There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

Today was the kind of day that makes a nice person like me want to strangle kittens into wet, bloody pulps out of angst and anguish.
It started out with the bus. Despite being to the bus stop 5 minutes early, the bus itself was 5 minutes late. No biggie, my job is only a 10 minute ride away anyway. I should get there bang on time.

And yes, at exactly 8:30 am, I arrive at the Booking Office, ready to start the day.

You're Late.

First bloody words out of my supervisor's mouth.

What? Um, I start at 8:30, right? I mean...come on...I rely on public transport to get to work and made it BANG ON TIME.
You start work at 8:30, yes, and I expect you to arrive at work 10 minutes before you start. Now hurry along to Reception because you're late.

Um...Hold up here. Is this normal? I mean, in my previous jobs, as long as I was there on time or up to 7 minutes late, I was still considered ON TIME. So are you going to be PAYING me for my extra 10 minutes?

Thus, I hurry along to reception to fine that NO notes OR referrals have been pulled for the day or the following day. Jigga wha? It is ANOTHER person's job to get all the notes for the week, it is yet ANOTHER person's to get all the referrals. MY job is to sit at reception, log in patients, process paperwork, and make sure that the mail is properly distributed. Well not so much anymore.

One guy is off taking exams at uni, the other is coveting his wife or something, so it's me. I get the joy of doing 3 DIFFERENT people's jobs, all of which require me to be in 3 different places. And naturally, since I was thrown in the lurch, I have no idea where this stuff is. So I'm taking the inititiave, I'm looking up where these notes are supposed to be, tracking down who to call, and running around the Hospital like a monkey searching for a crack banana to get as many notes as I can. Oh yeah, while also checking in patients, doing paper work, and running out to meet the mail van to see what the other hospitals are sending over. Superwoman? Psh, not even she is as kick ass as I am.

However, all the running around meant I didn't get to eat lunch until 2:00. ALSO, it meant that the nurses were yelling at me and getting on my case because the notes for today weren't there. Even though that's not my job.

PLUS today was 'Take out your fustration on the Receptionist' day. I got about 50,000 phone calls from angry, disgruntled patients who had been trying to phone through to the booking office for the past two weeks to fingure out what the heck was happening with their appointment. Like me, whenever they tried to phone over, they were met with a busy tone. Or it rang out. So naturally, they decieded to phone me because I was where the procedure physically took place. But all I can do is transfer them back to the Booking Office. And when I tell them that, they say they give me 3 hours of complaining and explaining, and I have to sit there and try to get through to them that I am just as helpless as they are and can only transfer them over with the same number that they have. Out of all the the calls today, 4 of them have decieded to physically show up at the Booking Office and demand an appointment. I say, 'Good Luck'. The booking office is locked and hidden and full of angry wasps of retarded.

Solution: Go home, pour wine, drink, repeat.

I have been bad. Bad, naughty, and very blog negligent. I would like the reason to be legit, but the fact of the matter is that I've come down with a bad case of knitting ADD and have spent every spare second thinking of MORE projects I could do instead of finishing the ones I have started. And of course, having no self control and buying impulse yarn does not help.

First of all, remember that last post, the one about potential jobs? Yeah. So here's the run down:

-Elizabeth Hunt and the temp job: A no go. After meeting with a very enthusiastic consultant who swore they had loads of jobs for someone of my experience, she then NEVER phoned me back, sent me the standard typing and IT tests or anything. It's like I'm dead to them. Oh well.

-The International Language School: Again, got the e-mail about how they still had places and wanted my CV back to look at, and then again, no word back. Nothing. So I am apparently dead to them too.

-The NHS: I had mentioned that I kick ass at the NHS, and apparently they thought so too because today at 9:00 I got a call saying they want me back. Unfortunately, it's at the Western, which I LOATHE (bad food, no Honey working next door, and boring banter) but it's a job. And it's a job I know and can do well. So it looks like I'll be back to work at the hospital for the next couple of week...I say next couple of weeks because...

-The NLS: remember how I tried to sneak in that I had an interview last Monday, but didn't really tell anyone about it because it epically failed? Yeah. Well apparently everyone else who interviewed failed more because I got a call on Wednesday saying 'We're offering you the job'. BOOFUCKINGYAH! I am SO stoked. This is the FIRST job I've gotten through an interview- normally I just fail the interview and get a letter saying 'thanks but no thanks' a few weeks later. So that is awesome. Also, it's a job I can go to IN JEANS! I have been DYING for the opportunity to NOT wear dressy work-attire, and as a reference assistant, all I have to do is show up and not look too scruffy. Also, the job is only a 10 minute walk from my flat, and is part time, so I will be able to help Scottie get organised for our move down South. Also, this job is an 8 month contract ending in November. This means that there will be some months were Scottie is down in London and I am up here, but his parents have already promised me that I can use the flat for as long as I like rent free. Again, BOOYAH! I have always secretly fantasied about what it would be like to have a place all to my own. Obviously I love my partner and don't want to be apart, but at the same time, we have very different tastes. And in my head, I would love to come home to a clean flat, get my jazz playing (or my alternative radio station from SacTown), light some candles, pour some wine, and knit/read. So now I will be able to.

So basically I am just waiting on the Disclosure form from the Scottish Government so I can work, and that has been rumoured to take 2-3 weeks. But luckily I have employment now for those week, so happy dances all around.

I only have to finish 1 and 1/2 sleeves and the hood of my jumper before I sew it all together and can say I have knit my first hoodie. I am halfway done with a cardigan I impulsively started with some super cheap acryllic yarn I got at a bargin store, but that felt like bamboo/cotton mix, and I <3 it. AND I am about 1/6th done with another lacy cardigan that I hope to finish sometime. Goal for all my projects: FINISH SOON because I have a birthday knit I have to get started on and finish by JUNE.

*crack that whip*

It was my last day of work at the NHS today. Ahhhhhhhhh. Time to relax and look for more employment.

So naturally, I had to leave with a bang. Well, I personally didn't make one. But the driver of an NHS van certainly did, half an hour before go-home-time.

Outside the Booking Office, where my managers are stationed, is a taxi rink. It's also a drop off point for the NHS vans, containing medical supplies, notes, etc.

Apparently a little old lady was walking across the crosswalk when BAM, she is hit and run over by an NHS van. There was blood. And unfortunately for the poor little old lady (who uses a cane, for goodness sake!), the van was parked on top of her- so all the paramedics, the surgeons from A&E, the doctors near by- all the medical staff could do to help was try to talk to the poor old thing because they needed to wait for 2 fire engins to arrive to lift the van off her body.

Well, she must have gone into cardiac arrest, because as soon as the van was off, they started giving her CPR. No idea whether or not she died.

So you can look at it as 'how ironic that she gets hit at a hospital' or as 'well at least the hopsital was close by'. Or both.

They say that when it rains, it pours. It certainly seems as though that is the case just now.

You see, a week ago, I got a phone call from ASA asking me to fill in for a week holiday cover for another temp back at the NHS. They wanted me back because I was familiar with the duties. So back I went, desperate for anything that paid. And I KICKED ASS! The Endoscopy secretary at the Royal totally loved me and I saved a lot of ass. I tracked down ALL of the notes, referrals, and did all the mailing in only 4 short days. And not only helped her get caught up on over 2 weeks worth of backlogged pathology reports, but also set her a week ahead for patient procedure organisation.

So she said she would drop some hints that she would like me back since they are way super backlogged at the Booking Office. Awesome. Not a job, but a potential job.

Then while I was at work the other day, I get a phone call from a recruitment agency called Elizabeth Hunt. They want me. Want me want me. Unfort, they wanted me for a job that started today, aka my last day of NHS work, but they still were desperate for me to come in, fill out the paper work, and have a chat. The lady there said that she would phone back the place they had orignially wanted me to work for and see if they wanted me. And that no matter, they were definately going to get me working and fast. So that was VERY encouraging.

Oh yeah- I also had a job interview on Monday for a part time position at the NLS. This I unfortunately failed- I kept waiting for the oppertunity to gush about why I love the NLS, how I've had previous experience in libraries, that I have had rare book handling training, and that oh yeah- my dissertation was on 18th century cookery books. I TOTALLY fit in working for the National Library of Scotland. Unfortunately, I guess I should have mentioned that in the beginning when they asked me why I wanted to work for the NLS. Whoops. Epic fail.

THEN, yesterday I arrive home and check my e-mail to find that the good people at the International Language School, the ones I interviewed with for a position over the summer but didn't get, have some more open positions. They wanted to know if I was still interested and if they could put my CV forward.

So I got from NOTHING for 3 months to suddenly a flux of employment. Awesome. Here's hoping that things ACTUALLY pan out and I get hired. Because lord knows, I need to buy MORE YARN.

Well folks, the unthinkable has happened:

I GOT ANOTHER AWARD!!!!!

The fab E-Money over at BrosB4Hos has graciously bestowed me with



Wha hoooooooooooooooo! Big up thanks to my SF/Sac chica!

The instructions are as follows: 7 things you love followed by 7 tagged people.

1) Brand new fluffy duvets. Nothing beats snuggling up in something soft and warm
2) Knitting and all things related- yarn, needles, notions, the whole kit and kaboodle
3) All kinds of food, particularily, but definately not limited to, Pho, Cheese, Scotch eggs, Croque Monsieurs, clam chowder from a sourdough bread bowl, and beef ribs.
4) My mini-lappy. Bestest present ever, honey, thank you!
5) Being employed- unfortunately this doesn't happen too often for me, but damn I like knowing I'll be getting a paycheck!
6) The ability to drive. You really don't realise how much you miss it until you're in a country where everyone drives on the wrong side of the road and laughs at you because no one ever taught you how to use a stick. I curse you all!
7)Fires- not like the ones that destroy Southern Cali every year, but crackling wee ones in cozy fireplaces, merrily burning away on a cold winter night.

And since awards like these are like the herpes of the blogosphere:
1) Gabi at Out of the Pantry
2)Viridian Flare at the Endless Cast-On
3)Miss Em at ...pardon my English
4)Barbie at ...more than a blog
5)Sarah at Class and Coffee
6)Natalie at Natalie Plain and Tall
7)Erin and Julia at Buliding Luna

So rock on with your bad selves and keep on writing!

Seen below is a video that will change your life. Before, I was a depressed, obese loser who hid inside all day watching Sally Jesse Raphel from the 80s, which only made me more depressed because even though those people had problems, at least they had face to face human interaction. I wish I knew what that was like.

But then this came on.



Now I am a happy, slim manual labourer who has sun cancer from working long hours in the sun for minimum wage.

What? You mean the video had a double meaning? Where did I put my pork pies?

After 3 months of NOTHING from any of my FOUR temp agencies, I finally got a break.

One week cover- back at the NHS.

Starting at 7:30 in the morning. I HAVE TO WAKE UP AT 5:45! Ugh. After such a long mini-break of getting to sleep in until 10, I now have to wake up with the birds.

Thank god it's only for a week.

Bed time.

That's right! The evil, liberal media, the pink shirt industry, San Francisco, people who drive electric cars and whatever the hell ass-shats like Rush Limberg rail on about have struck again! This time, they have spread their dirty anti-American anti-God disease into the elephant population. And it's pissing off the Polish.

We didn't pay 37 million zlotys ($11 million) for the largest elephant house in
Europe to have a gay elephant live there," Michal Grzes, a conservative
councilor in the city of Poznan in western Poland, was quoted as saying.

"We were supposed to have a herd, but as Ninio prefers male friends over females how will he produce offspring?" said Grzes, who is from the right-wing opposition Law and Justice party.

Having dreamed about eating croque monsieurs for a few days now, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and buy all the ingredients to make them myself. Then, having eaten four delicious ham and melty cheesy goodness sandwiches in the span of two days with minimal flat-leaving/excercise, I felt it was time that I at least get in a good walk.

I decided to romp around my old neighbourhood, Marchmont, because it's one area of Edinburgh that feels the most homey. Everyone has nice flower gardens in front, the blinds are always open so you can see everyone's tastefully furnished living room, and there is generally less noise, traffic, and filth laying around.

It's also where a lot of Edinburgh University students live, particularly the posh ones who always have to be seen in the cutting edge of fashion.

Like the chick I saw and followed today for about 3 blocks. Who was wearing pantaloons.

WTF?!?!

Then I noticed that yes, indeed, pantaloons, bloomer, circus shorts, or hareem pants, were for some unfathomable reason being sold in the High Street shops. This is not okay. What is it with this country and its desire to add girth to female hips? So not only are inverted tulip skirts all the rage, so too are apparently pirate pants.

I mean, come on TopShop, these here look like diapers! Who the hell wants to walk around in a pair of giant diapers with the crotch hanging 5 inches above their knees?



I swear, the girl I saw today was wearing a pair similar to the ones on the far left. But with more rouching on the side. WHY GIVE YOURSELF A MAJOR ASS? Major diaper ass, for that matter.

I have no idea if this 'style' is hot in America just now, but I hope to god it isn't.

Britain, I know you want to be fashionable. I know that British girls are polarized as either incredibly skinny sticks or packing some major junk the the trunk, and you think that these hareem pants will give sticks curves and hide curves on the rotund, but they don't. They just look ridiculous. And yes, they will make your ass look fat no matter what size you are.

MC Hammer would like his pants back now.

My flat must be en route to a popular cemetery because I have seen multiple Hearses drive by on a daily basis.
These babies don't do that whole curtain in the windows thing- nope, you get what you see. A big ol' coffin sitting in the back with a guy in a top hat sitting behind the wheel. This whole notion of showing the whole world a coffin filled with your deceased kinda fascinates me. I mean, I'm pretty sure that most of the population, minding their own business and possibly thinking about butterflies, puppies, and ice cream will have to suppress a slight shudder and slightly more morbid thoughts upon seeing a big ol' Hearse roll by. So why subject that to other? Are you forcing innocent bystanders to stop and give pause for your dead [insert relation here]? For all we know, they were tax evading, abusive, alcoholic, drug users who died cheating on their partner in the bed of a child. Who knows?

But the process of a death processional and public displays of the dead are an ancient and common practice. Why? I know that in a lot of societies, public grieving, offerings, and sacrifices is seen as a sign of respect of the dead, their accomplishments in life, and to get on their good side in the event that the living need some supernatural help in the unforeseen future. But in these circumstances, it seems like the communities where these public displays take place are small, the dead was well known within the community, and therefore their death was something in did in someway affect everyone. But in large, Western cities, where no one really even knows their neighbour, are public displays of the dead still required?

I remember I was in downtown San Diego for St. Patricks one year and came across a large night-time funeral procession....I still don't know if it was real or what the hell it was. Basically, these dudes in antiquated black suits carried a simple black wooden coffin around the streets of the Gaslamp district while a large processional of people equally dressed in antiquated black garb followed CRYING THEIR EYES OUT, wailing, and looking very melancholy while some dude on a bodhran mournfully kept time. It was very strange and hard to go celebrate drunken debauchery after witnessing something like that.

Why? Why bring everyone's day down with something like that? Or maybe I'm just a much more inverted sufferer and don't really want to expose my grievances to the world.

The same day the Hearse was stopped in traffice in front of my flatwas also the same day a crinimal bus got stopped in front.
This big prison on wheels was longer than the one above and had about 8 little black windows set about 8 feet about ground, or basically eye-level with me in my flat. Suddenly, I heard all the loud thumping and bumping. It took me a sec to realise that the prisoners inside the bus could see me and were trying to break the windows down to get some attention. Some dude walking by gave the bus a wave, which caused even more raucous. I swear, it was more like there was a wild bear loose in there fighting with a baby triceratops. AND THEY WERE WATCHING ME!

Another example of why the internet during unemployed times is dangerous: Purlescence.

Can I just say, I think I pee'd myself a bit scrolling though this site. And the bastards have a 'Wish List'. I wish I had it allllllllll. *Sigh*

There is a lot of good stuff out there on the interwebs. Luckily for me, I still have some friends in college (ugh, law school), who have enough time on their hands to find the cream of the crop for me so I don't have to waste my time on sites that pretend to be amazing, but then quickly turn god-awful. I'm looking at you, wwtdd.

This one is too good to not share. Particularly this entry. I don't know what blog etiquette is, but I figure that since I've cited the site and the post, I can go ahead and just repost the post here as a teaser.

WARNING: COPIOUS SWEARING. I try to keep most things clean here, but every now and then, something will slip. This site is totally not about that. So if you are offended by potty language or are under 15, do not under any circumstances read the following post below. Or be curious about it either. Because that's just as filthy.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

No.

I know, diabetes isn't funny, don't joke about it. But holy hell, Easter is a GREAT time to be a British kid. The tradition over here is to give out chocolate eggs. And not puny little chocolate eggs, or chocolate eggs that taste like old cardboard, but proper, delicious, and sugar high inducing chocolate.

These bad boys are like a foot tall!

And POSH! These sweet eggs will set you back £8-20 depending on where you go.
It's said that Brits consume more sweets during this time of the month than any other. And damn do I believe that! Forget Halloween and Christmas, Easter is all about sweeties. Every sweet making company has their own Easter chocolate egg line: Cadbury's, Lindt, Smarties, Mars, Milky Bar, Kitkat, Nestle. In addition to copious chocolate eggs, you get loads of other Easter related sweets- Chocolate ducks, bunnies, lady bugs, lamb, flowers.

My Love and I received a two of the giant chocolate eggs from Thortons, such as the one above. These come with not only a giant ass chocolate egg, but a selection of truffles as well. Oh, and this was after I caved in and bought a half egg filled with truffles for My Love and me to share.

And this kicker- I don't really care that much for chocolate. Those girls who go ape sh*t for chocolate and get all moody if they don't have it and crave it all the time- yeah, so not me. It takes me about 4 minutes to eat one truffle, and I don't think I have ever eaten a whole candy bar in my life in one sitting. More often than not, I'll have a bit or two and forget about it for a day or so. Then have another bite.

My mom, on the other hand, squirrels chocolate away like she storing it for a chocolate famine in winter. When I was home, I stumbled upon two of her secret cashes, and every time we went into town, she had to buy another bar or box of chocolate.

So now we have more chocolate than is humanly possible for anyone to eat, especially for someone insouciant about it. However, on the other hand, I am crazy about not wasting things. So this chocolate is going to be eaten, one way or another. Even if I have to muck in and gorge myself every day. Because if that's what it takes to git 'er done, then so be it. Insulin, here I come.

Everything was going fine- I was still soldiering through all the yarn I had bought in the US, happily making hats, scarves, and fingerless gloves for myself and my friends.

Then I get an e-mail from my mom saying that our cousin had been up to the house, they got to talking, she found out my cousin is one bad ass knitter, and told her of a website that sells yarn. And my mom awesomely decided that she would let me pick out whatever yarn I wanted and she would send it to me. Talk about kid in a candy and crack store.

Well, I have been meaning to attempt larger projects, and there's a hoodie in the Stitch n'Bitch book that I've been eyeing for some time. The only problem is that it called for beacoup de yarn, and it would actually cost more to buy the yarn than to buy a hoodie. Mix that with my incessant fear that I will totally f* up the hoodie so far beyond aid that I wasted all that money on yarn for noting more than a giant yarn ball of pain and destruction, and there you have it, the reason I've been cowering behind 2 day hats. But if someone else bought me yarn (and hey, it's from knitpicks so we're not talking about crazy $8 skeins of alpaca) then I wouldn't feel so bad about attempting a larger and potentially disastrous project.

Flip forward a few more days and I stumble upon this site that had Sublime Angora Merino for £1.99. No freaking way. So I caved in and bought 11 skeins- enough for a jumper and cheaper than actually buying a jumper. Sweet.

But then naturally I had to think about what kind of sweater to make....which inevitably led to me buying a £7.50 book on hoodies, cardigans, jumpers, and vests. I swear, I totally must now make EVERYTHING in there at least twice to justify buying that...

...which led me to thinking I need more yarn and how awesome a bargin the Angora Merino was....

I now have yarn coming out of my ears, and I am desperately trying NOT to buy Kim Hargreaves new book Breeze . Just to subject you to what I too could knit if I were anywhere marginally talented enough:First thing first- attempt hoodie #1. Step two-knit more

This, according to Fail Blog is a baby failure. Umm, I THINK NOT! It's just good ol' common sense. Just like mom used to dole out to me. Which is possibly why I might still have strange desires to roll around in dust bunnies and soak up liquids with my forearms.

Another day, another Recruitment Agency crossed off the list...I honestly believe that I have signed up to EVERY temp agency in this city.

But I totally broke my typing record...

64 words per minute baby! BOOYAH!

And the temp agency signed me up for their 'stand by' list- meaning that I am supposed to be dressed and ready on stand by alert to work anywhere between 8 and 9 in the morning. And while I TOTALLY need whatever hours I can get, my body is SO not used to waking up before 9. Damn you, lack of jobs and your reinforcement of my laziness. But I plan on meeting it half way- while I plan to get up by 8 and get ready, I won't get all 'office apparelled' until I get the call. I hate falling into ruts like this where not having anything to get up for only depresses me and makes me want to stay in bed, but then waking up early for nothing only realise how much nothing I have to do...and you can only clean and re-clean the kitchen so many times in one day.