Well, it definitely is in NZ. Boozing in the office always feels a spot naughty though. And let's be honest - even though my ability to play pool and speak foreign languages improves dramatically after a few drinks, my ability to edit does not.
And in other news I am having possibly the worst PMT in years. My cousin is staying and she's bleeding (she's going to love that I've blogged that) and despite going on the pill recently to control what I lovingly call the blood tsunami, my lady bits are desperate to join in with hers. As long time and possibly quite sickened readers will know, I have quite the weak vagina. And so the normally happy state of Penelope has been hijacked by the emotion troops with their sharp and pointy javelins of bitchy.
So I'm drinking beer. I know this won't lead to happiness. You know it won't lead to happiness. But I'm going to do it anyway. And later, if Harriet and Carrie are very unlucky, I'll show them that the ingrown nipple hair (which I already showed them on Australia Day Eve) has scabbed over nicely. It's not just my body that hates me. I think the baby Jesus is behind this somehow. Must stop swearing on Sundays.
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4 comments:
Would it be wrong to have a wee beer fridge in my office? Perhaps I can install it in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet?
I can see nothing wrong with that. You too can follow the NZ time beer o'clock rule.
I have your books. I need to get them back to you. Perhaps you need help installing your beer fridge. And by help I of course mean the drinking of the beer part. Books for beer.
A classic hostage situation minus the airliner on the tarmac for 60 days.
Truly loves reading Penelope's blog - and I feel especially blessed because I actually get to hear this wonderful intriguingly formal-colloquialism from Pen in person!
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