Steffi Graf

I've got this fantasy. It's a strange one, born out of watching too many ads for panadol. You know the ones where Johnson is sitting is his cubicle (one with grey carpet walls to stick emphatic Dilbert cartoons on), working on some graphs, when suddenly his boss comes along and demands a 'report' by lunchtime. Johnson takes panadol, which gives him the magical ability to 'report'. He hands it to the boss on time, and is rewarded with 'good work Johnson, you have a future here'. This is my fantasy. A generic office job. It's all I want in life:

I want to drink so much office coffee that I get hand shakes.

I know it's weird, but damnit, if people are free to dream about being president, a celebrity or intelligent (ooh... man it's too late for weakass political/social commentary), then I am free to dream my dream! So after brainstorming with Pat, I opened up excel and graphed a 'report' until 5:30am. The next day I went to officeworks to talk binding, then to my dad's office (where I did work experience, so this could have been where it all got embedded in my mind) for two hours of photocopying. And then an hour or so of speed binding. It was my office fantasy become reality! I've got a future at 'generic company ltd.', Johnson!

I'm 'reporting'. (Funny, it was the only time I'd ever stayed up all night working. All my uni stuff is out of the way 200 words a day. Obviously I'd never had the looming of boss' lunchtime).

Just to follow up on my 'aged ducks', here's another road sign from the lush Turrmurra area (it was once described as a rainforest you know):

I'd just like to know the scientific research and testing that went into finding such a fact out.

I was at Coffs Harbour last week, where Alys' parents hosted an 'arian' party, at which 9 (+1 dog) out of the 50 guests had aries as their starsign. It was awesome, although the propsed 'arian race', in which the arian 10 raced for a prize never came into fruition (hopefully I didn't scare off the idea on the night by actually saying something as bullshit as 'fruition'). Anyway, I had to endure a 9 hour train trip to and from Sydney. By the end of said trips, I was getting a bit delirious so I looked around the train (including the toilets) for boredom-breaking fun:

I don't know why I bothered getting my meningococcal C vaccination on monday, surely it must have been in amongst all the other things I was getting infected with by that sticker.