First off...a minor rant about the trains. They're so poo! And they're always crap on the way home when it really matters. On the way to work it doesn't matter if I'm a bit late as I can work on the train, but on the way home I can't catch up on watching TV or tidying up or packing or whatever it is I'll be doing when I get home. A pox on all train companies!
November 16th, 2001
Secondly, I think I've been talking to duana on here too much as I appear to have caught her cold. My nose is clogged, my throat is sore and I keep coughing.
Going to RockSoc on Wednesday didn't help the situation as some git was smoking the most acrid cigarettes I've ever had the misfortune to passive smoke. I might as well have been gargling acid given the state my throat was in. A good nights rest was in order...except I didn't get it. I admittedly woke up feeling a lot better, but not as good as I good have done. Felt well enough to go into work which didn't make me any worse.
Felt OK at the start of IFIS, but as the evening wore on my throat started giving out on me again. Mostly because people kept asking me to shout and repeat myself, which meant my throat got worse and I started talking more horsely and quietly.
Then to top off the night, cryx insists on taking a picture of me despite me saying I didn't want to have one taken. Rather than waiting for a time when I was feeling a bit happier about my self image she decides that the best time to take a photo of me is when I'm unshaven, my hair is a mess and I'm feeling all fat and smelly. I'm brutally grabbed my Lyth and subjected to a torturous photosession of uglyness. Gah. I hope the camera gets subjected to a large, freakish EMP burst and all the pictures of me get wiped - especially as she is threatening to put them up a website of shame somewhere so the people of the world can mock.
The problem with working for the nation's primary TV station, is that when they hold large charity events they feel they have the right to constantly harress their employees to donate money. Oddly enough this inspires the exact opposite response in me - surely if I was going to donate money, I'd do so without having someone block my path and rudely shake a bucket in my face. Even the kitchen staff lose all manners and start rudely insisting that we must buy raffle tickets.
Thankfully the unruly mob can't get into the office as the door has a wipecard lock on it and only a select few have access. So we can safeful vet anyone who turns up to see if they have a bucket with them.