I swear to God, I could kill Bjork for that piece of filth, but that’s not why I’m here.
I’d actually like to formally apologise for being so quiet this week. My previous post wasn’t really big on entertainment, but it was all about clearing my mind and offering up a little something to the people mentioned in it, this more than anything will attribute to the zero comments received.
From there though it was all a boring, boring, boring down-hill slide. A decent into madness, if you will. Y’see my all time least favourite event took place over the weekend: Stocktake. Every year previously I’ve bitched and moaned about just how much I despise this pain in the arse. This year of course was no different. What really drives me to the brink of madness is not so much the count itself, but the crap that happens in the lead up to it. My manager ringing me up and getting me to do the things he’s left sitting untouched for the last year. The accounts department asking me stupid questions that they already know the answers to. This all adds up to one unhappy little chappy.
When I left work on Friday I was totally fried, my brain had gone into limp-home mode and refused to take on any new information.
Leone and I were meant to be driving to Geelong that evening and I was so excited about finally getting to see my boy, however with my impending mental overload and the fact I was running late (thanks to getting held back at work, natch) I didn’t particularly impress him with my conversational skills. I just sat in the car for a good twenty minutes, smoking and staring out my window. Eventually though my grey matter must have cooled down enough and I picked up my act, giving him a kiss and a hug, just as we reached Geelong (for those who don’t know that’s almost an hours worth of travel) and entertaining him with my recounts of peoples appalling behaviour during the week. From that point on he could barely shut me up and was forced to lock me in the car on a few occasions while he did his work deliveries, just so he could get a few moments of peace.
Saturday did go better than I expected too. The count didn’t take as long as I thought it might, however it was still close to seven hours, and I won’t even go into just how much I want to kill my little apprentice for losing one of the count sheets. The only thing worse than counting all that shit is counting some of it twice. Needless to say I was happy to get the hell out of the place and for all my trouble I got the use of one of the company cars for the remainder of the weekend, not one of the sexy AMG Benzes though, just a shitty little Renault Megane hatch, but still it beats catching the tram after a day like that. Of course I couldn’t stop there though could I? Oh god no. As something of a cool-down lap I ended up around at a mates place counting fairy lights. Why on earth would I do such a thing? Well, partly because I still had numbers racing around in my head that I needed to do something with and partly because my friend wouldn’t shut up about how they didn’t think there was 100 lights in the set. They were wrong.
Now that I have this head-fuck out of the way I may be able to pull myself together enough to get back to normal posting duties, so be sure to stay tuned for that, whenever the fuck it happens. I hope your weekend was a touch more exciting.
