Friday bits and pieces…

Day 1 at job 28…I reckon I’ll stick it out for a while – but it can’t be more than a year as I’ll probably get a nose bleed or an arm cramp. The job is based in a steel foundry. Lots of sweaty, hot men. I am, of course, too pure to look. And I have no Internet access. How rude! Yes, you could argue that I am there to work and not do personal emails but that’s not a valid argument to me.

Yesterday I read this article about a woman who said the new man in their life ‘completed’ her. What? How can that be when you are already a fully formed adult? Do you believe there is any such thing? I’ll throw this out there and say – I don’t. I wonder about people who cannot be a person first and a part of a couple second. How can you be a part of something when you consider some part of you needs completing? Seems odd to me. Can’t you sort out your own life then take someone on? I do believe there is someone for everyone but it’s just a matter whether you wanted to pursue that someone. I hate seeing women hold onto men for fear of letting go. A work mate of mine said once of a 19 year old
co-worker that just got engaged - “Sure, she’s young but she may not get another chance to get married if she knocks him back.” Of course my head did a 360 degree rotation on this comment. What? What? Are we still that bloody old fashioned? Scary if we are. Scary if there are women who do not feel a whole person without a man. Just plain scary…

Today, I ran into an old workmate, let’s call her Tracey. Trace is a very straight shooter. She says exactly what she thinks. Many people loathe her but I find her refreshing and amusing. I think people are horrified because she is not scared to be who she is. I admire her. Anyway Tracy had this habit when customers pissed her off she directed them to what she called the ‘far queue.’ She would point and say pleasantly “Please stand over there in the far queue.” They would look at her vaguely and she would say “Far queue.” They would then stand in this queue until Tracy was ready to deal with them. I would often come back from lunch to find people standing in the ‘far queue’ patiently waiting. I’m not sure whether they thought it was a ‘special’ queue or they just hadn’t worked out what

Tracy was really saying to them. I asked her how many were standing in the ‘far queue’ at that moment?’ “Mate, the queue grows longer by the minute,” she said. Go Tracy.

Just heard on the radio that a University study has concluded that long legs are more appealing to short. Duh. How much money do you think was wasted on the study? Why not put it towards medical-life life research? Leg length? Ridiculous. And let’s face it, it’s no surprise, in the superficial world, long legs are perceived as better. In the world I live in I judge people by the look in their eye and the words they speak. To be honest it takes me a while to analyse their legs. Call me crazy but leg length does not make the person. Academic research = waste of tax payer funds.

Kelly on www.kkirch.blogspot.com left us with…

"Maw of Macaroni," Zoltan sulked as he rose to his feet and offered Emmeline a hand up.
"All the other cool and horrible names were taken."
"Riiiiiight. And while I agree the macaroni is not the best food source, why would opening its maw be terrible?"
"I can't tell you. To utter its horror is to give it power."
He shivered visibly and Emmeline wondered where her strong and ruthless, irritating spouse had gone. Correction, the irritating was still in play. "Oh, come on. You can tell me," Emmeline chucked his shoulder playfully, accidentally knocking him back on his bottom. Wide-eyely he shook his head.
"Just like a man to wimp on a strong woman. I suppose I'll have to find out for myself. Ready or not maw, here I come."

Yes, drinking alcohol and writing is bad, in a terribly good way of course …I’m going with….

Before Emmeline could act further a loud fierce voice bellowed from deep within the Maw.

“Stand and tremble before the power of the Maw of Macaroni!”

“What the?” Emmeline peered over the edge to look inside.

“Fear me mortal!”

“Hey Mall boy, cut the theatrics.”

The Earth shook. “I am not Mall boy. I am the Maw. I can kill with a touch, create untold destruction, make the seas boil
and -”

“…and ydah, ydah, ydah…come on up and try and kick my arse, Mall.” Emmeline stood hands on hips ready for action.

“Em, I wouldn’t invite trouble,” Zoltan murmured in caution.

“I married you didn’t I?” When the Maw appeared, Emmeline did a double take. A slight, bleached blond man wearing a pink Armani suit stood before her. “Huh? You’re the Mall?”

The Maw stamped his booted heel. “It’s the Maw of Macaroni.”

“Seriously? That’s the best name you could come up with?”

The Maw looked disappointed. “You don’t like it?” He flicked his blond locks back from his face and held out his hand to her. “Actually I’m Pete.”

Emmeline shook hands with him. “So why the Macaroni thing?”

“I like mac and cheese and Pete from the Pit just didn’t seem scary enough,” he explained.

“I can see that.” He was about as frightening as lamb chop. “So what’s the deal, Pete?”

“I need help.” He looked from Emmeline to Zoltan. “I have to get to River City.”

“Why?” Zoltan asked suspiciously.

“Because there’s trouble in River City.”

What is happening in River City? Is it trouble with a capital ‘T’? Find out tomorrow with Anny on www.annycook.blogspot.com

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?