My perfect colleague

 

Now I’ve got a colleague called Vincent

He’s sure to make it to management
Always faultless, green, and sweet
As useless you can get them
He’s got a plastic-lined cheap waste basket
My manager thinks he’s fantastic
She won’t even let me explain
That me and Vincent we’re just not the same

Oh my perfect colleague
What I like to do he doesn’t
He’s the organisation’s pride and joy
His line manager’s little golden boy

He’s gotta degree in shitty comics
Mass, gimmicks, and antibiotics!
He thinks that I’m a savage
’cause I hate butter in my sandwich
Even by the hour of ten
Annoying Vincent is so annoying by then
He always thinks he’s at a rodeo
‘Cause he’s tries to ride our director whenever he says hello

Oh my perfect colleague
What I like to do he doesn’t
He’s the organisation’s pride and joy
His line manager’s little golden boy

His manager made him a supervisor
Got Human Resources into advise her
Now he’s walking with lots of poise
Swaggering along like the MBA boys

Twirls try to attract his attention
But what a shame it’s in vain total rejection
He will never lift them off the shelf
’cause Vincent he’s more likely to eat himself

Oh my perfect colleague…

colleagues

Dorothy shares one of Vincent’s jokes with the office

Everything you never wanted to know about me but couldn’t be arsed asking

Welcome to my latest blog experiment in which  I attempt to balance my neurotic privacy with the perfectly formed indifference of the blog’s readers. All..erm.. dozen of them.

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'He's always been fascinated with disguises.'

 

Getting real about bad advice

This is excellent. Read right till the end for the most rounded challenge to another creeping trend tangled up in ‘feminism’.

language: a feminist guide

It’s been a while since I posted anything about the policing of women’s language, but that’s not because the police have been idle: while I’ve been concerning myself with other matters, it’s been business as usual for the finger-wagging advicemongers. Here’s a recent example which I wouldn’t bother clicking on, since it’s just a rehash of the generic Bullshit Article On Women’s Language that’s been doing the rounds for the last two years. And here’s one about uptalk and vocal fry, which does contain one novel feature–a link to this blog, which the author cites to show she considered both sides of the argument before deciding to go with the ever-popular ‘stop it, you’re annoying people’.

Both these pieces use what I’m going to call the ‘let’s get real’ argument, which goes something like this: ‘it’s all very well to call out prejudice/preach tolerance, but the world is the…

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And

On this day, I fell in love with a song on first hearing. It helped that I was driving. And the sun was shining. And the window down. And we were on our way back from visiting a childhood friend. And she sat quietly before issuing a demand that it be turned up. And I looked at her in the rear-view looking sideways through the window with her small foot tapping at my back. And she looked back at me. And looked away again. And the music took her her way, and me mine. And when we arrived home, the same sun had slid down the back fence as it peeled the last strip of daylight away. And flung it on the earth’s bedroom floor. And finished its striptease before it made way for the moon.

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You’ll not know yourself

People keep telling me I won’t know myself since moving house. Reminds me of this post from a few years back..

*********

Was there ever a phrase that contravened standards of accuracy so blatantly as this? Apart from maybe “going for the one”.

Here is a sample of life-altering recommendations that have fallen dramatically short of achieving that objective:

Courtesy of my Mother:

  • Krill oil. The most recent ‘present’ she brought on her visit. Standard issue chocolate and biscuits have gradually been replaced by various anti-aging and life-extending interventions. It started with a collection of face creams for my 40th birthday. Subtle. I’ve since been handed down the third bottle of Centrum vitamins from all her three-for-two buys in Boots. For my nails, and my hair she regularly likens to the Wreck of the Hesperus. For years, I thought that was a Greek Goddess who had let herself go after too many nights on the sauce. My Mother is nothing, if not consistent. Now I’ve got Krill. It’s multiplying. And I’m losing control.
  • A steel potato masher. You too? Amazingly energy efficient compared to the Teflon alternative. I bet your dinners don’t know themselves either.
  • A slow-cooker. This from a woman married to a man fond of economising on the length it takes to boil a kettle, to a woman married to a man with an OCD-like propensity for checking all plugs are switched off. Good one.
  • Emphatically imploring me to do the household chores on a designated day of the week. Housework. Now that would be radically out of character.
  • The 5:2 diet (the age she fears I look)

Courtesy of my fella:

  • Go to bed earlier
  • Get my car serviced [not a euphemism for anything else]
  • Give him a weekly shopping list
  • Swap our lie-in days every other weekend
  • Don’t cook at the weekends

How low-maintenance is this man? Christ.

Courtesy of my friends:

  • Yoga
  • An Ipad
  • A Satnav
  • A 4 week blow-dry
  • A Parent and toddler group
  • Designated ‘Me Time’
  • Batch cooking
  • On-line grocery shopping
  • Mindfulness
  • From Couch to 5k
  • A house extension

From this lot, I regularly re-visit the mindfulness suggestion. Taking the time to enjoy the moment and be at one with nature has its benefits. Look at the lovely trees. Look at the beautiful leaves that have fallen from the lovely trees. Look at me just being among the beautiful leaves that fell from the lovely trees. Consciously getting all matey with nature.  Look at me flaring my nostrils as I mindfully inhale the soothing country air. [Three minutes later]. Ah sod this, let’s go get a coffee.

From my colleagues:

  • Get everything in writing
  • Just follow the rules
  • Ignore the rules
  • Get your travel expenses claim in every month*

*Therefore guaranteeing the shuffle of notes from an ATM within 10 days of payday. Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

What I reckon it would take to not know myself:

  • On-line personality shopping
  • Getting my mind serviced
  • Thrill oil
  • From grouch to Special K
  • The 4 second blow job
  • Following my own rules

Then getting it all down in writing.

5 opening lines bloggers mistakenly use to begin posts

  1. As a feminist… (G’wan. Get to the point. Quickly, quickly, I’ve some celeb gossip here waiting to be read)
  2. As a parent…(*deep breath* …. Ah right gotcha. I feared you were going to wax lyrical on what you feel more keenly than those who aren’t.)
  3. I had this mad dream last night… (*scrolls down*)
  4. Sorry the blog has been so quiet lately…(And you choose to break the silence with this gem?)
  5. Do you believe in God?…(As a feminist…haha got you back)

And that concludes today’s edition of Unsolicited Blogging Advice. Tune in next time when we will have tips on how to subtly insert classic literary texts into a post on farts, and Morag will be here to show you how to convert leftover spam comments in to flash fiction.

 

 

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