lilac and angst

 

Me:  good afternoooooon hello hello

Customer:  Hi did you get my email?

Me:  um, sorry, who would it be from?    (like, wtf????)
Cust:  *** **dffsj name

Me:  Okay I'll just see if I can find it...    (wth, just wait for my reply you freak)

Me:  I can't seem to find it, what day did you send it?

Cust: Oh about 5 minutes ago

Me:  *headdesk* sometimes emails can take a while to go through...

Cust:  Oh.. I'll try back in half an hour then!

Me:  *rather bluntly, I'll admit* Wouldn't you rather just..wait..for my..reply??

Cust:  ..you mean you reply on the day?

Me:  Yes I can assure you we get back to all emails promptly

Cust: oh okay I'll just wait for your reply then!

 

YEAH OKAY THANKS FOR WASTING 5 MINUTES OF MY DAY IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVE 2 OTHER LINES RINGING.  FOR FUCKS SAKES, WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT OF USING EMAIL IF YOU ARE JUST GOING TO PHONE ME 5 MINUTES LATER?  ARGH, GET THE FUCK OUT!!! ALSO, IF IT'S THAT IMORTANT THAT YOUR ENQUIRY IS ANSWERED TODAYYYYY THEN JUST FUCKING PHONE IN THE FIRST PLACE.  WHAT THE SHIT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

 

This happens every freaking day.

 

ALSO, WHAT THE HELL PEOPLE??? Phones here are answered between 9am and 11.30pm, all other hours its the answering machine (answering machines maximise bookings lol!!!!)!@.  When I get in at 8.50am approx I check the answering machine.  AND THERE ARE OFTEN LOTS OF MESSAGES.  I just don't get it.  Who the fuck phones a restaurant between 11.30pm and 9am??? Like.. what the fucking fuck?  Who thinks, at midnight  OHH YEAH I MIGHT PHONE AND MAKE THAT BOOKING NOW.  Same goes for the dicks who phone at 1pm and ask to speak to the head chef.  ... It's the middle of fucking lunch service!  Chef won't even talk to me, let alone some random on the phone!  What's that, you want RECEIPES???? Phone back NOT DURING LUNCH SERVICE KTHXBAI

Ahhhh blorg.  Warmth, safety... *cuddles blog*.  You are so unlike facebook, perhaps the most invasive social networking site on the planet (wuh?  they're all invasive).  I'm crawling out of my skin on facebook lately.  Ooop, my mum has facebook now.  Now I feel bad when I swear in case she reads it.  She's probably seen the photos of me and Em making out, smoking, etc.  It's just getting a bit too much.  My fucking mum has facebook!

 

So I come here and wrap these deliciously angsty lilac walls around myself like a huge blanket and I can write again!!!

 

 

I'm anxious as fuck lately but am delighted by the idea that nobody reads this shit anymore.  Currently I feel like everything I do is wrong, or fucked, in some way or another, but there's no helping that.  I saw Shell last week which brought up a lot of realisations and a few feelings I didn't know I had.  I miss her so much but I can't help feeling I'll never get her back.  

 

When I try to sleep at night I feel like I'm in a dull room with my thoughts.  I'm just sitting there, right, on this splintered wooden stool watching thoughts come out of my head and circle around aimlessly until the next lot push them away and dominate this dusty room and 10 minutes later the original thoughts come back and the whole shitty shit fest starts again.

 

*waves streamers*

 

Anyway, here's a poem I wrote recently.

 

 

---

I feel massive most days.

 

The way

They speak about

Me, however

 

Makes me feel

Like gum and tooth

Without a mouth

With which to chew

 

Just a tooth

Wrapped in soft

Pink pillow

Stomping miserably

Upon a pile of food

 

The tooth doesn't grow and the

Gum simply aches.

 

---

I thought I'd post a blog because my morning has been soooo crAaAAzxykjdfasdfyyyy.

So I get into the building I work in this morning, ask the concierge if he “has the time” and he says “Do you have the inclination?”  I don’t understand so he explains... thoroughly.  Oh, great.  A sex joke.  You’re like a thousand years old and, 45 minutes on, I’m still shivering. 

I get into the office and every single one of pens except my Hannah Montanna, stoned-bug-eyed-dog and musical note pen are GONE.  All my well-working biros are missing and I am left with these stupid novelty ones that don’t work properly.  Seriously, I think my colleagues aren’t just stealing my pens... THEY’RE EATING THEM.   

First  five calls of the morning:

1.       My sister.  She informs me that one of our family members who I don’t feel like naming has gone totally psycho since being divorced out of the family and is intent on stirring shit up.  What an effing ahole.

 

2.       A very kind gentleman who dined on Friday night and unfortunately we totally screwed up his payment.  Now I have to fax a letter to his bank requesting that a pending charge be wiped, as this nice man cannot wait the 7 days for it to just sort itself out.

 

3.       Another very, very kind man who wants to make a booking for Saturday night.  I take down all his details and then inform him about our set price structure.  He umm’s and ahh’s over this for a while (and by 'a while' I mean FOREVER) and then asks me to explain it again.  Then he asks me several questions that I have already answered, twice, and then he asks me to explain everything from the start... again.  Oh, tangent time!  In script format! Now it’s appropriate for him to mention that it’s his wife’s birthday, do we do anything special? 
Yes sir, I reply dutifully; if your wife orders a dessert we can write HAPPY BIRTHDAY in chocolate on the plate, and put a sparkler/candle in the damned thing.  
Oh... oh, well I went to *some other restaurant* last year and they gave her a big piece of cake, they really looked after you there!
W-well we don’t really have cakes.. I mean, we can make a c-cake if you want!  But it’s not free.. and umm.. I’m s-sure that other restaurant had cake on their dessert menu and they just cut a piece off.. a-and we’re not going to make a b-b-big arse mother fucking cake so we can give your wife one f-f-fucking peice
okay, so I didn’t really say that, but I was thinking it
Ahh.. Okay, I’ll have to think about it then, goodbye *click*
*sari sits here.. not knowing if he wants to keep the booking or not... feels very sad...*

 

4.       *loud, crackling telemarketer voice comes in* YES CAN I SPEAK TO *HEAD CHEF*???
*winces* he’s not in today
WELL CAN I HAVE HIS MOBILE NUMBER???
*holds speaker away from ear* I can’t give that out, sorry
SO WILL HE BE BACK AFTER LUNCH
*starts yelling back* NO HE IS NOT IN TODAY OR TOMORROW HE WILL BE IN WEDNESDAY
CAN I HAVE HIS MOBILE NUMBER??
NO YOU MAY NOT GOODBYE *click*

5.       “Hello, I understand you deliver apple strudels to hotels?”    We do what now?   You deliver apple strudels...wait, is this *some company*?   No.

 

*headdesk* It’s going to be a shocker today.

 

p.s. heloooooo everybody..

This poem is great.  Read it, don't read it.  Just don't leave shitty comments complaining about the shiteful pathetic excuse of a blog that this is... Plus, I had to beat shell to a blog, because we were both suddenly inspired this morning, I want to beat her.  rahhhh :D

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.
They grew their toes and fingers well enough,
Their little foreheads bulged with concentration.
If they missed out on walking about like people
It wasn't for any lack of mother-love.

O I cannot explain what happened to them!
They are proper in shape and number and every part.
They sit so nicely in the pickling fluid!
They smile and smile and smile at me.
And still the lungs won't fill and the heart won't start.

They are not pigs, they are not even fish,
Though they have a piggy and a fishy air -
It would be better if they were alive, and that's what they were.
But they are dead, and their mother near dead with distraction,
And they stupidly stare and do not speak of her.

- By Sylvia Plath, not me, of course.

 

hi guys!

happy new year everyone.  ... speaking of new years, mad skillz lost her camera at tris and becky's epic NYE party.  Did anyone pick it up/steal it/eat it/something?  If so can you pretty pretty pleeeeeeease give it to me so I can return it to her?  It's a little silver thing with a strip of black tape with skulls on it.  Anyway, if you could all keep an eye out it'd be muchly appreciated

 

 

...I think I'm going to be sick. 

 

 

 

Ah, so I'm at work on 4 1/2 hours sleep (woo) because I woke up ridiculously early feeling insanely thirsty, sore and hungover.  I hate drinking - it's pretty much the bane of my existence now days. 

 

Anyway, a list, because I'm so damn fond of them. 

 

Places that are truely awesome:

 

1. the christmas section in Myer.  Oh. My. God.  This is pretty much my favourite place to be ever.  I'm a sucker for those tiny villages, especially the ones that are like..carnivals and have miniature ferris wheels and.  Yeah.  The tiny christmas cities are the cutest ever, they make me all christmas-spirited and sappy, it's kind of gross.

 

2. the gift wrapping section of David Jones.  This place is ultimate - there is ribbon everywhere and big colourful boxes that make me so incredibly happy.  Also, there are long tubes of every style of gift wrap EVER.  I love it so much it makes me want to buy presents for all you lot just so I can wrap them nicely.

 

3. the graphic novel section of Perth public library.  This was where my love for Neil Gaiman was born after a muchly appreciated recommendation from Shell/Johno.  It's kind of sad though, because I lost a movie I got out from that library and owe them monies...so I can't go back there.

 

4. the psychology section of borders.  It's right at the very back of the lower level, so it's all sneaky and hidden away.  Plus, all of the books are really interesting.  Admittedly the only book I've bought from this section is "Prozac Nation" which was pretty much the most single depressing book ever, but I'm still cool.

 

5. the poetry section in borders.  They have all of Sylvia Plath's poems which is pretty freakin' sweet. (I prefer to just get them off the internet but they're nice to read in my lunch breaks).

 

6. that russian crystal shop in carillon arcade.  It's so damn pretty/shiney, but I could never go in there out of fear of breaking everything in the shop. 

 

woo, the end, what a pointless piece of crap (oh but I mustn't really think that because I'm going to post it anyway! memememe)

hating:

 

1. happy people.  you cunts.

2. Jessica Alba.  I'm not sure why, but I find her entirely ridiculous and not at all attractive. 

3. The fact that I have not yet finished the final Harry Potter book. 

4. Blonde girls who nick name themselves "Blondie".  Gay.

5. When people look at me when I'm biting my nails because I know I look ugly when I'm doing it.

6. People who give credit card details two numbers at a time.  God damnit! Just say four at a time! You think I can't handle remembering four numbers?!

7. Wrist cramps arousing the idea that, Oh my god, I have carpal tunnel syndrome, I'm going to have to get my wrist and hand cut open and operated, I'll be scarred and ugly for life.

8.  NSFW livejournal secrets >.<

9. watches that only have the numbers 3, 6, 9 and 12 on them.  I love this sequence of numbers, in fact, you could say it is my favourite, but how the fuck do people use these watches? How can you tell if it's on 4 or 5??

 

loving:

 

1. metalocalypse

2. constant stream of parties lately

3. um, yep, kind of struggling with this list. I'm at work and it's lame, I'm having really inappropriate bursts of anger and I actually got into a fight with a customer (nothing hardcore, I just spoke to her like she was a complete dumb arse which now I feel really bad about, because she knew I was being a bitch.  well..she was being abitch first.  argh). I haven't slept properly in a really fucking long time and I sometimes I actually think I'm going mad with fear. 

4. anyway.

5. 'anatomy for the artist' - a book shell bought me for my birthday.  she's my snugglequeen.

6. getting monday's off.

7. ROYAL SHOW SOON

8. I finish work in 9 minutes

9. I finish this list now.