable mathematicians."
Grantil: Awesome. I'm putting that as a "suggestion for improvement" on my next Employee Engagement survey.
I didn't want to bring him down by pointing out that King Gas and the Royal Court of Price-Hiking Money Grabbers Who Can't Even Buy Us Decent Computers never listen to those suggestions, so I changed the subject to "non-fatal accidents we could get into that would prevent us from going to work." Incidentally, if somebody wanted to bomb the Crown Point around 9.40 tomorrow - I will love you forever, if I survive.
God, I hate my job. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 6th, 2008|10:40 pm] |
I AM LITERALLY ANGRY WITH RAGE! So it turns out, it wasn't that I "didn't get" the role in in the Correspondance team (read: writing letters instead of talking to fuckwits over telephone); my cuntfuckpisscockshitwanktardhateyoudiebitch manager didn't put me forward for it because she "didn't feel comfortable" doing so. Apparently I'm not ready for it. What? What?! Didn't feel I was ready for reading a bunch of fucking letters by illiterate halfwits and writing replies? Go fuck yourself! This is the same woman, by the way, who read the word "redress" in a briefing as "red dress" and actually wondered out loud why they'd used that term in relation to our compensation policy. I fucking shit you not.
Clearly the only option left to me is to stage a string of fake serial killings using red ribbon, a set of false teeth and my own natural ability to put the "sick and wrong" into "sick and wrong". Watch out, crazy homeless people - Froodle is coming, and she's going to fuck you up.
I had some stuff I was going to say about the last season of the 4400, but I'm too cross now to get appropriately enthusiastic about Jordans hotness, so I'll leave that for tomorrow. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 24th, 2008|09:59 pm] |
Hah! I just got an email in my Spam folder with the subject line, "Eeeeeerection problems? URGYAR solves!" It's so awesome, it sounds like some angry club-wielding horn-hat-wearing barbarian named Urgyar has come to our world to fight erectile dysfunction. He could be a new superhero. He shoots little blue pills from his eyes! When you see him, you get a massive hard-on! Yes, even you, ladies.
Maybe there could even be a crossover with my other imaginary comic book character, King Gas. His superpower is kind of Power Rangers-like - form of EXORTIONATE PRICE HIKES! Shape of SHITTY BILLING SYSTEM THAT DOESN'T WORK! Unite to form RIDICULOUSLY HIGH DIRECT DEBIT AMOUNT!
...in case you're wondering, I still hate my job. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 17th, 2008|11:46 pm] |
Fucking hell, I hate my job. My manager just denied me a payrise because, I shit you not, apparently I'm too negative. I just felt like saying, of course I'm negative, have you failed to notice what a completely fucking awful job this is? And despite how incredibly soul-destroyingly shit it is, I still completely kill at it, so in fact you should be kissing my ass for being awesome and not going on a kill-rampage through the call centre. And also, do you really think keeping me on my current pittance is the way to get me to cheer the fuck up? Because being poor doesn't exactly help me stay perky, fucknuts!
I bet Todd would have given me a raise. Or killed me. Either way, sweet relief. |
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| VOTE TODD! |
[Sep. 15th, 2008|11:04 pm] |
So anyway, as I was saying before I got distracted by the unexpected WONDERFULNESS of the Lost Boys 2, I'm starting a campaign to get Todd elected as Prime Minister of Britain. Obviously, I will expect all of you to join me in my mission, but not through my usual methods of threatening and insulting. Oh no, this time I will persuade you with the force of my SUPERIOR LOGIC!
...except I got bored of writing things, so I made a poster instead. BE INSPIRED!
I was going to make one that had him pointing with the caption "Your country needs YOU... for food," but I couldn't draw a pointing hand.
Anyway, although my immense skill as an artist should be enough to win you over, here is the quick version of why Todd should be Prime Minister:
- While he is without doubt a parasite who lives from draining the life out of others, this does not actually make him any different to any other British political figure at this time. You all knew I was going to make that point, so don't look suprised.
- There are too many dolees, old people, retards and general scratters out there. I have to talk to most of them on a daily basis. If he eats them all, my job will get easier and we can spend taxpayers money on cool things like lasers instead of benefits for scrouging pikeys.
- He actually consults his people before getting them involved in illegal wars, listens to what they say, and if they refuse to participate, lets them go on their merry life-sucking way.
- He has a space ship. MORE THAN ONE!
- He never lets his people become the bitch of any other country, civilization or fucked-up hybridized Michealthings. Unlike the British government, who have succesffuly turned England into Americas zipper-mouthed gimp. I'm just sayin', Todd wouldn't stand for that shit.
- He has a cool beard. Does David Cameron have a cool beard? I don't think so.
And I know some of you are thinking, "Okay Froodle, you're very blase about letting him eat all the people you hate, but you wouldn't be so sanguine if it was you on the end of his bitin' hand," so let me just point out that I work in customer service, which is remarkably similar to having the life sucked out of you except worse because you don't ever die! Plus at least if I was Wraithchow, I wouldn't have to pay rent or utilities on my own snug little cocoon, and I wouldn't have to talk on the 'phone while I was waiting to be eaten. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 19th, 2008|11:07 pm] |
Man, I am going to have no money at all in October. I just got the email from Amazon giving me the release date for Iron Man as the 27th, there's already a ton of stuff I want that gets released then, plus it's Halloween so I'll spend shitloads on decorations and food shaped like bats and stuff. I guess I could offer to do some overtime at work, but frankly double and even triple time is not enough to get me to set foot in that hellhole when I don't absolutely have to.
Incidentally, I know at least one of you is going to suggest I just don't buy everything I want as soon as it comes out, so let me pre-empt you by saying: shut up, stop hanging around on LJ giving out useless advice, and go and watch In Bruges.
Which, by the way, is so awesome that I am watching it again right now, and I only came on LJ to share what is officially my favourite line in a movie that is entirely comprised of favourite lines: "Ken, I grew up in Dublin. I love Dublin. If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, so it doesn't." I'd like to say I will use a variation on this at every opportunity, but it doesn't work for me as a) the island I grew up on is pretty much one giant sheep-fucking farm surrounded by ocean and b) although I am not myself retarded, pretty much everyone else there was. And is. So it doesn't really fit.
Fortunately, my second-favourite line in the entire film, "I believe, Ken, that the balance shall tip in the favor of culture, like a big fat fucking retarded fucking black girl on a see-saw opposite...a dwarf" is good for pretty much all occaisons. Or it will be, once I have perfected the art of bringing scale-tipping into every conversation I shall ever have. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 20th, 2008|12:16 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | 28 weeks later, angel, dahmer, i am sick, jeremy renner, job of doom, kathy najimy, liam neeson, liam neeson is god, lou diamond phillips, numb3rs, swat | ] |
So apparently I have laryngitis. I would like to say YES OH MY GOD THANK YOU LIAMNEESON! but I have completely lost my voice, so I can't say anything at all. And in case you're wondering why I should be so joyful about contracting a voice-stealing viral infection, it's because I am now doctor-ordered to stay off the 'phones and away from fuckwit customers. So in your FACE, House of Gas, if you'd let me off when I first told you my voice was going and my throat hurt, it probably wouldn't have gotten to this stage, but now? Now you can suck my DICK for the next few weeks. That'll teach you to treat your employees like shit and assume you know the rhythms of my body better than I do.
On an entirely different note, is there some kind of secret rule that Jeremy Renner doesn't get to live to the end of any movie ever? Even when you really think that this time will be the time he makes it, he always ends up getting stabbed or run over by a train or set on fire by the stupid US Army. Also, it's very confusing when people keep calling him Doyle. I don't think that should be allowed.
In other news, I have been re-watching the earlier seasons of Numb3rs, you know, back when Don supplied the required amounts of suspect-beating and manly violence, and seriously, it is so awesome. I love that bit where Megan and Charlie are having a conversation about some evil professor dude having a poker tell, and Megan's all, *gives psychological advice* and then Charlie asks to borrow some FBI survelliance equiptment to spy on the evil dude and Megan's like, "Uhh... no." And Charlie looks really put out, like it was a totally reasonable request and Megan's just being awkward about it. Also, the whole Thing with Megan and Larry is so cute and filled with convoluted cosmic metaphor and general coolity. Like when they're having a conversation about bathtubs and Megan's all, trying to insinuate Adult Things and Larry keeps going on and on about Archimedes and other Larry-like stuff and it's just great and adorkable.
Also, the whole Colby/Charlie thing has totally grown on me - like in the treasure-huntin' episode when Liz is all new and Charlie is jibbing about some... I think it was a towboat or something, I don't know... and Liz is being all skeptical about the POWERS OF MATHS and she's like, "Tch, silliness!" and Colby's all, "No really, he's fun to watch" and Liz gives him this look like, "Yeah, maybe for you, I prefer my Eppes with more MANLY VIOLENCE, thank you very much." And when Kathy Najimy keeps trying to manipulate Charlie into doing stuff by comparing him to James Bond, and he shows up at a crime scene in a tux and he's all, IMMA LIKE JAMES BOND WITH MATHS! and Colby is like, "no" and Charlie is like, *sadface* and OMG you guys it is so cute, go and watch Numb3rs!
Argh... you know when you want fic, but you're too lazy to go look for it yourself? That's what I'm like at the moment. Somebody go find me some Colby/Charlie fic that is awesome and contains no sadness or angst or anything bad. Oh, and especially nothing where the characters waste pages and pages whining about how Don/David/Alan/Larry/Megan will react. They will be awesome, just like they always are. Lou Diamond Phillips will probably be disapproving, but he and Don will glare at each other through their alpha-male sunglasses until they feel the issue is resolved. Then everyone will drink coffee. It's just like a real episode, but with mankissing! I should totally write for TV. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 1st, 2008|10:29 pm] |
Okay, seriously people, I have something important to say here. If you really must ring a call centre and get all attitudey with the monkeys, and then decide that we're not kissing your over-compensating ass enough and try to impress us with your giant vocabulary and massive intellect:
Then for God's sake, don't use a word that is not only wrong, but in fact means pretty much the opposite of what you wanted to say. "Laudable" is a good thing. It is not a word you use when complaining about how we've doubled the amount you pay by monthly direct debit. I don't know if you meant "laughable" or "ludicrous" or maybe even maybe "deplorable," but believe me, you didn't mean laudable.
So before you call us up and go on a rant, do us both a favour and make sure that worth-eighty-million-Scrabble-points word you plan on trying out actually means what you think it does. Because every time you get it wrong, I have to pretend I give a damn about your problem when there are tears of mocking laughter streaming down my cheeks and my teammates are listening on the handset and sniggering and mouthing "what an idiot" at me.
Have some consideration. Now that would be laudable.
Also, don't call up and whine about being a single mother with three kids on benefits. Shut your mouth, shut your legs and go get a fucking job. It's bad enough that you're even alive, without the horror of knowing you've already reproduced multiple times. You get nothing. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 13th, 2007|11:38 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | alan&jess, asoue, colin farrel, daleks yay, dr who, elizabeth knox, james, job of doom, lemony snicket, mr t, rocky | ] |
Man, what the hell is going on with parsnips in this city? There is like a Leeds-wide shortage of parsnips. All Morrisons had were two lonesome prepacked bags of the most tiddly and pointless parsnips ever to be dragged from Gods green earth, and at my local greengrocer? Three. THREE! How am I supposed to make roast parsnips if the Parsnip Gods conspire against me in this way?
Well, my four day weekend was a veritable cornucopia of joy, cake, joy, pastries, joy, potroast, joy, Colin Farrell and joy. It was joyful. Went to A&Js, where the four of us cooked a big roast dinner, (well, three of us. James mostly just got in the way) watched TV and discussed such mind-boggling questions as
- Could Sunny Baudelaire bite through Dalek battlearmour?
- Is it possible to build a robot capable of defeating Mister T?
- What were the people responsible for the new Rocky movie thinking?
Of course, the rest of the week was the usual round of stupid customers, rude customers, customers who can't speak English and customers who for one reason or another are just plain annoying. Still, it is now Saturday, I have in the bag at my feet three parsnips and batteries for a remote control Dalek (which I shall be using to chase Bellatrix around the room until I get bored or she stops freaking out), and the sequel to Elizabeth Knox's fantastiful book, the Rainbow Opera, so if the idiot in the computer booth next to me would just stop his wittering, I'm pretty much set for 48 hours of gleeful lazification. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 3rd, 2007|06:34 pm] |
VICTORY IS MINE! I have at last triumphed over the beast that is Gamestec, and having completed my nine-day stint, I may now kick back and enjoy my four-day weekend with the Hogfather, Torchwood and whatever episodes of the Wire that I don't watch tonight. Also, I would like to say that Stringer Bell makes economics both sexy and dangerous, and if he was an actual lecturer instead of a drug-dealing dealer of drugs, I would actually get up on time for his classes. Because otherwise he would KILL ME DEAD in both a literal and figurative sense.
In other news, though the Devil in Amber may lack the homoerotic misadventures that made the Vesuvius Club such a bundle of man-lovin' joy, it does without a doubt have the best opening line ever: "He was American, so it seemed only fair to shoot him." Aanywa, it is plenty homoerotic thus far and I think Miriglum is telling lies when she says otherwise.
Also, you know what I totally forgot to mention in my trauma over Greasy McPimpface and my glee over Torchwood? This absolutely spooktastic fog that came out of NOWHERE IN PARTICULAR last Thursday. Seriously, I said goodbye to HAG, went into Borders, noodled around somewhat and bought Torchwood, and when I emerged Leeds was made entirely of grey spooky greyness! And then I had to walk home and it was pretty damn spooky, but not in a cool way like fog on the IoM is spooky, where all it's hiding is boring Isle of Man-ness, but in a SCARY and UNPLEASENT way whereby the fog is hiding NEFARIOUS VILLIANS. And because this is Leeds, it wouldn't be cool nefarious villians like werewolves or ghostcars, but distasteful and everyday nefarious villians like muggers and rapists.
Anyway, I believe that's about it for tonight, so I bid you adeiu and farewell while I go and enjoy my FOUR DAY WEEKEND! Later days. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 28th, 2006|07:54 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | bones, dr who, eerie indiana, highlander, job of doom, johnny depp, miami vice, people make me sick, phillip reeves, pirates, roger daltrey, snithy, that 70s show, the dave, thief lord, torchwood | ] |
So, before I start my traditional "it's payday so get thyself to ye olde internet cafe and pay off your credit card bill while swearing never to overindulge in spendthriftery ever again as long as you live, wench" missive, I would like to point out that if you don't read Philip Reeve's Larklight right away, you will burst into flames from lack of PURE AWESOME. Space! Space giant spiders! Space Queen Victoria! Space pirates! Space corsets! Space houses in space! It's full of greatness and space. It even has drawings. Truly, it could not be a better book even if it had Johnny Depp, and surely there can be no higher praise than that.
Christmas, while lacking in the third season of Miami Vice, was nonetheless a pleasent affair of not being at work, eating mince pies and watching such festive themed delights as the Thief Lord, (it has snow!) Doctor Who, (the Christmas Invasion, so it totally counts, and Fiyero is so blatently gay it is unbelievable) that episode of Bones where they all get locked in the lab on Christmas Eve and Dave gets high on antibiotics* and Hodgins is revealed to have a suprisingly good body for a ginger person... and then I got bored of Christmas and watched That 70s Show and Eerie, Indiana instead. And Fitzcairn was in That 70s Show, and I think it's a sign that God wants me to buy Highlander again. So it was fun, and quiet, and generally very joyous.
But then! Oh Boxing Day, the drama of it all. See, I had to work, but none of the buses were running. So I arranged to get a lift with one of the girls I work with, and I'm standing on a street corner at eight in the morning, freezing my ass off, when I am approached by a very large, very black, very heavily-accented man who asks me if I'm okay. So I say that yes, I'm fine, I'm just waiting for someone. So he asks if I'm working, and I reply that I am. And then he asks if I have a place we can go, apparently under the impression that ladies of the night work at eight in the morning on Boxing Day. No, no, say I, I didn't mean that sort of working. I'm waiting for a lift, for my job which is in an office. So he walks off some distance down the street, and I try to stop my knees from shaking and use my psychic powers to get Jayni out of bed. Alas, to no avail. Sleazy McUseswhores returns, and asks if he can have my number. I say that's not a good idea, and that I have a boyfriend. Sleazy replies that he could make me happy (because every woman wants a guy who uses prostitutes and assume that any unaccompanied female out in public must be on the game) and that I have beautiful long hair. I do that quick, panicky, "Oh God help me I'm going to be found raped and strangled in a ditch in Beeston and I know I said I'd do anything to get out of work but not this please Jayni hurry the fuck up!" equivilent of a smile, and Sleazy continues that perhaps I need a knight in shining armour to cut my hair for me, and at that point I fake a text message, babble an excuse and run all the way back to my house.
And then Jayni didn't show up at all, so I had to get a lift with another girl who didn't start until ten, and then I had to walk home from Horsforth and I got lost and ended up in about twenty million industrial estates, and then Holbeck, but eventually I got back so it was okay. And nobody else thought I was a hooker.
Anyway, that was pretty much the stand-out moment since I last wrote, and now I must go home and immerse myself in Torchwood, having done the traditional pay-day shopping trip and coffee with Hot Allocator Girl (whose number I have finally got, go me!) and perhaps do some Hoovering or similar domestic tasks. Although, probably not.
*And while we are on the subject of Dave, Snithy, I rewatched that scene with him and Goodman and their pillows were not touching so you just keep your filthification to yourself, thank you. Dave/Goodman is wrong. Because, the squints are like a super-awesome family in which Goodman is the Daddy and thus Dave/Goodman is incestuous and cross-generational and generally too horrible to contemplate. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 12th, 2006|07:27 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | bones, david tennant, dr who, happy feet, heath ledger, house, hugh jackman, i hate robin williams, idina menzel, job of doom, public transport, the dave, wicked | ] |
Oh my God, I hate buses. Because I was out of town last week, I didn't realise they were striking in Leeds yesterday so like a total plank I waited in the RAIN and the COLD and the DARK and then I had to walk into town where MORE WAITING OCCURED and I was an hour and a quarter late and my manager had the nerve to give me attitude, like I really fucking planned to stand outside that long and maybe get frostbitten toes. And now I owe James cake and/or a monkey holding a puppy for giving me a lift home, and that just WOUNDS MY PRIDE!
But, in gooder news, I now own the second season of new Doctor Who (Genevieve, I blame you for encouraging me to gaze in wonderment at David "way better at being Casanova than Heath Ledger, that knave" Tennent) and HAH! Fiyero is the Prime Minister's aide. It is totally awesome and hilarious and wrongsick all at once, because his voice is MADE OF POSHNESS and it's almost a parody of poshness and then he has to say "rock!" in that voice and it makes me laugh. Although, the Doctor was totally whingy when the Prime Minister blew up those stupid aliens, like slave-trading mind-trick-playing aliens are such a loss to the world. And he's like, waahh, they were leaving, waah, and she's like, yeah, to RETURN WITH MORE ALIEN HOMIES AND ENSLAVE US ALL and the Doctor gets all on his high horse about how evil humanity is, like we didn't already know that we're capable of some of the scuzziest actions in the universe. I mean, I know that, and I haven't been around for squillions of years. Also, I would have done exactly the same thing, only burnier and more painful and, if at all possible, to their children. Because nobody wants a blood feud, am I right? Yeah, I should be the Prime Minister. I'm going to make that my platform when I run for office: A VOTE FOR FROODLE IS A VOTE FOR DEAD ALIEN BABIES! Who's with me?
Also, I have vowed to cut my moaning about Temperance Brennan by at least 20%, based purely on the fact that she makes fun of short people. And encourages My Man Dave to do the same. There should be more mocking of people with genetic conditions on shows that are not House. MOCK FOR JESUS!
Anyway, I am running out of time here and there are potatoes that need eating at home, so I shall just leave you with my thoughts on Happy Feet:- it wasn't as good as the trailer made it look, Robin Williams ruins everything and Hugh Jackman is much more believable as an Elvis-penguin than he is as a posh rat from London. I would marry Memphis. YES EVEN THOUGH HE IS A PENGUIN! Except, of course, I would never cheat on Idina. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 5th, 2006|01:07 pm] |
BRAY LIVES! At least, he lived at some point in the recent past, according to Ickle KC, who is no longer Ickle and is in fact quite burly and hunksome. So that was a little spark of joy with which to end the last season of the Tribe.
In other news, work is horrible and one day soon I will kill everyone there. With fire! And monkeys! And fire-breathing monkeys made of fire! Or possibly I will just hand in my notice and run away to Spain or something. And send them a mocking postcard that then BURSTS INTO FLAMES AND BURNS THEM ALL TO DEATH.
On a lighter note, the German market is in town now, and I went on the carosel and it was Awesome! Although I did not get either younger or older, which makes me suspect that Cornelia Funke is telling porky-pies about the supposed magical quality of roundabouts. For shame, Cornelia Funke! Also, I am rereading the Aubrey-Maturin books and they are the most funniest thing ever and I can't believe I forgot how glee-inducing they could be.
Anyway, that's all the news I have for you this week; my dad came over on Sunday but it was boring so I shall not bore you with it, and I have decided to give American Gothic another chance and just TOTALLY IGNORE DOCTOR BILLY because Lucas's hair is so shiny and pretty and must be watched. Also Hyde was in it! And Lucas totally kicked his ass which means Lucas is cooler than Hyde, oh my God! In fact, I think I shall go buy mince pies and then go home and watch it Right Now. So good day to you, sirs! |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 6th, 2006|06:48 pm] |
I can't believe Supernatural gave me nightmares. I am such a loser. And it wasn't even about Sam's ominous squinty eyes, either. Incidently, everyone who told me it was superhomoerotic? You are liars and I hate you. And your children. And your children's children. For one month!
But, it's okay, because you know what is homoerotic? Oh yes, the Tribe! How spiteful is Bray dragging Lex off to do security detail on his honeymoon? Whatever, Bray. It's fine for you to tramp around with Danni, Possessor of the World's Most Annoying Voice*, but Lex gets hooked up and you turn into a jealous, whiny manbitch. Oh wait! You already were.
In other news, rumours that I may have stabbed someone in the leg with a cunningly concealed herd of knives are completely exaggerated, Snithy is a filthy, Robson Green-fancying, Smallville-buying liar and none of you are to believe her. No! Rumours that I forced her to sit through I Was A Teenage Vampire and endure the almighty horror that is Wilson in short-shorts, too much blusher and a really horrendous shade of lipstick are, however, accurate. WILSON WEARS SHORT-SHORTS! No, I did not make that up.
And in yet other news, I hate work so much at the moment. Idiothairdresser has just gone full-time, and while that would be dire news in itself, she managed to get her stupid townie-duck ass kicked off allocation (a job which kept her on the far side of the office from where I, lowly phone-monkey, reside) and now she sits at my workstation and I have to listen to her fucking bleating all day long and oh my God, I am going to stab her. And now I have to work ten days in a row because my supervisors basically gave me the choice between involuntary overtime and losing a day of my beautiful precious weekend, or having to do a ten-day stint but get all four days off. They are so totally taking the piss lately, and if this keeps up, I really will hand in my notice.
And! In some more news, finally my stupid-ass insurance company have gotten back o me about that break-in back in May - May! - apparently they "lost" my file and didn't bother to tell me until last week. Still, my brokers now have all my details and are saying they think it will be settled by next week. So yay!
Anyway, that's all I have time for now, as it is time for more Supernatural and perhaps some pie. And perfecting my cake-knife technique so that I can kill Idiothairdresser in a way that makes it look like an accident. Farewell!
*Apart from the Idiothairdresser, who, as previously mentioned, sounds like a townie-duck. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 29th, 2006|12:55 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | alex rider, band of brothers, boomtown, catholic priests, colin farrel, corydon, gay cop shows, highlander, i hate bt, i hate moving, i hate your kids, job of doom, miami vice, monkeys, teen mothers, the tribe | ] |
Well, because BT are fucking retarded, it looks like I won't be getting the Intarwebs in my (oh so cool) new apartment anytime soon. A curse and embarrasing social diseases upon them all. Fortunately help is at hand in the form of an internet cafe just down the road from my (as previously mentioned, oh so cool) new place, so I will still be around, just not as frequently.
In the meantime, life goes on as usual; work is work (although a certain Annoying Individual has returned after three months of sick leave and you know, you'd think you'd get over hating someone in three months but no, she still does my face in); I have been watching Boomtown (So good! Lacking the homoeroticness of other, more Miami-Vice-esque cop shows but still... so good!) and Band of Brothers (yay for Donnie Wahlberg, who unlike Mark does not look like a victim of Downs Syndrome), rereading the Alex Rider books in preparation for Alex Pettifer's unbelievable hotness, getting into the Corydon books (lots of fun, despite complete over-use of the word "brazen" when it comes to describing the Gorgons) and flailing over the Miami Vice movie posters springing up at bus stops all over Leeds.
Also the Tribe has completely taken over my morning pre-work viewing sessions - nothing like a dose of Lex's super-Kiwi accent to start the day. I've seen the first three series now, and I have the following things to say:
Bray is gayer than a bag of monkeys.
Danni has the most horrendous voice ever.
Jack and Ellie are the cutest on-screen couple in the history of the world.
Luke needs a good feeding.
The Guardian is awesome.
KC is an absolute sweetheart and May is a bitch for giving Pride that rose.
The bloke playing Pride is such a ham.
Amber has the worst breaking-up-with-someone skills ever. Worse than Methos, even.
Ebony is my hero.
Salene is fugly, pathetic and annoying.
Evil!Trudy rocks.
I love that scene where the Guardian decides to raise "the true generation of Zoot" or whatever, and he gets all the preggos into one room and then he's like, "Stupid girls, how could they let this happen?" You go, the Guardian! The destruction of your civilisation is no reason to have unprotected sex, ladies. And then that one girl goes into labour and Luke is all, "Hoorah, you can be present at the birth of the first of Zoot's children!" and the Guardian's all, "Are you mad? I'm leaving." and then he just walks off and Luke is like, "Well, shit."
Anyway, my hour is nearly up so I shall have to love you and leave you. I'll try to be online at some point next week, so you can all stay tuned for the exciting adventures of me. In the meantime, eat all your vegetables, don't pick fights with the Clergy and watch out for ninjas and monkeys when you're walking alone at night. |
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[Jun. 23rd, 2006|08:38 pm] |
( Read more... )
Sex, ninjas, forbidden love, Liam Neeson and the bitterness only a lifetime in customer service can produce? Tell me that wouldn't make for a great story. I'd read it. |
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[Jun. 16th, 2006|09:26 pm] |
So I think I've mentioned before that during quiet spells at work, my fellow phone-monkeys and I play games like Squares, Consequences and Pictionary. Well, today was horribly busy and we barely had time to breathe, let alone play fun games with pages torn from our training manuals. SO! I have decided that I shall make people play Pictionary with me over LJ.
( Read more... )
A snapper board means it's a film title, a TV set means a TV show, a book means a book, a musical note means a song, band or album name, and a star in a square means a celebrity or famous character. Comment with your guesses, and whoever gets it right gets to do the next picture, either as a post in their own LJ or in a fresh comment-thread here. If you get stuck, you can ask the person drawing to give you another clue, although they don't have to if they can't be arsed.
LET THE CRAPPINESS BEGIN! |
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[Jun. 14th, 2006|10:09 pm] |
The lesson for today is thus: when someone at work asks what you're doodling on the back of a sign-in sheet, the correct answer is hardly ever "A comic about what would happen if Liam Neeson was God." Even if it happens to be true.
( Read more... ) |
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[Jun. 8th, 2006|10:25 pm] |
Three days! Three fucking days with no system, with moronic customers and snotty collectors and pissy account managers and all of them pissing in my ear as if I am the fucking Patron Saint of Shitty Computer Programmes! The phrase "I am a collector" is not an appropriate response when I ask you for the Goddamn postcode. I don't care if you're the Queen of fucking Sheba, you give me the information I ask for or you get the fuck off my line and let me help somebody who isn't going to give me attitude.
Seriously, some days I could just kill people and wear bits of their anatomy around my neck as a warning to others.
In other news, Earthian manga OMG! Pretty boys with wings, forbidden love and the fate of the world hanging in the balance... yup, that's pretty much everything you need for an awesome story right there. |
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[Jun. 7th, 2006|11:05 pm] |
So, on my bus route home, there's this massive billboard advertising some internet dating agency. It's basically a row of little couples like those male and female silloettes you get on public toilets, but it's got two male siloettes wearing cowboy hats and one pink lady silloette and a clown. And I'm like, okay, Brokeback Mountain, I get it, but lest we forget, Jack dies horribly and Ennis ends up living in a trailer! How is that a fucking recommendation for a dating service? "Use us, and you too can be beaten to death on some dirt track by a bunch of angry tire iron-weilding yokels!" Oh goody! Sign me up for that. And a clown? Why, dear God, would you want to marry a clown? And why would you advertise it?
Seriously, people, think this stuff through. Otherwise I'll have to come along and make fun of you for it. |
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[Jun. 6th, 2006|10:26 pm] |
God! Today was a stupid day. The bus was late and the entire system crashed at work and we ended up having to write out everything by hand, and my God, what part of "the system is down" gives people problems? I can't look you up on the fucking computer because. It. Is. Down. It's not my fault you're too fucking retarded to know the name of the person who manages your account, and the last time I checked, my ID card said Customer Service Advisor, not Babysitter For The Mentally Deficient.
On a more upbeat note, I'm watching the Wire and oh my God, Idris Elba is Teh Hotness. And he can do an American accent and have it be all non-cringeworthy and he's all evil with his glasses and pinstripe suit and he draws little cartoons and OH MY GOD HE MUST PLAY LOUIS OR I WILL KILL YOUNGLINGS AND FALL IN LAVA! You know, if they ever made a Charlie Parker movie. Which they probably shouldn't because often it is not a good thing when books of awesomeness become movies of... less-than-awesomeness.
On the subject of books that may or may not become movies, does anyone remember when Inkheart was published here and the cover was all, "Soon to be a major motion picture!"? Well, that was a couple of years ago and I do not see any motion pictures, major or otherwise. I did, however, catch the pitiful one-day-only screening of the Thief Lord; I'm a big believer in the idea that even a mediocre film looks better on the big screen, and being already familiar with the movie itself gave me a chance to really enjoy some of the beautiful scenery. And perve on Rollo Weeks, of course. |
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[Jun. 4th, 2006|10:24 pm] |
Ow. My. Fucking. Ear. I don't know what the fuck is going on with this, but it's pissing me off; I've been fine all day, then around six o'clock it starts to hurt a little and now? I'm in fucking agony. Again! And I can't take any more time off work and I have too much stuff to do, with the moving and the finding of a house to move into and blah-blah-blah, and goddamnit Ear Thing will you just fuck off because I don't have time to deal with you right now.
On a lighter note, I know I've said this before but man, Don Johnson has some girly-looking legs. Seriously, that scene in the second season premier when he wakes up in that crazy woman's bed and the camera pans up from his feet all the way to his thighs? I thought they were hers! His calves are way too shapely, it's just not right. And also, aww - AWWWWW! - for that scene with him and Rico at the airport near the end. Awww! |
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[May. 24th, 2006|09:52 pm] |
I always feel really uncomfortable whenever I see William Russ playing a bad guy, because to me he's always Corey's harrassed but loving dad on Boy Meets World and I can't reconcile him with being Alma's asshole father on Deadwood (possibly the only time I have actually cheered Bullock on was when he beat the shit out of ol' Otis) or a self-destructive ATF agent with a ten-year boner for Sonny on Miami Vice. (I'm not making this up, I swear; even if there wasn't the whole repressed-homophobic-self-loathing thing going on, that whole "Make me happy, Sonny! Make me happy!" scene totally speaks for itself)
Of course, I feel pretty uncomfortable right now anyway as Earthing has returned with a vengence, meaning I get to sit at home vomiting and losing money I can ill-afford to be without. Suffice to say, I am not best pleased.
Now, I'm off to find Sephiroth/Cloud mastubacest, and if anyone interupts me I'm going to shove a wire coathanger down their ear so they can really feel my pain. |
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[May. 19th, 2006|10:07 pm] |
Usually it's pretty cool when you discover that people around you are into something you're just getting interested in - they can tell you stuff and you can borrow their DVDs and laugh about bad things happening to Sawyer together. But then you feel bad because they have Big Important Theories about stuff and they're all like, "the Island represents Purgatory" and then proceed to explain why this means you are not, alas, free from Boone, King of Monobrows, because nobody dies in Purgatory, and you're sitting there thinking, "Man, I would so do Naveen Andrews" and that represents your entire contribution to the fandom.
Also, the Others. Pretty much Reavers, am I right? Only Reavers with a grudge against French people, so good Reavers, insofar as this is possible. Useful, Alliance-slaying movie!Reavers, rather than mean series!Reavers with creepy interior decorating skills.
In other news, my rota is all messed up again and so I have to work this weekend, which combined with the fact that I forgot to ask someone to record the A-Team Reunion Special last night means that someone is going to die. And by "someone" I mean "a bunch of homeless people because nobody cares about them".
On a lighter note, PlayUSA emailed me to let me know that the third season of XME should be winging it's way to me in the near future, so expect much babbling about Pietro and Lance in the coming weeks. |
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[Apr. 29th, 2006|11:34 pm] |
So there's a new starter at work today, and I was training her and chatting to her in that tentative getting-to-know-you-enough-to-decide-if-you're-worth-knowing-better way that I do with people I just met that I may have to spend a lot of time with, and the conversation turned to cute animals of our aquaintance and she was telling me about her six month old rescue kitten and I'm like, awwsocute, because I love kittens, and she's like, "Yes, he was so weak and tiny when we first got him but now Binx is such a handsome cat..." and I was like, "Binx... as in Hocus Pocus?" and she was like, "Oh yes" and I was like OMG YOU ARE MY HERO! Although now I want to watch EI and I can't because Kirsten has borrowed my DVDs and that makes me sad, but her cat is called Binx and that is so totally awesome!
Now, it's off for bunny snuggles and gay 80's cop shows for me, so goodnight all. |
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[Apr. 21st, 2006|11:33 pm] |
Oh my God, what a horrible couple of days. I feel like my face is frozen in "baleful glare" mode for all eternity. At least I'm off tomorrow, and the extra money will come in handy for such essential items as "more Miami Vice" and "chocolate". In fact, I'm gonna go into town tomorrow and get me a bag of rum truffles from Thorntons and then I'm gonna come home and sit on the sofa and perv on Sonny (but not in that season where he went crazy and started thinking he was Burnett because omg fugly ponytail NO!) and just not talk to anybody at all ever. |
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[Apr. 13th, 2006|09:46 pm] |
Oh my God! I totally won a trip to Scotland in this prize-draw thingie at work today. So completely awesome! Of course, it's not until the last week in September (deliberately picked to avoid all the screeching hellbrats that abound in summer) but still - totally fucking awesome.
In other news, it has come to my attention that certain people of my aquaintence are dirty, dirty RPS fangirls. We were discussing the "merits" - and I use sarcastic quote marks - of OTH, and I said something to the effect that the only thing keeping me interested were the vague hope that someone is going to swing for Nathans-Meen-and-Fugly-Dad-who-by-the-way-is-Lame-and-a-Total-Has-Been and the whole Nathan/Lucas slashiness, and she said that what I was seeing was the fallout from the fact that the actors who play Nathan and Lucas are attracted to each other in real life. Then I asked how anyone could tell, since the guy playing Lucas doesn't act, he just squints, and we decided he must be related to Micheal Shanks, since Daniel conveys emotions entirely through blinking. He's like that crippled dude in that book that I totally didn't finish because it was boring where he dictates everything by batting an eyelid or whatever and I was all like, just being some kind of ubercripple doesn't make you a good writer. Then I went and read some Byron, oh snap I totally went there!
Also, it really makes me mad when people come up to me and do some dumb shit like telling me to smile or cheer up. Fuck off! If I felt like smiling, I'd fucking smile! I mean, what are you, the fucking Good Mood Nazi? Go fuck yourself and stop trying to dictate other people's facial expressions. I was actually in an okay mood until you came along and made me angry by being a patronizing jackass and now I am scowling because I want to rip your heart out and devour it in front of you, you cockmuncher. |
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