Post Forty-Five: You Tricky Trickster.

I hurt.

I severely overindulged on the weekend and my immune system is all like "Screw you bitch! So you think you can drink all night, two nights in a row!... flouncing around in the cold with next to nothing on....well, be prepared for the cactus that I'm going to plant in your mouth pipe, and that's only the beginning!..."

Thank you self.

Anyway, someone at work is fucking with my mind. It's either a staff member or a bad ass poltergeist. I think I've only told one or two people, and they don't even work with me, but I routinise most activities from 8am to 4pm to the minute. I think it's one of the only things I do that might lead people to think that I'm stranger than what I actually am.

I get up at about 7am and head into work pretty early. You see, I sit at work for a half an hour or so before I start so I can eat some breakfast, chill out and smash down some caffeine. I usually have either oats or two boiled eggs on toast....I know this is a stupidly boring piece of trivia but for the last couple of weeks someone has been stirring my psyche by messing around my morning ritual. It makes me a little tweaked for the whole day!

Firstly, my oats keep being moved so I can't find them. This forces me to go with the egg option. The egg part is fine, but my toast has been burning because someone moves the button thing (what do you call that knob, the intensity knob??? oh dear ) all the way up to the highest setting, to char to satans liking. Argh! I have been moving the setting down to a reasonable level after wasting about four pieces, and I put the oats back in the same cupboard when I find them again, but the cards keep being dealt. I always thought the cases were unrelated until today, when I realised how often this has been happening. I think it was the misery from the hangover induced flu that made me think negatively enough to string the incidents together.

So, after my failed attempts at a peaceful breakfast, me and my swollen glands had to get to work on some lovely customers that I'm sure saved up all of their gases and excrements for me....Nothing like a monday morning with a sensitive stomach and a banging head in a mortuary.

Peace. x

P.S. Congratulations to the boys from the Mercy Beat for the release of their debut album, 'How to Shampoo a Yak.' You played superbly, your supports were off the hook, and I love you. I don't, however, like how much you inspire me to undertake a character study of an alcoholic groupie. Yay!