Temporary Au Revoir

Thank the lord, I'm finally in the last few hours of work time. As of 5pm, I am officially on holiday! I may not update my blog at all in the next couple of weeks, because I'll have much more important things to do. Like going to the beach, driving down to Sydney, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and eating far too much food.

While I'm very much enjoying gloating about the fact that I've got two weeks off, I'm slowly realising that there will be something very important missing in my life. That is, my routine, and the people that comprise my routine.

I'm going to miss my little routine of gym, work, home. Especially people like Roy who keep me permanently amused and make the day of work a little easier to swallow. And the lovely Chappers who consistently makes me smile and gives me the perspective I need to get by every day.

But... apart from them, I can't wait to get the hell out of this pit of mundane misery and party like it's 1999! Wooo! Goodbye, cruel world of work; hello, life of luxury that I crave.

Lazy.

I don't know how many of you are aware of this, but I thought I'd just talk a little about my job. Particularly, the severe ease with which I do my job. Now, this isn't me bragging about my superb ability to do my job, it's purely the fact that my job is so frickin easy.

My average day consists of this:
8:30 - 10:00: Check emails, chat to colleagues, get coffee, read news online.
10:00 - 12:00: Read work emails, spend roughly 15 minutes calling clients, analyse possibility of hitting targets.
12:00 - 13:00: Lunch.
13:00 - 15:00: Email friends, discuss evening plans with colleagues, Facebook, Blog.
15:00: Start packing up and thinking about going home, before finally sneaking out of the door.

You see, it's the lamest attempt at a working day I've ever heard of. My question is, am I now destined to stay in this job for the rest of all time, purely because I've become so lazy that this is how I expect a working day to go? Or will my laziness eventually bite me on the arse and find me out of a job altogether?

I've been discussing this with colleagues (between the hours of 8:30 and 10:00) and they run their working day on a similar schedule. So, it's not just me. But who started it? Is this laziness contagious, and have I inadvertently infected my colleagues with this affliction? Technically, the person who's been here the longest (Roy) probably infected the rest of us with his laziness. Can I blame him?

Fuck it - let's blame Roy for our laziness. In fact, let's blame him for ALL the laziness we encounter collectively around the world.

The Promotion of Gambling

Me and my pod have just won $19 on some scratchies. The purchase of said scratchies stemmed from the amazing performance of a young horse called 'Champagne and Chicks', which Roy was compelled to back. The whole experience was enthralling and exciting and it's made me start to question if gambling is such a bad thing? In fact, my pondering goes beyond this - I'm beginning to wonder; is gambling just for fun, or are people inherently attracted to it?

I'm inclined to think that the act of gambling is up there with all endorphin releasing activities - it pleasures like a bar of chocolate - it amuses like a cracking joke - it excites like the promise of Sunday afternoon sex. Surely we should be fitting as much of these activities into our lives as possible, not limiting it to special occasions? After all, depriving yourself of chocolate, laughter and sex only leads to misery.

If I'm to assume that gambling should be encouraged, and it necessarily helps in our pursuit of happiness, then is a gambling addict merely a person who's reached ultimate enlightenment and is no longer hampered by the consciousness of an ill-bred theory that gambling is bad?

Should we all take a leaf out of the Gamblers Anonymous Guide Book, and get on the tracks, get down to the TAB and back everything that moves with the hope that we too can achieve the same enlightenment? Should we all be striving towards the goal of being a Gambler?

Falsification

As some of you may be aware, I designated a Guest Blogger and stipulated that for me to determine whether or not the position should be made a permanent one, I would use the counter to the right of this screen as a guide to the popularity of this medium. Given that, on average, my own posts deliver 50 page impressions per post (PPP), I would assume that the impressions of a Guest Blogger should by rights deliver an equivalent PPP.

After informing those involved of the rules and parameters set around this event, I assumed that said rules would be adhered to in the most professional of manners.

I was wrong.

Unfortunately, a person who shall remain nameless due to the amazing respect that I have for them, (Roy), has been hitting the 'Refresh' button to falsely increase the PPP of the Guest Blogger post. All I have to say is that this is a perfect example of why people with less than half a brain should not be left in control of electrical or heavy machinery, and why it might be best for all concerned to just designate a dark corner of the earth to accommodate them and their anti-social ways.

Issues with Caesar

I don't have issues with Julius Caesar - the person - but I do have issues with some items that have taken his name.

Firstly, I'm beginning to wonder if natural births shouldn't be outlawed completely, to be replaced by the much less messy Caesarian Section. After a lunchtime conversation with Roy and IT Helpdesk, I've decided that any woman who decides on a natural birth must be either fucking stupid, or have a fanny like a wizard's sleeve. It's just not right.

Secondly, I think I'm allergic to Caesar Salads. Last time I ate one, (as some of you may remember), I got a bloated eyeball. It was red, puffy, and very painful for a good 24 hours, and I had to go to hospital only to be told that there was nothing they could do. And then yesterday I ate a very nice Caesar Salad for lunch, and today I have a bloated stomach to the extent that all I've eaten is a small bowl of muesli and a pearl iced tea.

You see, I'm thinking that this concurrent theme isn't coincidental, and that maybe I'm doomed to a life of being 'touched' by all things Caesarian. Maybe I'll end up campaigning for the banning of natural births, as well as the banning of Caesar Salads, and I'll meet a man named Julius who'll either a) force feed me salad's until I'm sick, or b) have such a massive appendage that I end up with a bucket-fanny which is fully capable of popping out the sprogs in twenty seconds. Who knows?!

A Great Idea Indeed

You'll all remember a suggestion made earlier this month, by Roy, in 'Great Idea...?' - I've decided that it was a great idea, and I am now implementing a procedure that will enable a Guest Blogger to post on my blog.

I originally suggested to Roy that the first Guest Blogger (GB) should be him, but apparently he lacks creativity. This reminded me that he can't actually read, the poor thing, never learnt the skill, so perhaps his writing skills would be reflective of this slight illiteracy.

Then on the other hand, maybe his misfortune could be entertaining? Let's face it, reading blog posts of near perfect grammar with little to no spelling mistakes can get slightly tiresome. So maybe bringing in a GB with little to no writing or reading skills would be fun - for us, if not for him...?

I ask you Roy - would you mind awfully if we exploited your illiteracy for the purposes of Blogging Entertainment?

Great Idea...?

My neighbourly colleague Roy has made a suggestion - ordinarily his suggestions are either too pornographic or too down right dumb to even bother listening to, but today he has surprised me. He has suggested, as one of my more loyal readers, that having a Guest Blogger once a month would add a new dimension to I Like To Complain.

My initial thoughts are that this is a truly brilliant idea. However, I am all too aware that the temazepam and two large gin and tonics I consumed last night may be clouding my judgement, so I require your opinion. Please let me know:
a) your view of the validity of this suggestion,
b) your potential interest in being a Guest Blogger yourself, and
c) any ideas on restrictions and/or limitations to the content and subject of a Guest Bloggers 'spot'.

If your comments are wholly positive, Roy will get a pat on the back. If your comments prove that my levels of intoxication are making me sink into Roy's little world of clear stupidity, he will get a slap on the back of the head.

New Month, New Me

Yet again I have reached a minor turning point in my life. I'm beginning to think that I think far too much about everything, and perhaps I'm slightly self-obsessed, but hey, I'll carry on until my brain explodes.

So, I've witnessed my proactivity with regards to weight loss and fitness. I am a guru of all things health related. Additionally, I'm now completely versed with life in Australia and living an independent existence. I am a guru of all things Australian and Me related. However, there's one thing that I'm not so experienced in, and I'll admit, I tend to be slightly emotionally stunted about. That is, the wonderful world of men.

Is it wonderful? Probably not, but I'm curious as to how things work when a man and a woman live on a level playing field.

I just feel like I'm not allowing them the respect they deserve. I'm thinking that there may even be one out there who has a bit of a brain attached to his penis - you never know, stranger things have happened. So, my plan is to put myself on the market, officially. I'm gonna make a concerted effort to flaunt my goods in the general direction of suitable patrons, while still retaining the little dignity that I've saved over the years.

Of course, I won't let the flaunting get out of hand - Roy and Chappers are on side to slap me if I turn into some desperate old whore flashing her fanny about - and anyway, I'm much more sophisticated than that. Really - I am...

Cat

Having shown Chappers and Roy the following link to my intended breed of cat, I have realised that I should possibly gather opinion of my choice.

The breed is supposed to be better for allergy sufferers, and should be an indoor cat as they can't cope with the outdoors. If you do take them outdoors, you have to put sunscreen on them, and have them on a lead. The breeder currently has 4 baby boys who would be ready for collection in 10 weeks. They are chocolate pointed in colour.

Personally, I think they're so ugly that they're actually cute, but other people have different opinions. Please help me with this very important decision by commenting; indicate Yes or No.

http://www.cat-world.com.au/DevonRexBreedProfile.htm

P.S. My first choice of name is Faggot. If you have any other suggestions, please let me know.

Final Challenge Results!

That's right people, it's all over!! I have completed the Twelve Week Challenge, and my final results were:

12kg weight loss

58.5cms off my measurements

6.4% body fat loss

The most exciting bit for me is that I'm now a Size 12! For the first time since I was 13, I can finally go into normal people shops and buy normal people clothes. Understandably, my ego has shot through the roof and I'm prancing about like I'm a model or something - but i don't care! I'm allowed - I've earned it.

So, I apologise in advance to all of you who have the (mis)fortune to see me in person. I apologise for inadvertently twirling in front of you, for slapping my own arse, and for flicking my hair around like a big girl. Poor Roy has already witnessed this shockingly self-absorbed behaviour, but kindly hasn't berated me as yet. I'll give it til the end of the day; I'm sure he'll have cracked by then.

Now my mum was very proud of my results, and when she saw me exclaimed "Quick, go and visit all the relatives NOW so they can see how skinny you are!!" - I explained to her that I'm not going to eat a burger and suddenly put my 12kg back on again, and that I do have a plan in place to make sure the weight stays off. The plan is this:

Start training towards competing in a Triathlon.

How exciting!! I promise not to endlessly go on about it though. It's a long term plan, and it may take a year to complete. Therefore I will only give a monthly update on my blog. I promise.

Cookies

They're cunning, they're tempting, they're evil - They're Cookies.

I'm not talking Internet Cookies, and I'm certainly not talking your Oreo variety of Cookie. I'm talking about the type of cookie that lies in wait, knowing that nobody can ever resist their tempting ways. They are more often than not placed in the back of the cupboard, or in a drawer of the fridge, so that you can't see them. But we all know this is pointless. Their overriding presence is not stilted by the bounds of vision, nor is it hampered by any attempt to hide their scent: Cookies of this nature are omniscient.

If anybody has ever sampled a Chocolate Viennese Cookie from Marks & Spencer's, you'll understand. My friend from the UK, Miln, has recently supplied me with two, count em, TWO packets of these delightful morsels, and I curse the day she landed on my doorstep. I dream about them - I can taste them in my sleep - and I've just polished off the first packet. My only saving grace now is that the second packet isn't open yet, and I'm counting on Chappers, Roy and IT Helpdesk to do the honours with the second pack.

This is a plea for help - please will someone eat my cookies??

The Other Pod

I work in Pod #1 along with my esteemed colleagues, Roy and Chappers. We work alongside Pod #2 who consist of 3 'others' who mainly aren't worthy of a pseudonym. Yesterday they went out west together...

Now, I've told you all previously about the dangers and perils associated with westward travel, but it seems that I hadn't even touched the tip of this veritable iceberg of hazard. Roy and Chappers are far more acquainted with the dangers of the west, and indeed, with the social habits of the other pod.

It seems that all this time, I have been working alongside a pod of sexual deviants - a pod of people so perverse that even the presence of westies doesn't hamper their desire to take part in sordid sex games. In fact, the proximity to the west seems to have provoked a side to them previously unknown to me. Apparently there have been incidents involving a new form of dental floss - utilising the body's 'natural floss', as well as some interesting initiation rights involving a new Pod #2 member. Roy and Chappers are very much aware of their games, and have enlightened me regarding this subject. However, the details appear to have excited Roy and Chappers a little too much, and I'm now worried that I'm working alongside a bunch of raving nymphomaniacs.

The question is, do I conform and allow my own nymphomaniac to surface? Or do I take on the 'Nanna' role and chastise all of them for their evil and provocative ways?

Those of you who know me well can probably guess which avenue I'll take.

Is this my downfall?

Do I complain too much? Am I on the brink of becoming the world's most prolific complainer? Do people complain, about my tendency to complain, behind my back? These questions are only the tip of the paranoid iceberg that I find myself floating along on this morning.

I find myself in need of a mid-year resolution: I will stop complaining in the verbal format. I will reserve all my complaining for this blog, and nowhere else. If I am found to be complaining verbally, I give YOU the green card to take me out - take me down - kick me to the kerb.

I have now instructed my colleague, Roy, that if he hears me complaining about anything, he's to submit unto me a force previously only seen in movies such a Star Wars - the force of this rebuttal will be so great that onlookers will cower in it's wake, small children will cry in anticipation and grown men will wet themselves in public.

The shock, the horror... all I can do is give you this warning. Consider it my last attempt to save you all, my final duty as a blogger, and my potentially ultimate act as a complaining human being. Let the verbal complaining cease, and the written complaining continue.