09 février 2007

Note to self*

Do not, ever, ask when the good news will stop. It is bound to come to a screeching halt against (into?) a tree by the side of the road.
Things are still looking good (I think...) re my upcoming Mary Tyler Moore impersonation (we shall call it that from now on - let's all thank Alan), but everything else, oh. my. god.
That metro car squat I was mentioning the other day? It's looking increasingly likely. I'll also probably have to smuggle myself across in the trunk of a plane, by the look of it. Yes, I know it's not called a trunk, but to be perfectly honest with you, I can't be arsed looking it up.**
And oh yes, I know I've been telling people to try self-assertiveness seminars. Wow. Shouldn't I be attending one myself... That whole "everything is negotiable" gimmick? Unless by negotiable you mean "acceptable even though you don't really want to accept it but are too much of a WUSS to say no to", well, it clearly doesn't apply to me.
Also. Don't ever believe it when two out of three people in three different offices tell you that your move overseas may be sponsored by some unemployment subsidies. Unless you're moving somewhere within the European Union, it's not gonna happen. So yeah, not only do you feel bitterly rejected by the European Union because they never accepted one of your applications, but you also get your hopes of saving a not insignificant amount of money squashed up and trampled on by heartless, indifferent public servants who probably hung up the phone and cackled for a good ten minutes before dutifully reporting the good news to their boss, the DEVIL.
Anyways.

* I have been messing with "I" and "you" in this entry. It sounds pretty clear to me though. If, however, you have trouble understanding the perspective, put yourself in my brain. And then commiserate.
**Baggage hold. There. And you didn't even have to tower over me and growl threateningly "Look it up. Now." Wuss, I tell you.