Monday, February 06, 2006

Ok, that was ironic....

I attempt to post something with the title 'many things to say', forget that you can't press enter in that box, and it publishes, with nothing in it.
Is that irony? I dunno.

Oh, those many things to say.

Well, the bones came, typical that the day they come and I have to pay £10 VAT! extra, I discover another site selling them with only £2 carriage.

Well, at least I know about them now. they are here! I have a week off soon, so apart from the biannual Fucking Big Clear Out (where I go through all of my belonging in and attempt to get rid of the unnecesary stuff) it will be corset makey week. I should post a picture of the one i'm trying to make, so that I can look back some day and laugh at my absolute foolishness.

Hmmm, hang on

http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f109/seryndippyt/webmedia.jpg

So the other thing to say, oh, yes, was spring cleaning the old computer, deleting broken and unneeded links, sweeping out the old files and de-fraggling the whole kit and caboodle, and i rediscovered these little gems, so just incase I loose the links on old bertie here (er, yes, my computer is called Bertie. Sooner or later everything in my life is called Bertie. Or if its old... Berthold, its just a thing...) but yes, linkeges to movies. The Cat with Hands, little folk horror tale - http://homepage.mac.com/jbrimm/Cat-With-Hands.mov I anyone ever happens to read this its very quiet -turn the volume up! and one my brother sent me - http://www.atomfilms.com/af/content/atom_348

Hmm, what else was there?

Oh yes, i'm still covered in glitter, and this time I had to admit that it is because I just went a sprinkled some, well, its an addiction...
The mask was finished, a triumph, and it was an ok party. I don't think it truly registered how much of a family party it was going to be. But I had fun, I got the chance to threaten the life of a workmate who has been annoying me for some time. He is one of lifes little tryers. He habitually turns up to work 30, 40 minutes early in an attempt to get jobs and show how indispensible he is, he does all these things that he's not supposed to do, and often badly, he keeps on and on at you to let him do things for you, hoping that if he does this job, likes a band that you like, buys you a drink and compliments your hair or whatever, that you'll like him more. The sad fact is that if he just loosened up, relaxed the old.. well, you know what I mean he'd be a great lad, yet he is just chronically incapable of realising this. So it got to the point where we'd had the same conversation repeated, every ten minutes, without fail, for about two hours - him - would you like me to get you a drink? me - No thank you. You sure? I can get you a drink. No thank you! Its no trouble, No. Thank. You. Cos i'm going, would you like me to get you one? NO! what are you drinking? I DO NOT WANT A DRINK STOP ASKING ME! why? I just don't want one now fuck off! oh go on let me get you a drink.

So I was quite proud of myself for being able, without the use of screaming, (though there was fairly graphic hand gesturing) to convince him that if he asked again he would find himself with out vital body parts.
Sadly it hasn't totally cured the habit. In work the next day I was trying to copy the recipe for Baozi, little chinese bun things, from a book in the shop it work in. and he kept on at me telling me to go use the photcopier, it took about five replies for me to turn on him, waving a biro menacingly close to his eyebals and shouting at him in a crowde shop for him to get the message that I wasn't going to go ues the copier.
I have no faith that this is the last of it. But I helped cure him of the innapropriate comments (you know that kind of flirting that makes you need to wash?) so fingers crossed.


I almost forgot why I tolerate him that night, but then he started dancing. Oh my dear god.
He dances like a grandpa on a viagra bender. He will pelvic thrust at anything. He once even did the one where you clasp hand and arc them up from your groin area in time to the thrusting. He will do the robot, he will even attempt to moonwalk, he will drop to the floor and start writhing in orgasmic joy whilst singing the words to a Bon Jovi song. He knows and does every move to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. All with out the slightest nod to irony or post - whateverism.

Sometimes I think that the lack of jaded air is refreshing and sweet. Most of the time i'm just attempting to hold my ribs together.
So imagine my joy and consternation when we discover not one but two people in the world worse than him.

Actually, its easy to imagine for some people, any Firefly fans - Simons reaction to Jaynes statue and hero statuse in Jaynestown.

Slackjawed amazement, with the subtle hint that it may just all become hysteria with the right prodding.
I mean words cannot describe the dancing, at one point, they were waving their legs around, kind of like they had a scorpion or poisonous snake wrapped around their ankle and were attempting to shake it off. Another involved a kind of repated sequence of movements, including sticking your fingers in your ears an hoising your breast up, some thing about a travelling caratacus...? then the macarena, which despite it being a dance designed to basic robots and retarded essex girl stereotypes, not a one of them could keep in rhythm with another.

Combined with a total lack of control and divine absence of rhythm, style and supportive underwear... well, I'll leave that for you to dream about.


I'm quite snarky today. I'm officially blaming it on having half of my face awol. I had to go to the dentist this morning, on my day off, at 8 am. A filling on either side of my mouth meant that my entire lower jaw had to be numbed, and because i can't have the stuff with adrenalin in (I get erratic heart shenanigans panic attacks and the shakes, which isn't much fun) it takes most of the day to wear off. Added to this that there was a letter from a company handling an old debt (a credit card from when I was 18 it payed the deposit and first three months rent on my flat, as I was over 17 I was no longer eligible for income support, and as I refused to leave full time education, I couldn't qualify for anyhelp with housing (moving back o my mothers house was not an option, for various reasons) so the credit card came just at the right, or the wrong, time, as you look at it)

Basically the only marginally non-criminal bunch of egits and t****rs had made it difficult for me to pay it back, ignoring it, then sending me letters threatening to take me to court etc. I called their bluff repeatedly, and basicall got their bank details and set up a standing order and started paying them, not giving them an option, telling them that they were perfectly welcome to take me to court, but that they wern't going to get another penny off me as my offer was what the court would tell them to accept anyway.
So, I set up this standing order. Then I got a letter through almost three months later from their solicitors, telling me that I hadn't made a payment since the last cheque and detailing all of the money they were going to charge me ontop of the original debt.

So armed with bank statements, reference numbers and dates, I phoned the number, got some poor boy on the other end, told him exactly what their problem was. Turns out that they had a record of all the payments I have made, up to date. The actuall converstation went some thing like
Well, the last payment we recieved was on the 26th Jan, but thats now stopped.
Stopped?
Yes, it was a short term agreement.
Yes I know that, when I recieved the last letter it said it wold be finishing in June.
Well it was a six month agreement and you started in september.
No, hang on, you said in that letter the review date was june, you do not get to change that now as it suits you. So hang on - if you have record of all of the payments I have made, how come i'm getting threatening letter through form your soliciters telling me that they are going to sue me for non payment?
er...

then there was the usual rigmaral over can i pay it off all in one go can i borrow the money from friends or family blah blah blah.

I'm sorry, do they not think that I would have done that if I was able to? I'm not dragging it out for the joy of their company.

I swear next time they send me threatening letters I'm doing them for harrassment.

I suppose the moral, if there is a moral, is in the first place, practice matress banking. If you do get mixed up with debt recovery agencies, learn your rights, use a government linked agency to work out what you are obliged to pay them every month (use the same methods a court would), STICK TO YOUR GUNS, do not be intimidated by them. If they send you obtuse and confusing letters, see some one in citizens advice, maybe report them to the Crystal Clear Campaign and the Trading Standards people NEVER GIVE THEM ANY VALUABLE INFORMATION. Bank or credit card details especially. Especially if they dont appear to know what the Data Protection Act is, they could do anything with your details. Keep the ball in your court, you pay them. Keep every bit of paper they send you, and dated copies of the letters you send them. Write any correspondence in polite, well spelled and firm Language For Stupid People. Tell them don't ask them. and whatever you do talk to someone, problem shared and problem halved is actually true. An at all times, hanging yourself is not an option.

I feel like i've done my minor good deed for the day.

So back to what I was saying. I'm in a bad mood ostensibly because I had to go to the dentist today. But I have to be honest with myself, its actually because i'm a bitch with a superiority complex.
Having kept my head through out the whole situation this morning i'm feeling a little proud of my self, so thats not likely to change soon.

I have no idea who I am taking to but I love you all, my little listening friends, see you soon.

Ok, maybe the anaesthetic is having side effects.

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