Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Desperately Seeking Serotonin

My boss had a good old fashioned yell at me today. I haven't had one of those for a while. The one good thing about my job - and the same thing that can also make it rather depressing - is that it's a tiny company, just me and him sometimes. But generally we get on pretty well, more as friends and equals than Capitalist Pig/ Wage Monkey.

I suppose my boss had a reason to rant today. His two-year-old had kept him up all night so he was perpetually ratty. Plus the phones didn't stop ringing and the Internet continually cut itself off. But it was the scrawled message I'd shoved under his nose after he'd finished yet another call that made my boss explode:

'Customer wants to know where his fucking bags are. He's heard bugger all for two weeks.'

I had the painful thought today that although I work hard in my job, I could always work harder. It's a normal response to finding it all rather dull now, and then it occurred to me that perhaps I'm just lazy by nature and everything I'll do in future will also be shit and poorly paid and actually I'm just a bit of a cunt.

I have been religiously cycling to work and swimming each morning though. It's the only thing that's been lifting my spirits and preventing me from scouring East End pubs for a reactivated Hungarian revolver so I can play Russian Roulette with a fully-loaded cylinder.

Also on the plus side, I've completely given up smoking since returning to Blighty, using a clever little aid called a cigarette. By popping a lit one in my mouth and inhaling the fumes 8 to 10 times a day, I find it completely cures my nicotine cravings.

My one glimmer of hope on today's Dead End horizon however, was receiving my first set of photos from Spain; all the thrills, spills, and laughter, captured forever on little 6x4" images of fun.
All I got were 24 pictures of a burnt Stegosaurus sweating in a shirt, next to my tanned mate.

Among these holiday photos were pictures of my Mum's walking cardigan, Baxter. He barks at doorbells and pisses on floors.

Here is Baxter.

Compared to me, Baxter looks like George Clooney.

Oh good. Now some Russian teenagers are leaving anti-Semetic comments on my blog.

Something brilliantly life-changing had better happen spontaneously. I clearly won't have a hand in it.
I'm about as effective as a noble thought in Jeffrey Archer's fucking head.


Angela-la-la said...

Your mum has the same carpet as me.

fwengebola said...

That's it? I'm once again feeling burdened by everything in life, and you're making comparisons about light-patterned Stainaways?

Fair enough.

londongirl said...

yay re the exercise - certainly the right step towards positivity.

But you'll have to make the life changing stuff happen yourself. What do you want to be when you grow up? (i've never worked that one out, by the way...)

fwengebola said...

I haven't grown up yet. I'm veering from world's greatest living comedy writer, to leading actor. Other than that, policeman (I seriously toyed with this idea today), or else lottery winner.

And stop being happy. It's not as if you've just started a new job and finally settled down with a nice blo...


Peach said...

dude you're cyling to work and stuff? how cool... and you've got to the existentialistic point that you're the cunt and not them. Good good. You'll soon realise we are all cunts and we are all fucked but never when or how we like it, but still. I admire your efforts; all you can ask of anyone is to try

Wow get me being, something...

Peach said...

there are 2 c's in cycling, I know

Z said...

Could be worse. You could be self-employed, with a wakeful toddler and have just really let yourself down by losing your temper with an employer you actually like and respect.

I'm sure Baxter is charming, but he looks a bit freaky. You look better - assuming your eyes are not completely round, your nose squashed and your beard splaying out in all directions.

Vi vi vi vooom!!!!!!!! said...

Damn, I never thought about the lit cigarette inhaling thingy. I've been relying on inhaling air through a straw! (Expect some prick lit it on me the other night! Burning plastic fumes not nice to inhale)

Jo said...

That's not a proper dog.

Liberty said...

Think positive. When you find a lady-friend, your job (which she need not know you hate) will ensure you have enough money to buy her love. Plus, with all the swimming and cycling, you'll have the god-like body and stamina required to keep her squealing like an excitable piglet for hours, if not days, at a time.

So it's all good really.

However, someone needs to tell Baxter that facial features need not come in a line. It looks like someone hit him in the face with a pan :(

luna said...

Don't worry about your boss blow up.
I've called mine a liar and stropped off,plus made a couple of hateful calls to someone.
Everybody's been ratty and here's why:it's the anniversary of 7/7.
Our bodies have memory clocks and Londoners will remember the shock and the stress in acting up every year at the same time.
PTSS often comes out as agression.
It will pass.

Doggie's a cutie!Looking like the stuffed toy he's just destroyed in the background.
Cute Killer Baxter!
What's wrong with his eye?
And how can he breathe through pinhole nostrils?
Is there a key stuck in his back you have to wind up?
He needs proper care,obviously,give him to me!

P.S.Don't mind Angela, she thinks everyone's out to copy her.Her real name's Kate Moss.

sue said...

Stop putting yourself down - it makes me so cross! You are talented, and I cannot believe that dog is better looking than you.
Watch Seinfeld, have a pizza, and get some joy in your life!

Angela-la-la said...

I only nipped in to give my eyes a quick break but Luna-tic has succeeded in making me shove a bookmark in the HP7 that I queued for tonight, that I may use my page turning fingers for typing this outraged rebuttal...

Kate Moss? Kate freak-fucker Moss?! Shame on you!

Not only would I never choose to be so skinny as to lose any hint of feminine curves (and/or, let's face it, my famously fabulous tits) but, being compared to a woman that shags, pays and apologises for a skanky smackhead with no discernible talent is just deeply fucking wounding!.

*returns to the deathly hallows*

luna said...


It's clear Angela's still under the post traumatic stress of 7/7.

Relax,sweetie,your personal life wasn't compared to that of Kate Moss,only your fashion flair,I know you didn't let Pete anywhere near you, you do look a bit on the skinny side on your pic though,have you filled up since it was taken then?

P.S. Staying up all night to buy a teenage read,is it reasonable?
Look how irritable you've become...

Eliza said...

are you sure that's a dog? have you checked?

elif said...

yay for cycling. you have no idea how hot it is here... i can barely go to the bathroom, let alone going out. i'm going to the Air concert tonight tho. you could start searching for a new job since you don't like this one. a brilliant new idea that you could never come up with in a million years, i know. yeah well, couldn't help but say it anyway. baxter makes me wanna bite his little nose.

fwengebola said...

Peach ~ Yes, I've been cycling (two 'C's) to work for about a year and a half. I'd weigh about a ton by now if I didn't.
And how very profound.
Z ~ Yes, that's true, I could be my boss. Although being a married homeowner would make me happy.
Erm, I think.
No, I'd probably still moan.
Baxter isn't freaky. He's much, much worse. And he smells of dog.
Vi ~ I strongly recommend not smoking plastic straws.
Jo ~ Hullo. I strongly suspect Baxter isn't a dog. It likes cheese and scurrying under floorboards when you spook it.
Lib ~ Hullo there. Yes, I could keep quiet about everything, or simply lie to new women. That would help, and be a great basis with which to start a new relationship.
You really should see Baxter. He has absolutely no profile.
Luna ~ Anniversary? I'm sure you don't need an excuse to flare up at anyone.
Baxter's eye's fine. It's just being obscured by doghair.
Oh look, now Angela's getting abuse. You going to lie back and take that?
Ang ~ Ah, you haven't.
And that was handled very diplomatically, btw.
Luna again ~ Calm down dear.
Eliza ~ It's technically a dog. But in many ways, it's also a monkey, a meercat and a vole.
elif ~ Baxter's nose may aready be bitten off. It's sort of there.
And thanks for reminding me how hot Turkey is.
Tell me, how does one get a new job in a different industry (one I know not what it will be), retain the same wage, and not be hindered by my age or inexperience.
Ah, never mind. That's negative and I'm MR POSITIVE!!!!


elif said...

well first of all, you start going to job interviews. if you find something better, you quit your job and start a new one. that's pretty much what everybody does. as for serotonine & positivity, i suggest you hang around with baxter for a while. he looks happy.

fwengebola said...

Baxter can't smile. But he's generally fairly chipper, if a Mummy's boy.
Job interviews. Hmmm. I wonder if anyone is in the market for a whinging sarcastic bastard?