Monday, 12 September 2016

Working It Out

I'm counting down the days until I take annual leave, which will be in about ten of 'em.  Is it just me, or do the final days leading up to a break really suck hard.  I mean suction of an imploding black hole hard.  Oh, who am I kidding?  What about Bangkok-bargirl-in-imploding-black-hole suction power?  I've had episodes of late where I've lifted the lid on a commode to be faced with the product of a bowel movement that should qualify as an evisceration.  I had a flashback to my visit to India in 1994 where I saw a cobra coiled in a basket. 

Today I had to do a domestic service - and I don't have that good a relationship with cleaning - which pretty much stole my will to live.  This entailed cleaning bathroom mirrors with Windex, and then the glass on the display cabinets.  I'm not too bad on mirrors (possibly the becoming reflection helps), but windows and glass doors just shit me to tears.  To save aches and pains, I alternated hands in clockwise and anticlockwise patterns as I rubbed the glass with the kitchen paper, and in my mind I could hear Mr Miyagi wisely intoning, 'Wax on, wax off...' over and over and over.  I even had a vision of myself posting like a gangling water bird on one leg, with my arms out and my wrists all limp, and then gearing myself up to leap and land a glass shattering kick on the doors of one of the shitful cupboards.  Don't get me wrong; I like display cabinets.  I just don't know why the Universe had me cleaning at a house where there was a multitude of the frigging things today.  Then what I heard was not Mr Miyagi's calming tones, but a shrill reminder I was to spray the front of the kitchen cupboards with a some product from a pressure can, and I'm sure the fumes have ripped a big gaping hole into the Ozone layer, and I can still taste them at the back of my throat.  I also think I'm still slightly wasted from them.

Keeping with the theme of work, today my specialty Facebook group is having a day of posting songs about working.  I don't know why, but I'm running with my spate of bad Karma today, but what happened is I thought about 'Best Looking Guy' by Uncanny X-Men.  It goes, 'I work all day....' and the chorus goes something like 'I'm the best looking guy in the factory...'.  If you haven't heard this before and choose to You Tube it, be it on your head.  If you do remember this, please accept my apology for reminding you of it.  It's a turd.  It's beyond a turd.  Yet, when I clicked on the You Tube link I was powerless to look away.  It drew me in with its tractor beam of unadulterated godawfulness.  All mullets, lurex, skinny jeans, and lyrics that go 'The girls are all dogs/The men are all wogs...'  Hardly the stuff of Sondheim, but there was almost an innocent sweetness to it as it evokes memories of a time, ie the yucky 80s, before everybody went all PC and lost their shit at the slightest, most insignificant thing.  I quite like Stephen Fry's philosophy in this regard, when people say they are offended as if it gives them special entitlement: 'So fucking what?'

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