Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Janna and Bethany's Blurty:

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Saturday, April 2nd, 2005
9:43 am	Janna : Minor Work Whinge Item One - Thank you Archie for the direction to websites, it's really good of you! Item Two - As you can see, I'm still alive, I've just not been at home this week. Item Three : Have applied for a new job. Will take great joy in handing in my notice at the Drool Farm if all goes well. Now the whinge.... I had to take a short moving and handling assesment recently. I scored 8 out of 12 which is apparently an 'only just' pass. Strangely enough, the Nurse in charge of me got the same mark. Bethany got seven and a half, and thus failed. Funny thing is though, whoever marked the papers wrote across hers 'Pass mark is 75%, so you fail' My maths may be bad, but even I know that 75% of 12 is 9, and not 8. So I failed too, and so did the Nurse. Oopsie. Anyway, what irked me most about this paper was one of the questions I got wrong. I shall explain. Q: What should you do if you hurt yourself whist assisting a patient? My Answer: Stop immediately, make sure there is someone to continue assisting them, then get help for yourself. Correct Answer: Fill in the correct accident form. Do I even have to explain why that had me swearing blue murder? Okay, I've just popped my shoulder moving Lumpy Patient. You expect me to leave her half naked and smeared in her own excreta, and me in severe pain, whilst I go and find the correct form to fill in? In the words of the Prophet, screw that. Pardon me, I thought I was a Carer, not a beauracrat. I get awfully tired of being wrong sometimes. Proper update soon. Bed beckons. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, March 14th, 2005
9:36 pm	Janna : Less Poop, More Suit-Wearing So, can anyone recommend me a good position for a Lit res with a background in the Gothic and advanced arsewiping? Apart of course from 'Grovelling at the front of the dole queue' which is the position I feel I may soon be in. Let me put things straight before I say anything else: I love my job. There's not many people who could honestly say they like a job where they are often up to the elbows in someone else's excreta. Or one where they spend twelve hours in an overheated building dealing with the old and insane. But I do - I love it. Helping people is a pretty big part of who i am, has been for a while, and they don't get much more helpless than your average EMI patient. I like my job because it's fulfilling, because I get to read at work once everyone is in bed. My Wife and one of the best friends I'll ever have both work there, this is good. I don't wake up and go 'Oh crap, I have to go to work. What a drag' - because I *like* it. Got that? But just lately, ever since the change of Matron, it's been getting more and more intolerable. First they decided Bethany and I had to be split up. This is actually in the company policy, married couples aren't allowed to work together. Now, the REAL reason they do this is that married couples will generally want to take the same holidays, so they don't work together, this means less work to find cover. Fine and dandy - oh, except they didn't *actually* split us up. We still work the same shift, just on different units. Which entirely defeats the point of the rule in the first place because that just means that if we decide we want the same holiday, they just have to cover one on each unit instead of two on one unit. And the sense here is what? Is there some logic I'm missing? Or am I right, is all that's really been achieved pissing two members of staff off royally for the sake of a rule that's not really being followed anyway? On a side note, Catrina and Christine (who are mother and daughter) are equally pissed off for the same reason. Then there are all the other little policy changes. Too many of them to even name here. All of them are entirely pointless (except doing away with some paperwork, which was sensible) and do nothing but annoy the staff. There's a *reason* things are done the way they were - because they WORK that way. Becuase it's easy and good for patients and staff alike. But oh not. New Matron wants it all her way. and then there's Mary-Jane, Gods how I wish that was a psuedonym I gave her - it's not. How dare such a bitch have the same name as one of my favourite songs. I called in sick for Bethany once. Never mind that she wasn't actually sick, everyone does that occasionally. I spoke to Mary-Jane. Result? Message is not passed on, Beth gets in trouble. I called in sick on Friday (I was actually too ill to work, as it happens) and spoke to Mary-Jane. Result? Nobody gets told. Matron gets at ME for this, not the nurse who failed to pass the message on. And then we get to tonight. I was called to work this shift instead of La Cow-Orkerat least a week ago. I get in tonight, and what do I find? Cow-orker in the kitchen, having been asked to work this day of her holiday. Why? Because the person who asked ME to do it didn't write me in the rota. End up in Matron's office again, and who's fault is it that this has happened? Mine, of course. not the person who didn't check it hadn't been covered before asking Cow-orker, not person who asked me, not person who didn't fill in the rota, but little old me. About twenty minutes later, Matron tells us we can't all three have the week off for Budapest because of the trouble of covering it all. I tell her giving me time off won't be a problem, because I won't be working there. Am highly gratified by look of shock and worry that crosses her face. So here I am, at home, psyching myself up to go job-hunting. It's hard enough to find a job you like anywhere, and it will be a wrench to leave my patients, and to leave the job where I at least sometimes get to see my Wife. But I'm doing it. I've got to. I can't take the red tape any more. So I repeat my appeal; if you know a job I could do, then bloody well tell me so. Otherwise I'll have to do a PhD before I really want to. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, March 7th, 2005
2:14 pm	Janna : Sing Me To Sleep My calves hurt. It's not important, or interesting, I'll grant you, but they do. They feel stiff, and I'm walking like Sally the Rag-Doll. I put this down to rehearsals yesterday being more active than anyone ought to be after a shift at the Dribble-Farm. Okay, I'm not really complaining, because I *like* it when rehearsal makes me hurt, just like I used to enjoy hurting after dance class. It makes you feel like you worked - and I know exactly why it is too. It was the running laps of the hall. I don't usually run anywhere. It's not that I'm lazy, I just like to leave in plenty of time to walk rather than run, and I'm clumsy, so running is a hazardous activity. Aside from occasionally bolting to find a nurse when a patient has managed to skin their leg and is bleeding everywhere, I don't run. It's not to do with the fact I'd rather saunter, it's just not something I do. I wouldn't choose it as a form of exercise because of my dodgy knee. It is, however, something I enjoy. So yes, I had an awful lot of fun yesterday running about, playing Stuck In The Mud, wrestling with Mina Giry (*big grins*) and such, but then fell asleep on the sofa and woke up with metal bars in place of calf muscles. Ouch. Rehearsals themselves are going well, and things appear to be moving quite nicely in the direction required. Work is also pretty good - we have two new patients, one of whom annoys the hell out of me but coping is just what you do, and with MG's help I may keep my New Year's Resolution at last. Working with Wife and MG is very odd, but very enjoyable. Apart from that, and my painful legs, nothing to report. Gods what a dull, uneventful life I seem to lead sometimes. Trust me, it looks a lot more exciting from my side. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, March 4th, 2005
11:20 am	Janna : Too Groggy For A Proper Update So you get a little babble, and one of those random quizzes to get my brain going. 1) Grab the book nearest to you. Turn to page 18, line 4. Write down what it says: "Well, said Mary Seton, about the year 1860 - Oh but you know the story, she said, bored, I suppose, by the recital" 2) Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first? A glass of fruit juice 3) What is the last thing you watched on TV? A documentary on Harold Shipman that we had on at work. In my job, there's a sick headspace you get into where you can sometimes almost find the sheer extent of the murders funny. And also he worked in a place called Hyde. That's funny anyway. 4) WITHOUT LOOKING, guess the time. 11.25 AM 5) Now look at the clock. What is the actual time? 11.24 AM 6) With the exception of the computer, what can you hear? Cecilia Bartolli's album of Salieri arias. 7) When was the last time you were outside? What were you doing? Yesterday afternoon, when I got home and went straight to the woodshed. It was cold. 8) Before you came to this website, what did you look at? Site for a theatre I'm talking to. 9) What are you wearing? Long white nightdress, purple satin robe 10) Did you dream last night? If so, what about? I don't think I did, but something usually comes back to me during the day 11) When did you last laugh? On the phone to MG last night 12) What is on the walls of the room you are in? Pictures, masks, candelabra, an IBMS wallplanner, and peeling cream wallpaper 13) Seen anything weird lately? Dividing my time between campus, an EMI care home, an rehearsals, I see a lot of weird things. 14) What do you think of this quiz? Done it before, probably do it again one day. 15) What is the last film you saw? All the way through without dozing off? 'Chance' by Amber Benson which is brilliant, and part of the Claude Rains Invisible Man. 16) If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first? The farm I live on, and convert it into a 'petting farm' for people to visit and see aminals who aren't born to die. Set up exhibits about the breeds we have here, get other animals too. And move into the main house. And buy the landlord and Co. their own places to live somewhere they could get new, less bloody, jobs. 17) Tell me something about you I don't know. But if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore would it? Oh, okay. I sometimes wear Winnie The Pooh socks. 18) If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do? Abolish organised religion. 19) Do you like to dance? Yes 20) George Bush: I despair. 21) Imagine your first child is a girl - what do you call her? Isabelle 22) Imagine your first child is a boy - what do you call him? Julian 23) Would you consider living abroad? Depends on where. Rural France, maybe. Paris, dfinately. Ireland - it could happen. Right, there we are. I think the neurons are firing now. Time to go make some phonecalls and such. (Comment on this)
Sunday, February 27th, 2005
11:24 pm	Janna : I Went To The Shops, And I Bought Some apples A bear A Cabbage-Patch doll A duck-call Eggs Fred Ginger A hairy hat An iguana A juggler Kangeroo-skin gloves A lemon-flavoured telescope A Mongolian slave A nuclear bomb The Occarina of Deeeeaaaath A panda with a God-complex The Queen's left shoes A Really Randy Rooster Satan's pubic hair Tea Umslopogaas the Zulu warrior Velcro Xuanna (This a Spanish name which apparently means 'hospitality' but I cannot spell it. I just know it starts with X) Yoghurt covered raisins A dyslexic xylophone Anyone else think playing that game with someone with a photographic memory is a touch unfair? (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, February 25th, 2005
9:09 am	Janna : It's Just History Repeating Itself My Wife, as you know, is called Bethany. The name of my former Wife. Who was also my present Wife. That Wife was also once called Christine. This is the name of my co-worker, as you also know. Last night we had Agency cover. The agency girl was called Alana. Would anyone like to hazard a guess at my Wife's name in Ireland? It's really weird to have people with those three names gathered in the same building, working with me. Really, *really* weird.... Had a tolerably good night at work. Nobody was really mucky, Screechy Lady had finally screamed herself hoarse and thus didn't scream right in my ear this morning, and my neck is healed so I didn't have to wear the scarf, thus avoiding Chrissie staring at my neck all night as if she wants a peek. Well to be honest, it's understandable, I don't usually wear the scarf - but she would have stared a hell of a lot more had I not worn it. On the other hand, we have a new patient who looks and sounds exactly like Anne from Little Britain. Honestly, she really does! And that makes three patients now with the same or almost the same name as me. We've been given these little tubes of sterilising gel that we have to apply to our hands between every patient, because of all the current fuss about MRSA cross-infection. This is great, I welcome it, I use surgical scrub and change my gloves between every one anyway, but it's very handy. there's just a couple of problems. One: It's alcohol-based, so I come home with red, scaly hands, how very attractive. I look like a scalded monkey. Two: the tube clips on to a pocket and is on a retractable string in case a patients grabs for it - which they will. This is a good idea, but it does have the same effect on me as wearing a pocketwatch. Whenever I'm standing still, I fiddle with the string. It must drive people mental. Speaking of driving people mental, I must learn not to take H. Rider-Haggard books to work. I love them, but the main character sends me up the wall, especially at four in the morning when I've got a headache. Going to go and apply hitherto unheard of quantities of moisturiser to my hands now, I can feel the skin cracking. It's not pleasant. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 24th, 2005
12:57 pm	Janna : Long, Strange Survey Do you believe in life after death? Surely by definition once you have entered the state 'death' it is the antithesis of the state 'life' - so unless you mean in the next life via reincarnation, or reanimation of corpses (which isn't really 'life' now is it?) Then I suppose no, I don't. Do you believe that ghosts haunt people or places? Yes. I could elaborate, but it will turn into one of those 'this one time, in Whitechapel' stories that I'm so very fond of boring people with. Have you seen a ghost? Several times, and bits of ghosts, and bits of things that might have been ghosts or might have been retinal burn. If yes to the above, were you drinking or using drugs at the time or had you been diagnosed with a psychotic illness? No Are you superstitious? In a way I suppose yes I am. I'm very strange about photographs and pictures, and I won't put my shoes on a table. I also don't walk under ladders, but nobody would if they'd ever got emulsion in their hair. There are certain things I will avoid and certain acts I will or won't perform, but I don't really regard it as superstition. If yes, what are you superstitious about? As above - ladders, shoes, pictures, etc. Are you afraid of the dark? No more than I'm afraid of warm snuggly pullovers. Though I admit given the right circumstance they may scare me. Are you afraid to be alone? Not at all, I love being on my own. I'm just afraid of being lonely. Do you believe in extraterrestrials? I find the idea that there's nothing but us out there in all the vastness of the Universe vaguely egocentric and implausible, so yes. Have you seen a UFO? Yes. I've seen objects flying that I had no idea what they were, thus they were 'Unidentified Flying Objects.' And my old housemates also used to cook things that I couldn't for the life of me work out what they were supposed to be. So I've seen Unidentified Frying Objects too. Then there was that time Mina lobbed a lighter at my head. Took a while to correctly identify that. In fact it was on the other side of the room before I realised what it was. If yes to the above, were you drinking or using drugs at the time or had you been diagnosed with a psychotic illness? Probably. Do you believe in astrology? It has its uses. But I must quote Mr Fry here; 'I'm far too deep and spiritual to believe in astrology.' What is your astrological sign? None. But it is in the nature of all Scorpios to cast an air of mystery about themselves after all. Have you ever had your astrological chart done? I had a birth chart drawn up for me once. If yes to the above, do you feel it was fairly accurate? Yes, it was. Then again the person who interpreted it knew me extremely well, so make of it what you will. Have you had your fortune read? Yes If yes to the above, what method did the fortune teller use? Cards, palm reading, runes, scrying? Hmmm, let's see. Cards, runes, water scrying, dowsing, crystal scrying, blood divination, palm-reading, and I'm sure I've missed a few there. Oh yes - fire-scrying. Do you believe you can heal yourself with your mind? Absolutely. You mean you can't? Have you been to a seance? I have indeed. It was fun. Do you like scary movies? Some of them. The silly ones. I collect bad horror films. Are you afraid of spiders or snakes? Snakes, absolutely not, I adore snakes and get on very well with them. Spiders I love and an fascinated with, and they don't frighten me when they are near me or in the same room. I really don't like them crawling on me, but I expect that's fairly normal, and I won't harm them if I can help it. Do you think that snakes are evil? I'm sure some snakes are, just as some of every animal can be. But in general, no, they're rather good-natured shy sorts. Do you believe in the Devil? Evil spirits? Okay I'll say this now - better late than never. I don't 'believe' in *anything* so I'm defining it as 'give credence to or not entirely disallow the existence of.' So under that definition, I do indeed believe in evil spirits, and of course, the cleverest trick the Devil ever played was convincing people he didn't exist. Do you believe in angels? I'd be a fool not to. If you believe in God, do you believe God is All or only All Good? That's a stupid question. Do you believe in telepathy? Completely. Are you able to see peoples' auras? I can sense something about people, but I don't think I've ever actually 'seen' an aura, if you mean the funny coloured lights around people's heads. People have a presence that kind of surrounds them, and sometimes I've experience it, but no, I've not seen an aura. More smelled it. Do you believe that negative energy can remain in a location long after a bad event has taken place? Welll.. Ummm. Duh. This one time, in Whitechapel..... Do you believe in possession? That's such a great song. I love that whole album really. If yes to the above, do you believe it can be dispelled or overcome by religious rite? Most things can. Do you believe that people can be utterly evil without hope for redemption? Bah. Redemption is overrated. And yes. Have you used a Ouji board? Yes If yes, did you get an intelligible message? Yes, my silly friends were *clearly* moving the glass. Have you had a dream that came true? Yes. Would you rather be buried or cremated? 'What do you think of cremation? I'm for it! I've written a poem - When I Am Dead Cremate Me - how's that for a first line!' And me? I'd like to be buried. Do cemetaries creep you out? No, I love them. I like looking at the old headstones, I used to be good friends with a monumental mason and I know a fair bit about the history and styles of gravestones from that. Also they smell wonderful because the soil is so rich, and looking at graves is a fascinating way to learn about local lineage and causes of mortality. Have you ever had a premonition that came true? Yes. Have you ever heard disembodied voices? Everyone has, if someone has ever spoken to them from the next room. If yes to the above, were you drinking or using drugs at the time or had you been diagnosed with a psychotic illness? Possibly. Are you the original occupant of your home? No If no, have you ever felt the presence of something/someone else in your home when you were alone? When I'm alone, when my Wife is here, when we're having a party - all the time at the start, and much less now. I think they've got used to us. Do you believe that people who practice witchcraft are generally evil? No more than anyone else. And certainly no less. Do you believe in Hell? Holly : 'Hell is being locked for eternity in a room with all your friends' Lister: 'Yeah, but Hol - all his mates were French' Do you have a favorite number? Yes If so, what is it and why? Two, because duality is everywhere. If you are familiar with Tarot, which Major Arcana character do you most identify with? *Major* Arcana?? oh, okay - Wheel of Fortune, the card of ultimate vagueness. My Minor card is Two of Swords. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, February 21st, 2005
12:28 pm	Janna : Play A Song For Me : A Short Personal Tribute I'll begin where things start to make sense. Many times I've read a passage that has touched me, and many times I've read things that inspired me. beautiful things, and ugy things. But I've only ever read one really true thing in my life. One thing that hit the nail on the head and really made me believe that how I feel and how I am was in some way comprehensible. That someone could make sense of this vast thing that chokes the life out of me. it's this: You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning... And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting - on our side, or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave... So now, less than five years later, your can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back. With someone you admire, it's often easy to find the words to express your grief, and easy to say exactly what you feel. But the point here is that I can't express it, I can't find the words, because those words have already been written. I've never been able to find the words. Hunter Thompson could. That was what made him, in my eyes, one of the greatest living beings on this earth. He was truly alive in a way that so few people really are, and he coupled that capacity for life, that endless appetite for experience and pure reckless being, with a talent for putting it down in words. Having one of those is amazing enough, having them both makes him unequalled. It's going to be one great party in Hell, but we're not invited just yet. We're left behind to go on doing it, to live and to try and paint our pictures, to make it real and to go through it, and to show it to others. Life is out there waiting for us all, and for those of us with the inclination, it's there to be written. He understood that. That's why there aren't enough expletives in my vocabulary to express how completely mortified I was to learn the news today. I do know one thing though. Death won't stop what he started. Nothing will. Nothing can really stop a revolution, or a revelation. Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to. Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you. Though I know that evening's empire has returned into sand, Vanished from my hand, Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping. My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet, I have no one to meet And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming Hunter S. Thompson : 1937 - 2005. Don't take any guff from the swine. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
11:41 am	Janna : Going Slightly Mad I've just had my routine at work changed. Not hugely, but changed. I'm now working on Croft with Christine M, which you'd think would be paradise on earth, being as how in a purely professional sense I adore her. There's just one small problem; I've discovered that she doesn't like me very much. How I managed not to notice this all the times we've worked together before I have no idea, but she doesn't, or at least it doesn't come across this way. And when you've had a schitzoid woman leaning on her buzzer since five past one demanding a bath, you're just not in the mood to deal with the fact that your co-worker who you really like is being a bit of an arse towards you. Hence I came home and sobbed into my morning tea about how Christine doesn't like me. I am so pathetically sad. But you know, I have to spend nights with her and cooperate with her, I'd just rather we got on. Oh, and I've just been told that Hunter S. Thomspon is dead. That just put the lid on my fucking day. What more can I say now? I was going to bang on some more about how I've had a bad day. And now I get told that one of the greatest men on earth has put a bullet in his brain, and it all somehow pales into insignificance. Going to go listen to Hey Mr Tambourine Man. Repeatedly. Peace out, Mr Duke. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, February 18th, 2005
2:58 am	Janna : A Question Of Definition I am a very resentful person. Once you lose my favour, you've lost it forever. From then on, it is extremely likely that i will be cold, compassionless, aloof, and generally not say much to you unless to make some sort of dig. It is also a sad fact that if I know a secret you ought to be ashamed of, I won't breathe a word of it to anyone, but don't bother expecting me to *not* play this up and drop hints that only the person in question will 'get' in order to express my disapproval. This fact does not mean I enjoy watching suffering. Penny had period cramps today, and much as I detest and revile her, I still offered her, and got her, a hot water-bottle. I may be proud and distant, but I have a pretty wide streak of charity. This is what means that though I'm resentful, I am not spiteful unless seriously provoked. This is why, in my (admittedly, slightly befuddled) mind, it is justifiable and not altogether cruel to make pointed comments about the things that upset me about Penny, namely: 1. She's having an affair, and it's not the first. I know what affairs do to relationships and marriages from first-hand experience, and Jan just doesn't deserve that. 2. She patronises, bullies, belittles and insults her daughter without mercy. 3. She thinks all of our friends are either pretentious or trivial. Why either of these things are bad I have no idea. So I dig. I make pointed but really quite subtle comments. However - and I don't want you to miss this part - I would never, ever, no matter what she did or said, pick on anything that really hurt her. Penny is also a resentful person. This is why today, when I was not present, she decided to tell Bethany that she was going to basically tell me I was fat just to gauge my reaction, because she thought it would be funny. And that is why this evening when she tried to hug me goodbye, I physically pushed her away. This is why my Wife will now have to apologise on my behalf and make peace. I just couldn't bear the idea of touching that spiteful little whore. Making comment on something which you see as wrong is one thing. Deliberately and calculatedly picking at someone's deepest and most abiding personal issue is quite another. If I'd had a knife in my hand, I would have hugged her happily, and stabbed her in the back with a smile on my face. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 17th, 2005
10:37 am	Janna : Curse Of The She-Bitch She's here again. And she started shrieking at about 10 in the morning. Again. As I said before, there are so many far nicer things to be jerked from slumber by than my mother in law's voice. I was quite happy curled up in bed with my hangover and my wife, glad that Mamma Giry had brought her a big cup of tea so that I could purloin a few sips. I was even considering just rolling over and getting a couple of extra hours sleep. And then the In-Laws turned up at the door. I can sleep through a party. I can sleep through my alarm. I once fell asleep directly in front of a bass speaker at full volume, and once with my head on the keys of an organ, making a very bad and very loud noise. However, I can't sleep through the screeching harpy hellwitch bursting in. All I could hear was the screeches, the running commentary on all the reject shampoo, t-shirts, towels and such that she had brought with her, on how we've changed the living room around, on the remakable state of tidyness that currently reigns in our home, and under it all the occasional pleadings of a tired Giry asking if there were any cigarette papers around. I did what any sensible person would do. Lumbered downstairs with my hair in front of my face, grunted at people, and stumbled in the direction of tea. They've now gone out. I still feel awful. I drank too much yesterday, and I know it. It wouldn't ordinarily have been too much (a couple of brandies and three large glasses of wine over a whole evening) but for the fact that I am getting too old to not sleep. For a start, I couldn't sleep on Tuesday, then went to work. I didn't sleep on my break. I came back, I didn't sleep during the day. Then went to the acting workshop, to dinner, to 'Lil Giry's *brilliant* show, back home, and sat up until four in the morning chatting. Thankfully, not with the In-Laws. There was a point yesterday when I actually started to feel rather good, somehow I managed to forget how exhausted I was. This morning however, I just cracked open the eyes, rolled over, pulled the covers over my head and realised that I had my first real hangover for a long while. If this is what going out with Beth's parents does to you, I want nothing to do with it. Work, incidentally, was marginally better this time, as I wasn't on shift with Dr/Mr and Tiggywinkle. I came about as close as I ever will to snapping at the Sea-Witch for complaining that I was working in the dark when I wasn't, but otherwise I think I did remarkably well, all things considered. Now I just have to go do it again on Saturday, and promise myself that I won't violently murder La Cow-orker. *Sigh* Time to go bake some bread..... (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 15th, 2005
12:05 pm	Janna : Shame, Shame, Shame.... You scored as Lust. Lust 100% Wrath 81% Pride 50% Sloth 31% Envy 19% Gluttony 0% Greed 0% Seven deadly sins created with QuizFarm.com Hmmm. Now how on earth did I score so high for Sloth? Admittedly, I have one of the laziest jobs known to mankind, and on days off I have a tendency to stay in bed and read, occasionally dozing off, but I think you'd have to go a long way to find someone who thought I was lazy, or indeed slothful. And if 'pride' was defined more as 'vanity' that would probably have been my result - or maybe not. Have you *seen* the percentage I got for lust?? The sad thing is, I was completely honest. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
1:23 am	Janna : 'Nother Test You're the high class girl. You're elegant, sophisticated, and enjoy the luxuries of life. You are confident, fair, and diplomatic. You could be royalty for all I know. People like you a lot, but be sure they don't like you for your money or anything. That's bad. Pick out your real friends from the crowd. What kind of girl are you? (with pix!) brought to you by Quizilla Well, there you are then.... I find it very difficult to believe anyone could like me for my money, considering I really don't have any! Have had a remarkably pleasant day so far, mostly split between dozing, drinking tea, and reading the huge tome I got to thump my mother-in-law over the head with, both literally and metaphorically. It says 'You Don't Need Meat' in enormous unsubtle letters on the front, and it's a very large hardback. When I picked it up I was giggling - because I find Veggie Propaganda as amusing as the next well-informed person. Having read a few sections however, I wasn't giggliing anymore, I was going 'Why haven't I heard of this book before??!' - I honestly mean it when I say everyone should read it, kreophages, veggies, vegans, fructarians, raw-foodists, and anyone with the faintest interest in health, nutrition, and the industrialisation of our food supply. not because it will convert you (it might do, it's the most well-researched, propaganda-free book I've ever read) but because people just ought to know these things. Some Veggie books will present you with a few facts, a lot of bleeding-heart waffle, and then say 'if you don't go vegetarian, you have no soul' - this one, however, runs from collecting over 30 years worth of studies performed by trained professionals (and points out the flaws in them as well as the evidence) considers both sides, covers ethics (and I mean philosophical ethics, not liberal bullcrap) and has the best medical analysis I've ever seen performed by someone who hasn't had thier seven years patronisation training. It offers you evidence, commentary, and plain fact (from well-footnoted and respected sources) and leaves you to make up your own mind after all that. Everyone ought to read it. If I were a bookseller, I'd do a deal to buy this along with 'Fast Food Nation' by Eric Schlosser. It's called 'You Don't Need Meat' by Peter Cox, and it's an absolute essential if you give a crap about what you put into your mouth. Book review over with, I'm going to go get some lunch and read fanfic. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, February 13th, 2005
7:51 am	Janna : This Test Is Wrong And Bad, And I Hate My F'ing Co-Workers For me it is anyway. For other people is is indeed very accurate. Lydia or Kitty I said, knowing it would be Lydia. But I'm a fair persn, I give people a chance. And Lydia it was. You are Mr. Darcy. You are rich, you are brooding, and you are sexy. You like to go swimming in a white shirt and look all cute and bewildered when you come up. You come off as a little coarse at first, but in the end people come to see you as warm-hearted and generous. And sexy. Which Pride and Prejudice Character Are You? brought to you by Quizilla And I just had to get the one result that the picture won't load on, didn't I? Incidentally, the 'jumping in Pemberly Lake because it was hot and I was bored on the way home' stuff just doesn't happen in the book. It was shameless excuse on the part of the producers (or responsible party) of the BBC miniseries to get Colin Firth all wet. Not that I object. But it just didn't happen, okay? It's sily, and totally out of character. It doesn't wash with me, so just don't try it. On the other hand - Sussanah Harker..... Incidentally, a lot of people have been reporting problems with blurty recently. This strikes me as strange, as I haven't had trouble with blurty since.... oh, a long time. I'd say never, but I do recall this one time it wouldn't load at all. But that was ages ago. Blurty is much better than LJ, purely because it has a friendlier looking interface, and less protocol to go through to log in.Other than that, the two are compltely identical. And yes, I do have an LJ and I do speak from experience. Now, blogger, that was shite. Went down twice a day and lost all my archives. Blurty has been brilliant, and I expect it to continue being brilliant. My expectations are often stupidly misplaced. So, if you're going to change over to LJ, do me a favour and tell me by a post, so I can take you off my friends list to make some room, and tell me your LJ ID if you still want me to read things. Anyway, on to complaining about work. You can stop reading now if you want, it's a biggie. On my contract, I am officially supposed to work on the shift that the Sea Witch is in charge of. In order to pay me rent, I took a couple of extra shifts with Cutie on top of my contracted hours. This involves working with the Husband of Cow-Orker and his irritating joined-at-the hip bestest fwend. These two are the most ignorant, annoying, uneducated fuckwitted pair of bastards the world has ever known. I say something, and they just look at me for about thirty seconds, then repeat back to me what I just said in their own language, whilst making *me* look like the dumb one. Would you like me to take the laundry down? I say. this means 'Would you like me to get the big bag of piss-soaked clothing and take it down so that the lazy shower of bastards who comprise the day-staff can maybe vaguely think about putting it in a washing machine?' - and they reply, after suitable pause: 'We'll take the laundry down - except this means 'We will go up and get the piss-soaked clothes that are upstairs, because we haven't the sense to put it all by the top of the stairs in the evening so that whoever goes down first can take it to where it belongs. We'll put it in the lift, because clothes are so damn heavy, and we'll put it in the downstairs bathroom so that someone has to go and get it, bag it up, and make sure it's taken down to the downstairs bathroom, so that we have to haul it to the laundry room which is five code-locked doors away at seven in the morning' Actually, for all you grammar nazis out there, the laundry room is always five code-locked doors away from where the Manor laundry goes. No matter what time in the morning it is. And since as the least established member of staff I get to work on both sides of the building, and I always forget the bloody codes. It's simple really: one code for outside access doors, one code for all Croft doors, on code for all Manor doors. This is fine, I know all three codes (and all the back stairways) but one hour from the end of a twelve hour shift do you honestly think I can remember which code is which? Dr/Mr is one step away from being as bad as his wife for thinking I'm weird for not watching television, or even having access to it at my home. He also finds out when I'm not at home and calls my wife up from a payphone, The guy is a bloody freak. And then there's Mrs Tiggywinkle, who stares at me for at least a minute after I say anything as if trying to work it out. For heaven's sakes my accent is that bad. And the way we have unspoken wars over the television - every time they leave the room, I turn it down to a respectable volume that doesn't slplit my head in two. Then they come back, and whack! Up wih the volume, without even asking me. And I can ignore the television, oh yes, but I can't ignore their running commentary on it. Why are the lights off? they ask me every time they come into a patient's room that I happen to be in. They aren't off, I amost reply, they're turned down so the patient in question can sleep. There is plenty of light in here. I can see perfectly, and most of the patients are half blind anyway. You can always tell when a nurse has been in a patient's room, you know. Want to know how? The lights are on full and it's a total bloody shambles. Wipes everywhere, bag of human waste in the middle of the floor, bed moved into the middle of the room, patient half suffocating in their bed due to covers being pulled up. It's the same with them all. Care assistants like myself - fine. Doctors - even the female ones - fine. Tidy, clean, lights dimmed to a respectable level, rubbish removed. But nurses, oh no, leave the place like a bloody BSE infected bull has been through. And you know what? Mrs Tiggywinkle is a nurse, qualified. She may be woking as a care assistant but she's a nurse. You see my problem. And the smoking issue, oh sweet mother of our lord don't let me get properly on to this. Let me explain before I say this: There are five staff on duty at night, In charge of about 25 patients. Three on Manor, two on Croft. I smoke, Cutie smokes, Dr/Mr smokes, Chaverella smokes, Mrs Tiggywinkle doesn't. We take our breaks so that one person is up on either side of the building at a time. There is one area of the building where you can smoke indoors, hence not freezing your assests. So where does Tiggy decide she wants her break? That's right. In the smoking room. So I, who never sleeps on breaks but instead settles down with a book (the onlt time the TV is at a reasonable level is when one of *them* is trying to sleep. Never mind the fucking patients...) get to have the other lounge. The non-smoking lounge. Am i the only person who sees the unfairness. But what really gets to me is the way they look down on me. Okay, they've been doing this for years, me for eight months, but I get a patient up and dressed in half the time they do. Which is to say, one of me, one physically disabled person with senile dementia, fifteen minutes to get them up, washed, dressed, and make their bed, generally making the room presentable for visitors, and sling them in a chair and get them a cuppa. And them? Half an hour per patient, with two of them. Oh yeah, *I'm* the unqualified one. It's *me* who's bad at the job. And what do the fucking letters after *your* name add up to, Tiggy? Bsc, Ssc? Because I'm the stupid one you see. I'm the dumb fuck who sits in the corner and reads a book rather than watch fucking Corrie on video or the inane shite that is broadcast at night. I mean honestly, what sort of person brings a video of Coronation Street to watch at work? In my job, unless they happen to be MD or FRCS (etc...) the letters you have after your name count for nothing, but I'm making a point here. They act like I'm stupid, and it pisses me off. They act like I'm stupid when all they do is be ignorant and impolite and act like I dont know my job. I'm a fast learner. I *really* hate it when after eight months people still don't think I know my job. Okay, I'm doing it to pay the bills whilst I get on with what I'm really doing with my life, but I care and I still know my fucking job. And I *never* get patient's names wrong, unless I haven't slept in 48 hours. Which has happened, I admit. The sheer number of petty, stupid things they do is huge, and I haven't even got the energy to write them all down. Than heaven I only work with them twice a month or I'd decapitate them both, go down to the store room, and find some sort of apparatus that would enable me to perform a crude head-swap operation. That'd learn 'em, I say. Or put laxatives in their tea. Ah yes that leads me on to my final point (I can tell you're glad I used the word 'final' there) Dr/Mr asks me if I want a drink. I foolihsly say yes please, black coffee, no sugar, and please don't stir it with a spoon that's been in milk. And what does he say? Why? he says. Because I avoid milk like the plague, but I wouldn't expect you to remember that considering that every time I work with you, you offer me one of your ground cow and saturated fat sandwiches. And every time I politely explain that I don't eat rotting flesh, but thank you for the offer it was very kind of you (also I wouldn't eat in front of you for all the lemon tea in Russia, but of course I don't say that aloud) - so he offers me a plain fat sandwich. I say no thank you I don't eat things squeezed out of an animal's nipples that are intended to help baby animals double their weight in 90 days. Except of course I phrase it politely, more like Thanks, but I don't eat cheese. And still, every time I ask nicely could you please not stir my coffee with the milk spoon, I get asked why. I've had it up to here with it, there's only so many times you can be nice about it. Please understand, I like my job. I sit on my backside for about six hours a shift (that's half my paid hours) reading, and the rest of the job, though mucky, isn't exactly hard. The pay is bad, but it's pay for mostly being bloody idle and occasionally pleasant and helpful. That's a good deal kids, you've no idea how much real work I get done. But I really, *really* hate my co workers. If I had an excuse, I'd try to get the whole lot of them fired. The Cow-Orker I can excuse myself (it being my resolution to get her out) because I want to spare Christine M the agony of working with her. And let's be honest, spare myself and the patients from her too. These two I have no excuse except that they are rude and ignorant to me. I love my job. I love my patients. There's even something perversely rewarding about cleaning a really dirty backside and getting someone comfortably settled in bed, but the people I sometimes have to work with just drive me insane. I want to slip them all a nice big dose of lactulose syrup and see how they like it. With all due respect, because I'd feel bad if I didn't say this, there are a few absolute gems among my co-workers. And then there's Mrs Tiggywinkle. Oh gods how I wish a chandelier would fall on that woman.... Hold on, there's a chandelier in the main lounge.... Hmmmmmm.... (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 9th, 2005
8:55 pm	Janna : Viva La Vie Boheme! "Oh dear," I can hear you thinking, "she's been at the RENT again.." Well, as it happens, this is not the case. I've just started to get over how bastardly mortal I've been feeling all day. I have been laying on the Giry's sofa for the majority of that time, alternately drinking hock-and-seltzer and tea, smoking, and generally talking over the ways of the world with Mamma Giry. This was just about all I was fit for today. Yesterday night (and much of this morning) you see, was Lil' Giry's 21st birthday party. I think I can safely say that I at least had a really wonderful time, and I think I wouldn't be a million miles from the truth if I suggested that everyone else did as well. I can surmise this by the fact that I woke up this morning with welts over my back and ribs, great livid bite marks over most of my chest, neck and shoulders, candlewax still adhering to parts of me, a horrendous hangover, and red lipstick all over my right foot. Of all these, it was only the lipstick that I had to wrack the tortured old bean to recall how it got there. There were many ordeals to be passed through, you see. By water, by fire, and by vicious ex-chef with a wet towel, and call me crazy, call me sick, but I loved every minute. Whose bright idea was it to put on the Horny Film whilst sitting on the Horny Sofa? I have a bad feeling it may just have been mine. Going to go curl up in bed with sweet tea and books now, and possibly more hock-and-seltzer... ...And last night, the Girys got to find out that I snore.... Oh the indignity! (9 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, February 6th, 2005
3:58 pm	Janna : History Knocks On My Door Okay, so I just got dragged out of a really bizzare dream about granny-porn to answer the door, and it turns out to be a man clutching some rather lovely black and white photographs; "Are you the farmer?" He asks of the small, dishevelled-looking thing in grey pajamas squinting up as if to say 'What means this brightness in the sky?!' - I answer his enquiry in the resoundingly negative. So he thrusts this beautiful black and white under my nose. It's a photograph taken in the 1950's of a barn, a drystone wall, some sheep, and a bloke in pretty typical mid-century farm garb. You know, like an extra from 'Heartbeat' might look. Its very lovely, and well taken, I love black and white photographs, but I've just been hauled out of a warm bed, you understand. So I reply; "Mmm-Hmmmm...." Apparently - and this is where it actually gets interesting - there are a whole load of these pictures that he's fallen into possession of, of scenes around here, taken in the '50's. They don't have where the picture was taken written on them. So this man is driving around the area, looking for the places in the pictures, and photographing them again today. He saw our Dutch barn from the road and wanted to come and see if it was the barn in his picture. I really wish it had been. This seems like a really interesting project to me. But that doesn't change the fact that in the first minute of being got out of bed by the door, I may look awake, but it's all a cunning illusion. I snap straight from sleep to wakefullness without any intervening period, but I'm perfectly capable of walking and talking whilst still asleep. I am going to *have* to get a sign on the door warning people off knocking before 5PM except in a dire emergency. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, February 3rd, 2005
7:52 pm	Janna : Moonlight Sonata All moods have several components to them. By this, I mean that the mood itself, the feeling, is composed of many signifying elements, not merely that many elements combine to form the situation. This is the cause, I am not discussing causes, merely symptoms. As case in point, take the mood I am currently in. The primary component is the 'feeling' and its effect upon the nerves. In this case, the physical effects are a raising of the pulse and concurrent but paradoxical lowering of the blood pressure, producing slight dizziness and an inability to concentrate. The hands tremble slightly, and a sensation of rapidly fluctuating heat and cold passes over the entire body. This, I should put down to an excessive stimulation of the nervous system, producing the above symptoms. Due to the phenomenon known as 'qualia,' if memory serves me right, the mental aspects cannot be accurately described, being as they have no physical corrolaries through which to demonstrate their nature. however, though not exact corrolaries, some representation is achieved through colour, sound, scent, conditions of light and arrangement, and occasionally taste. These representatives are 'significators' - not part of the mood itself, but the closest one can get to a physical or sensory representation of a mood. A deep colour of blue never seen outside of the painted canvas. The arrangement and structure of the Moonlight and Pathetique Sonatas. A blend of equal parts orange and peppermint oils. Candlelight and warmth. Solitude, or quiet company. As stated, I believe this to result from excessive stimulation of the nervous system. I think I'm going to be good for a little while now. Possibly I'm wrong. Possibly it's merely excess energy from yesterday's Handfasting, or simply the calm after the storm. It's really not altogether unpleasant though...... (Comment on this)
Saturday, January 29th, 2005
4:17 pm	From Janna, Bethany, and Special Guest Mina Giry! Beth has just asked me not to tell the world about the origin of her Hobbit name, or her extra toe. Now we wonder what is French for toast. I don't like toast. I eat it anyway. Listening to Raspy and such is good, handing you over to.... Mina. whose tail has just been sat on by Janna... Now we're all commenting on beautiful shiny light that has come through the window. And Janna's gone off to get all wet.... but Bethlet and I arne't allowed to partake. Damnit! Ahem. Onto more mundane topics. Like Weather, or Football. Did you hear the one about Loughall FC who tried to hire David Beckham? Weather is clearly much more talkable about... Like the sunlight shining in and catching Janna's hair, making it look on fire. Soppy Mina. But yes. the Rain in Spain falls mainly on the Plain. And here in the north west, it looks like it's gonna be a sunny day, but this evening, this will turn to drunkeness and stonedness, and listening to much cool music mixed by Matt. Who is niiiice,. he makes us feel goooood. ;P We had a gloriously stoned night last night as well actually. watched Velvet Goldmine and discovered the meaning of life in tune to The Hours. Hummmm. Now we shall be taken on by... Beth- remembers discovering the meaning of life last time she was at the Ashton memorial. Think I might have been really stoned but remember lying around near where I got married and looking at stars and this led to me working out the meaning of life. It all made so much sense at the time but now I've mostly forgotten what it was. Anyway, think Mina just burnt my husband and is now looking over my shoulder to see if I'm saying funny things....hmmm must find something insulting to say about mina whilst she's in the kitchen...it's not easy, in the words of dr. Prunesquallor- I can't so it. Bah, have run out of stuff to say and have to go look for stuuuuffff anyway..... Beth has gone to help find things... *bad Mina* I'm a good woman, a GOOD Woman!! We're all being horny tonight. Stag night you see. And even my attempts at being stupidly funny are failing, I can tell journal, you're not laughing with me. (Shiny, shiny knife) Mina will go and make teaaa. Mina has made tea. Beth and Janna still upstairs. Think may go and join in. Janna back now, Beth now upstairs getting wet and naked. me and Mina will smoke some more...... (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, January 27th, 2005
12:03 pm	Janna : Meh. Test... A - Accent: Slightly slipped RP English with a hint of Irish when I get drunk. B - Bra size: 36B C - Chore you hate: Cleaning the litter tray D - Dad's name: Michael E - Essential make-up item: concealer for the baggy eyes F - Favourite perfume: Any of the Poisons by Dior G - Gold or silver: Silver H - Hometown: Sidcup. yeah, go on - laugh, you'll feel big. I - Insomnia: On a semi-regular basis. better than I used to be. J - Job title: Care Assistant/Tutor K - Kids: I love kids :) I'd like 3 or 4 ideally L - Living arrangements: Cat, Wife, Farmhouse. Sorted. M - Mum's birthplace: Falconwood N - Number of pets you've had: I lost count oh so many years ago. O - Overnight hospital stays: A couple P - Phobia: Rhytiphobia R - Religious affiliation: None S - Siblings: Three T - Time you wake up: Variable U - Unnatural hair colours you've worn: Green, mahogany, brown, black, white, coral pink, by accident! V - Vegetable you refuse to eat: Marrow *shudder* W - Worst habit: Complaining loudly and obnoxiously in non-smoking buildings X - X-rays you've had: Lots. Mostly my hands, every couple of months for about two years. Y - Yummy foods you make: tell you what, Beth can fill this bit in for me some time. Z - Zodiac sign: None (1 Comment |Comment on this)
10:26 am	Janna : It's Good When I'm Bad, I'm Sorry To Say Anyone else think that looks like a song title from a certain Wildhorn musical? Aaaaanyway, I see it's been a while since I caught up. Been too busy being drawn and photographed (*studies nails, yawns in bored manner*) being at work (*knifes cow-orker*) being political (*goes rah rah rah*) being asleep (*cuddles pillow protectively*) and being decadent (*cuddles the Girys*) but it's all been fun. With the wedding in six days, I'm chewing my fingers, let alone the nails, they went weeks ago. I'll be conducting the ceremony with bloody stumps. Can you tie knots with bloody stumps? With the shifts I've been getting lately, I've had time to work on fine details when I was on my breaks, but still I think I'm more nervous than the Bride. Actually, given the way I felt before *my* wedding, I may have cause to doubt that. Will update properly when not wrecked. (1 Comment |Comment on this)