The rage, the RAGE!

I have been bottling it up for the last two days, but can contain myself no longer. I am absolutely FURIOUS that Michelle Gayle wasn't selected as our entry for Eurovision this year and instead we're stuck with an unattractive binman with his trousers up under his nipples like he's about 60.

I just can't understand how it happened! Michelle clearly had the better song, it was dead catchy and it had a dance routine and everything. In fact my friends and I had already agreed we were going to learn the dance routine in time for the final, we were that sure she was going to win.

And to my delight Andy Knobhead got eliminated, quite rightly, by the judges in the initial rounds. And then in a shocking moment of ill judgment, Terry Wogan reinstated him as the wild card. Never mind, I thought, she'll still win no problem. It came down to a head to head between the two of them, all the judges said they thought Michelle should win, and then there was a bizarre reality-warping moment where Andy came out the winner! What the hell???

I wouldn't mind that much, but consider this as a proposition:
The Ukranian entry, called Igor or whatever, swans onto stage and they introduce him as a former binman, and then he launches into song, and you think "hang on, this is EXACTLY the same as Madonna - Express Yourself. You can actually sing the lyrics over the top! What did he do, find a CD of it in someone's bin and think 'I'll have that'???"

Because that's exactly the same as what we've done! His song is a complete rip off, the Europeans are bound to have heard of it, backwards though they are, and they're going to completely muller us for it.

So now I'm stuck with trying to find a different country to support this year. Ireland's out because they've chosen a stuffed turkey that looks like a penis to sing their song. So who am I going to support, the French???? Over my dead body!

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By popular demand

Apparently it is highly important that I record on here details of the highly enjoyable "staff development" workshop I went to last week. And I use the words "staff development" in as loose a sense as possible.

Now, not that I'm ungrateful because I got the morning off and a free lunch and four mini pastries, but what the HELL was that? It was entitled "Problems, decisions and creativity", which basically translated into 20 minutes on made-up 'left brain/right brain' theory, doing some lateral thinking puzzles that the trainer got out of a Christmas cracker, and the rest was colouring in!

I drew: a wizard, a mountain, a fireball, an old lady getting struck by lightning, a snake, and a new creation which I have named the Eleroo-utan-osaur - a freaky abomination against nature in ear muffs and glasses.

And the trainer will have got paid loads for that! I know how much trainers earn, and I've seen them paid £750 for a half day before. I think a far more useful creative exercise would have been to give us £75 each and see who finds the most interesting way of spending it. Mine would have gone on hiring a 19 year old blond stripper called Luke.

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Always read the label

Always read the label is very good advice and apparently not just something they say for the hell of it. My contact lens was irritating me on Saturday while I was at a friend's house, and so she helpfully ventured that her brother had some contact lens solution in the bathroom. Perfect, I thought, so off I went to rinse my contact lens and pop it back in.

Terrible stinging pain ensued as I put hydrogen peroxide directly onto my eye. After whipping the lens back out, flinging it away from me as though it had done it deliberately, and rinsing my eye for ages under the tap, I THEN chose to read the label. "Warning: Not to be used for rinsing" it said on the front. On the back it was a bit more specific and said "Only to be used for soaking contact lenses over night. May cause a slight stinging sensation if contact lenses are put back in after less that 6 hours". Slight? SLIGHT??

So I spent the rest of the evening with a very pink eye looking like I'd been used for animal testing.

Other than that, the weekend was very nice. It was nice to see Alice after her 5 months of South American gallivanting, I spent a normal day of enduring my Mum being ridiculously rude to my Dad on Saturday, and on Sunday I had a nice meal at Chris' and took his Nan to the shops.

Have been to the gym this morning and have now doubled the amount I can benchpress to a shocking 10kg!! Wow, that's awesome and I'm sure will come in very handy for... er... pushing very light things away from my chest.

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Sleepy so sleepy again...

Yes it's Friday again and I'm basically dead on my feet having been out to Boogaloo last night. It was good though, it was the last one they are having at Audio before the move to Candy Bar. General fare really: the music was good, I danced a lot, they did a bit of caberet, and then they played a game. One of the cuntestants this week was a nice young man with a muscly stomach, who Boogaloo Stu made take his top off. He was wearing really low hipster jeans and clearly no underwear, which I found quite hot.

Today I am pottering around and work and putting things into boxes prior to my office move on Monday. I'm only moving two doors down, I really don't see the point in putting everything in boxes...

I am also playing around with Flock, a new browser I've just discovered. It's quite good really. It integrates with Facebook in a sidebar, so you can click straight through to certain functions, and it shows you if you have messages, recent status updates by people, etc. It also integrates with Blogger, so I am writing this in Flock's special editor and will shortly find out if it can successfully post to my blog without me actually needing to log into the site.

I'm going home this weekend (yawn) for Mothers Day. Hope I don't get brain death. I will also get to see Alice The Gruttock though, after her many months of South American travel, which should be really nice. I hope she has brought me back a sombrero.

Four hours til I can go home. I think I might start injecting coffee granules directly into my brain....

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Sleepy but smug

Not only did I get up at 6.30am yesterday and was on a running machine in the gym by 7.30am, I also went clubbing to Dynamite Boogaloo's 16th birthday last night. So I was rather shockingly up for almost 20 hours, and then only had 4 and a half hours sleep before I got up for work again.

Not surprisingly I am quite tired today, but I'm glad I managed to do everything I wanted. The gym was fine but completely crippled my arms for the rest of the day yesterday. The alcohol and dancing seem to have limbered me up quite a lot though, so I'm quite pleased about that.

Boogaloo was also good, and there were quite a few hot boys there yesterday. There were also some navy boys, who mostly weren't that cute, but oddly Stu decided to get them up on stage and make them take their clothes off, which went down well with the crowd. Oh, and some girl took her bra off and jumped up and down in order to clinche the cabaret game.

It's Super Dynamite Boogaloo on Saturday, so I'll need to find an exciting new outfit for it by then!

Gymtastic

I made my first trip to the gym this morning, at the shocking time of 7.30am. It was alright actually. It was very quiet, as most sane people were still in bed, and I spent a profitable 45 minutes trying out a few of the different machines.

My hope is that going to the gym will actually succeed in developing a bit of muscle on me; so far my "trying to do some press ups at home" regime has had little noticeable effect. Being too lazy to remember to do them every day probably doesn't help much.

The weights machines were a bit scary though. I wasn't really sure how to use most of them, even after asking the man, so I stuck to the ones that looked most straight forward and least likely to snap back and sever my head. When I sat down on most of them I thought "oh right, I'll try the second or third weight after the lightest, the lightest one is probably for girls". But no, apparently the lightest weight is for girls AND me, so I will have to make do with that for the moment. I'm sure after a couple more visits I'll be up near the top somewhere and benchpressing small cars and things.

So, buff hunky physique here I come! Watch this space for updates/relapse into chocolate eating and doing no exercise.

Intriguing...

After a week of fairly boring activity in the seminar room, and a distinct lack of hot male medical students, they have today decided they need to put the blinds down for the afternoon seminar.

Now, given they didn't bother with the blinds while examining an old man in only his vest or during their nudey-boy-standing-around physiotherapy lesson, what exactly can they be doing that tops that and requires the blind?? I feel sure it must involve a latex glove...

Conveniently however, they have left a letter-box sized gap at the bottom of the blind so I can observe a few centimetres of activity. Now where did I put those opera glasses?