A turn up for the books

The Shakespeare Pub. Friday afternoon. The Lumberjack's leaving drinks.


Lumberjack:  Chat, chat, chat, Clapham, chat chat...


YAAGers:  Oh, you live in Clapham? I'm don't live far from there.


Lumberjack:  Well, we should hook up for a drink one night then when you're in the area.


YAAGers:  (nonchalantly) Good idea. We'll have to swap numbers.


The Lumberjack reaches for his phone.


Lumberjack:  Hang on, stay still (he takes a photo of YAAGers with his camera phone). There, now your face will come up on my phone when you call me.


 


Golly.


 


So, the next question is: how long should I wait before I contact him?
1.3.04 12:03


The plan

Tonight I intend to:


- Make lentil and vegetable soup.


- Drink either red wine or some posh continental style bottled lager, purchased from the posh supermarket at the end of my road.


- Call my sister and moan about men.


- Finish re-reading Excession by Iain M. Banks.


- Fall asleep in front of the TV.


- Wake up cold and confused, then stagger to my bed.


 


Hooray for nights in on your own. Sheer bliss.
2.3.04 18:24


The reality

Because I know you're all dying to find out, here was how last night's plan panned out:


- Make lentil and vegetable soup - could not be bothered, because I was too drunk.


- Drink either red wine or some posh continental style bottled lager, purchased from the posh supermarket at the end of my road - settled on a decent bottle of red and polished the whole thing off on my own. Hence the drunken lack of soup manufacture. When my flatmate returned, she was a little surprised to find me sprawled in a booze-sodden heap in the living room.


YAAGers: D'you - *hic* - want schome wine? Oh, oops, I - *hic* - scheem to have finished it. Schorry. *hic*


Flatmate: Why have you drunk a whole bottle of wine?


YAAGers: Cosh I wanted to. *hic*


- Call my sister and moan about men - sister called me, she moaned about the fact that the burglar alarm wasn't working and she felt "at risk".


- Finish re-reading Excession by Iain M. Banks - read a little bit, then got sucked in by Tuesday night CrapTV. Shouted at the telly over Marc Warren's godawful Yankee accent in 'Hustle'. Screamed when I saw a mate starring in 'No Angels' on Channel 4. Television really is much more fun when you're wasted.


- Fall asleep in front of the TV - stayed resolutely awake.


- Wake up cold and confused, then stagger to my bed - not cold, not confused, but definitely staggered.


 


So really, only the wine aspect of the plan was actually carried off. Fortunately, it was the best part of the plan by a long chalk.
3.3.04 15:59


Bleeding...

The only thing more painful than a paper-cut.


A cardboard-cut.


Ouch. Ouch. Ouchouchouch.


 


I hope I don't bleed to death...
3.3.04 16:17


Now I can die happy

I am currently fighting a losing battle against the Stationery Cupboard From Hell (and not for the first time, unfortunately). I looked into a big cardboard box, expecting to see more old files and random pieces of metal. Instead, I found something wonderful.


It was a kind of bubblewrap, only the bubbles weren't set out in a grid as is usual - instead, they were linked together in a long chain. Each individual bubble was square... and measured a good 9cm x 9cm.


Oh. My. God.


I looked around. Nobody about. I placed the bubblewrap gently on the ground. I lifted my foot, and brought two inches of stiletto heel down in a hard stamp.


BAM!


Someone from the next-door-but-one office stuck their head out with a 'Whatthefuckwasthat?!', only to see me jumping about the stationery cupboard in paroxyms of delight.


I have just discovered the best thing in the world.
3.3.04 17:32


Before nine-thirty? Is that allowed?

The Corporate Overlords are coming over from the USA today to inspect their little British outpost. So everyone has been instructed to get in for 9am. This in a company where most people rock up around ten-ish with a hangover and a grande latté. Needless to say, everyone is in a bad mood. I, on the other hand, am hyper as a ferret on disco biscuits because I forgot to ask for a decaf coffee this morning.


Door swings open. Programmer comes in, white faced.


Programmer: Fuck me, it's early.


YAAGers: (totally wired on caffeine) Welcome to Before Nine-Thirty! I hope you enjoy your stay!


Programmer: Sngga-frggha-fking-mrican-bstrds.


YAAGers: Have a nice day!


Door swings open again. Editor comes in, looking shaky.


Editor: Bleurgh. Too... early....


YAAGers: How does it feel to be in before ten?


Editor: So very wrong. I don't like nine o'clock.


YAAGers: That's because it smells of wee.


I've come to the conclusion that the people at Clerkenwell Towers are a bunch of workshy slug-a-beds. I knew there was a reason I fit in round here.


Now you must excuse me. I need to go and run around in circles making bzzt-bzzt! noises. Caffeine. Just say no.
4.3.04 10:57


Smug

Guess who got a text from The Lumberjack yesterday? And then spent the rest of the afternoon MSNing with him?


Go on, guess.
5.3.04 12:28


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