fudge it

so she's definitely pregnant. 4th sprog in as many years, downside: i really do feel sorry for her. upside: there's absolutely no way they're going to make it here next christmas!

chances i beg my boss to phone me up and demand i get my ass in to work: 80%

fell down the stairs today. hurricane dad had me in a total frenzy: he's had to go to pakistan to see his very ill mum. left me in charge of the housekeeping. now that's overestimation. anyway. my knee really f*ckin' hurts. and my arms. from lifting nephew no 2, heavy boy that he is . hmm, dunno if i wanna take that back (31/12/02; 18:43). the little dude just called me a bitch.

bushra | permalink | |

they got to the house before i did, dodging my dad because yet again i wasn't wearing a scarf over my head was impossible. again, talk of me sending him straight to hell. bother. an hour later i'm lying on the living room sofa, trying to pretend it all isn't really happening, when i hear some soft footsteps. two little hands rest on my arm, and when i look up, there is this pair of wide eyes belonging to nephew no 2 staring at me: "hiyaaaaaa." nice. no, really.

work is dead today. fudge this, i'm going home. have enough hedex extra to last me the for the week ahead i think.

bushra | permalink | |

oh brother. i just got a present that was obviously the third one free at boots. nice.

i can feel that stupid f*ckin' network cable wrapping itself around my foot again. every now and then when i kick my foot free, i hit the off button on the 4-plug, and switch off two of the computers on our team's desk. that'll be my PC then, and the one belonging to my boss. g-reat.

bushra | permalink | |

got these in the post this morning, except they're called wrigley's extra thin ice here. you want to throw up when they melt in your mouth. as soon as i got to work i offered them around.

ok, i've run out of steam trying to get the donnie darko soundtrack, so i got this instead. oh dear god, what have i done?

got a call from dad at work today: he couldn't understand why i was at work on a sunday. he's travelled up north to pick up my sister (and yes, her kids too) for christmas. but of course it's not for christmas, it's just a holiday. they land sometime this evening.

bushra | permalink | |

someone's feelin' festive and stuck a crowded house cd on, and they've turned the volume up too.

bushra | permalink | |

i had my appraisal thing today. supervisor/boss/line manager took me to the sort-of canteen, and got me a diet pepsi and starburst. a good start. it was all right, because now i actually know what it is i'm supposed to be doing there. lots of little things, but they don't come together to meet one great big objective, one goal, or pre-defined target. a unit plan was produced, but again, that was broken into ickle tasks, and no great big title at the top telling me what goal these tasks would help the department achieve. fudge it. what am i complaining for? decent pay, a nice cheque in the post this morning, breaks and stuff, and all i do is sit at my pc all day surfin' the net. who needs goals?

bushra | permalink | |

secret santa at work: here's what i got.

the office next door: if they're not working, they're either checking their hotmail or friendsreunited. but of course.

bushra | permalink | |

someone opened jig's (aka brother no 4) mail today, well so would you if the postmark read London Fire Service! apparently he put his name down for an recruitment open day. last year it was the British Transport Police.

bushra | permalink | |

they're always saying weird stuff in the office next door. we have to walk through it to get to ours. yesterday i heard: "so i said is it because i don't go to church?" today, i'm walking back when some voice shouts out "daley thompson!"

tomorrow i have to go here and pick up a certificate, congratulating me on learning computer stuff I already know. don't be fooled by how big it looks. it's very small and well, er, pretty scary looking actually. like there's dead people buried under the woodwork or something.

bushra | permalink | |

jig was dancing like baloo the bear (no really) when i played a queens of the stone age cd on friday. guess you just had to be there. i managed to watch two videos off the dvd that came with it before brother no 2 went all holy about it.

in case you're wondering no we don't all live in the same house.

bushra | permalink | |

sister no 5 is the worlds best mime artist. while sister no 4 is sitting right behind her, she managed to get the following message across: "she punched this girl in the face today and gave her a black eye". she has to go see her year head tomorrow (who happened to teach brothers no 1 and 2 at a previous school many years ago). watch the tear in my eye as i tell my sister how proud i am. even sister no 5 is in awe of her. i'm sister no 3.

bushra | permalink | |

there is no no no no no no way i am eating that christmas cake! i don't care if the alcohol has evaporated or whatever, i'm still not going to eat it!

everytime my dad wants to pick an argument, i find i'm just too tired and admit defeat. as a result i will never listen to music, watch tv, speak english in the home again. instead i will become a mute, wear a scarf over my head and iron clothes all day. can you see the change already? i think he's just picking fights with me because he's missing mum. that and to prepare me for the bullshit sister no 2 is going to dispense when she arrives with her kids in tow.

bushra | permalink | |

i knew it! the house has managed to live in har-mo-nee for two weeks, and downstairs brother no 1 has just hurled abuse at his wife (i think), and now my dad is kicking off. all it takes is for him to see me on this PC and the house will explode!

bushra | permalink | |

"ooh, look i can't do this on my pc...can you do this....come here a second"

i feel sick, i have the shakes, i have a headache. i think i hate my job. must grab earphones, and even the MD player attached to it. even snow falling on birmingham's concrete architecture isn't going to help.

bushra | permalink | |

i can't seem to eat much when i get home in the evenings. so around 7.30 i was sitting in the kitchen, with a packet of TUC cheese crackers. in the background sister-in-law no 2 is giving the floor a clean while sister no 4 stands and watches, one of them will start a thirty second conversation about detergents or whatever, and then they'll stop. and start again.

jig comes into the kitchen. we haven't really spoken since he got back on monday, and when he sees that i'm eating he makes a beeline for the table. sister no 4 gives him an earbashing about him using all her shampoo and thumps him a couple of times, before she lets it go and returns to the sis-in-law-with-the-mop.

he starts helping himself, and quietly i ask him: "so did you do it?"

"yeah."

"go on."

"thanks. wait, did i do what?"

"amsterdam!"

"oooooooooh. that. yeah i did. i thought you meant something else."

bushra | permalink | |

today i followed my own advice and did not volunteer. there's a chick at work, who's verrrry manipulative and can get you to do work that isn't in your job description. before you know it you're working on a public information display and it hits you: what the f*ck am i doing here?! and after that you vow never to get involved in anything else again. so she comes up to my desk today: "C said that while she was away, you could do the Christmas decorations for the office." i said no. i pleaded Muslim. and when she realised there was no way i was going to help she started messing about with the stuff on my desk. what's this what's that. i'm going to dig around in my brother no 1's box full of gadgets tonight, see if i can build an electric fence or something. that'll be nice.

i'm getting a lot of slack for not joining everyone at the 'christmas meal' next week. are you coming? why not? (er...cos i don't like broad st?) oh you're boring! i think i'll wander around the office (if i need to) with my earphones plugged in. maybe play my walkman really loud too. sure i'll go deaf but anything so they leave me the f*ck alone!

oh jig came home by the way. sister no 5 let him in, and teenager that she is, she greeted him with "i heard you went to amsterdam!!" scared the shit out if jig (brother no 4), apparently he muttered something about how he never tells any of my secrets. but dad believed him about the whole mission from god in dewsbury story. i don't call him the artful dodger for nothing y'know.

bushra | permalink | |

i just learnt some new html. getting text to scroll across the screen. you don't get it, this is like a big thing for me. at work tomorrow i have to go find out why somebody's been stealing some ideas i came up with for a website for the place.

everyone is missing mum. it's been a week since she left for pakistan, and nearly everyone looks a bit like that droopy dog.

on a different matter entirely, i grassed up my brother jig about his weekend trip to amsterdam (much to the amusement of everyone and myself, he called me up at work asking for my credit card number so he could book flight tickets. well of course i said no). apparently he told dad he was off on another sort of mission thing with the group from the local mosque. he's due back today, but no one has heard from him since friday. given his previous history, i don't think he's going to make it back in one piece (of course he's not, it's f*ckin amsterdam isn't it). but i expect there will be at least a sinister pep talk from my dad and my older brother in the posh living room at the back of the house (sinister because when you walk in there unannounced and unaware of whats going on, and your dad tells you to get the hell out of there, that's if you made it past the door the brother no 2 should have been guarding). if not i hope they kick his head in, he's really starting to take the piss.

you know what pisses me off even more? i went to the clothes show on friday (load of crap that was, except for the actual fashion shows, other than that it's just all these D&G and fcuk fashion hungry types scrabbling around for bargains, innit. sister sam got me a kangol rucksack for a fiver, not bad.) 11.30am text from dad: "why where r u". i figured he meant the text for someone else, i hadn't texted him first or anything. then later on the train he texts me again: "where r u why don't u reply". then he calls me, so i tell him we've been out, we've been shopping, we're on our way back. "you've been shopping for seven hours?!" after which i was saved by the bad reception on the train. i didn't think he would be timing me! the poor man, he still thinks i haven't set foot in a cinema/bar/places-where-a-girl-like-me-shouldn't-be yet, i'm not going to shatter that illusion. the thing is, the grief he gave me and sam for failing to inform him properly is ten times stronger than what he dishes out to the boys. as a result jig's out there getting pissed off his face, but nooooooooo, so long as the daughter hasn't run away with some boy, everything's okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. that's keeping it muslim man. f*ck f*ck f*ck.

bushra | permalink | |