I’ve Been Blocked Up!
Gee, I’m touched. What a great little cyber community……
I’ll tell you a secret. While you all were going great guns over the last few days (mainly sharing humiliations) I was coping with my own:
ONE OF THE WORST CASES OF WRITER’S BLOCK EVER IDENTIFIED…….
Credit: thorinside: flickr
It was torture. You don’t have to be Professor Schwarzenheim to deduce that there was a great anxiety- producing DISCONNECT between what I wanted to and what I was capable of writing. I’ve just had a look at some of the 60-odd lousy drafts I’d created since Monday….
***The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog’s arse……
***The Falcon cannot hear the Valiant….the P76 is loosed upon the world…..or:
***Seize the grotty day bed….and take it to the tip…….
PATHETIC….but the more I tried the worse it got……..
What have I learned? Hard but useful lessons. That if my plumber doesn’t turn up, it’s NOT negligence – rather Plumber’s Block. That if the nasty piece of work at the office smiles at me, it ISN’T genuine – just Bully’s Block. And….if that very good sort at the bus stop asks me out, it ISN’T attraction – it is almost certainly Weirdo’s Block…..
But, here I am: UNBLOCKED!
I have NO idea how I recovered or – for that matter – how I got blocked up in the first place (I’ll leave that to the experts). But I am thrilled that when I awoke today, IT was back – my SIGNATURE JOY of the sky-written, spoken and texted word. This is the first thing I wrote post-blockage.
The nifty quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog’s arse…..pausing just to lick it….
Have you ever been blocked up……? Do we all have to go through blocked up periods to appreciate the unblocked life? What does having an unblocked life REALLY mean? MORE of your most significant humiliations, MOST welcome……anything else?
Just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the ‘website’ space – not necessary!
Comment of the Week
February 19th, 2009 at 2:14 pm
Writer’s block is a serious albeit usually temporary condition, but we learn much when all fuses are blown or the pilot light is out.
Plumber’s Block (I CANNOT WORK HERE!) is another uncommon but discomforting malady (thank you The White Knuckle)
I suppose it is matched in other professions and workplaces:
The slaughterhouse (I CANNOT kill here) the hospital (I CANNOT operate here) the opera house (I CANNOT sing here) the church (I CANNOT pray here) the kitchen (I CANNOTcook here) the brothel (I CANNOTscrew here) the intensive care ward (I CANNOT die here).
Life is a state of slowly breaking down. Thank goodness it comes in stages usually.
I recall a boss whose demands crackled out like lightning that starts bushfires.
Quiet and philosophic away from the job, he was like a high speed centrifuge at work.
Local or global this human lightning rod fired out his demands.
He’d been doing this as far back as anybody could remember.
One day he opened his mouth and no sound came out.
Everybody waited for a momentous statement.
This was obviously going to be The Big One.
But no sound emerged.
Instead, he sat there like a water bird blown off course into the Simpson Desert – his beak open and parched and not a skwark.
He just sat there mute as the Sphinx until they came and quietly led him away.
He had closed the embassy.
Later he recovered to be able to do lower order work.
Never again, however, would he be the Lightning Rod.
Nobody ever spoke about his Great Silence.
It was too scary perhaps.
February 19th, 2009 at 2:41 pm
New England Journal of Medicine…
I should like to report on of the most severe cases of Schreibenblocken, writer’s block, I have encountered in clinical history.
The patient was admitted in a near catatonic state.
Her aphasic condition was only broken by the muttered word: Humiliation!
She was placed with a drip. Dr Drip of Leeton NSW.
She was also given an intravenous solution of NaCl.
After several hours, the patient came out of the catatonic state to say: They laughed!
Then she reverted to: Humilation!
Inquries with friends and relatives indicated that the reaction might have something to do with an incident as a compere of a talent quest.
This had led to her being unable to speak or write about the matter.
In Intensive Care, this exchange occurred:
Schwarzenheim: You must try to write about it.
Patient: I Try Do, but no can do. I Try Do.
Nurse: No, I Try Do.
Patient: No I Try Do.
Nurse:I Try Do. You No Try Do.
Patient: I Try Do.
Nurse: You crazy? I Try Do.
Doctor from Rural Area entered saying:
HOT WATER AND PLENTY OF IT!
February 19th, 2009 at 4:33 pm
Professor Schwarzenheim,
Let me set the record straight.
It is true that many years ago, I was booked to be the compere (and tell a few gags) at something called Women In Comedy.
I was thrilled. Gwennie made me a beautiful tight-fitting black cocktail dress. I had my hair done. I think a professional make up artist may also have been involved.
So….I walked onto the stage – feeling a million bucks and just achin’ to hit the packed pub with a couple of slick ones.
BUT, before I could even open my mouth, the majority of the audience started to hiss: HISS IN UNISON. Looking down, I was surprised to see what seemed liked hundreds of butch gals in overalls. Getting even MORE agitated by the minute.
I can’t remember much about my routine. I just had to keep coming out – introduce the next act…….and TRY to be funny. The more I tried…HISS, HISS, HISS HISS. As they say in the business: I was dyin’ but HAD to fight on.
At one stage, I approached a big hisser and said: I’ll give you the phone number of MY hairdresser if you like……..(funny, eh?)
HISS, HISS, HISS, HISS, HISS, HISS, HISS…..
It went on all night. Tragically, also on site were colleagues from the ABC newsroom who’d come along to witness my big break. When the debacle/the torture finally stopped, one of them ran up to me and said: I’ve already gone and got my car….it’s parked right outside….SERIOUSLY KJ, let’s just get outta here.
He whisked me away.
I spent three days under the doona.
So, Professor Schwarzenheim – THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED……
And I don’t mind talking about it…. another thing: I’ll give you the phone number of MY dentist…if you like. KJ
February 19th, 2009 at 5:35 pm
KJ,
It is courage like that made men lie face down in the mud in Nam.
February 19th, 2009 at 7:22 pm
Dear TBL,
Thank you. Just between you and me, I had to muster quite a bit more courage when I went into work the following Monday.
Lenny, the then Chief-Of-Staff in the ABC Newsroom (the ‘plywood palace’) came straight over:
I’ve heard from a few of the blokes around here that things didn’t go exactly to plan in the ENTERTAINMENT world KJ……
It was okay Lennie. I sure learnt a lot about the business….
So…..you’re sticking with the reportin’ KJ?
For the time being Lenny……. JUST for the time being……
That’s NOT what I’ve been hearing around the traps KJ, not what I’ve been hearing at all!
February 20th, 2009 at 6:53 pm
The Gutenberg Press is writer’s block, KJ.
You have been extremely stressed and I suspect suffer the quick brown fox syndrome after Valentine’s Day each year.
Hopes raised, hopes dashed, hopeless. Hopeless romantic.
Knowing the trials of Feb 14th, you should keep a store of texts…….be prepared KJ!
February 20th, 2009 at 8:21 pm
Dear Megsy,
You may be right.
Perhaps it’s best if I schedule annual hols from Feb13-27th every year.
Take the pressure off.
Spend time in Leeton with people with whom the very concept of me and romance is anathema…….
Another thing – we know you’re a teacher: do you ever get teacher’s block?
February 20th, 2009 at 8:35 pm
Good morning, this is Richard Giggler with the Humiliation Hour.
Our first guest has just arrived with thirty metres of toilet paper stuck to his shoe, his eyebrows singed from an exploding gas hot water system and the humiliating sneers of a plumber in his ears.
His early years were marked by total rejection from women, and in later life a series of wives who berated him in public while belittling him in private.
His employers referred to him as that jerk, while his friends said: Do we HAVE to invite him?
He joined an Assertiveness Course at TAFE as target practice.
His first love note was wrapped around a stone telling him to get lost.
Welcome to the Humiliation Hour.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH I can’t help laughing, you look so stupid standing there.
Come and sit down…WHOOOOPS, that chair’s broken.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
February 21st, 2009 at 8:28 am
Teacher’s block? Never. BUT….I have cleaned up many a young body spill….gagging, begging for mercy.
February 21st, 2009 at 8:34 am
Anyone who atttended a Catholic primary school in the 1960’s cannot remember any ONE specific act of humiliation.
Best to look on it a just ONE BIG FESTIVAL!!!
Were you part of the parade Roma Street?
February 21st, 2009 at 8:56 am
Dear Ex-Leetonite,
And make NO mistake, the nun’s HUMILIATION FESTIVAL COMMITTEE kept up its good work well into the secondary years…..
Humiliation episode (rating *****)
Gwennie makes me a superb outfit for the school dance. A blue and red skirt with a big split in the front……revealing red hotpants.
Proud? Was I PROUD! When I got to Madonna Place for my night of nights, a visibly agitated Sr so-and-so grabs me loudly repeating: Vulgar, Vulgar, VULGAR!
Out of her big pocket comes a sewing kit. In front of everyone, she roughly sews up the split in my skirt……..
I COULD HAVE…..danced all night….I COULD HAVE danced all night…..and still have danced some more……..I COULD HAVE spread my wings and done a thousand things….
If I COULD HAVE moved in the stitched up skirt…….and if anyone had asked me to dance…..
I CANNOT EXPLORE MY EMERGING WOMANHOOD HERE!!!!!
February 21st, 2009 at 9:38 am
Hello Blockers everywhere -
I’d like to report a severe case of Drinker’s Block.
While I was regaling my party with tales worthy of The Ginger Man himself I noticed that a laser beam of dislike was emanating from the young blonde who serves the drinks in my tavern.
Her attractiveness was marred by an expression that reminded me of the image of a twisted bowel under a CAT scanner.
The malevolence was directed at me..no one else.
I was innocent of any social crime.
Yet when she gathered glasses and ashtrays near me you’d have thought she was servicing Pinochet.
The body language and set of jaw and twisted mouth was message enough.
Geriatric Chick Magnet tries to be loveable and is confused when he is not loved.
Yet here was a woman hating him without even being married to him.
It was all too much, and I said:
I CANNOT DRINK HERE!
Drinker’s block had triumphed.
February 21st, 2009 at 10:47 am
Geriatric Chick Magnet,
As the late great Dorothy Parker always said when the phone rang:
WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS!!??
(Another thought) The young barmaid was more than likely just doing her job: following to the letter The Responsible Service Of Alcohol To Geriatric Chick Magnets’ regulations.
February 21st, 2009 at 11:51 am
Ya dishes it our and ya gets it. Hopefully done with some justice. Heimie will tell ya it’s the source of much humour. Whether this is true of German humour is hard to tell.
February 21st, 2009 at 12:06 pm
Wrong! The barmaid had no cause for complaint.
This was not a case of Geriatric Binge Drinking. Nosirreebob!!!!
We had the guitars out and we sang, but NO BREACH OF PROTOCOL!
May be she didn’t like the songs (none of which were about the Prostate or Irritable Bowel Smiles)………..
SO COME ON, ALL YOU TRY DOERS……
Have a listen (one from last night) and then go up to the tavern and sing this together:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yR0NJYbEhI
THEN say you’ve got Singer’s Block…………
I CANNOT SING HERE!!!!!!!!
Geriatric Chick Magnet – I do have international experience working in the hospitality industry – namely, the Ye Olde Cock Tavern, Fleet St, London. We were always told to watch out for gentlemen of a certain age bearing instruments. Of particular concern? Fiddles and mouth organs…….
Another memory….one night the late Derek Nimmo did a charity fundraiser at the Ye Olde Cock.
I picked up lots of extra tips – on the basis of being the only person there prepared to work very hard – at mimicking guffawing……
I CANNOT LAUGH HERE!!! KJ
February 21st, 2009 at 12:45 pm
G’day Bill O”Slatter,
I assume you have had tavern experience.
I’d like to hear about some of them in your colorful career.
Have you ever experienced Drinker’s Block as enunciated by Geriatric Chick Magnet?
Have you ever sung Tennessee Bird Walk?
Are you singing it now?
If not, what are you singing?
Kind regards,
The Chadster
February 21st, 2009 at 1:19 pm
Herr Bill O”Slatter,
Have you got Mirth Block?
I CAN’T LAUGH HERE !
It is not true that we German Volk have Mirth Block as this clips shows:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_FFaOya5Nw&NR=1
February 21st, 2009 at 2:01 pm
KJ,
Some might think your comments a little agist (or is it ageist?)
We are not – repeat NOT – living in God’s waiting room.
Are you suggesting we should be refused libations because we have Living Block?
I CANNOT LIVE HERE !
February 21st, 2009 at 4:44 pm
The following did NOT happen last night in the tavern.
But Dylan Moran’s failure in the following demonstrates Comedian’s Block:
I CANNOT TELL A JOKE HERE! (adult themes)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9yEcXWxz34&feature=related
February 22nd, 2009 at 4:44 am
Hello Everyone,
It is clear that our Geriatric Chick Magnet remains disturbed by events at his local tavern.
……I think it’s best to just let the magistrate sort it out.
In the meantime, I also think he is very lonely….particularly for a magnet.
Would anyone like to talk to him?
KJ
February 22nd, 2009 at 7:57 am
I have Talk Block.
I CANNOT TALK HERE !
February 22nd, 2009 at 8:58 am
Ex-L – I think I mentioned before that I ain’t no left-footer.
And if you went to primary school in the 1960s, then your theory about me being ‘much older’ than you just went south. I started (secular) infants school during the Whitlam years.
Hello Roma Street……ye of the great local knowledge. Please tell me this….
The nuns were always going on about THE THINGS that were happening at Leeton Primary School…….
Were you REALLY WORSHIPPING barbie dolls?
Did you REALLY steal our Ethiopian children’s appeal money?
Were you REALLY allowed (encouraged?) to watch obscene things on telly?
And were you aware that I’d be passing the likes of YOU heading DOWN screaming into the fires of Hell as I was on MY happy-go-lucky way UP to Heaven? (I went through a stage of REALLY wanting to warn every kid I saw in a LPS uniform about that….I was very, VERY worried but couldn’t work out how to open the conversation….)
Sorry Roma Street, KJ….
February 22nd, 2009 at 11:14 am
I am going back to the Taverna Humiliazione with:
(a) A dozen chickens I bought at Paddy’s Market.
(b) A girl who can say ‘chirp, chirp’ in a sexy voice.
(c) Big Swifty to make bird noises and……
(d) Someone who can pick up the eggs so patrons do not throw them.
We do not need any animation such as I previously posted……
May I introduce you to……Mr Jack Blanchard and Miss Misty Morgan……
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-OrVQaqkg0&feature=related
NOW…….If that does not work, and the barmaid doesn’t say: Play Misty for me AGAIN…..
I WILL HAVE CHARM BLOCK………….
I CANNOT CHARM HERE!
February 22nd, 2009 at 2:29 pm
Ever since The Ginger Man knocked me back on St Val’s Day, I have been stricken by TOTAL BLOCK…..no singing, no talking, no sleeping, no dog walking, no ice skating, no tender thoughts – NO NOTHING!!!!
Soooooooooooo…………..Good afternoon, Geriatric Chick Magnet…..would YOU like to assist me in my recovery?
February 22nd, 2009 at 4:07 pm
KJ,
You ask: do we all have to go through ‘blocked periods’ to appreciate an ‘unblocked life’?
I have NO idea what you’re talking about. MY life is a constant blur of welcomes, triumphs and invitations: NONE from geriatric chick magnets.
I don’t have much super or savings but I will NOT go there. Neither should you poor old Marry Me.
February 22nd, 2009 at 4:14 pm
Geriatric Chick Magnets?
I DON’T KNOW ANY….
February 22nd, 2009 at 4:39 pm
Now now gals, perhaps it’s time to have a look at this from the other side of the fence…….
(Don’t tell anyone) BUT many, many, many years ago when I was working at a municipal library – having dropped out of university #1 after three weeks – a well-presented, constant borrower asked me to the pictures…………
We saw ‘Tommy’ – went to Pancakes On The Rocks, shook hands and that was that (thank God!)
Shortly after, he presented himself at the lending desk with a big bunch of mates: all dressed in school uniforms (HSC candidates!)
They were all elbowing each other…..so that’s her, so that’s her………you DATED her!!!!
Humiliation rating *****
I CANNOT WORK HERE!
February 22nd, 2009 at 5:15 pm
Geriatric Chick Magnet,
I will not admit that you know what you’re heading for with said remarks – I guess direction is the wrong word – a cloud?
A reference perhaps?
Perhaps nothing here to suggest hidden discourses. My ongoing research into this blog and its en-’trancers’ (especially with that song, Going on a Bird Walk) is almost ready for the employment of a said assistant. Not that anyone would be interested….
They must not mind my attempts to appear not too boring or my collection of photos – cars wrapped under canvas coverings.
Big Swifty is joining the circus BTW.
Back to you GCM – I hate that song.
Teaching begins with the Dean tomorrow!!!!!!!.
February 22nd, 2009 at 5:54 pm
Dear Roma Street,
South it is. So, it’s no good asking you if you were allowed to watch THE moon landing? (KJ’s comments). Female students at St Francis were NOT as it meant we had to go to the boys section – they were blessed with a TV. Must have been some mix up with biology and history.
Ex-Leetonite – I reckon the nuns were just terrified, scared witless that a very powerful, self-assured martian would appear LIVE TO AIR……skip over to Mr Armstrong, put his hand out and say: Welcome to the Moon…..I MADE IT….AND I mean NOT just the MOON, THE whole bloody lot!!!
February 22nd, 2009 at 5:58 pm
O, did you love it when she said…never mind. Sigh.
Have never met a GCMagnet. Only GCRepellants in this family.
O, I was once in love with a writer and he had writer’s block.
I wrote a poem about it. First ever published.
Stephen tried drugs and drink.
To make him write
To make him think
But every time he’d start his novel
A girl turned up
And there he’d grovel.
I know what’s wrong
Not writer’s block
His mind’s been emptied
Out his cock…..
Dear Greek and loving it……this is up there, right up there with Howl! I CANNOT LOVE HERE!!!!
February 22nd, 2009 at 6:07 pm
KJ,
Ex-Leetonite suffered humiliation during her schooling.
How about this?
I too attended a Catholic school. I actually was a pretty good student when I wasn’t frightened out of my wits by the nuns.
For some very minor infringement, my punishment was to stand on top of my desk. I thought: Thank God NO cuts today…..
I recall standing on an old wooden slightly sloped double desk – much to the amusement of classmates who could have a good look up my box pleat uniform and at my daring witches britches.
I also could see clearly out the window at passersby, one who just happened to be my mother. That evening she asked me what I was in trouble for, saying she’d recognise those bandy legs anywhere.
Double humiliation.
February 22nd, 2009 at 6:18 pm
Dear, dear Megsy – WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?!
Don’t know why this is so……but I NEVER see bandy legs on kids today. Are there now procedures (non-invasive, I hope) that straighten them up at birth?
Do you still have bandy legs? Or did they grow out of it?
I do hope you weren’t walking up the aisle with an over-emotional mother turning around, yelling out: HERE COMES MY DEAR BANDY LEGS!!!!!!
February 22nd, 2009 at 6:19 pm
Dear The Lonely Scholar,
Good luck with the Dean.
Dean Block is the worst.
I CANNOT STUDY OR LECTURE HERE.
February 22nd, 2009 at 6:23 pm
Dear Greek and loving it,
Look there for the roisoning
It may well be
A case of sperm poisoning…..
February 22nd, 2009 at 6:26 pm
Dear Marry Me,
I am sure you can say chirp, chirp sexily.
See you in the Tavern.
You’ll not find it hard to find me.
I’m the one the barmaid (with the twisted bowel under a CAT scan demeanour) is staring at stonily.
Chirp, chirp……….
CGM
February 22nd, 2009 at 7:31 pm
Dear Marry Me,
I hope you do not mind me asking you some questions:
Are you a Handyman Woman?
Do you know anything about plumbing?
Do you know anything about Plumber’s (I CANNOT WORK HERE) Block?
Does an untidy house owned by a man who has been humiliated by a plumber have a negative effect on you?
Do you have a monkey wrench?
Do flames emerging from a hot water service alarm you (i.e do you fear fire?)
Do you have the Bosch Water Wizard Manual?
Are any members of your family plumbers?
Are you frightened of electrocution?
Do you know anything about wiring?
If you found an attractive man – eg a creative writer – was unable to fix holes in his floor, would that repel you?
If you found the bath had a hole in its surrounds because a crazy hippy once wanted to light a fire under it and smashed an opening in the asbestos before he was hit on the head with a stick by way of demur, would that produce a negative effect upon your feminine homemaker urges?
If you discovered The White Knuckle had three of everything (broken) because of his obsession with fixing things would that be a deterrent?
Is humiliation good for the male character?
February 23rd, 2009 at 5:53 am
Hello The White Knuckle…..
Just so you don’t get your hopes up………
What was the most popular television show with young girls and women EVER?
THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE.
February 23rd, 2009 at 6:27 am
Beautiful legs, KJ.
That’s the way! KJ
February 23rd, 2009 at 9:32 am
Dear The Geriatric Chick Magnet and The White Knuckle,
If you’re in London on this date you really should register.
Great lifestyle and romance tips?
PUBLIC LECTURE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF GREENWICH
Tue 24 February 2009 – 5.30pm
Hélène Frichot:
FOAMING RELATIONS: URBAN HABITUS OF AFFECT
The German philosopher, Peter Sloterdijk, uses the analogy of foam to describe the relations that cohere between one individual and the next, each co-isolated in the context of the modern city.
Our habits, in co-production with the framing of our urban habitus, determine that we are arranged as networks of isolated, bubble-like, monadic cells. By ‘effervescent’ means we nevertheless find ways of communicating across the cell walls that we share, and which divide us.
I will enlist a series of concepts to consider the foaming relations that go toward forming the life of the urban habitus……..all of which will help toward articulating a foaming, bubbling mass of relations that are external to their terms.
Despite, and also because of, the ‘ego-technological’ mania facilitated through new technologies – think iPod or iPhone – it is possible to imagine relations between actors as a ‘living foam’ shared out by a singular substance or stuff, animated by the circulation of affects and percepts.
……….New collective modes of expression and challenging forms of sociability are still possible, as long as those bubbles keep seething, foaming, and do not entirely evaporate into thin air.
FREE
February 23rd, 2009 at 10:27 am
Dear Mr Knuckle,
You will find me skilled in all rooms of your house….
February 23rd, 2009 at 12:28 pm
Dear Meg,
Of course they are beautiful legs.
May they never come between us.
February 23rd, 2009 at 12:33 pm
Dear Lonely Scholar,
Foaming is the Endgame.
February 23rd, 2009 at 12:40 pm
White Knuckle and The Lonely Scholar…
Only foaming at the mouth is morally permissible.
Every sperm is sacred.
Every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted God gets quite irate.
I do not have to rely on the Pope for that, but Monty Python:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0kJHQpvgB8
February 23rd, 2009 at 12:42 pm
Marry Me,
Thank God you’re here. Did you bring the pliers, fire extinguisher, monkey wrench and smoked haddock ?
February 23rd, 2009 at 1:00 pm
Were you REALLY WORSHIPPING barbie dolls?
No.
Did you REALLY steal our Ethiopian children’s appeal money?
I don’t think so. How would we have gained access to it? The sisters would have caught one glimpse of our blue and yellow piping and chased us off the premises.
Were you REALLY allowed (encouraged?) to watch obscene things on telly?
My nan let me watch Alvin Purple and Dave Allen at her house, but we didn’t watch them at school. The only thing I remember watching on TV at school was BTN.
February 23rd, 2009 at 1:50 pm
Hi Roma Street,
Or as they would call you in Brisbane….
Dear Ms Railway Terminal,
Just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in.
We lay face down in the mud in Nam for people like you.
February 23rd, 2009 at 5:23 pm
Dear KJ,
So sorry to hear about your probs.
Can I just say?
Can I just say?
Can I just say?
You know what?
When I have the blockage, I find the best thing to write is a
cheque.
I’ve written one for you – just under $1,000.
And you know what?
The cheque is in the post!
February 23rd, 2009 at 8:58 pm
Dear The Rev Kev,
Can I just say?…..you have placed me in a very difficult situation.
Until recently, I strongly believed that Stimulatin’ Packages should always be self-funded. KJ
February 23rd, 2009 at 11:48 pm
It is now the Tavern of the Seventeenth Happiness.
I said you have the face of a medieval saint.
She said you are interesting, somebody should do a picture.
I said: well, thanks.
February 24th, 2009 at 8:41 am
Dear kerriejean.com,
I know we might not agree on somethings (I put that down to upbringing), but I have a tip for your writer’s block – plagiarise. It’s really easy and, where I work, just about everybody’s at it.
You don’t even have to do it yourself – just get a staff member to look something up.
People said that in my last job I didn’t really know what I was doing.
Between you and I – girl-to-girl – truth is: No one up here does. In fact, the boys are the worst.
They seem to think if they look really sincere, serious and put on a slightly deeper voice, everybody will believe them. Pathetic really.
I thought I was going OK. Especially when Malcolm rang up and said he was 100 PER CENT BEHIND ME.
Shortly followed by a call from Peter, who said much the same thing, calling me baby names too.
Guess what?
Next day, I lose my job.
What would you do if Malcolm said he was 100 PER CENT BEHIND YOU?
Anyway, feeling a bit dowN…
I went home, drove to the nearest gourmet deli and stocked up.
Unfortunately when I got back to the house and was unloading the Beemer I dropped my basket of goodies all over the driveway.
Feeling a bit silly and flustered – (there was a glob of 100% Fat Free Greek Yoghurt on my skirt) – I suddenly felt a presence very close to me.
It was Jose – Our Latin American pool guy.
The day was very hot and humid and Jose, who I must say is rather well- proportioned, was stripped to the waist – his biceps glistening in the western sun.
Jose didn’t say anything, he just looked at me with deep dark eyes …
you won’t believe what happened next.
Moi?
Je ne regret rien.
Why Libby Pearls!!!! Just let me reach across to my desk fan…..and collect my thoughts.
Now…if Malcolm said he was 100 PERCENT BEHIND ME I’d certainly be looking to switch seats…..
If Peter said he was 100 PERCENT BEHIND ME I’d start sniffing Malcolm’s…..
And if Jose said HE WAS 100 PERCENT BEHIND ME I’d giggle like a schoolgirl……
Every best wish Miss Libby Pearls…KJ
February 24th, 2009 at 10:08 am
I’ve been off doing lower order work, now back to the Agenda.
My days of conducting the office from the Tav are over.
It became too dangerous not because of the habitues but from the collateral damage from my drunkeness.
Ah, there’s nothing like a good session at the Tav, but alas no more.
And KJ, at least the nuns saved you from teen pregnancy.
February 24th, 2009 at 1:06 pm
Hello there Mr O’Slatter – well done you! When the caper’s up – the caper’s up….
Now….on the matter of nuns and teen pregnancy. They didn’t save me: I SAVED MYSELF!
February 24th, 2009 at 3:36 pm
GCM,
Thanks but NO THANKS!