IMPORTANT: The following journal is intended for the use and viewing of approved persons only and may contain information that is confidential, privileged or unsuitable for overly sensitive persons with low self-esteem, no sense of humour or irrational religious beliefs. Any dissemination, distribution or copying of this work is not authorised (either explicitly or implicitly) and constitutes an irritating social faux pas. Unless the word ‘absquatulation’ has been used in its correct context somewhere other than in this warning, it does not have any legal or grammatical use and may be ignored. No animals were harmed in the creation of this journal and a minimum of Microsoft software was used. Those of you with an overwhelming fear of the unknown will be gratified to learn that there is no hidden message revealed by reading this warning backwards.

Year View| Summary| Highlights| Month View| Thursday 24 March 2005 (Day View)

24.03.2005Thursday 24 March – Management Bad, Must Die

Morning
I went to bed, on Maz’s couch, at four o’clock. I woke up when Hollie got up. I woke up an hour later when Cassie got up. I woke up an hour later when Sophie got up. This meant that I was not as refreshed as I otherwise may have been when Kieran arrived around nine o’clock, and that I did not feel a strong urge to concentrate during the three hours of CSSE3004 lectures (to put it politely) he drove me to. In fact, I felt a strong urge to lie down on the floor. Adding to the general badness of today, the air conditioning simply wasn’t, so it was also very hot and unpleasant.
Evening
I bought the usual dinner from Chez Tessa with Maz, before heading to work, where I spent more time calculating the instantaneous force on a piston and discussing exhaust systems, high performance materials, vacuum cooling systems, and the differences between the Australian and American electrical codes than working. I also discovered why modern high performance materials aren’t used to replace metals in critical applications. Just in case I should think that my day had suddenly made an uncharacteristic change for the better, the bus to the station was full of annoying drunken singers, making it late and meaning I had to run to catch the train. Why do people who obviously can’t sing try to sing when they’re drunk? Why can’t they do something useful to society, like attempt suicide or move out west and plant trees?
  I was in a bad mood on the train home, which was unfortunate as I arrived back here to find the place kitted out with ultraviolet lights, and a party going on. This made the whites in my washing appear very white.
Comment by Cassie – Friday 25 March 2005, 11:21 PM
  Pssh. I got up at 7.
  
  Pussy.
Comment by Mum – Sunday 27 March 2005, 8:30 PM
  Oh dear, wonder what the whites in your eyes looked like?

Add your comments

You may leave a short comment, not longer than 800 characters.

Be Amused

Printed on 100% recycled electrons
|
W3C WAI AA   
|
W3C CSS 2.0   
|
W3C XHTML 1.1