How The Week Went...
Friday – 1pm. Fearfully I approach the clinic with trepidation. Imagination raging. Paranoia encroaching.
Friday 1.05pm. Relieved though disappointed at the anti-climax.
Friday Evening, drink a bottle of wine and watch The West Wing, lament at how it’s brilliant again but has been cancelled in America, and My Name Is Earl. Laugh at Randy. Lust after both the maid & the ex-wife . Mmmm.
Saturday Morning – slightly hungover, depressed that Saturday Kitchen is not on.
Saturday – play 24 The Game on PS2. Very good. Hours pass without me noticing. Watch some TV.
Sunday Morning – ignore my alarm and sleep in, thereby missing the chance to meet John in town to watch Liverpool v Newcastle. Watch the game and smile as we crush the Geordie tits 1-3.
Sunday Evening – Drink several bottles of beer and a bottle of wine. Life on Garden Leave is akin to Life on the Dole – there are no plans for Monday.
Monday Morning – slightly hungover. Play 24 The Game till…
Monday Afternoon… late afternoon – Work calls, I have to be in at 9am the next day to help out with Quality on a campaign. Balls, I say.
Tuesday Morning, 9am – look on aghast as the boss tells me I didn’t have to be till 10. Face an hour of internet till everyone else comes in. Silently curse HR. Start writing…
There Will Be Blood….
Back in work today. Covering a ‘quality’ issue on one of the contracts I know nothing of.
Feel rough. Lack of sleep & IBS combine to create a feeling a lot like a hangover. Cold sweats, aches & pains, sore eyes – oh & guts that just spew their fullness every 20 minutes
Always feel like this when I come back to work. Probably due to the fact that I do nothing when I’m off – inactivity is killing me.
Anyway, why will there be blood? Friday, I had a growth from my nose removed. That sound’s horrible, conjures images of witches warts & second heads. In truth, it was a wart-type growth, to quote my doctor. Benign, thank fuck, but a pain to quote another.
The specialist informed me of the procedure,
“….inject local anaesthetic… this will really hurt as there is no tissue in the nose, unlike your arm, really painful... then we scrape it out with a spoon leaving a hole…there will be blood…bleeding for a few days…after a week the scab will fall off…”
Jesus Harry H Corbett Christ!!! I do not want to hear that! Blood? Pain? Spoon? What the F’!?!
Needless to say I wasn’t looking forward to it. It did need to be done. The thing was growing and had started to bleed from time to time – not at all nice. It was visible enough to catch my eye – creating a danger of going gozy (cross-eyed), like Carl Riener in The Jerk.
I can’t believe these fucks have brought me in for 9 when they don’t need me till 10!!!
So there I am, on my way to the clinic. Visions of facial chops plaguing me.
Let’s start with the needle. ‘Very Painful, really gonna make your eyes water”. The way he made is sound, and the way my imagination heightened it, I was dreading this.
Aah, my imagination, I have the innate curse to imagine every little aspect.
10am came along and the writing stopped. Let’s see, what really happened that day?
Friday – 1pm. Fearfully I approach the clinic with trepidation – wait, I done this bit.
Friday – 1.01pm. There’s no one outside the clinic, good, no queues. An In & Out Job. The words of the doctor is ringing in my eyes, and all I’m thinking of is leaving the building crying my eyes out holding a bloody bandage to a gushing hole where my nose used to be.
Friday – 1.02pm. The doctor is in a jovial mood. And why not? It’s Friday afternoon, not too busy, maybe he can get home early, start the weekend. Plus he’s getting paid a shit load for easy work. My attention is drawn to his two helpers. Why two? How big is this operation? He says a few medical things to them, requesting this and that. Casually he corrects one for picking up the wrong anaesthetic. My anus yawns in terror.
Friday – 1.03pm. The needle is stuck inside the wart. I’m brave so I close my eyes, grab the sides of the bed/chair/thing till my knuckles turn white, and curl my toes. It’s not as bad as I feared, but I’m still a weak bitch, and my eyes water. The female helper smiles, “I bet you can’t feel your nose now can you?” Well, actually I can… Too late. The Doctor is back with a pair of what looks like toe clippers…
Friday 1.04pm – With a swift snip the wart is gone. All though I can feel the end of my nose, the side is dead. I can feel the warm blood on my cheek though, heading for my mouth. No spoon. Thank Christ. “Here’s the bad bit”, the doctor reassures me, before singeing my flesh with a hot-thing. The smell is disgusting.
Friday 1.05pm. Relieved though disappointed at the anti-climax. I forgot to add, slightly bewildered, although smiling at the relative briefness of it all.
Now, where were we?
Tuesday Evening – work wasn’t too bad. Back office stuff, checking reports. I just put my Ipod on and stared lustfully at a few of the Scandavian girls who work there. Wow! Best word to sum them up. Back home, I settle down and watch Liverpool destroy Birmingham 0-7. 15 goals in three games. Happy Days!
Wednesday – work, blimp, go home, fight sleep, watch Chelsea sneak past Newcastle, sleep.
Thursday – work. Here typing this shit even though no one will read it.
Is this what a blog is supposed to be about? I’m not sure. Mine doesn’t seem to have an identity yet. Ah well, give us feedback if you want…
Friday 1.05pm. Relieved though disappointed at the anti-climax.
Friday Evening, drink a bottle of wine and watch The West Wing, lament at how it’s brilliant again but has been cancelled in America, and My Name Is Earl. Laugh at Randy. Lust after both the maid & the ex-wife . Mmmm.
Saturday Morning – slightly hungover, depressed that Saturday Kitchen is not on.
Saturday – play 24 The Game on PS2. Very good. Hours pass without me noticing. Watch some TV.
Sunday Morning – ignore my alarm and sleep in, thereby missing the chance to meet John in town to watch Liverpool v Newcastle. Watch the game and smile as we crush the Geordie tits 1-3.
Sunday Evening – Drink several bottles of beer and a bottle of wine. Life on Garden Leave is akin to Life on the Dole – there are no plans for Monday.
Monday Morning – slightly hungover. Play 24 The Game till…
Monday Afternoon… late afternoon – Work calls, I have to be in at 9am the next day to help out with Quality on a campaign. Balls, I say.
Tuesday Morning, 9am – look on aghast as the boss tells me I didn’t have to be till 10. Face an hour of internet till everyone else comes in. Silently curse HR. Start writing…
There Will Be Blood….
Back in work today. Covering a ‘quality’ issue on one of the contracts I know nothing of.
Feel rough. Lack of sleep & IBS combine to create a feeling a lot like a hangover. Cold sweats, aches & pains, sore eyes – oh & guts that just spew their fullness every 20 minutes
Always feel like this when I come back to work. Probably due to the fact that I do nothing when I’m off – inactivity is killing me.
Anyway, why will there be blood? Friday, I had a growth from my nose removed. That sound’s horrible, conjures images of witches warts & second heads. In truth, it was a wart-type growth, to quote my doctor. Benign, thank fuck, but a pain to quote another.
The specialist informed me of the procedure,
“….inject local anaesthetic… this will really hurt as there is no tissue in the nose, unlike your arm, really painful... then we scrape it out with a spoon leaving a hole…there will be blood…bleeding for a few days…after a week the scab will fall off…”
Jesus Harry H Corbett Christ!!! I do not want to hear that! Blood? Pain? Spoon? What the F’!?!
Needless to say I wasn’t looking forward to it. It did need to be done. The thing was growing and had started to bleed from time to time – not at all nice. It was visible enough to catch my eye – creating a danger of going gozy (cross-eyed), like Carl Riener in The Jerk.
I can’t believe these fucks have brought me in for 9 when they don’t need me till 10!!!
So there I am, on my way to the clinic. Visions of facial chops plaguing me.
Let’s start with the needle. ‘Very Painful, really gonna make your eyes water”. The way he made is sound, and the way my imagination heightened it, I was dreading this.
Aah, my imagination, I have the innate curse to imagine every little aspect.
10am came along and the writing stopped. Let’s see, what really happened that day?
Friday – 1pm. Fearfully I approach the clinic with trepidation – wait, I done this bit.
Friday – 1.01pm. There’s no one outside the clinic, good, no queues. An In & Out Job. The words of the doctor is ringing in my eyes, and all I’m thinking of is leaving the building crying my eyes out holding a bloody bandage to a gushing hole where my nose used to be.
Friday – 1.02pm. The doctor is in a jovial mood. And why not? It’s Friday afternoon, not too busy, maybe he can get home early, start the weekend. Plus he’s getting paid a shit load for easy work. My attention is drawn to his two helpers. Why two? How big is this operation? He says a few medical things to them, requesting this and that. Casually he corrects one for picking up the wrong anaesthetic. My anus yawns in terror.
Friday – 1.03pm. The needle is stuck inside the wart. I’m brave so I close my eyes, grab the sides of the bed/chair/thing till my knuckles turn white, and curl my toes. It’s not as bad as I feared, but I’m still a weak bitch, and my eyes water. The female helper smiles, “I bet you can’t feel your nose now can you?” Well, actually I can… Too late. The Doctor is back with a pair of what looks like toe clippers…
Friday 1.04pm – With a swift snip the wart is gone. All though I can feel the end of my nose, the side is dead. I can feel the warm blood on my cheek though, heading for my mouth. No spoon. Thank Christ. “Here’s the bad bit”, the doctor reassures me, before singeing my flesh with a hot-thing. The smell is disgusting.
Friday 1.05pm. Relieved though disappointed at the anti-climax. I forgot to add, slightly bewildered, although smiling at the relative briefness of it all.
Now, where were we?
Tuesday Evening – work wasn’t too bad. Back office stuff, checking reports. I just put my Ipod on and stared lustfully at a few of the Scandavian girls who work there. Wow! Best word to sum them up. Back home, I settle down and watch Liverpool destroy Birmingham 0-7. 15 goals in three games. Happy Days!
Wednesday – work, blimp, go home, fight sleep, watch Chelsea sneak past Newcastle, sleep.
Thursday – work. Here typing this shit even though no one will read it.
Is this what a blog is supposed to be about? I’m not sure. Mine doesn’t seem to have an identity yet. Ah well, give us feedback if you want…
Posts
4 comments:
CONTRAST
What you talking about dude?
blue text on black background makes your eyes water - you need a little more contrast
Duly noted. Does this suit you better? Anyone else out there unhappy with the colour scheme? :)
Post a Comment