fudge it

catch-up

brother #4: how was b-, b-, where was it you went?
me: basingstoke.
brother #4: oh yeah. how was basingstoke?
me: less than positive remarks about day at basingstoke here. how about you? how was tuesday?
brother #4: well, i think i might be going to jail soon. (details about that would go here, but if the stupid twat is just kidding then i'll give details later, innit.) oh yeah, not a word of this to anyone.
me: why? why did you have to tell me? why? tell me this is a joke, pleeeeeease.
brother #4: oh you know what, maybe it's nothing, so just forget it. for a bit. but don't tell anyone, ok?

30 minutes later, i'm knocking on the bathroom door.

me: who's in the bathroom?
brother #4: adopts the dads voice and replies in mother tongue, voice all muffled: it's me.
me: also in mother tongue: who?
brother #4: still in the dad's voice: it's me.
me: well ok. when you get out, we need to talk about brother #4.
brother #4: hey!

oh yeah. i can get yahoo mail at work now. sobig is notsobig anymore.

bushra | permalink | |

J: I think I just sent a really long email to your Hotmail address. That was an accident. We're not allowed to use Hotmail here at the moment because of the Blaster thing. Blaster Blaster Blaster!

just so you know, if i don't reply to your email (any sent to my yahoo address that is) it's not because i don't like you and i hope you'll go away eventually (if i don't reply after four weeks, then hey, maybe that last bit is true. not that i get hate mail or anything, 'cause i don't). anyway. if i don't reply it's because work have blocked yahoo thanks to that stupid sobig virus. so if i want to write any long replies, the nokia isn't that fantastic. and while hotmail is available, we're not supposed to look at it. so i will reply. sometime. soon. just so you know.

bushra | permalink | |

hey brian, where'd your blog go? ok. it's back now.

so after my meeting today (which lasted, like THREE hours) i noticed the little red light on my phone was on. the screen on my phone said '1 missed call.' so when i got rid of that message, the screen said '1 new message.' a message, for me? i decided to leave it for a minute and check my email, mainly because i don't know how to check my messages on the phone. email inbox: the voice message was on there as well! the phone system is connected to the network, so you get a soundclip sent to your email. crikey! they spend a lot of money here on techy gadget stuff. don't blame me, it was already on my desk when i got here. anyway, it was only someone from the library downstairs, he wanted to check i existed.

then i get an email saying that i am expected to attend a day thing in basingstoke next week! what i'd do for a desk job!

bushra | permalink | |

she said, i said

sister #4: hey, i found this aromatherapy thing for you, you put it on your temples, your wrists and the back of your neck. maybe it'll help you with your headaches?
me: all right, i'll try it. but let me pay for these clothes first, yeah?
sister #4: ok. um, where are your temples?
me: they're here. and this is your nose, those are your eyes, and those huge things on either side of your head are your ears.

so if you saw two asian girls fighting, well ok, sister #4 beating me up for humiliating her in front of the salesgirl in Next, you know it was us. at times she can be a bit dim, but hey, this girl is starting at a uni next week that's in the top 5! as in best ones, not crap ones. at least that's what the prospectus said anyway.

bushra | permalink | |

ah-choo! bless you. not that i say 'bless you' at home. the dad would kill me. looooong story.

sand art. i used to play with this aaaaages ago. [link via flight risk].

i'm feeling woozy today. all fluey and stuff. this is going to be one of those weekends where i'm sick. nice. if i'm really sick and feverish i could bash sister #5's brains out and blame it on that.

'when i'm a teenager,' she said at the age of 11, 'i'm going to get a gun and blow all your heads off.' and she's done just that. well, not get a gun, but she just won't shut up!! she considers herself to be the highest achiever in the house, because she has a job waiting for her at claires accessories when she hits 16. everytime we argue she says in the loudest voice: 'well at least I wear a scarf, not like you!' she'll use that argument in front of the dad. so then the dad forgets the trouble she's stirring and starts on me. i suppose i could just slap her one, but she's a tough kid. she's like woah. brother #4 taught her to punch, so she can tap you on the shoulder and you can't move your arm for the next five minutes. casualties of our little wars include: a goldfish, one door and a lot of plates. if all else fails i just set the nieces on her. works every time.

it's so weird. everything people say about teenagers must be true. but i can still remember when she was born. i was around ten years old, the mother had left this naked baby in a cot while she got her bath ready. baby starts crying. so i pick her up, but because she's not wearing a nappy i hold her at arms length. babies these days seem to have tiny little cat-like cries, but sister #5, she was screeching. and then, horror of horrors, she starts pooing all over the place. except me of course, arms length innit. so i put her back in the cot and ran off. she could explain the poo herself. still, a great story to use every time her friends come round.

coming soon: sister #4. you'll like her, she's cool.

bushra | permalink | |

i think i'm not a 'new person' at this job now. i've managed to figure that we are only a small team, but we're still very very important it seems. nearly everyone here has some sort of history, so i fit right in with my 'my parents had 10 children' story. not that i've told anyone about this yet. but little things that make me think i'm not part of the furniture yet include:

1. every time i'm typing stuff up my keyboard is always the loudest.
2. i refuse to wear my id badge around my neck, with the bright blue (think blue witch) lanyard. (lanyard, who uses the word lanyard? personnel, apparently.)
3. i'm still walking around very slowly for fear of walking into a wall/knocking over any hot drinks/tripping over and the rest.
4. not speaking up very much at meetings. unless someone asks me something.
5. disbelief that i have been presented with a box of business cards, with my name on them!
6. my desk is still kind of tidy.
7. and the best til last: we don't do post here. if it ever happens that i have to send something by post, i have no idea how to deal with it. how mad is that?

the only consistent thing about this job is that i can't seem to listen to any music on my walkman except for the amelie soundtrack. maybe i should play the neptunes album. i wonder what would happen then?

bushra | permalink | |

banana cake again. no thanks. i will explain why there is all this cake floating around. but not today.

and another thing. if there's anyone else who's stuck in a rainstorm in port al kantaoui, feel free to text me for a weather forecast, i've already sent two messages about it today.

bushra | permalink | |

i want to blog about this job, i want to blog about the five weeks i spent in that stupid stupid court, i want to talk about all the crap i live with at home but i can't. i think- oh wait. meeting. i'll update this post in a bit. but i will tell you i saw one of the defence lawyers in woolworths on saturday. someone needs to tell him that his stripey top didn't really work at all.

15:32: see this is the trouble trying to pick up where you left off, especially after a two and a half hour meeting. you can't remember what the hell you were on about. which is good in this case i think. i dunno, if i didn't have the meeting i might have rambled on and on about dumb shits that can block a supermarket aisle and almost crush poor little niece #3 in the process (let's not go into what i would have done if they had). and then people would say 'that bushra on fudge it, she cray-zeee.'

banana cake today. i only ate it as part of an experiment. all the cakes here look exactly the same. but they provide a hint of what it might be, by sticking something on top of the icing. lemon cake? a little piece of yellow jelly. banana cake? a suspicious looking slice of banana. carrot cake? a bit of walnut. go figure.

bushra | permalink | |

would you look at that. it took niece #3's 'what's that? what's that? what's that?' to make me notice fudge it is 300 days old today. we're hiding in the kitchen. we have visitors. their grandson is along for the ride, and he is a little monster. niece #3 looks at him through the door, and when he comes roaring towards her she runs as fast as her little flip flops will carry her and climb on my lap. then she'll whack the laptop about for a bit.

sister-in-law #2:(whispers) he talks a lot, doesn't he?
sister #5:(whispers back) i know.
the kid: i can hear you!

bushra | permalink | |

instead of talking to myself (let's not go there with the answering myself back business), i'm going to blog things to note to myself.

1. when people who share your office start using words such as 'hotbed' and 'passion' in the same sentence, it's ok to have your walkman playing really loud. other than that, all is cool. oh sure, i bet you're all thinking 'what do you mean walkman? listen in and spill the gossip!' but trust me, it is not like that at all. if it was, fudge it would read like a very trashy novel by now.

it's like, when they start talking i start running off in all directions or at least try to, the way that niles does in frasier.

2: if you're going to eat lemon cake at work, make sure it's fresh.

enough. another meeting today, but it was actually quite fun, but it was two hours long. hometime.

bushra | permalink | |

brother #2: make me a coffee. a milk coffee. heat some milk up and put some coffee in it. and a bit of sugar.
me: you mean like a latte.
brother #2: no! i mean milk with coffee in it! no foam, no froth, and no chocolate on the top!
me: like a latte!
brother #2: i'll start again. boil some milk. in a pan. add some coffee. boil it a bit more. pour into mug and add sugar. none of that 'crappucino' business.
me: ok. wait. we only have decaf.
brother #2: why. the. f*ck. have. we. got. decaf?
me: brother #1 bought it for niece #1. she likes her coffee. you want me to go get some coffee?
brother #2: forget it. just forget it.

note the complete lack of use of the word please. i usually don't because i'm used to it now. you have to worry if the brothers start using manners in our house. best advice is to walk out of the front door and not look back.

thank you, blogger, for the Upload File button. no really. thanks. appreciate it.

bushra | permalink | |

"i've got great news..."

noisy office person #1: who's moving upstairs?
noisy office people: we are.

48 minutes to go before i can leave and see K's wedding photos. promise not to 'woo hoo' about it. not online anyway. when i get to yours K, remind me to tell you about the bloke who says bye bye to his callers as if they're pre-school kids or something.

bushra | permalink | |

that blogger feed

when you see a recently published blog with the title of Chubby Hijabi, you just gotta go see innit. it's nice. even if i don't understand some of it.

so hey, the shopping yesterday. best friend and i weren't concerned about any other shops except for the polka dot building. okay okay, the selfridges building. became a sucker for this and this at the benefit cosmetics counter. icing on the cake? the skechers shop man! so many trainers!

the badinerie ringtone on the nokia 3410 really kills conversation when you set it to level 5. which isn't so bad. the conversation here can leave anyone feeling homicidal. i know, i know, walkman.

bushra | permalink | |

itty bitty post #3. i'm going shopping. though what i really want to know is, is it possible to climb this building holding onto the discs? remember that stupid climbing you'd do as a kid, scaling walls, 10 foot high gates, trees and stuff not realising you could so very easily fall and impale yourself/break your neck/smash your face/or whatever as long as it involves blood? every time i see the selfridges building, i keep that same ignorance in mind and think 'yeah. it's possible.' and no, i'm not going to try it. everyone would think i was trying to polish the discs or something, i go on that much about how dusty they look.

bushra | permalink | |

3 meetings sent to me via outlook for the same day. all by the same person. and two of the meetings clash. ha ha.

i'm having a very small mind day today.

bushra | permalink | |

and you know what makes me mad even more? there's a few more people in the office now (even if it is 8am) and yet still the lights switch themselves off!!

(so you have to get up and walk around so they switch themselves on again.)

bushra | permalink | |

"well, it's happened. took a little longer than i thought it would, but it's happened."

what am i talking about? i'm having one of those days where i don't think i like it here. but i won't complain about it. and where else would i have thoughts like this:

"...now then. remember what happened the last time you stirred the hot chocolate around the edge of the cup with the bendy plastic 'stirrer'?"

"i bet if the martha plimpton lookalike really tried, she could make her eyes pop out of their sockets."

just saw this: Man mails himself to Texas. no, really.

bushra | permalink | |

popjustice has made it on the blogs of note. so maybe there isn't some sort of sleepy robot in charge of them after all...

K: a footy link just for you: web keepy uppy. just don't do what i did and keep clicking, there is no clicking required. maybe it's because i don't really do football, i dunno. [found it on linkmachinego] now telling a very interesting story about the moon, no less.

for the second time this week, the guy on t'other side of the office has come to work with one of these.

msg received: SORRY. REALLY.

liar.

bushra | permalink | |

stalking across the hotel lobby...

so hey. near the end of the month, i have to attend a 'corporate induction' for my new job. day 1 will include going over important issues such as health and safety, and i'm not sure what else. then an overnight stay at a nice hotel in birmingham. cool. yes, i live in birmingham, but y'know, it's a great way for everyone to 'make friends' or something. then the next day we have half a day of activities, and then everyone goes home.
the hotel thing, i think it's because there's people who aren't based in birmingham but places like manchester, london or wherever, so maybe they thought they'd soften the blow or something. but that's not the important bit. the important bit is that brother #3 is the night manager at the hotel. he wants to know what day i'll be there so he can book that night off. do i tell him or not?

argh! i can't believe how many people haven't done this yet! on a happy note, i managed to find the mp3 of elbow spoofing 'independent women.' very good. back to work. yes, some of us have jobs to do you know!

bushra | permalink | |

Message Sent
Time: 08:17
Recipient: Brother #4
Message: 'Call me at work at 8:15am about STUPID F*CKING TUNA again, and I'll break your legs. You know I will.'

i just love predictive text.

yes. i've added a few more links to the left. spot them and then go see. monday, tuesday and wednesday saw the work email at a complete flatline. a lotta work here is done by email, so after staring at this list i've added just a few more blogs i like. i'll admit some of them i'd seen or heard before, but never really properly checked them out until now. when i have lots of time on my hands.

me: i dunno, it's like everything is done much more slower at this job.
sister #4: that's good. you need to learn to slow down.
me: yes, but you know me. i'll slow down so much i'll stop.

bushra | permalink | |

yes, i'm at work. yes, i should be working. instead i'm working on my battle cry, you never know when you might need it. [i found it on blue witch.]

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Stalking across the hotel lobby, swinging an oversized scalpel, cometh Fudge It! And she gives a bloodthirsty grunt: "I'm going to beat you past the point of no return, and throw you out the window!!!"

Find out! Enter username: Are you a girl, or a guy ?

created by beatings : powered by monkeys

bushra | permalink | |

i'm on a CD buying frenzy. it needs to stop. today i'm listening to this on a loop. D from jury service recommended it. i like it. that's all. i just like it.

J could write a blog, if he wanted to. but i don't think he does:

Sophie Ellis-Bextor has a new single out. It was on the radio this morning. I only counted nine 'I's before an aeroplane passed overhead, the sound of its engines obscuring most of the tune. The pilots, the steward/esses, the passengers; none of them knew I was straining to count Sophie's 'I's. What I think about Sophie, to use an expression which recently appeared in Fudge It, is that she's 'ladylike'. You know, imagine her compared to those monsters, Girls Aloud. Or Atomic Kitten. Etcetera. Robbie Williams once described her as having a face like a satellite dish. That's remarkable, isn't it, coming from a man with a face like a leather handbag filled with spanners.

bushra | permalink | |

being mean to parents, part 1

lately, the mother has been showing too much affection for her 'lovely daughter' (that's one way of translating it, i suppose, and of course she's talking about me). example: niece #3 started shouting at her in the supermarket yesterday: 'bushra MINE!!' after the mother tried to give me a very motherly hug. no, i don't know why i went to the supermarket with her either.

so anyway. this morning. just about to leave for work and it's another hug, only this time she adds: 'i don't want to give you away...' well. that was it. if you know me well, you know that i'm talking about the whole 'arranged marriage' thing here. i'm not going to go on and on and on about it, but the idea is that if things don't go to plan, well, mucho mess innit.

so i say 'well then don't give me away.' what followed was so much spluttering and backtracking, that i couldn't help but glow inside at how evil i can be.

bushra | permalink | |

argh! no! two desks in front of me works a chick who really pisses me off. well, she started it, giving me a 'and you are?' stare on my first day (unforgivable). for the second time since i've been here she's taken her non-shatter 30cm helix ruler and scratched her back with it. and not over her (always) blue shirt, but under it. i keep wanting to throw up. ooh. meeting in like, four minutes. but come on, is this ladylike behaviour? the last person i saw do that was the cranky old neighbour who comes around just to nick some curry 'cos she can't cook. and she has a snarl for a voice at the best of times.

bushra | permalink | |

no more days left to get a wedding dress, wedding list, or even a bmw z4. Karen gets married today. con-gra-tu-lay-shuns!

bushra | permalink | |

how's the new job going then, eh? eh?

me: he wants me to come up with 8 objectives on what i want to achieve by the end of march 04.
brian: tell him you're hoping to qualify for the Champions League. Failing that mid-table respectability and no end-of season struggle to avoid the drop. Tell him that, if you can get through just one single day without wanting to kill everybody else in the office, that will respresent considerable progress.

bushra | permalink | |