Lunatic Central

And back again! Twice in the same fortnight! What ARE the odds of that?

Given that I will be dealing with lots of free time in the future, they’re quite high odds I’ll have you know.

Higher than Alyssa Milano, that is!

Hey screw you, that was funny.

So in the last week we have some bad news. I will go through it in no particular order.

Why? Because I can.

Sora’s car Bakura is a write-off. Because the car is worth around $5000 and it’s already had about $4000 of repairs over the years, the insurance company is refusing to pay for it. If the woman who caused the accident refuses to pay Sora is without a car. And I can’t flat-out loan her mine; because I need that too and it’s not insured.

For Sai’s twenty-first birthday we went out for a family dinner – a rather high-class attempt at MSG-laden cuisine called the Dragon Court; nestled within the city casino with Leaf, and Sai’s father to boot.

You’d think this was wonderful but no.

The birthday dinner started out well but turned into what was essentially a demolition derby; complete with baying angry crowd and drivers that loved the idea of ramming their defenceless opponents headfirst into a wall. Only replace “baying crowd” with “startled restaurant staff” and “drivers” with “Leaf” and you have the idea. I am extremely pissed at her – it was supposed to be Sai’s 21st birthday party, it’s supposed to be all about Sai…. And Leaf turned it into a Ricki Lake pity-party about herself. The “present” she brought for Sai turned out to be a supermarket shopping bag of Leaf memorabilia. I mean honestly, how conceited can you get? When you turn twenty-one the best present you can get is liquor, a jumbo pack of glow sticks and an airfare to Norway; it’s all about letting go of that last remaining slip of your childhood and embracing your new adulthood with both arms - and then holding that bastard down until it slams five shots of Jaeger one after the other. It is supposed to be your last blast, your final chance to get wrecked and enjoy being a teenager because now it’s all over and you’re just as responsible and boring as the rest of the world.

And Leaf brought a whole lot of stuff related to herself; waffling on about it like Sai thinks she’s some kind of celebrity. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was pigheaded or stupid for thinking the best birthday present in the world were photos of her own house.

Okay to be fair, the photos were intended for Sai’s father, who had flown all the way up from Sydney just for the dinner. Leaf hasn’t seen him in years and brought the photos as a taunt – and she can carry on all she likes that she does “genuinely want to show him what I’ve done with my life”, but when for the last two hours it’s been snide remarks and potshots the whole way through an otherwise lovely dinner I severely doubt intentions were wide-eyed and doey. What’s more, some of the photos in the Leaf-O-Rama pack were photos of the casket Sai’s grandmother was buried in; the day she was buried too. That would be insensitive enough considering; but only three weeks prior one of Sai’s friends committed suicide; and Leaf knew that very well because the two of us took turns comforting Sai. So either she didn’t remember, didn’t consider or didn’t care. And all three of those options are disgusting.

Augh. Relationships with Leaf are understandably strained. I’ve already told Sai I’ve had enough; I’m not going to play nice any longer when it’s clear that the only person that woman ever thinks about is herself… even things she does for Sai she only does for the attention so she can have an excuse to talk about herself. I’ve told Sai that Leaf is not welcome at our home any more; and that the next time she talks to me if she drops so much as ONE sideways remark I am going to lose my temper and chew her out for her selfish, deplorable actions; as loudly and publicly as possible.

And this was the ONLY time in which Sai not only didn’t make any attempt to convince me not to; she agreed with me.

Anyway, onto happier topics.

Our Melbourne Midfur trip is getting closer; only about three weeks to go. Airfares are paid for and crash pads are sorted – only they were all out of crash pads so we had to settle for beds in a comfy hotel instead, the cheeky buggers. All that’s left are the Con tickets – I have to give Sora $165 as my ticket is hers, transferred to me – and then another $100 to Foxen (dude organising the tickets) as I’m upgrading mine to Gold Class, which will rock. Then there’s $50 for Carni (who drew up our con badges). That’s all the costs left; everything else is covered.

Including spending money, if I get paid on the 6th and the 20th like I should be.

Because if I play my budget violin properly and get a good following, I can play in a big concerto.

Like, a thousand dollars each to spend in Melbourne concerto.

Okay that’s about as likely as a Port-A-Loo on top of Uluru but like its metaphor, would be just as good an idea.

Aside from that it’s been kinda quiet. Sai and I have had the flu for the last few days (and Leaf has been sending enough voicemails and text to crash Skynet), so we’ve been resting – Sai playing Fable II (and she’s playing as an evil cantankerous cow! Gods I love this woman) and I’ve been alternating between working on Project Dirge and playing my Platinum version like the nerd I am. Not really a lot to do except sit on the back veranda and watch the wildlife wilt – it’s now November and still no Wet Season in sight. I feel ripped off…

Okay okay, I know I haven’t written in this thing for close a year. What can I say, I guess I must have gotten bored. Mercy knows I’m not exactly writing this thing for the readers….

Okay, so there’s a fair bit to update on… let’s see now. I no longer work at Cashies…. Fun job but the politics involved were ridiculous; and to the point that I won employee of the month for insane customer service and merchandising and four weeks later my job was being threatened because I was apparently the most useless worker ever. So instead of putting myself out any further to help out I went no screw you all and quit. It’s a shame too because I really did like working there…. I’d made friends out off all the staff and the more hare-brained customers turned out to be more of an amusement than anything else. Just a pity the store owner didn’t have more than a handful of brain cells to rub together… he WAS just as nice as everyone else, I’ll give him that; but the man has absolutely no clue what goes on in the building he owns – and when he’s supposed to be managing it that’s a serious problem. So rather than let that ignorance hinder me, as I said, I resigned.

“But Neko, you rambunctious scallywag!” you exclaim, “How else are you to procure the money for your bills that your good looks and charm cannot get you?” Don’t worry you flattering bastards, I’ve got that sorted out too.

I applied for a job with CSG – they’re a massive IT firm that’s pretty much in EVERY capital city in the country – and their headquarters is in MY city. So I wrote them a cover letter, attached my resume and sent it in, along with a positively glowing reference from my old boss Rebecca (if you’re reading this Bec, I honestly can’t thank you enough for that) and sat at home trying not to nervously eye my liquor cabinet. I got a phone call inviting me to an interview and then for two weeks afterwards I was getting phone updates from them that made me more and more nervous. But – yeah, you guessed it – I got the job I applied for.

Funny thing is though, I was aiming for something Desk Support-related – considering the amount of troubleshooting and repairs I’ve done…. But instead I’ve been put in the rather tiny Escalations team. Essentially lower-management.

And the best part is, this particular office I am now working in is devoted pretty much entirely to government support. So that’s two bonuses – all the benefits of a government employee without the angry mobs; and not only do I think that this city is being run by total morons, now I have proof to back it up.

Get it, “back it up”? That’s a computer joke. You should write that one down.

But yeah, new job is going swimmingly. Granted at this time of year there’s not a whole lot of work – I get all my stuff done before lunch and spend the rest of my day being paid to read The Night Watch and spinning around on my chair. But it’s actually a pretty good method of training… four hours of doing whatever the hell you want is quite a carrot to dangle in front of this particular jackass. And I suppose there’s no motivation like the prospect of not needing it the entire day….

All good jobs need a good vacation though – and considering the overall mental year I’ve had I’ve got that planned out too.

Sai and I are going to Melbourne for two weeks – better yet, we’re attending the Midfur convention. Whether or not this means I’m a closet furry or not, I’m not sure – we’re attending mostly because 2 the Ranting Gryphon is one of the guests of honour and I reaaaally want to buy the man a drink. Or ten. After all it’s not every day you get to meet one of your favourite comedians.

Plus there’s the whole shopping thing in Melbourne. Also pushing Jehovah’s Witnesses in front of moving trams.

In more recent news though, I had a bugger of an evening.

As in, got home at like 11:30 from the hospital. Please allow me the pleasure of an explanation, people.

I was going to meet Sai at McDonalds for some typical smashed cow, then walk together to our night classes (we’re learning Japanese because we’re both losers). Sora came and got me from work; and then offered to drop me off at the grease merchants directly. But of course apparently the universe felt that I should not imbibe any more pulverised animal products and made us have a car accident.

I wonder if this is God’s way of telling me I’m fat. If it is this is my way of telling him to go nail someone to a tree.

We were travelling straight on a T-intersection; and some stupid freakin’ retard tried to turn left and down – from the opposite side of the street. Of course, instead of giving way like all the boring law-abiding citizens do, this silly bint instead put her foot down and tried to cut us off – when we’re less than ten metres from the intersection and travelling at about sixty kilometres an hour.

Suffice to say she didn’t quite make it.

So, twenty minutes later I’m giving a statement to a police officer. Sora is sitting in an ambulance being checked out by paramedics. Sai is checking over Sora, and Silly Bint has still not gotten out of her car; which is now sporting a handsome bashed-in rear left corner. Sora’s car Bakura however has a bashed-in front left corner that is bad enough to render it useless without prior repairs. Sai’s mother Leaf was there with remarkably good timing (and was still trying to command the situation but that’s a story for another day kiddies) and I’m thinking to myself maybe Subway would have been a better option.

Naturally, this means that our evening class had to be cancelled. Leaf escorted us home then became promptly offended and near hysterical because Sai accidentally slammed the door of her car shut and so carried on at me for a good five minutes before driving off and profusely apologizing to Sora (I was tempted to ask her what *I* had done to warrant such treatment but I’m not leaving Sai to deal with that woman by herself). We were able to eat something but then Sora began to feel worse so off we go to the ER to make sure she’s okay; Chin meeting us there after I sent her a text message explaining why nobody but a car with a crunched corner was there to keep her company.

All in all we FINALLY got home (and got to stay there) at roughly 11:30. Although I’d told Sora she was welcome to borrow MY car for the few days hers would be in repairs (if my family are reading this, do NOT tell my mother. If my mother is reading this, crap), she’s not driving anywhere for a few days. Which for me meant getting up at 5:30 AM to get ready for work – so under six hours sleep.

And typically not only did I sleep badly, I managed to cramp up my right leg pretty badly – my bad leg, of course – so now I’m trying not to wince when I walk because limping just doesn’t help.

And I’m doing surveys at work today!

Brainmellllltiiiiingohgodnoaaaaaarrrrgghhhhhhzzzzzzblble.

I don’t know how I’m still smiling. Maybe there’s a comet about to destroy the world and my subconscious is making me grin because it knows it’s there.

Man, I shouldn’t make jokes like that. Not while I’m reading The Night Watch.

I’mma get going for now because my lunch break is nearly over and I need coffee like the Nine Network needs new ideas. All bomb-making equipment, weaponry, high-class drugs and all other highly-contraband material is to be delivered to my home address and not my business address; considering it’s a government firm they may not appreciate my sense of humour.

Or range of land-to-air cruise missiles.

Later slater.