New Year, Same Old Shit

…. and we’re back. With dots.

* I got two weeks off work and it was awesome but it now feels like it never happened. I’ve got my old boss back, which is wonderfully yay, because the tempa-boss was driving me mental, but it’s a bit of a more-things-change type deal. Same old, same old.

* I did my first Christmas dinner and I have to say it was a wonderful success. The whole turkey thing was scary as buggery but the bird came out perfectly cooked and wonderfully moist. I do wish someone has thought to tell me about how they tuck the neck up inside the bird though – nothing quite as squicky as finding a cold, hard, penis-type thing in what you assumed would be a nice empty stuffing hole. And then having to BREAK IT OFF and PULL IT OUT.

* I made no resolutions for 2009 but I’m thinking of joining a gym. It probably won’t happen – hasn’t so far – but I have been good all week and been taking packed, healthy lunches to work and only given in to the chocolate craving-monster twice. Which sounds like a lot but I was premenstrual this week, so it’s actually somewhat of an achievement.

* Certain people who I am very used to gabbing with over the internet while at work have been on holidays all week. And I’ve really quite missed them. I suspect my boss thinks I’m batty as I keep nattering to her about anything and everything. Come back, MissB, or I will surely be fired for the crazy.

* Last night I made a curry from scratch. It was tasty and made of win. This makes me awesome.

* Things I hate (as of the last 5 minutes): Tom Cruise, Numbers, The Biggest Loser. Why am I watching Channel Ten on a Friday night, you ask, given I never watch real TV anymore? Law & Order. New Law & Order with Elton from Clueless has become strangely crack-like for me this past week. I watched five episodes on Sunday and then I had some pretty freaky nightmares. As you do. I’ve not loved the show this much since Lenny.

* I got a JB HiFi gift card for Christmas and it made me feel like the biggest, filthiest criminal, because I realised I am now slightly confused and repulsed by the thought of paying money for music, movies or TV shows. I’m sorry, bands I love. I really, really am.

* Speaking of, given I got gift cards from pretty much everyone for Christmas, I’m thinking of sending thank you notes so that people know what they bought me. ‘Dear MIL, thank you for my new stick mixer. It’s made pumpkin soup a delight and taken my already-awesome mashed potatoes to a whole new level of fluffy!’ But then I went and used a gift-card I got from a work supplier I’ve never met on a new bra, and that seemed a little … oversharey.

And even I’m not *that* oversharey.

So, how you all doing?

Swings and Roundabouts

So I’ve tossed up whether to blog about this because it is a little petty and makes me feel a little fourteen, and also because a few of the people involved might read this, but I’ve come to the conclusion that a) it’s my blog, and I’ll be fourteen if I want to and b) no-one, except Jacob – and yay for Jacob – actually reads this, and he’s NOT one of the people involved, so blog away I shall.

So last week there was this party – a christmas do put on my some of our suppliers, to which I was invited, but my boss wasn’t. My real boss – the one on maternity leave – was, and I was, but my acting boss wasn’t, and apparently this makes all kinds of sense when you consider that he is just a cover and she’s back next year and her and I have a really good working relationship with these suppliers while he’s just a bit of a pain in the butt and complains about everything they do while trying to milk as many free lunches out of them as he can. But it still made for awkward times, because he is such a show-me-my-freebie person, he would have expected an invite, and probably, if I had mentioned the party to him, phoned them up and outright asked for one, which would have been tacky and kinda sad.

So … awakward. But party was awesome, so … swings and roundabouts. I’ve actually really been enjoying the social thing lately – catching up with old friends, making new (temp and permanent) ones, I don’t know if it’s that after a long period of feeling awkward and shy and just deeply unpopular and uncomfortable, I’ve just hit a point where I’ve decided that people … are fun, and not everyone has to be my new BFF, but that doesn’t mean I shant get silly and enjoy spending time with them.

But of course – Swings and roundabouts.

So there was this other party. One held by people I don’t see very often, but that – ironically – I’d been thinking about the past week or so, and wanting to catch up with, because they are fun and I always have a good time with them. And … I wasn’t invited.

Now, let me just clarify that feeling shitty about this makes me feel hideously young and stupid. But let me also just clarify that I do feel shitty about this, and more so, because I had been wanting to catch up with them. If it was a case of people I never see or talk to or think about throwing a party and not inviting me, then … fine. But … it’s not. It’s really not that long ago, in fact, since I put myself out there for one of these people and got in touch with an old friend to help her out – which, while actually a good thing long term, because we’re back in touch and have cleared the air about a lot of shit that happened back in the day, was a tad difficult.

Anyway, point being , I guess, it’s kinda difficult to express hurt at not being invited to something, without at the same time feeling like a dick for feeling like you *should* be invited to something. And I completely respect the right of any person to not want me at their social event, I do. And I’m totally on board with the whole concept of friendships having a lifespan and people not all liking each other all the time and etc. etc. – trust me, none of this is anything new to me.

But I guess it’s kinda tough when you’re the one who thinks there’s something there, and then you find out there’s clearly not.

Or, maybe I’m just being a bit oversensitive.

MissE’s Mailbox #756

Dear Coles Supermarket,

I am a fan, in principle – there will always be exceptions, and I expect that you recognise them, and for the most part, you do – of your policy of not giving out plastic bags for purchases of two items or less.

However, when I buy three items, and one of them is a single piece of fruit about the size of my fist, and I have my shopping packed into not one, but two seperate plastic bags – both full-size – I’m forced to wonder: do you actually GET the whole waste-reduction thing, or is it just a gimmick?

Sincerely,

MissE

Restructuring*

The good news is I still have a job.

The bad news is that after about 9.30 this morning, about 15% of the people I work with can’t say the same. Some of them I’ve barely spoken to. Some of them I would consider friends. Some of them will probably look back on this one day as a great old kick in the pants – and I hope reach that day soon and actually go and do something they enjoy. Others have 30 days to find new jobs or they’re out of the country.

It’s … kind of strange that the relief at the good news was so fleeting, while the shock about the bad just got worse as the day wore on.

And now i just feel like shit.

But like shit with a job … so, you know.

* Something about a global economic downturn? Have you heard about this?

Hey Yo Kids, Wassup?

Remember when I used to be dope?

Yeah, me neither. I seem to be determined to be a once-every-three-week blogger, too. So, not dope, and not in possession of a pocketful of fame, either. I am, however, in possession of the following:

- Two days off this week, which I am determined to spend doing something more interesting than laundry (although landry, along with cleaning the bathroom, really needs to be done). Leave is awesome, but way more awesome when one has someone to share it with, no? And somewhere to go …

- An invite to an industry do next week, but no frock to wear to said do. I am hoping to rectify this on my days off, although on a teeny-budget, so we shan’t be expecting me to look like a million bucks. Fifty, maybe.

- A sunnier disposition than I was in possession of yesterday, which I shall refer to from hereonin as ‘weepyday’ for all the weeping that occured. And no, I don’t know where the weepiness came from. It just did. And now it is gone and things are good.

- Freshly cut hair. Courtesy of The Dude. Not that anyone has noticed – that’s what happens, apparently, when you have long hair and you take off the last four inches.

Have I lost touch with reality? Has my personality become an unwanted commodity? These questions haunt me, along with the following:

- What is with this stupid weather? Can it not just be beachy warm on weekends and jeansy mild on weekdays?

- Is there anyone on Gossip Girl that Nate will not make out with? And is his insane prettiness blinding me into thinking it’s all rather cute?

- If one is getting married and/or having a baby, is it possible to continue to blog without said blog becoming a wedding/baby blog of almost nauseating proportions?

- Would the world be a better place if De La Soul and Teenage Fanclub collaborated on billions more songs?

(The answer to that last one is quite clearly yes, by the way.)

- Is this quite possibly my worst post ever?

Good

Dudes! I’m so crap at this whole bloggery business. You’d think I’d have something interesting to write more than once every three weeks … but, no. You’d be wrong.

Things are very cool right now, but very boring to blog about. It seems like there’s a lot of drama around, but I’m doing my darnedest to stay the fuck out of most of it.

So it’s not like there’s not the usual work foibles – there are always work foilbes. My job is basically all about dealing with foibles in the best way possible, which, while interesting for a quick rant over lunch, I actually quite enjoy and I don’t want to be one of those people who is always whinging about something that I secretly like. And it’s not like I’m not getting the shits with many of the people I associate with – mostly because while I know I can be a total bitch, I have my limits, and it sometimes feels like some of my friends are capable of being way more bitchy and vicious and petty and self-absorbed than I even understand, nevermind have a lot of time for. But my solution to that is jst to pull back a bit and go find other people to chat to, which seems to work fine and, let’s face it, ‘I have a problem but I’ve come up with a sensible solution that is working and makes me happy’ is NOT the fodder of an interesting blog.

So what else is there? My usual half-arsed resolve to get fitter and healthier? My completely bound-not-knowing obsession with Threadless (because no matter how low the dollar goes … we will always need more T-shirts in MissE land)? My hayfever?

Yeah. Not so much.

Things are good. This is good. But it doesn’t leave me much to blog about. Anyone got a good meme?

Overrated

It’s not that they suck, but will you please all stop raving about the following, k?

Sweet Chilli Sauce
Once upon a time, the only time one really had to deal with sweet chilli sauce was with wedges, and sour cream, and the sour cream made it all worthwhile. And then all these people without any taste buds liked the sound of it, and started pairing it with everything. And when they ran out of things to pair it with, they married it to chicken and forced it to have babies and suddenly it was sweet chilli chicken this and sweet chilli chicken that and on and on and somewhere along the lines people forgot that it was basically a bland, syruppy concoction littered with stewed red flakes that breaks the most basic of all chilli rules by being not at all hot, and now it’s taken over the world.
Secretly the thing that irritates me the most about the popularity of sweet chilli – besides it’s utter shiteness as a flavour – is that it’s marginalised the far superior of ‘’sweet’ flavours: sweet and sour. There was a time where one could find several wonderfully tangy sorts of sweet and sour sauce in ones local supermarket. Now there’s a wall of sweet chilli varietals and very little else and it’s really not fair. Sing it with me folks: Sweet and sour forever! Sweet chilli never!