The Rest of Your Life (v3.0)

Listening To: Dear Valued Customer : Snog

A while ago my best friend and I started setting ourselves little writing ‘challenges’. This was back when we were both facing several years of creative stagnantion, and hadn’t yet discovered the dubious joys of blogging. In the end I don’t think either of us actually produced much that we were terribly happy with out of the exercise, but it did serve it’s purpose of acting as a catalyst for getting creative juices flowing again.

One thing that I was working on as part of that was a little piece of fiction appropriating some of the themes of the Ashton Kutcher film “Butterfly Effect”. Basically, in the story I went back in time and visited myself at a number of different turning points in my life. Unlike Ashtons character though, I was unwilling or unable to change any of my choices, and (had I finished the story) would have wound up exactly where I started. One thing I was pretty sure of during the course of writing it though, was that both incarnations of myself would have attempted to kick my own arse when the ‘present day’ me visited the ‘first year undergraduate’ me.

Now, I’m turning 28 in just under 3 months, and this year marks a decade since I started my first undergrad (BA Lit, Media & Cultural studies … go the scumbag arts grads !!!) course of study at good old Club Mac (AKA Macquarie University in Sydney). So I thought it would a good time as any to do a bit of a comparison to see how I’d match up against myself, if I really DID stumble upon a handy time machine and go back to kick my own arse …

AGE:
17¾ vs 27¾

WEIGHT:
70kg (154 lbs) vs 76kg (167 lbs)

This is probably equal parts extra fat, and equal parts lean muscle mass. I’m pretty sure on a purely muscle level, I would wipe the smirk off my younger face ! Mind you I was actually going to a gym back then, as opposed to working out with my weights at home, regularly moving furniture and whitegoods, and jogging on the street … but this was once in a blue moon, and it was more so my drug-taking-DJ-friend and I could try to pick up the ‘older’ (mid to late 20′s) chicks we actually had no chance of ever scoring with. Give it another 6 to 12 months and I’m gonna be the same weight I was a decade ago, but it’s gonna be aaaalll lean muscle mass. Farkkit … I want Brad Pitt abs … little woosie boy me didn’t care about that, but I do. Eat that, Disappearing Boy ;P

HEIGHT:
176 cm (5’8″) vs 176 cm (5’8″)

Ok, so I guess all that under-age smoking and drinking stunted my growth. I was in the habit of wearing my 14-hole, chunky soled Doc Martens almost religiously a decade ago, as opposed to funky trainers like I do mostly now (still have the boots, mind). However, all the exercise I’m doing these days working out my pecs and back mean I don’t slouch as much as I used to … so in the end I’d probably be standing nose-to-nose with myself.

HAIR:
Dyed Blue-Black Mullet vs (Natural) Light-Brown Short’n'Spikey

Come on then DB you little bitch-boy, come near me and I’ll tear that mullet out by the roots, my son ! *s*

FASHION (VICTIM):
‘Goth’ vs ‘Raver’

Where are your black long sleeved shirts, mesh singlet tops, and cut-off stretch black jeans teamed with celtic dragon tights now, huh DB ? In the back of the wardrobe with the “sodding black leather pants I got from a gay shop in Soho” (‘Ex-Inferus News’, anyone ?) no doubt. Following my own advice, my wardrobe these days contains a much wider array of ‘looks’ and colours than the basic blacks of a decade ago. The ‘default’ look has changed too, and I’m more likely to wear a funky, (coloured) singlet top or t-shirt with jeans (baggy, flared, and/or hipster) and trainers than anything else. Although I love my suits on occassion too … yes indeedy, my inner yuppie is ready to kick my little 17 year-old goth arse !

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:
Taken vs Taken

I wasn’t single 10 years ago, nor am I now. Through luck (good, bad, indifferent or otherwise) more than anything else, I haven’t really been single for most of the intervening period. But I’ve certainly gone through a few partners, and changed my ‘criteria’ in terms of what I look for. A decade ago, I was new to the whole ‘relationships’ thing, and seeing my first steady girlfriend after a 17 year drought Niave, inexperienced, and without a clue as to who or what I wanted, nor what was expected of me in a relationship, this was pretty much doomed to failure and imploded in on itself in just over six months.

Within a week though I was seeing a new bird, and each subsequent ‘entaglement’ got progressively longer in duration, culminating in 3 (or so) up-and-down years I spent with one of our regular readers. I took a break for a while, and with my next two relationships the duration trend started to reverse. I didn’t exactly like that, so I took a longer break and used the time to take a long hard look at exactly what I wanted, and what I would settle for. Now, after 7 months of singledom I’m in a relatively new relationship with a positively wonderful young lass, and I have a feeling the 6-month-max duration trend of those last two is going to be far out-lasted. At least I bloody hope so !!!

Still, I’ve got a feeling the younger-DB wouldn’t like the latest girlfriend at all. She’s too gorgeous for starters … I never used to date gorgeous women, ostensibly because I claimed ‘looks don’t matter’, but really because they were always too intimidating and I didn’t think much of myself either. She’s also far too normal and happy ! “Disappearing Boy, you superficial moron … how can you date a girl like that ?” “Watchoo talkin bout, Disappearing Boy ? At least she’s not 5-foot-nothing, has lots of worthwhile things to say, and isn’t always wandering around in too much eye-makeup, bitching about her checkout-chick job and how much better looking her speed-freak friend Renee is !” “Right, I’ll have you for that you bloody raver-yuppie-old-git !”

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POST INTERRUPTED BY SERVER ERROR
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OK … let’s try finish this off today … I’m still pissed at our servers at work going down yesterday, but I think I’ve got the strength to finish this now *grr*

WORK & LIVING:
Market Researcher vs Database Admin

Talk about ‘wheel comes full circle’. Ten years ago, I was living with my mum in Castle Hill, doing weekend door-to-door survey work for a small, local market research company in St.Leonards, and dropping in to St.Leonards Tavern for the occasional bevvie after a new project briefing. These days I work full-time for a huge, global market research company in Macquarie Park, currently helping their retail scan-data division convert from one obsolete inhouse production system to another slightly-less-obsolete system currently 5 years behind schedule, and god knows how much over budget. I pretty much live at St.Leonards Tavern, although I’m flat-sharing an apartment in Artarmon with a Kiwi ‘Wicca The Witch‘ and her two cats, and not that long ago was actually renting in Christie St, a few doors down from the pub.

Funnily enough, I didn’t actually hate my job as badly back then as I do now … for which I’d probably be tempted to kick my own arse again. “Oi, DB you little teenage shit … you like your job, dontcha ?” “Yeah … and ?” “AND I’m gonna kick your arse, you lucky prick ! Why should you have all the fun of working with a NORMAL team of people, and having a sexy female boss to perve on ?” “Haha, DB’s stuck working with geeks ! And your Italian male boss isn’t a patch on good old Kate the sexy ex-political-staffer, is he ? Nyeh, nyeh !” “OK DB, put ‘em up pal, coz I’m gonna smack your face till it looks like a malformed beetroot !”

MUSIC (HOW I LOVE THEE):
Rivet-Head vs Ecclectic Funksta

Back in 1995, I was discovering the joys of Industrial & Darkwave artists like KMFDM, Cubanate, My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult & Snog. I was also listening to the dulcet tones of Andrew Eldritch (Sisters of Mercy), Nick Cave (Birthday Party) & the German enigma that is Blixa Bargeld (Einsturzende Neuebauten), among others. I was going to clubs like Rollercoaster & Shrine pretty frequently, along with a bunch of one-off ‘goth’ nights at various venues. On top of that I loved my cheesy 80′s retro and could often be found at the Bristol Arms on Sussex, bopping along to Maynard spinning Madonna, Wham & other 80′s faves … or down on the ‘pure pop’ level, listening to Blur, Oasis & other fine examples of 90′s Brit-pop.

I still listen to all these artists (often when posting blog entries), but you’ll find me in a goth-club once in 6 to 8 months, if that. My music collection and music tastes have expanded almost exponentially in a decade, so if you have a look at an (almost) up-to-date listing of the stuff I own on CD & vinyl (and a small subset of my tape collection) I think you’d agree the best way to describe it is ‘ecclectic’. The last year to 18 months have seen me rediscovering my love of hip-hop, and a bit of a wog-homeboy side I didn’t even know I had. Must have been those 8 months living in North Parramatta When clubbing, I mostly go to ostensibly ‘mainstream’ places like Slip-Inn, or even worse the pretentious joints down at cockle bay like Bungalow 8 and Cargo Bar. I’m a bit of a sucker for my electronica & even *shudder* ‘commerical dance’, and I’m even partial to some current ‘pop’, especially after a few drinks.

More than anything else, I think this last point would whip teen-DB into a frenzy of hatred and derision … and the battle royale would be well and truly on ! “Hip-hop ? HIP-HOP ? You freakin’, yuppie, homeboy-raver, wog, hetero, superficial, mainstream, old FART ! I’ll _have_ you for that, Disappearing Boy you shit, you !”

Who do you think would win, guys ?

Listening To: Mezzanine : Massive Attack

It’s a bit of a slow one at work today (massive understatement of the decade), so I’ve been trawling through multiple weblogs and generally trying to look busy while actually doing sweet FA. On my travels I came across this meme on Sars’ blog – a bit of an ‘etiquette guide’ for the over 25′s. I’m going to paraphrase her introduction to you with only a bit of tweakage, because it really doesn’t need that much improvement.

If you’ve reached the age of 25, I’ve got a bit of bad news for you : it’s time, if you haven’t already done so, for you to emerge from the cocoon of post-adolescent dithering and self-absorbtion and join the rest of us in the REAL world. Past the quarter-century mark, certain actions, attitudes, and behaviors will simply no longer do, and while it might seem unpleasant to feign a maturity and solicitousness towards others that you may not genuinely feel, it is not only appreciated by others but necessary for your ongoing survival. Continuing to insist past this point that good manners, thoughtfulness, and grooming oppress you in some way is inappropriate and irritating, and will make it all that much harder for you to ‘land a decent partner’ (boy/girl/tree/rock – whatever floats your boat) in the bargain.

Grow up !

I don’t mean that you should read up on mortgage rates, stop wearing g-strings bearing muppet images, or desist from substituting the word “poo” for crucial syllables of movie titles. Silliness is not only still permitted but actively encouraged. You must, however, stop viewing carelessness, tactlessness, helplessness, or any other quality better suited to a child as either charming or somehow beyond your control. A certain grace period for the development of basic consideration and self-sufficiency is assumed, but once you’ve turned 25, the grace period is over, and starring in a film in your head in which you walk the earth alone is no longer considered a valid lifestyle choice, but rather grounds for social leprosy.

Now, I don’t necessarily agree with most of the points she’s raised, but it IS an interesting idea to play with. So for want of anything better to do, here is MY version of the ‘essential marching orders for everyone born before 1980′.

1. Remember to write thank-you notes.

Emails or SMS’s are entirely adequate for this purpose, despite what Sars says. But she IS right in saying “Failure to do so implies that you don’t care. This implication is a memorable one. Enough said.”

2. Don’t expect friends to help you move house anymore.

Especially if your ongoing inability to find decent flat-mates (or your collected neuroses) mean you move once every 6 months. Sure – you can ask. But don’t assume your friends are duty-bound to answer “yes”. If you must insist on regular relocations, invest in a hand-trolley and furniture you can easily move on your own, and start working out at the gym. Or hire some removalists !

3. Develop a physical awareness of your surroundings.

My father has an annoying tendency to bump into other people and step on small children blocking his way. He does this whilst completely sober. This kind of behaviour is unacceptable. Fine-motor-control is easily within the grasp of anyone over the quarter century mark.

4. Be on time, or failing that, ring to let the other party know of your impending lateness.

Now, my ability to be on time anywhere is absolutely freakin atrocious, and always has been. But I’ve learnt to account for that – by leaving an hour earlier than I need to for really *crucial* shit like job interviews, and by calling and apologising profusely for being late (again) in cases of social tardiness. My girlfriend is as bad as I am in this department, so I guess we’re made for eachother. But in this as many other things, I know I’m extremely lucky – for most readers, ongoing tardiness is sure to kill any chances you have for romantic relationships with mature adults. OH and yeah … “I was drunk, naked and watching Will & Grace” only counts as a valid excuse once !

5. Learn to stand up & take responsibility for your own beliefs, attitudes & behaviour. Don’t try to pass the buck.

By 25, you should have developed at least something of an understanding of who you are, and what (if anything) you believe in. By this point you should be ready to articulate, and to take, resposibility for whatever that comprises.

Hiding behind your friends / romantic interests / fiancee / spouse when you’re over 25 simply makes you spineless !

6. Realise that ultimately, YOU are responsible for your own happiness or lack thereof.

This one is a biggie. But the older you get, the clearer becomes the inescapable conclusion that your life is largely the result of the choices you make. By 25, this reasoning should be crystal clear to anyone but a chronic blame-avoider.

7. Learn to walk in heels.

I’ll leave this one to Sars:

Gentlemen, you are at your leisure. Ladies: If you wear heels, know how to operate them. Clomping along and placing your foot down flat with each step gives the appearance of a ten-year-old playing dress-up, but a pair of heels is like a bicycle — you need momentum to stay up. Come down on the heel and carry forward through the toe, using your regular stride. If you feel wobbly, keep practicing, or get a pair that’s better suited to your style of walking. It isn’t a once-a-year prom thing anymore for a lot of you, so please learn to walk in them.

8. Incorporate some variety into your wardrobe.

By the time you’ve reached your quarter century, school uniform should have been long left behind (except possibly as a kinky sex-game device), and by now you should also have learnt simply having another ‘uniform’ to replace it isn’t what adults do. You can’t just be a jeans’n'tee girl / boy, perennial power-suited yuppie, or glam-boy/diva ALL the time. Different situations demand different looks, as Carson from Queer Eye would tell you … it’s about time you learnt to cater for this inescapable fact of adult life !

9. Gender difference is dead.

… or at least it is when it comes to helping yourself ! Just “because I’m a girl” is not a valid excuse for not knowing how to change a light-bulb, or the tyre on your car. Just “because I’m a guy” is not a valid excuse for not being able to cook yourself a square meal, or co-ordinate your socks and your pants. You have the ‘net, cable TV, or even the local library for f*cks sake … so no-one has ANY excuse to claim ‘gender ignorance’ when it comes to the basics of functioning as an autonomous adult at the age of 25+

10. Don’t use your friends.

This little distinction might be hard to ‘get’ for those who work in fields such as marketing, PR or sales, but you’ll find once you hit the mid 20′s people no longer have much time for ‘users’ in their lives.

11. Have something to talk about besides college or your job.

Pretty self-explanatory, and especially crucial for those still in the ‘dating game’. Life is about more than work, and more than study. Get into the groove, plug your head into the net, start shagging, do some travel – whatever it takes, at 25 it’s long time you broadened your horizons.

12. Give and receive favors graciously.

‘Nuff said.

13. Drinking until you pass out or throw up is still OK in most of the social circles I frequent.

But using this as an excuse to be narky with everyone the next day is not ! You should also be able to drink a lot more before you reach this point than you used to.

Finally, smoking ganja, dropping acid, taking ekkies, snorting go, or ingesting other ‘illicit substances’ once you’re over 25 is NOT the cool thing it was back in highschool and/or college – especially if you still do it regularly. By a quarter century, you should probably have the “been there, done that, boooring” attitude most of us have. If you don’t … well don’t be surprised if you can only hold down relationships with flakey people !

14. Think of the neighbours.

Now that you’re old enough to have a decent job, restrict those loud ‘all night parties’ to a popular night-spot you’ve hired out for the evening, and not the gazebo in your parents back-yard while they’re up in Ulladulla for the weekend. Besides – if you hire a cool enough venue and ‘market’ your invites, you might even get attractive strangers turning up whom you can then try to sleep with.

See – being considerate has its own rewards

15. Take care of yourself.

Once again, I’ll leave this last point to Sars:

If you are sick, visit a doctor. If you are sad, visit a shrink or talk to a friend. If you are unhappy in love, break up. If you are fed up with how you look, buy a new shirt or stop eating cheese. If you have a problem, try to fix it. Many problems are knotty and need a lot of talking through, or time to resolve, but after a few months of all complaining and no fixing, those around you will begin to wonder if you don’t enjoy the problems for the attention they bring you. Venting is fine; inertia coupled with pouting is not. Bored? Read a magazine. Mad at someone? Say so — to them. Change is hard; that’s too bad. Effort counts. Make one. Your mommy’s shift is over.

That’s it y’all – preeze to be a discus !

Listening To: 1200 Techniques : Choose One (Remix Bonus Disc)

… well it’s either a Seinfeld dilemma, or Friends, or one of those tedious post-modern Yankee sitcoms at any rate ! (Maybe it’s Sex in The City, and I’m Carrie … ha fukin ha, wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony ?) Too bad I missed the episode in question, or I would know what to do :-/

See, I realised something about myself today which I’ve suspected for a fair while now, and I need your help dear readers. If only to save me from being utterly pathetic, which is what this self-realisation implies …

I realised I have … ooooh … let’s just say a wee bit of a ‘thing’ … for my lovely hair stylist, Belinda. You can see the dilemma, can’t you ?

Now, I used to have a different stylist I went to for a fair few years, even going so far as to track her down twice in a row when she moved salons, and the old salon wouldn’t tell where she was (coz of course they don’t want to lose customers). She was very, very good at her job, which is why I stuck with her. Sure, she looked like a sexier, younger version of Sarah Jessica Parker, but she had a fiance for starters and I really wasn’t interested in her in that way – SJP never really did it for me anyway.

Alas that particular stylist has now left the industry – she got sick of doing the same job, and the shit pay – both of which I can totally relate to. It took me a while, including some abbortive attempts like the nice Malaysian man who gave me a trim which resembled ye old schoole ‘bowl cut’, but I finally found myself a new regular stylist, the aformentioned Belinda.

She’s also very, very good at her job. But she’s also very, very, very hot – which is where the problem lies !!!

See, I’ve never had much trouble reading chemistry or signs with women I’m not particularly interested in. But when I chance upon a bird I actually fancy … I tend to quickly turn into an utter, witless moron. Completely bloody chronic, I am. So I don’t know if I’m reading too much into the ‘signs’, or indeed if there are even any signs there that she may just possibly feel at least a smidgin the same way about your humble correspondent.

‘What signs’ I hear you ask ?

OK, my very shaky case rests on utterly circumstantial evidence. For one, she strikes me as the type of hairdresser who chats with her customers (hell … show me a hairdresser who doesn’t !) and I’ve even seen her do it with a few matronly old birds and some chicky getting her hair done for her formal on previous occassions when I’ve waited. Yet whenever I plonk myself down in her chair, and she does her scissor magic, the talk seems more or less dry up. Instead, Belinda mostly alternates between throwing the kind of pseudo-pout you put on to emphasise your bone structure while trying to look like you’re not putting on a pout, and a weird smile I’m pretty sure I recognise from numerous occasions of wearing it myself.

It’s the semi-nervous, semi-flirtatious, mostly-pained “oh god, I think you’re kinda cute but I don’t know what to say …. don’t look at me, don’t look at me … no wait, actually DO look at me, DO look at me … damn … this is so embarassing … I hope it’s over soon … no actually I hope it’s not over soon … maybe if I smile like this long enough I’ll think of something good to say … or maybe you will … shit … la la la etc.” smile

I’ve been to see her at least four or five times now, and every time that bloody smile has been there ! Have been trying to work her past it … finally managed to elicit a decent flow of almost-normal conversation out of the lass today – but geez, talk about Nervous Nellie syndrome !

That’s my first bit of shaky, circumstancial evidence. The second ‘sign’ is also smile related, or kinda. It’s the looks / the vibe that she and other ladies in the salon always seem to exchange when I drop in to see if I can get a trim. See, I don’t usually make appointments. I just rock up, and see if she’s free, and if she isn’t I just leave it till next time I happen to be in that end of Castle Hill. But yeah, basically whenever I rock up, I always notice “the look” she cops from the other stylists.

It’s a look that seems to say “it’s that guy again”. It sounds ridiculous when I verbalise it like this of course, and anyway ‘that guy’ could be anything from “that guy you semi-fancy” to “that dickhead loser who looks like he’d devote an entire blog entry to you” … but trust me when I say there’s a ‘look’ exchanged of some significance which eludes me. Maybe it’s just a look which says “don’t blush like I saw you do the first two times he came in to see if you were free for a haircut”. She’s extra cute when she blushes

My final bit of fanciful pseudo-evidence stems from the fact that today was actually my first real appointment. Had rocked up yesterday, but Belinda could only take me in half an hour and I had a potential flat-share to inspect then, so in a complete deviation from form (and … hell coz I wanted to spend a half hour in that chair … and soon) I booked for this morning. She always looks pretty sweet, as I think I may have mentioned already, our Belinda does, but when I turned up today it honestly seems like she’d put more effort into her look than usual. Yeah, yeah … she probably had one of the Neighbours cast coming in for a style and colour at 10 o’clock, I know.

Or maybe a nice lunch planned with her boyfriend ….

Remember how I mentioned I usually turn into a complete, unmitigated imbecile where women I really fancy are concerned ? Yes, that’s right … I don’t even know if Belinda is single or not, because I hadn’t thought to steer the conversation around to that and she hadn’t volunteered anything either way (unlike SJP chickie, who had told me about her fiance after the second or third visit … no conversation problems with her) !!!

Essentially then, I am on the horns of a Seinfeld dilemma, to whit -:

I fancy my hair stylist, but I don’t know if that’s one-sided on my part and I daren’t ask her out in case I’m wrong. Good stylists are damn hard to find !

Please read and discuss, and remember class this question will form the bulk of your assessment for Pete Is A Moron 101 …

Listening To: Zeros & Heroes : Clawfinger

Went in for an ‘assessment center’ (a form of involved group interview) today – another recruitment agency, #### this time. Feel pretty good about this one also, despite the fact I have a freakin flu I probably got from coffee girl, which made trying to talk pretty fun (not). Also, I have a sneaking suspicion if they offer me the job they’re going to want me to do Construction Recruitment in Parramatta office, despite the fact I made it very clear I wanted to do IT Recruitment in City / North Sydney in my initial ‘phone sell’ to two separate people. What’s a girl to do, huh ?

In other news, I only had enough money for a one-way ticket to the city from Waverton where I left my car. Was hoping to meet up with my ex after the interview so she could lend me a bit of cash like she’d promised, till money from dad I’ve been expecting came through. Alas when I called her I found out her pseudo-boyfriend (the jealous, possessive one who has major ‘issues’ with me and any other man she talks to by the sounds of it) was catching up with her tonight before he leaves the country for 3 months on Saturday, meaning she couldn’t come and meet with me for even 2 seconds to lend me the cash.

WELL SCREW YOU THEN BABY !

The only people who’ve got your back, and who will be there for you to the last, comprise a very short list. Yourself, your ma and da … and if you’re very very lucky, a Mellipop or two. That’s it grrls and bois ! Said revelation was confirmed for me shortly after when I checked my bank balance and realised the money from dad had finally come through. So now thanks to my da, and no thanks to my ex girlfriend, I can afford to eat again and pay my bills. Right after I go to The Tav to get royally pissed, and possibly pick up a dumb blonde 16 year old, which I’m going to do very shortly, right after I finish this blog entry. Thankyou, and good night.

Well, well, wonders will never cease ! Those cocksmokers from Telstra finally got my phones sorted and working today, after I got them on last week as soon as I moved in.

Yaaaaaay !!!! No more internet cafes !!!

I think I’ll probably spend most of today online, downloading pr0n, checking my email and probably back-posting to my blog

Of course, if I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t need to do that. At least the porn bit. Or not so much of it. But I guess maybe I’m picky. Or unlucky. Or both. I mean how much longer before I meet someone who looks like …. ooooh say … ‘Teen Kelly’ (she’s on the left in the pic … between you and me I don’t think she’s a real teen … thankgod !) … or even the other one … and who’s past the substance abuse stage like I am (although doesn’t mind a drink or three), has a steady job, actually has time to spend with me, doesn’t play stupid bloody mind-games … and … here’s the real kicker … can actually string two sentences together ?

Hey if she writes ‘zines or blogs, all the better ! But yeeeers … with those kind of expectations, I’ll probably be single for a good time to come ! I mean Jeeeesus … it’s probably been 4 months now since I had sex with someone sufficiently attractive … actually since I had sex with anyone since I don’t sleep with the ‘aesthetically challenged’ anymore ! Probably a month since I had my tongue down someone else’s throat ! And technically I’ve been single since bloody February. It’s driving me frikkin loony ! All this dating business isn’t helping either, since they’re all hotties but they keep turning out to have one major flaw or another ! Gaaawd help me, I need a shag

Ah … hello … let me introduce myself … my name’s Pete and I’m 27 years old. As of this morning, I have no job, no savings, no girlfriend, and I’m moving back to my parents house again.

Hmm … I think I might have to invent some bullshit for the speed-dating event I’m supposed to be going on in a few weeks then … the truth as outlined above is sure to prove a sure fire winner for getting those follow-up contact detail swaps happening … not !

So anyways, the boss pulled me aside this morning for a ‘chat’. And then proceeded to tell my exactly why she couldn’t afford to keep me on anymore. Which was fair enough. But I what I didn’t appreciate was the other stuff she told me … like her opinion that I need to see an ‘image consultant’ because I have a ‘condescending smirk’ apparently, and that I’m ‘full of potential but don’t deliver results’ because I’m ‘not hungry enough for success’. She also suggested I might want to think about teaching or charity work as possible career paths !!!

All I can say is

Screw You Boss … We’ll See Who’s Hungry For Success When … Ummm …. I do something really great ? Yeah .. haha … yeah