"I was so cool when I was 16 and 17 and then I turned 18 and went to uni and then I was just weird..."

I am sitting in the internet cafe at the moment downing my lunch and contemplating whether or not to just run away from the filing job of doom but then consoling myself that it will all be over by Friday - woo! And to cheer myself up further, I've been watching the cute little guy two stations away bopping away on his chair as he listens to some live set over the net through his really quite enviably cool headphones. He's having a real little party on his own over there and it's making me smile.

In other news, today I am tired today because we had an unexpectedly in depth and enjoyable reminisce last night into the early hours about our mid / late 90s music experience and were obliged to go through all our CDs and play the most nostalgic tracks we could find including Stone Roses, Suede, Blur, Ash, Primal Scream and so on. I used to be *such* a tragic indie girl between 16 and 18 - I'd see all sorts of shite, unsigned bands playing their poorly attended mid-week gigs in dank and lame parts of Camden and Islington and wander around in what I shamefully recalled to be "cool" clothes that I had customed myself (but was actually spending most of my time looking like a colourblind tramp with poor sewing skills). It was perhaps the most exciting two years of my pre-university life: endless late nights, getting dressed up and over excited after college, going home on the night bus with my ears ringing from yet another onslaught of sound barely recognisable as "music" and trying to make excuses to my frantic parents in the morning before slinking off to A Level college and doing it all over again. And then i went to university and did it all again. I think I handled Freshers Week and adjusting to university life pretty well as I seemed to have done it all before two years earlier.

Ahhh, the memories, the memories...

Currently listening to: Ash - Nu-Clear Sounds, Suede - Dog Man Star, Beck - Odelay.

Currently watching: the cute guy still having a boogie two stations away, Teachers, Eastenders (I should be ashamed but I'm not)

Currently reading: a book about disability and miracle cures in classic literature for young girls (very interesting analysis of The Secret Garden, Little Women and What Katy Did), a travel book about a man trying to find King Solomon's Mines via a map he found in mysterious circumstances and the novel itself and... a few other books about books. Some sort of trend I've just noticed there - must get out to the library again soon...

"Go on... I'm sure he's not asleep yet..."

I have not had to do a full day's work while hungover to fuck for a while now and it is quite a shock trying to balance on my crappy ladder with an armful of files and suddenly wanting to vomit while my head erupts into an internal and out of tune rendition of Holst's Planets (all of them). I blame my darling post-grad girlie friends with whom I always seem to end the evening rolling in drunk and reeking of booze, fags and unsuitable men, talking nonsense. I can just about recall lying in bed and commanding a slightly startled Taxloss to wake up Boatie flatmate so he could "snuggle with him... I don't mind watching..." and then it all went blank. And now it is all flashing lights, churning guts and cold, shakey moments in between flashbacks of the night before. I think we ended up in an Australian-theme pub and were dancing to ... oh god, it's all coming back in a rush, just like the gush of bile rising up my throat... I'm off to take some more Resolve. Pheh.

"Hello, is that Hypatia? I've got some good news for you..."

... I got a new job. After letting me know I was up against one other person at some point in the afternoon, they ransacked me for references and spent the rest of the day chasing them up. God bless my referees - thank you both! They both came up trumps for me and after I spent the whole day putting files back in the wrong place with shaking hands, spilling tea all over myself and generally going white faced with fear and anxiety, I thought I was going to break under the strain and crawl weeping into a bundle of 9278452 - 9353452 files. And then I got the call... and I got the job.

Ah, must go and finish my champagne before it goes flat.

In other news, as my darling Taxloss can confirm, the new phrase of the household is... "you're twisting my melons man." And I've come to terms with my Little House on the Prairie obsession and am going to take up knitting. Yes, that's right: knitting. Who wants a scarf? Or... a scarf? or... you know, a scarf? No requests for anything more complex than that - I can only knit things that are straight and of one shape and length. But eventually i'll be able to put together lovely fuzzy gimp masks and crotchless ribbed catsuits, so I'll keep all you wool-fans posted, k?

"...9352674...9352674...oh god, just fucking kill me..."

I am a temp. I am a worm. I am a hopelessly slow filer monkey currently crawling around a really really badly kept medical records department trying not to get wedged in between the overflowing shelves and climbing up and down wobbly, broken ladders while sweating like a bastard, showing my pants to anyone who might be looking, dropping things and praying that the day will end soon. ::sigh:: As long as I can pay my rent and get my haircut, I shall just have to get on with it and spare the moaning. Hell, I'd be moaning a lot more if it wasn't for this internet cafe - 1 hour for 1 pound and I am allowed to chow down my lunch and sip bad machine coffee in between typing. If only I was allowed to smoke as well, the experience would be complete. Oh thank you Internet - god bless you and the respite you give me from temping doom!

In other news, Former Flatmate B is back from healing the third world and settling back into civilisation via unsuitable shoes and sit-down toilets. Hurrah! More nights of cheap white wine and shouting loudly and cackling until dawn to come!

In other news, Taxloss Towers has become a frighteningly decadent eaterie with Boatie Flatmate, me and Taxloss himself going for broke (literally) in the beautiful new Sainsburys Market. It is proving to be a mixed blessing - great to be able to buy decent food and cook wonderful meals in the evening but we're doing this every evening and soon we three will be 1) fat 2) broke 3) fat and broke.

Oh dear. Taxloss is away this weekend and I must not go to Sainsburys to cheer myself up. I'm just going to have to drink that pint of fresh custard in the fridge and make do with the leftovers until he gets back. :: sluuurrrrrrpppp::

"Yaaaarrrgh!"

Ahoy there me hearties! I be quite pissseed right now and about to set satil for the land of Temping -\it be a fine land, with money whcih I have not handled for a while now, to be sure, to be sure... so long to being broke, here's to being broken spirtied! Yaaargh! With extra parrots and peg legs etc. Ole!