Oren has confessed his disappointment that when I invited three of my oldest lady friends over for a sleepover we did not prance about in skimpy lingerie lightly hitting each other over the head with pillows, in between brushing each other's hair. Instead we lolled about in an undignified manner, scoffed cheese and cackled in manner of ancient crones. And as our combined ages must be somewhere in the 120s, I guess we are. Just one crone, though.
I don't think Kit, Spanna, Manda and I have been in the same place at the same time for about ten years, so there was much of the reminiscing, old tales retold and embellished, some very bad photos and fair lack of maturity displayed. We dragged mattresses out to the living room and slumbered with gusto, got up at a sensible hour and brunched and then dispersed, promising to repeat it all for our 4oths. It is very irksome when one's chums insist on living in other countries/cities/islands. (Fi - you owe me a visit.)
Anyway, it is a sunny Wellington weekend and even though I am exhausted, I am not hungover, and for some obscure reason, there is still chocolate, so I'm going to inhale that, and then I might read all afternoon. I have not read for more than a lunch hour for quite some time. This is because I am supposed to be looking for work so if I read insead, I feel guilty. Strangely, this does not appear to affect my watching of Battlestar. We're into season two and it is MAGNIFICENT.
Oh, and I have a short-term contract making up lies for the man for the next few weeks so I can read without the guilt for a wee bit.
I sabotaged a job interview recently (really didn't want it but the dole people insist you apply for a certain number of jobs each week, so ...) which was in the Slutt Valley, so I drove out there (45 minutes - insane) and when they asked how my workmates would describe me I went with 'Impulsive and chatty. Oh, and I make good cookies.' Satisfied I'd screwed that one up well, I went away smiling. Right up until they called me a few days later and said 'Congratulations, you've made the final three ...' The other candidates must have been rubbish.
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3 comments:
I wonder what I can get out of you by using the threat of knowing who's a Cylon.
Just tell them "my pleasure... in your leisure." Try and take some speed prior.
Ben. That's the quickest way I can think of to get me to pull your nose hair out with my teeth.
Hello Tim.
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