S.J.A. Turney's Books & More

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Tuesday… wrote Mr Kipling

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It’s been a few days, so let’s update with a couple of things. Firstly the humour. I had a phone call yesterday from my beloved, who was laughing like a mad-woman. You see, there’s a bit of an age gap between Mrs Moosehunter and myself. At the tender age of 34, I am 11 years her senior. She has youth, energy, brains, organisational ability etc… I have arthritis in my shoulder, a long history of dubious life choices and have recently discovered I now have ear hair! So we both found it somewhat amusing when Mrs Moosehunter received in the mail a letter from the ASDA life insurance people quoting for her under her maiden name (now 5 weeks out of date) at the tender age of 53! Now I am a touch confused. In one day I have gone from 11 years her senior to 19 years her junior. She is now officially only 7 years younger than my mother. Yikes.

Incidentally, ear hair is something that only appears with advancing years. I always thought it arrived at around pension age, but here I am at 34 with ear hair. I do not understand the purpose of ear hair. What the hell is it for? Is it to prevent bugs flying into your ear and eating their way into your brain like the stories you hear when you’re a teenager? If so, surely ear hair would be useful from birth. Otherwise, could it be to lessen your ability to hear ageist comments in your dotage? Whatever it is, it’s annoying and I find myself plucking them out when I find one. I’m expecting to find an eardrum on the end one day though.

And there’s the grey hair. Why is it that my normal hair is fine, brown and light. Essentially, if I didn’t cut it down to a grade 2, I would look like a brown dandelion, or possibly a dark Art Garfunkle. And yet the few (but increasing) grey hairs I have are wiry and uncontrollable. Why?

And now? A rant… This is a rant against Equisys and their wonderful pc fax system called Zetafax. I’ve recently had cause to bitch about both Egg and BT. Now it’s the turn of these bastards. The zetafax program may be the most rickety, unreliable heap of shit available in the business world. Honestly, if your company’s looking into a system to fax from PC, look elsewhere. Really. Save yourself hours of grief and trouble and perhaps print the page and get a motorcycle courier to deliver it. It would be faster and cheaper in the long run. Speaking to the-IT-man about a problem with it this morning, you wouldn’t believe how often words that rhyme with duck, rollocks and white crop up. It occupied two of the three members of our IT dept today for hours. It would honestly be more reliable to telephone the recipient and read it out so that they can write it down at their end.

Not funny I know. End of rant.

Tonight I run the pub quiz again in our little village of the damned. I used to run it every tuesday, but pressures and lack of time made me give it up. Instead, a few of us have entered into a sort of rota and I’m running it roughly once a month. Tonight is my night. And I think it’s a bit of an evil one. Hee hee hee. Life could be undergoing a little change in the near future you see, as we’re looking at a house to rent in the village instead of Ripon, where we’ve been for going on three years now. We’re in a two-up, two-down mid terrace at the moment with walls apparently made from painted kleenex, no external entrance to the back garden, a shower that runs permanently on scalding and a carpet that, while once rich pink, is now the colour of a recently dead toad and covered in more stains than Ozzy Osbourne’s shirt. This house would be three bedrooms and two main living rooms with a rear drive and proper old solid brick walls. In actual fact, I figure it would be roughly 3 times the size of our current house for not a lot more money. Yay. And we’d be living in the village with the families and friends.)

Ooooh my liver aches just thinking about it.

Additional note: Some people (who shall remain molemen) should F-ing read their e-mail and the barrage of direct messages I send them, asking them to come out of the system because I need to run updates. When a 20-man company is held up from doing business for 5 minutes because a fat sack of lard is too busy picking weevils out of his bellybutton and can’t look at his screen, it’s HIS fault, not MINE! His entire species should be sterilised by fire. Especially after I send him an email asking him and wait. Then send him a direct message to his screen and then wait. In the end, I get so sick of waiting and him holding up the business that I kick him out of the system manually and then he has the balls to whine and complain about being kicked out to which I can only politely reply “as per my email and messages” because saying “pay attention to the world around you and stop daydreaming you useless f**k” is disapproved of in the office.

The world would be a lovely place without people. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – wouldn’t it be lovely if we could create a virus that attacked only the stupid gene!

Enough is enough. Gotta go and beat the mole-sack-of-lard with a bat.



Written by SJAT

December 20, 2009 at 1:56 pm

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