They are coming to get you...

I have got the family down for the annual visit this weekend. Which will be nice. It’s starting off well as my dad, who isn’t even here yet, is keeping me highly amused with his text messaging abilities. Yesterday he texted the landline instead of my mobile. This has demonstrated something that I never knew was possible. A nice BT robot lady (a Dutch robot I think) reads out the message for you. But when you’re not expecting it, man it’s scary! I pressed the answer phone play button and this disembodied voice started saying “Hello, I am very much looking forward to seeing you soon…” I thought the aliens were finally coming for me, or some psycho serial killer/one of my husband’s exes (they are pretty much interchangeable) had tracked me down. Very strange and just a bit unsettling.

Then today he texts to say he’s on his way. He managed to pick the right phone this time. But he sent me a picture of him texting me by mistake. Bless.

What else can the weekend possibly have in store?

The joys of working with a pessimist.

I thought I was bad. Until I met someone who literally sighs with relief when they survive another week unscathed. A colleague who shall remain nameless has a fascinating habit of obsessively scanning the online papers and declaring doom to all around on a daily basis. Last week she declared on Friday that she would be dead by Monday of the bird flu. When Monday came around she sheepishly turned up for week declaring that she still felt a “bit off”. Then there was the flu for real, despite having a flu jab. Trench foot from getting wet feet. Something nasty from going to bed too early or too late. And she has planned her escape if anything particularly nasty means they have to seal London off and stop people leaving.

Yes she has actually considered her options. For a wide array of nasty things that could happen. This is a peculiar trait, and I am being hugely entertained by it. And it makes me feel so much better. I am more a take it or leave it kind of girl, if your number’s up it’s a bummer but at least you haven’t spent the better part of your life worrying about it happening. Coz it’s coming to us all eventually. Ooh I’m starting to be a portent of doom now! Quick! To the vodka…

Cluck cluck cluck...

Righto, all you selfish people out there in North London. That's it! Last night my hubbie was supposed to have his flu jab, he gets one for free as he is diabetic. So we go to the doctor's after work to find they had a mad rush in the afternoon and have no supplies left. For 2 weeks. What is it with people? The media in the UK are whipping everyone up into a frenzy and so it's everyone out for himself. Never mind all the poor old dears who are likely to cark it this winter as it's supposed to be "the bitterest winter of all time" (apart from in 1962-63 apparently thankyou father-in-law) and no-one can afford to put the heating on as British Gas have upped their prices by millions of pounds. Or the people like my hubbie who are vulnerable to things like the flu. Oh no. Everyone's rushing to have a flu jab, despite it not helping at all against bird flu, just coz the bloody media has panicked everyone.

It makes me despair. The other week people were literally at each other's throats for petrol, based on another news story loosely based on actual facts. In Tesco's at the weekend, people were fighting over supplements to the News of the World (yes really!). When the millennium was supposed to wipe out computers, people were stockpiling beans and water. What would really happen if there was any real catastrophe? I really hope that these events prove me wrong and the "human spirit"or whatever it's called kicks in and everyone helps each other out. But if the free dvd isn't in the papers I wouldn't hold your breath!

Mel Gibson is Saddam Hussain shocker!

Look at Mel Gibson!! Is he being a body double for Saddam in the box? I think we should be told. And he used to be so cute...

Big fat hairy testicles

Man it's been a long week. I'm doing the Friday night dead zone shift in the library - and there's no-one else here!! Can I close up and get home early? No chance. Someone would turn up at 2 minutes before closing and complain that we weren't open. Now the main reason for my shitty week has been a barrister. I feel guilty for being mean to him now, but he has annoyed the living daylights out of me all week. There's this really complicated legal research thing we do, and normally we might get asked to do one a day, it takes the barrister involved at least half a day, sometimes a whole day, to get through it all and it's a pain in the butt. This bloke has done 10 since Monday, 2 of them tonight on my late night when everyone knows it is the law that nobody bothers you and you can surf the net all night. And now I feel mean for being surly when he had loads of work to do! But he refused to listen to us when we tried to explain how it works and was being really arrogant. Grr. I have anger issues, I tell you.

Anyway, in my non being a stroppy librarian life, today I noticed the most unlucky street cleaner in London ever. The poor guy must have really upset his superiors. Normally they have those weird picky-up sticks for grabbing rubbish without having to touch it. And really thick gloves in case of needles or broken bottles. This guy had a bin bag and one dodgy looking glove. He looked so forlorn I wanted to rush out to my local cleaning produce shop and buy him some things to help. He didn't even get a cart! My life isn't so bad really. And I've just noticed I seem to have developed an unhealthy obsession with rubbish.

It's a sign from the lord of crap!

I got home today and found a flyer from our council for a Recycling Competition!! Yes that's right, a Recycling Competition! Whoo! If you put a special sticker on your orange bag when you put it out, you stand to win a whole twenty pounds! Or even a hundred pounds once a month. This is so worth it. I am going to go through the bins at work too to make even more recycling. Oh damn, our library porter has the monopoly on that - I swear if I catch him rummaging through any more bins I'll...erm...probably mug him :-)

Bleurgh!!

In my obsession with Tom and Katie this quote came up.:

"We don't have a date yet," Tom revealed, "[But we have] big, big plans. We talk about it. I really didn't know that there were so many wedding magazines. I said, 'Are you kidding me? There are things for the flowers, the cake, the dresses' ... The thing that I love about Kate is that she's an artist, so she actually loves ribbons and she makes cards and creates art. She loves flowers, and she'll do her own floral arrangements. So it's going to be a lot of fun. It's going to be a celebration."

She loves ribbons?! Puhlease. They'll be telling us she loves to bake cookies and that they hold beetledrives and tupperware parties next.

It's kittens!

So Katie is up the duff! How did that happen? She has allegedly been saving herself for marriage has she not? I bet her parents are thrilled. And even though Tom is the “dad”, the first thing that came to mind was that poor Katie was impregnated alien abduction style and knew nothing about it. Tom obviously has a point to prove – “It was Nicole not me!!” – and what a way to do it. It makes up for the weeks of no TomKat news, this is probably because she’s been held captive in a cave in remote Peru while the Cruise Scientology nuts decided what to do with her. It’s too late for the poor girl now! And after Nicolas Cage called his baby after Superman, do you think Tom is going to call this one Jesus? Or even L. Ron Hubbard II? I am sure he thinks his baby will be the future of mankind and they carefully vetted all the young actresses to find a suitable carrier.

You couldn’t make it up really.

Rubbish!

I am SO obsessed with recycling, it's so sad. In our old place, we had a big black plastic box that took everything pretty much so saved on bin bags and made you feel very virtuous. In the new place we have big bright orange plastic sacks that take everything apart from glass and it's great! But I am concerned. On bin days, an 80 year old man (he is so frail I want to go and help him, the day we put a million cardboard boxes out soon after we moved in I felt so guilty) has the job of taking all the bags left out and piling them into one BIG pile before the truck turns up and the young 'uns throw them in the back. But he piles the normal binbags and the orange recycling ones into one big pile. Surely they can't all be thrown in the back willy nilly? What's the point of recycling if they do that? Hmm. I think we should be told. "Dear Household Excess Produce Removal Co-ordinator..."

Oh my god, it's catching!

So after my slagging off of Dwayne and Jordan and all their clones, I found myself at 1pm last Wednesday afternoon having a fight with a 6ft builder. How did that happen? I normally don’t provoke arguments or talk to strange CRIMINALS. But this one couldn’t get away. You see, I was making my own way home and I had such trouble trying to buy my train ticket (being the good honest citizen I am, but then again my hips wouldn’t let me jump the barriers) and then when I eventually got back to my station this sleazy guy in sweatpants breezed through the barrier straight after me. I saw it happening but I was too late to pull back and let him try it on some other law-abiding person. So what to do? Normally in central London they’re long gone while you’re considering your options. But matey? He was casually sauntering along in front of me, smug as you like and I wasn’t having it. I asked him what was wrong with the ticket he had in his hand and he tried fobbing me off with some sob story about the ticket not working and not wanting to ask the guards to let him through. Then he waved the ticket at me in the pretence of being honest, and in huge bold letters it said “child”. “You’re not a child” I said, and then he started: “'Ave you got an 'usband? Get your 'usband down here and I’ll hav' it out wiv 'im”. To which he got: “I don’t need my husband to sort you out!” That did the trick. Having some 5ft and a bit librarian (and I was looking particularly librarian-y that day) shouting at him and wagging her finger vigorously to emphasise his crimes seemed to nonplus him. I don’t think he’ll be travelling without a ticket ever again. In fact it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d gone straight back to the station and begged to be allowed to pay for years of fare-dodging.

Just beware anyone with criminal tendencies. You might meet me on a sunny afternoon. Then you’ve had it.