I'm on the sofa, coughing at the cat. I sounded so pathetic at work today that my manager sent me home.

I'm Gud - I can dick around on the internet most of the day at work and only feel mildly guilty, but if I sat down and read a novel I would feel guilty. (Note: my coworkers wouldn't know/care.)

Hey, the DH's interview went well! And ... now he gets to go back for yet another one.

I'm trying to figure out what to say to a client who called 45 minutes before her session last week to say that she was so distraught over having to end her work with me (financial issues) that she needed a week to 'process'.

This despite knowing my cancellation policy full well.

I know her well enough to recite the excuses before she says them...and I suppose I could have been a hardass and charged her for the last session and just never seen her again. But I didn't.

This frustration illustrates the vast difference between understanding an action and being okay with it.

Feh.

Hey, the DH's interview went well! And ... now he gets to go back for yet another one

YAY

I'm feeling all tired and discombobulated.

I think having caffeine at 4 pm is NOT a good idea.

In what may only be funny to myself and fellow workers at my company, our "company medical officer, (name), has contracted the swine flu..."

we are coming up with departmental equivilents: our head trader gave his cow for a bag of magic beans.

our head of HR is being sued for harrassment.

Where is everyone?

Having a Morning. Bad sleep. Cat poosplosion. Upstairs neighbor either sleeping through or leaving without turning off alarm. Beep beep beeeep. Cold. Rainy. Head full of gunk. Missed last express bus by 15 seconds. Googly-eyed kissyface couple sitting next to me on bus when I hadn't had coffee yet.

I love the bit with Princess Margaret....

A Classic Brit Obit

It's of Danny La Rue, one of the most successful drag queens of all time:

Beneath huge headdresses and decked out in sequin-studded gowns, La Rue in his heyday would don specially-designed creations of beaded pink lace and tulle with trains of ostrich feathers up to 20ft long. Thus glorified, he became one of the best-loved professional cross-dressers of his time.

But throughout his career, La Rue took every opportunity of stressing that he was nothing more than a “fella in a frock”. Despite admitting that dressing as Shirley Bassey or Dorothy Squires “wasn’t natural really”, La Rue was at pains to point out that he never did anything “tasteless, never anything offensive”. This view was perhaps not shared by Princess Margaret who, on a backstage visit to the number one dressing room, knocked on the door only to have a stark naked La Rue throw it open and shout “Piss off!”

“I was mortified,” La Rue later recalled, “I thought she was Peter Sellers messing about.”

Guitar Kitty takes advantage of the strumming hand.