So I've been working, going to a couple of gigs, working, sleeping occasionally, going to work with a hangover and um... writing a sit-com. I had forgotten how much fun it is to go to work hungover. Though people in the office tend to get a bit suspicious if you refuse to take off your sunglasses inside the building. This is one of the useful things I have discovered so far through working here. Another useful thing being that if you walk all the way to the canteen for a cup of tea rather than the vending machine you get to waste at least 44 minutes (in total: 3 mins to walk there, 5 minutes to wait for tea to be made, 3 mins to walk back times-ed by 4) off your day. And... um... well that's it so far but I have only been here three weeks, I have this job for another year so there's still time to pick up more scintillating tips to improve the quality of my life.
I've also got a crush on the new barman of our local. I have already managed to embarrass myself at least a dozen times despite only seeing him for the first time the other night. I can't remember how or why I've managed to embarrass myself. I just know that its happened, call it a sixth sense. The last time I have woken up with a similar vauge sense of dread was after a debauched night I had 'enjoyed' on the last day of my second-year exams. I went on to have flashbacks that suggested I had invited two men back to my house and performed a tap (thats TAP, not a typo of lap) dance for them. It may be a while before I venture back into t'local. Someday I'm going to meet a man who finds my goonishness charming rather than just goonish. But probably not any time soon.
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