Suddenly, oh how I would love to see River get caught in some time-warp wormhole, and confront House. She'd have him in knots.

Nothin. How are you?

I am a legend on legs, is how I am. I'm working on a spreadsheet I've saved to the network with the title "No beer and no TV makes William go something something.xls", I have a date this Saturday at the Zoo, I just had my performance review and the visit to America is a go, and Bec sent me colourful turtles to strew about my computer.

Next week I'll be having a discussion about what I need to become a senior consultant. I'm thinking a work ethic might be on the list. Oh, and the guy on the Assumptions team that I get to order around told me today that I'm a sick man. Result!

I'm chatting on the phone and on the computer with Dh - it is very silly

All that and a Zoo Date too. Duuuuude.

All that and a Zoo Date too. Duuuuude.

I'm sayin'! And I seem to have cemented my reputation at work as an eccentric, so now I can do whatever the hell I want and no one says boo! Did you know tomorrow is bathrobe day? I'm betting they don't either!

bwahhhhh

I love how all the Buffistas are trying to enable me in my camel-getting

smacks forehead

Crap, love. We actually have a camel market here, and I can't believe I've not bought you a camel yet! Mea culpa. I'll rectify that sharpish, and DHL it over to you.

"She smokes. And she wonders why she doesn't have a job or a man."

...So the post-coital cigarette is a figment of my imagination? (Which, granted, is but a small fragment of the boggling.)

Valentine's day I scored a rose, a handful of fantastically bright (and wilty) blossoms from a geranium (I tucked one behind my ear for the day), a spectacularly awful plastic rose in which the 'blossom' is a perfume bottle shaped like a rose and full of scent, which lights up and plays music at the push of a button, a photo/note-holder thingy and a lovely pair of Egyptian cotton cosie slippers with hearts on them. Three cheers for teaching Grade 1. (Granted hot shaggage with a ravishing lovely or two would have been even better, but c'est la vie.)

I keep on forgetting to mention this to you guys, but there's a bloke who's been coming to karaoke for the past two weeks who is the spitting image of ASH. Aged 23 or so. And he sings. Very well. And plays the guitar. I understand he works for a British company of some sort, and I think he's actually got a wee band of his own, or something.

It is UNCANNY how much he looks like ASH. I keep expecting to see him making out with a wee EthanALike... instead of which he was all over some hot blonde last time we were there. But he got talking to my mates, as it happened...I just sat there and tried really hard not to take sneaky photographs and post them online, because I do know that that would be a creepy stalkerish intrusive thing to do.

But.

Baby!Giles, damn it! With the hotness! And the singing! And the hotnesss! In Cairo! It's like stepping into a fanfic where he's young and American and on some TE Lawrence kick, and, and, and...

head explodes

Did you know tomorrow is bathrobe day? I'm betting they don't either!

Man, I heart billytea.

Man, I heart billytea.

Well, you're only human. How's the fitness thing going, Fay?

...um, well, I must admit I've been a slacker this week. See, my gym has started admitting children. Like, 10, 9, 8, even 6 year olds from the look of them. There is something truly hideous about going to the gym and finding munchkins crawling all over the machines. On the one hand I find it unpalatable that any member of the gym, regardless of age, be told that they have to get off a machine because they're worth less than the other member who wants to use said machine. But on the other hand, I have NO intention of waiting around until a 6 year old (who's had playtime and PE lessons already that day) finishes using the bloody machine I want.

I asked the gym what was going on, and they said "Oh, it's the Youth program". And I was all "So, is that just today?" "No, every day from 5pm to 6pm....don't you like children?" Which, frankly, was almost enough to make me punch the bloke - clearly possession of a womb=doting on kiddies. Or, to be fair to Egypt, possession of a pulse=doting on kiddies. In my case? Not so much. I mean, I like kids. I spend most of my waking hours working with them. But when I go home? When I go to the gym? This is GROWN UP time, buddy. The patience, she is all gone by this point. I'm into Get Those Kids Off My Lawn time.

Aaarrgh!

Ahem. So - bit of a dodgy week. But I've lost 29lb so far, which is nice, and I've been using some v. good exercise DVDs which do lots of stretching and toning and that kind of thing. It's all good. I have places in new places.

eta

Should've mentioned - along with the horror of Kiddies In The Gym (which is akin to the Trouble With Tribbles) there is the more loathsome issue of the Mothers of said kiddies, who are now starting to accompany their little darlings. They stand around the bloody gym, while you're sweating away on your machine, minding your own business, and there's some neauveau riche hag in stillettos and tight-fitting trouser suit, dripping with gold, clutching her handbag and chatting with her chum while The Little Darlings scamper from machine to machine.

This is enough to make me want to knife someone. These are the same kind of idiot 'Look At How Much Money I Have' people who come to a Carol Concert at their kids school and bring their Saiamese Cat with them, because said cat is an expensive show-off thing to own. In this case, though, it's a case of being so ridiculously well off you can afford to buy utterly needless gym membership for your 8 year old. But, you know, you're not going to get sweaty or risk chipping a nail by using the machinery yourself, obviously.

bangs head on desk.

Yes. Ahem. Very annoying indeed.

Timelies!

and

Is it time for bed yet?