Well, my training course was not too bad. Of course, a good portion of my time was spent staring sadly out the window of the stuffy training room, looking longingly at the hotel pool shimmering in the heat of the 30 degree day. And of course, there was no airconditioning in the training room. (Actually, there WAS, but we later discovered our trainer had set it wrongly and it was not turned on. So we ALL learned something on this course.) For those who care, I am an INTJ. For those who don’t, I am a STFU. Both equally as valid, as we must take into consideration our co-workers’ lifeviews and culture and upbringing and soforth and suchlike and more along the same lines, I wasn’t really listening. Did I mention it was 30 degrees and we were in a hotel right by the beach? And there was a pool and a volleyball court and a pier and sparkling clear ocean water and everything? That I could see, just out of reach, through the window? And that I had to get up at 6.30am to do a Power Walk to learn more about Team Building and Co-operation? If you ask me, I could have learned just as much by lying in bed and watching an episode of Sesame Street.
Mr. T: [preparing to Cook Food with Fire] Would you like pepper or garlic on your steak?
Jac: Pepper. No, wait. Garlic. No, pepper.
Mr. T: That was pepper?
Jac: Yes. No. YES. I am really bad at decisions at the moment. Pepper. YES.
Mr. T: Two pepper steaks.
[Grinds industriously onto steaks from small grinder]
Jac: Um? That pepper? Looks like the chilli grinder.
Mr. T: [looks closely at grinder] Woo! That’s gonna be some SPICY STEAK!
Jac: Oh goody.
Mr. T: Chilli! Food of gods! Friend of steak! I salute you!
Jac: Yeah, you’re just trying to cover up your mistake. I’m onto you, chef boy.
Mr. T: Listen, do you want spit on your steak or just chilli?
Jac: Just chilli. Sir.
Ah, February. How I have longed for you to be here. But although I hesitate to say it, February, I could have done without the 20 hours of solid rainfall announcing your arrival. You see, even though you are the shortest month, you don’t have to go all Napoleon on us and overcompensate for your inadequacies. Really, no one even NOTICED you are a little more … diminuitive than the other months. And anyway, it’s what you DO with your weeks that counts. February, your weeks are to be filled with glorious, glorious holidays. After the completely shitty December and January I have just endured, o February, I have been looking forward to you with desperate longing. Three and a half weeks back in New Zealand, catching up with family and old friends, a wedding here, a baby there … February, you look to be the highlight of my year so far. Which would not be hard, but I am counting on you to pull out all the stops. Glorious sunshine! Balmy winds! Calm seas! Come on, February, let’s leave all of this rain behind. (And in case you haven’t noticed, my kitchen skylight is leaking like a bastard.) Just a week more of work to go (including some dreadful “team building” camp this weekend, you people STEAL MY SUNDAY and expect me to help you build a stronger team???!) and then I shall be road tripping, tramping, socialising and drinking my way up both the South and North Islands.
February, you’re a godsend. No, I mean it.
Shogun, James Clavell. Yes, still. It’s long,
Love, Angel, Music, Baby: Gwen Stefani.
Welcome to the Jungle: Stifler vs The Rock.
Summer … even when it’s raining.
Otherwise sane adults who email me crappy, sappy chain letters. Have I not been clear about my feeling on these things? They stay AWAY from me. And no, you will never get a “Kiss From An Angel!!!1!” from me.