Sunday, February 1, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
blah
So, insurance finally paid out post-hijacking. took the fuckers narly 2 months of faxing forms, re-faxing forms, arguing about which forms were faxed and which i'd yet to re-fax blah blah blah, ad nauseum.
With much excitement off i go car shopping. wheeeeee!
I found a divine little Ford Ikon, in the bestest condition at Honda in Pinetown.
Yesterday i sat down and did the finance applications and waited with baited breath. Shortly after this, i got a call to say that the finance was approved. So off to Honda Pinetown i rush, deposit cheque in hand, sign forms and get told i can pick my car up on Saturday. Ecxellent, much smsing and merriment on my part and a sigh of relief from my family and friends as they will no longer have to fetch and carry me.
Today. The phone rings and a VERY rude man from Westbank tells me that they won't give me finance until i can present payslips. Problem. I don't get payslips as I'm a freelance tech, not employed by any one theatre. Well, in that case says rudecunt, I have to provide them with 6 months bank statements. But I've given you 3 already. Yes, but 3 further back than that. You don't have enough money moving through your account says rudecunt.
Um. ok then. but my increased rate is only effective from NOW and NOW i have enough money to pay for my beautiful car. My bank statement in June won't show you that mr rudecunt. I don't care says mr rudecunt. oh. and you can't have your car tomorrow.
Oh well. at least i have insurance for a car i don't own. Wonder how long it'll take them to give me my deposit back?
wail. i really loved that car.
so fucking sick of life dumping on me.
i know i'm being emo, but didn't i have enough of a bad karma payout when 6 armed men abducted me, stole my car and left me in a sugarcane field?
fucksakes.
better go and send out "oops, i take that back, you'll still have to fetch and cary me sms's."
With much excitement off i go car shopping. wheeeeee!
I found a divine little Ford Ikon, in the bestest condition at Honda in Pinetown.
Yesterday i sat down and did the finance applications and waited with baited breath. Shortly after this, i got a call to say that the finance was approved. So off to Honda Pinetown i rush, deposit cheque in hand, sign forms and get told i can pick my car up on Saturday. Ecxellent, much smsing and merriment on my part and a sigh of relief from my family and friends as they will no longer have to fetch and carry me.
Today. The phone rings and a VERY rude man from Westbank tells me that they won't give me finance until i can present payslips. Problem. I don't get payslips as I'm a freelance tech, not employed by any one theatre. Well, in that case says rudecunt, I have to provide them with 6 months bank statements. But I've given you 3 already. Yes, but 3 further back than that. You don't have enough money moving through your account says rudecunt.
Um. ok then. but my increased rate is only effective from NOW and NOW i have enough money to pay for my beautiful car. My bank statement in June won't show you that mr rudecunt. I don't care says mr rudecunt. oh. and you can't have your car tomorrow.
Oh well. at least i have insurance for a car i don't own. Wonder how long it'll take them to give me my deposit back?
wail. i really loved that car.
so fucking sick of life dumping on me.
i know i'm being emo, but didn't i have enough of a bad karma payout when 6 armed men abducted me, stole my car and left me in a sugarcane field?
fucksakes.
better go and send out "oops, i take that back, you'll still have to fetch and cary me sms's."
Thursday, January 29, 2009
random list stuff
1. I am terrified about the fact that i'm now in a huge amount of debt.
2. I still don't want to be grown up.
3. It's very quiet at work without the crazy musicians, but it's kind of nice, as much as i miss them, to have a chilled night with no rushing or drama. It also gives my liver a break.
4. Even though the last couple of times have been a disaster, i'm friggin determined to stop smoking this time. Starting tomorrow.
5. Toilet training is a mission.
6. I'm feeling a little cheated that religion makes no sense to me. I'd love to have something to believe in.
7. I'm so happy the sun's out. Even though i LOATHE sunshine (my irish complexion doesn't work well with UV rays) i really need to do washing. Laundry day today.
8. I need new shoes. Not for any practical reason. Shoes just make me feel better.
9. I can't wait for monday so i can spend time with my man. And i never thought I'd feel that way about anyone. It's wierd, but good.
2. I still don't want to be grown up.
3. It's very quiet at work without the crazy musicians, but it's kind of nice, as much as i miss them, to have a chilled night with no rushing or drama. It also gives my liver a break.
4. Even though the last couple of times have been a disaster, i'm friggin determined to stop smoking this time. Starting tomorrow.
5. Toilet training is a mission.
6. I'm feeling a little cheated that religion makes no sense to me. I'd love to have something to believe in.
7. I'm so happy the sun's out. Even though i LOATHE sunshine (my irish complexion doesn't work well with UV rays) i really need to do washing. Laundry day today.
8. I need new shoes. Not for any practical reason. Shoes just make me feel better.
9. I can't wait for monday so i can spend time with my man. And i never thought I'd feel that way about anyone. It's wierd, but good.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
slimmin stuff
just for the record. this diet thing. not working. at.all. as soon as i get paid i'm going to try out these fat blocker tablets my boss raves about. i'm too weak to resist biscuits. if this doesn't work i'm getting my stomach stapled.
that being said. i had a smoothie for breakfast. how friggin good am i?
that being said. i had a smoothie for breakfast. how friggin good am i?
RIP Sauron
For Dawn and Barry. There's nothing anyone can say to console you over the loss of your beautiful boy. I love this:
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Friday, January 23, 2009
Reality Bites
Reality is running out. It's official. Reality is a finite natural resource, leaking out of the earth's crust since time began and now it's running out. That's the only feasible explanation as to why mankind has become so obsessed with creating artificial reality
But is it real? Reality TV has to be one of the furhtest things from actual reality there is. Dumping 16 carefully selected swimsuit models on a beautiful beach to "see how real people react to real situations" is exactly the opposite. Unreal. Non-real. Whatever. Call it what you like, but this engineered circumstance is not real. What kind of shipwreck survivors have to negotiate SWAT team obstacle courses with a full medical team standing by on high alert? Robinson Crusoe must be laughing his virtual arse off at all this silliness.
And the endless obsession with the "real" lives of celebrities? Please. These surgically modified celebutards that sell their lives and whore out their children to the entertainment channel are only exhibiting a carefully set-up, relentlessly engineered life-lite version of how they actually live. Which, for the record is light years away from reality for the rest of us. they live in a comfy cocoon for surreality. If the reality was what we were shown, how come Ozzy never schnarfed on MTV? The closest we get to the real lives of celebs are the fleeting moments we see on the news as they are wheeled into the ER after their latest breakdown.
As for music... well. Haha. What happened to some poor kids practicing in someone's garage and playing shitty gigs for years and years before they get their big break or just go their separate ways and become bankers? Now, with new insta-reality, they enter some TV competition and if they look ok and can sort of carry a tune, they're whisked off to be aribrushed and over produced and presented to the masses in a neat little media blitz that includes pencil cases and themed ipod docking stations. And the masses are perfectly fucking happy with this. Music is like fast food now. Instant gratification. To keep the public happy just feed them one after another on teh endless conveyor belt of MacBritneys from the Idols fast-tunez factory.
It's almost as if, what with World War 3 about to explode form Gaza and the planet melting as we speak, we're trying as hard as possible to create our own easy listening reality out of a mindless sureality.
Trying to convince ourselves that as long as we have Britney, Audi A4's, rugby and DSTV, everything is going to be alright and the real reality won't get us.
/rant.
But is it real? Reality TV has to be one of the furhtest things from actual reality there is. Dumping 16 carefully selected swimsuit models on a beautiful beach to "see how real people react to real situations" is exactly the opposite. Unreal. Non-real. Whatever. Call it what you like, but this engineered circumstance is not real. What kind of shipwreck survivors have to negotiate SWAT team obstacle courses with a full medical team standing by on high alert? Robinson Crusoe must be laughing his virtual arse off at all this silliness.
And the endless obsession with the "real" lives of celebrities? Please. These surgically modified celebutards that sell their lives and whore out their children to the entertainment channel are only exhibiting a carefully set-up, relentlessly engineered life-lite version of how they actually live. Which, for the record is light years away from reality for the rest of us. they live in a comfy cocoon for surreality. If the reality was what we were shown, how come Ozzy never schnarfed on MTV? The closest we get to the real lives of celebs are the fleeting moments we see on the news as they are wheeled into the ER after their latest breakdown.
As for music... well. Haha. What happened to some poor kids practicing in someone's garage and playing shitty gigs for years and years before they get their big break or just go their separate ways and become bankers? Now, with new insta-reality, they enter some TV competition and if they look ok and can sort of carry a tune, they're whisked off to be aribrushed and over produced and presented to the masses in a neat little media blitz that includes pencil cases and themed ipod docking stations. And the masses are perfectly fucking happy with this. Music is like fast food now. Instant gratification. To keep the public happy just feed them one after another on teh endless conveyor belt of MacBritneys from the Idols fast-tunez factory.
It's almost as if, what with World War 3 about to explode form Gaza and the planet melting as we speak, we're trying as hard as possible to create our own easy listening reality out of a mindless sureality.
Trying to convince ourselves that as long as we have Britney, Audi A4's, rugby and DSTV, everything is going to be alright and the real reality won't get us.
/rant.
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