(Sigh) I’m sick of being bored. I mean really, really sick of it. It’s getting to the point that I don’t actually want to do anything at all- I want to, obviously, but I can’t bring myself to.
The reason why is fairly obvious- the repetitive nature of doing nothing of note is actually quite crushing. Day in, day out, it’s pretty much the same, but unlike working (or in fact anything mildly interesting) nothing is gained from it. It really doesn’t help that the weather isn’t good (it is February, after all) so going for walks etc becomes a daft idea- it’s far too easy to get caught in a downpour or for it to suddenly become freezing cold.
I didn’t get that undertaker’s job I was going for- it turned out that the position had been filled for nearly 2 weeks, whereas I’d seen it advertised in the Job Centre on Friday, and went in person on the next Monday. Well played, Job Centre- at the time, it was the only job on your system that wasn’t either a) self-employed, b) a job where I’m vastly overqualified (seriously) or c) I haven’t got enough experience. That last point is a particularly irritating one- there was one job vacancy I could probably do, as an environmental officer……which required at least 12 years prior experience. Any less than 8 would not even be considered.
I’m going to stop ranting about this now, before I end up in some sort of hate spiral about my entire situation (again). I just hope that something turns up.
In other news, I’m going home next week for a few days. Not out of choice…well, not really. I’ve got a dental appointment that I have to go to. No idea what this is going to involve.
Finally, I’ve been trying to write again- no, I’ll rephrase that- I’ve been trying to finish all the various bits and pieces on my hard drive. Such as this sketchlet:
A young man- Joe- is being rubbed down (back/legs) by a young woman- Erika.
Joe- That’s nice. Yeah…
Erika- You like it? I can go a little harder if you want.
Joe- Actually, yeah, can you work just below the shoulder blades, please?
Erika- Of course.
[Erika continues to rub Joe’s back. General moans/sighs of comfort from Joe.]
Joe- God, you’re good at this.
Erika- I know. I’ve got a lot of clients. They love it.
Joe- I’m not surprised…
[Erika moves to Joe’s legs.]
Joe- Oh God that’s amazing…
[Erika looks to the left and right- now confident that they are alone.]
Erika- Would you like……your, erm…happy ending?
Joe- Excuse me?
Erika- You know, a happy ending– yes or no?
[Joe thinks for a minute]
Joe- ……go on then.
[Erika stops massaging Joe. Joe moves to a sitting position on the table. Erika produces 3 envelopes from under it.]
[MUSIC CUE: The Ventures, ‘Tequila’]
Erika- [Really upbeat/cheesy- think gameshow host] Your fiancée Sarah found that engagement ring you hid behind the downstairs toilet, and although she wasn’t keen on finding it tucked behind the cistern, she says ‘yes!’…
[Sarah comes in, smiling broadly. She hugs Joe]
Erika- Next- your great-aunt Gladys has got her results back- it’s an all-clear! AND her new-found lease on life means that she’s going to give you your inheritance early!
[Gladys appears with a bag, emblazoned with a £ sign.]
Gladys- [Stilted/wooden- as if she’s reading from an autocue or reciting lines] And my new-found lease of life means I’m going to give you your inheritance early.
[She hands the slightly confused, but overjoyed Joe and Sarah the bag. More hugs.]
Erika- and finally. Your dog, Sparky…
Joe- He’s been missing 3 weeks…no, you haven’t?! You found him??
Erika- Ehm, no. Not quite.
[Hands Joe a dog collar. Burn marks, broken etc]
Erika- You don’t want the other bits.
Sarah- Still, everything else is pretty good, isn’t it?
Erika- Yeah, it’s not a ‘perfect ending’. But we try our best.
Joe- Thank you.
[Joe, Sarah and Gladys make their leave]
Erika- My pleasure. See you again.
[Joe, Sarah and Gladys exit]
Erika- Makes the job worthwhile, really…(offstage) Sandra, I’m taking my lunch now.
Sorry about the lack of doodles today- I can’t find my sketchbook anywhere…so instead, here’s a bunch of random things from teh internetz:
It’s sad that the various dating website adverts (such as that infamously insipid ukulele player on the train station- let’s be honest, we all wanted that advert to cross over into a ‘don’t arse around near railways’-type) have killed off gems such as this:
In fact, do 1-900 numbers still exist?
Also, this may be the very best thing on the internet ever:
And finally, two of the greatest wrestlers of the 1990s, two of the most sadly missed wrestlers of all time.