The joy of workies

So I'm sitting in the office, minding my own beeswax, when our dear workie enters with a can of Semolina and a can opener.

"I'm having trouble opening this," he proclaims, "can anyone help me?"

Pause, as he spots me.

"Oh you're a woman! You'll know how to do it!"

I'm so glad to see they're teaching modern attitudes in schools. As it happens I was too weak and feeble to open said can (presumably cause I'm female) and had to get the dep. ed to do it.

In other news the ed decided it would be a great idea to have one of the editorial staff pose inside a wheelie bin to promote our 'Big Bin Vote' about the new waste collection system. Very controversial (what an exciting life I lead).

Unfortunately for him we all vetoed the idea, which led to him being the muggins in the office bin, as we all gathered round and laughed til our sides ached, throwing out the occasionally 'It's Oscar the Grouch' or '3, 2, 1 Dusty Bin!' comments.

Even our sports ed, who originally chided us for being mean, could be heard chuckling quietly.

This morning our group editor kindly blew one of the pictures up and left it on the ed's desk.

Update off the starboard bow!

I know I’ve been noticeable by my absence here of late. Fact is a lot has been going on ‘backstage’ as it were, and it’s not the kind of thing I like to post about.
Suffice to say, the people involved know what’s been happening.

So what else is new?

Well for a start my editor was forced to attend some hideous conference thing for two days and had just about slipped into the land of nod when the announcement that one of our front pages had been shortlisted to the final three of 150 for the Front Page of the Year award for regional press.
And who had written said story? Yup, yours truly.

Our beloved MD also came round for a visit, to tell us how much money we were making. Which begs the question ‘if we’re so hugely successful and rich....where’s our pay rise?’
He then asked if we had any questions in that ‘if-you-ask-any-questions-I’ll-kill-you’ way... Our news ed was being hugely bolshy by this point (at one point he informed the MD he needed to ‘get out more’) but even he didn’t ask the million dollar question.
I passed my shorthand, by the way, so I should see a rise heading my way for that. If I *don’t* there will be trouble, cause I know for a fact that a colleague who passed it a couple of weeks before me has already had a letting confirming a rise.

In fact said colleague and I are planning a mutiny. We’ve already taken to speaking like pirates and trying to recruit the third journalist to our cause. The line ‘more booty for the little people, arr!’ finally won him over - which was good as we were beginning to think he might be a Redcoat and therefore in need of some plank-walking.
We’ve come to an agreement - I get the parrot, and he gets to be Cap’n.
Arr!

Have ordered broadband. It was supposed to take about ten days to check the line etc - it took maybe 24 hours. Now I have to wait for my hardware to arrive and I’m good to go (presuming that even someone as inept as I am can manage to set it up.... or convince their beloved to do it for them).
I also, in a moment of sheer geeky fangirlness, ordered Star Wars Galaxies and I cannot wait to be trekking around Mos Eisley or Theed or wherever :D

Shorthand Blues

I had my first shorthand exam in ages today. I must get that gorram 100!

However by the time I got to said exam, I wasn't in the best of moods. You see I had to leave my house at 8.15am in order to get to the central office for 10am - even though it's only a 40 minute drive - thanks to a train/bus combo.

Unfortunately I fell at the first hurdle when the bus failed to arrive - completely throwing out my beautifully timed sequence of events.

Panic.

Phone three taxi companies - all are unavailable.

Panic.

Check train times - will not get me there in time.

Panic.

Phone brother - he's not answering.

Panic (now in tears).

Phone David (yes I was desperate) - he doesn't pick up.

Now having more or less panic attack.

Phone mum.

She, god bless her, arranges for someone to take me to the train station.

In the mean time, David calls back and offers to meet me at the train station, then drive on to the next town with me. However, as it turns out, it's easier for me to get the train (£12.something!!)
Just as I'm about to leave David grabbed and hugged me. Then he kissed me. On the lips. I was stunned, it was all I could do to mutter something about 'not missing my train' before scarpering.

Get lost in town attempting to find the office, but eventually turn up.... only to discover the stupid examiner isn't ready anyway!

GORRAMIT!! ::slams hand on desk::

So yeah - it went okay, but I doubt I've passed cause they're so flipping picky.

And to top it all, David asked me to call him to let him know how it went, then insisted on driving me back to work. And during said drive he asked if he could see me this weekend. He clearly knew the reason I answered no, because then he starting giving me a pep talk about my new relationship....

Good grief, roll on the weekend!

Three Go Mad in Milton Keynes

It’s been a while, I know, but a recent decision means I’ll be leaving all my inane chatter here from now on. A decision that has not proved hugely popular but... *shrugs*

Anyway...had the most amazing weekend at Collectormania with Narin and Pete.
This will be a long entry so bear with me. Alternatively, if me prattling on about geek-fest MK isn’t your kinda thing, just go and make yourself a cup of tea.

Arrived on Friday afternoon and waited for Narin at the train station reading Nancy Friday’s ‘Men in Love’. There is something immensely satisfying about reading a book that, while appearing from the title to be romantic mush, is in fact incredibly rude. Although admittedly the first page of any chapter has to be read rather swiftly as they contain large headers like ‘Masturbation’ and ‘Anal Sex’.

Was in fact so deeply engrossed in said smut that I was oblivious to Narin’s arrival. Chatting at about 17,000 miles an hour while drawing out excessive amounts of cash to pay for hotel rooms etc only to be told by her that she didn’t want to be paid back. So now I had more than a couple of hundred pounds in my purse. (As a side note I finished the weekend with about £20 left)

Taxi driver who took us to the hotel was clearly a crack addict - very funny. He spent the journey making what can only be described as ‘strange noises’ and twitching.... while Narin and I studiously avoided eye contact with him.
Got to the hotel and for some reason I just could *not* get out of the car - the door kept closing on me. By the time we got to our room where Pete was waiting we were both helpless with laughter.

Pete bought me a digital camera! Felt the need to show my disapproval of him spending so much money on me by engaging him in a pillow fight. We got rather carried away and considered using the ‘pillow menu’ (I kid you not - there was one in the room) to order a down pillow or two so we could get the ‘flying feathers’ look - while Narin shook her head and informed us that throwing the telly was much more rock and roll.

Went out for dinner and drink. And some more drinks - but my heart murmur was playing up so we came back early and watched a documentary about porn. So unexciting we fell asleep. How rock and roll are we?!

Saturday saw the actual main event - Geek MK. Didn’t get to see Carrie Fisher - the queue was ridiculously long!
Narin rediscovered a love of Battlestar Galactica and nearly wet her pants in excitement over the signed 24 trading card, while Pete concluded that Marina Sirtis must now be working on a jellied eel stall in Saaff London. Innit.

Managed to go the entire day without buying anything! Narin and Pete were most unimpressed (cries of ‘it’s just wrong! It’s unnatural!’) They did however have their revenge on Sunday, when I was forced - forced I say! - into spending lots of money (during which I was accused of being ‘cute’ by the Forbidden Planet stall holder.) Speaking of which - men dressed as stormtroopers/imperial guards = ::wibble::
(Note to self, buy Steven a stormtrooper uniform)

We were supposed to go out on Saturday night, but not being in the mood, combined with various ailments (what with us being such a healthy bunch) saw us sitting in the Harvester getting trolleyed instead. Note to Pete - discussing ‘spermoid things coming falling down around her’ is bound to get you funny looks from the rest of the diners ;)

Got back very drunk, staggered to room in fits of giggles, drank some more. Narin kiped my camera and got snap happy (it was like a scene from Austin Powers). Resulting pics can be found here

Why me?

So merrily working away at work, attempting to ignore the somewhat uncomfortable atmosphere with Mark, when I notice I'm having some trouble loading websites.

No big deal I think, hitting refresh seems to sort it out. Except about 20 minutes later the screen freezes.

'Bugger' I think to myself, and turn the Mac off at the wall. Only the damn thing now takes about a million years to load. And that's only a slight exaggeration. I could have gone downstairs and made a round of tea and coffee and still been back in time to see it churning its way through the last of the login process.

It gets to the point where my desktop icons are all coming up on screen.

'Odd' I think, 'it hasn't asked me to log in....' and THAT is when I realise for some unknown reason my computer is no longer attached to the network. Everyone else is, but not me. Time is approx 10.15am.

This is a disaster - not only does it mean I cannot use my email, internet or print anything - I also cannot put my work anywhere the sub eds can actually put in on the pages. I am working in a vacuum.

Additionally it means I cannot mail my muffin goddess, my dear mate, my online 'sister', or my semi-SO.

Not good.

So...I phone IT Geek. He is not at his desk. Nor is he answering his mobile. I leave a message, asking him to get back to me. Nada. Practically the ENTIRE day passes thus, with panic increasing slowly, until I finally manage to get hold of the bugger (who had in fact picked up my message but couldn't be arsed, it seems, to ring me back to let me know)

Eventually he hauls ass over to our office (don't know why he isn't based here - he must spend more time here than in any other office). By this time he is looking decidedly less cute - probably due to the fact that I am Very Irritated (TM), but he does get it fixed.

Poor Muffin Princess was so bored she posted big long blog entry, giving herself RSI no doubt. Made up for lost time with a frenzied mail exchange, one particularly bad journo pun causing her to spit water over her monitor....oops.

Fridays are so slow...

This Friday afternoon in particular is moving at the pace of an elderly gentleman walking into a gale and dragging a rather large mill stone.

No one is calling, and while this is a good thing in the sense it means no one is complaining, it also means no new news is coming in.
Well actually I have had a few calls.

One from the mother of the lad who hanged himself and was featured on page three as a nib (news in brief). Thankfully she’d come through to my extension by accident and I was able to pass that particular nugget of joy on.

One from my ‘regular’ caller, who usually phones first thing. In fact if it gets to 10.30am and he hasn’t called I start to worry something has happened to him!

One from the man I walked all the way across town to interview, waiting about three quarters of an hour for him to NOT show up, then walked back again - wasting nearly two hours of my time. He wanted to know if I could come out again on Monday. I told him, in the politest terms I could manage, ‘not bloody likely’. He is now coming into the office to see me. A much better arrangement.

Have whiled away my time halfheartedly working and exchanging emails with mate and fellow hack Media Spiv

Episode One

Oh look! First day of the month, first post in this blog. I would like to point out that it was purely coincidental - I have not sunk to that depth of analness quite yet.

I have been seduced over to the ways of Blogger by a mate, and I do have to admit the archive whatsit down the side is quite nifty.

So here I sit, in my lunch hour (nearly over - boo hiss!) writing nonsense and reading the BBC news website. Shortly I will have to return to work, and continue to write blindingly pithy stories about church bakes and the like. Thank god summer - the age of Slow News and Fetes Worse Than Death - is at an end.

Saying that, I have had a couple of rather good stories this week - including meeting the last living survivor of the Titanic. Very interesting, though she couldn't tell me much about the actual sinking - what with being nine weeks old and in a sack when it all happened.

Arrived at work this moment to discover I couldn’t log into the server. Nor could the other journo. Short moment of panic before we realised the news ed could log us both in under his username. Our old tech guy was so paranoid about other people knowing your password I actually ate the piece of paper he’d written in on in a moment of sarkyness. Current tech guy has a habit of leaving your password on a post it note stuck to your screen if he has to change it while you’re out. Top notch security here.

Thankfully it’s all sorted now, and I can use my email. Just as well because
a) you never know if THE story has just plopped into your inbox and
b) was having sarky exchanges with fellow journo, muffin princess and mate withdrawals. Flagrant abuse of our IT systems but hey, they don’t pay me enough anyway!