Invasion of the Pig Rats

This morning as I laid in bed, knowing full well that I was already late for work and wondering what excuse to use today, there was a knock on the door. It was a courier. With a pig rat! EGE at The House and I has had an unhealthy obsession with pig rats for a while. I wanted one. Badly. But then, who wouldn’t! I may have made promises to swap for something else. (Honest, I will go and pick that book up for you this weekend. Maybe.) So she mailed it to me!

I was concerned when I saw that customs had indeed opened the package. However it appears that pig rats are not a threat to this fair country, for my pig rat was there, safe and sound, along with a book. (Excuse the poor photo quality, I was after all in bed at the time of the rat’s arrival, so the nearest camera was the camera on my CrackBerry, which is absolutely crap.)

THANKS EGE!

(I wonder if it’s safe to eat?)

One Day I Will Go Too Far

My boss can be a bit scary. He also seems to have these little turns where he must check up on every single thing he has ever asked one specific person to do. Must have been my turn today, because he’s had me flat out.

My general reaction to his very odd moods is to be even sillier than usual (which is no mean feat). This used to drive him nuts but I think he’s gotten used to it – but I doubt anyone else would be game to push the envelope as much as I do. Which is why even though I know the boss is in ‘a mood’, I just sent him an email saying “It feels like pic on me day today. If you don’t stop it right now, I’m going to come and take away your email system!”

Beer Swilling Pigs

Yesterday I got a message from the boyfriend, who I am planning a holiday to Tasmania with. It read:

“Just looking into a pub in Tassie called the Pub in the Paddock where they have a beer drinking pig in the back yard. Sound interesting?”

I replied with “I’m at the local. There’s a few beer swilling pigs in the beer garden right now.”

A Fishy Tale

Tonight I’m having fish for dinner. Not terribly unusual – it is Friday, after all. What is unusual is that the publican of my local pub is cooking it for me and one of the other locals. He returned home recently from a fishing trip way up in northern Australia, and was able to freight home his catch. And so tonight when I head to the pub after work, one of the boys I know from the pub is bringing a potato salad, I am bringing a garden salad, and the publican is preparing a huge BBQ’d coral trout for us. It seemed perfectly normal when catching up over a quiet ale last night for him to offer to cook dinner for us. On reflection, I guess it is a little odd. However it just makes me laugh and say – I love my pub.

W-Erk!

There’s a fairly high focus in my workplace on first aid – and for some reason I agreed to be a first aid officer a while ago. (I think they meant it when they said they wanted me because I was calm under pressure. Which really, is funny – I have had a couple of real first aid type experiences outside of work – when I had to call an ambulance for the person who crashed their car badly outside my house I had the shakes for literally hours, and when I had to pick up my ex off the floor after he fell off a ladder I completely freaked out, he was gushing blood from the head and I was screaming, he had to shout at me to calm down before I could pull myself together enough to stop the blood and get him some medical help. Whatever, it can’t have been too bad if he was cognisant enough to say to the doctor “NOOOO! Don’t cut my hair off! Just staple it back together without that razor being involved!)

So somehow I have agreed to demonstrate CPR to one of the big bosses this afternoon. A really big huge important boss. I can only imagine it is to attempt to justify all the money we spend on training etc. Or perhaps to reassure him – Don’t Worry! If you fall down dead today? We’ll look after you! Let this team give you the kiss of life, just like this! Ew, I think a bit of vomit just came up into my mouth. I guess I should just be grateful I didn’t wear a short skirt today. Keep your fingers crossed that I get to man the defibrillator not the mouth.

Interference

A while ago, I had to dial in to a work teleconference that was being hosted in the northern hemisphere – thus, of course, was at some unearthly hour of night I’d had a very long day and was not particularly interested in the subject of the meeting. After a while, listening to the conference while lying inbed, I fell asleep. I woke to hear the conference leader announcing we all had to dial out and back in due to the interference on the line. Once we dialled in again, everyone agreed that the line was much clearer, although it had seemed to clear up just before we’d all dialled off. At around the same time that I woke up. What can you learn from this? Over the phone, the noise of me snoring sounds JUST like static on the line…

I Thought I Felt Bad Before!

I thought I felt bad on Monday, when my back was aching and my muscles sore. I should have known it was just from lack of sleep due to having a little bit too much fun on Sunday night. But nooooo, I had to decide to get a massage from the guy who does them in the gym at work. Let’s clear that one up quickly – I am not a member of the gym. I would rather pluck my fingernails out with pliers than take an aerobic class. However, who’s not a fan of massages!

The gym dude warned me that he only did deep tissue massage, and that it would be quite hard. I assured him I loved a good hard massage. After all, this guy is only a short little pip squeak, how hard was it really going to be! Answer? REALLY REALLY HARD!

The massage was on Wednesday. I still can’t even roll over in bed. I leant back in my seat a second ago and winced in pain. I think I might go to someone different next time…

In The Beginning

Technically it’s not really the beginning. I had a blog. My husband kept it when we went to Splitsville. So I started a new one, a secret one this time that nobody I knew would know about, so that I could bitch to my hearts content. Um, yeah. That got found. So did the next attempt at a secret blog. You know what they say – third time’s the charm.