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Ups and downs in the World of Moosehunter

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A big fat hello.

I’m having one of those weeks again. We’re uber-busy at the moment on the social front. Last night we went to see the Shiny One and his good lady, Paintball Girl. Shiny One rang me during the day and I asked what he was cooking. He said “I’ll be doing stew.” Naturally, I asked what Stew thought about this, as I hate to pass up an innuendo. To further compound the innuendo front, he told me he had lots of news but would ‘fill me in later’. Oh dear god, how can I pass up a feeder line like that. Anyway, I asked what sort of stew it would be and he said it was either beef or pork. He couldn’t identify it, but it was basically cube shaped. I am now imagining some kind of cube-shaped cow/pig hybrid in a rich sauce. Peculiar. It has to be said that the Shiny One is a damn good cook and we thoroughly enjoyed the meal, the miscellaneous Pfumfen-Hitler-Strudel or whatever it was called that was basically a strudel made with sultanas and soft cheese, and the ensuing frivolity. We were forced by the lack of parking space on their new housing estate to park on a 45 degree slope, resulting in extreme difficulty for Mrs Moosehunter opening her car door, while I pulled the handle on mine and it swung open like it was fired from a bazooka and narrowly avoided scraping the road. During the evening, Shiny One showed me their new paintball guns made by Tippmann. These things do not look like toys. Paintball guns are much the same as water pistols in the respect that their users are advised to keep them looking non-military so that the police don’t shoot them on sight. I was handed the new semi-automatic with a folding stock and immediately became Rambo. No kidding, I felt like a member of SWAT just holding the damn thing. I DO NOT LIKE GUNS. For the record, I am anti-gun and anti-killing. But it still gives you a bit of a thrill and a stirring in the loins to wield something like that. So I sorted out a wireless network problem for him and we had a lot of laughs.

Next social occasion is tonight, when my parents are meeting me after work for a drink and then Mrs Moosehunter is cooking a meat Paella for us all and we’ll have a few whiskies. Yay!. That should prove to be a laugh too.

Then on friday night we’re off to York. As a wedding present, her university friends bought us a four course meal at Betty’s in York (which for the uninitiated is a very well-known, respected and expensive place) during their jazz evening. Anyone who’s read Moosehunter for a while will where my tastes lie. I like music that’s the aural equivalent of a wrecking ball or collapsing building. I also like classical and a number of other styles (I’m really quite eclectic) but one thing I’ve never understood is jazz. 30 people seated together, each with a different instrument and each apparently playing a different tune is my general impression of jazz. I’m sort of looking forward to it, but with a little trepidation, due to the unknown quantities: ‘jazz’ and a four course meal of unknown consistency. It could be sweet and sour skunk testicles for all I know. I’m sure it’ll be a great night, but I’m still edgy.

And on to work. Soulless Corporation TM swung another uppercut at me. Yesterday I was late for work. Now I realise that this is bad and was entirely unfortunate. My alarm didn’t go off and I therefore slept in until someone from work rang me to ask why I wasn’t here. I came in, apologised and explained why and offered to make up the time. Now I’m fairly sure that the powers-that-should-not-be at work are accusing me behind my back of getting slammed and coming to work late and hung over. Now, I have been late 3 times in 5 years and always for innocent reasons. My record is not bad. The night in question I had one small glass of wine. I am therefore livid at veiled threats and accusations from people who think they’re better than me just because they went to ‘pushing-people-around’ school and learned how to reach the top by standing on piles of people. I am at the end of my tether with the people who run this place and have no idea whatsoever how to manage their staff. The entire office could be likened to the Titanic and there’s an iceberg out there somewhere with our name on it. Hope I can find a life raft first.

So there you have it. My social life is full. My work life is shit. Where’s that lottery ticket again?



Written by SJAT

January 5, 2010 at 3:46 pm

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