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Now this is just getting ridiculous.
Apr. 14th, 2003 10:24 amOver the past few weeks the volume of applications we've received for processing has been getting smaller and smaller. Today there's none. I'm told the mail hasn't come yet, but it's now 10.30, and if it hasn't arrived yet I don't think it's going to.
What does this all mean? It means that there is very little to no work and I'm bored out of my skull.
I hate this. I really do. Mainly because I need to keep busy to make the day go by, and I get bored rapidly. And there's the feeling that if there's so little work, why the hell do we have all these staff? Why make me come to PERIN if there's no work for me to do?
It's all very aggravating.
***
Weekend roundup:
Friday - I succumbed to the lure of Legals and their Happy Hour. Having plans for Saturday that involved beer and Phil, I'd decided early on that I'd only have a couple.
Insert hollow laughing here.
Sometime round midnight, the three of us that remained - me, Steve (as usual) and one of the other Jos (which looks odd, but dammit, I can't use an apostrophe, it's just plain wrong) ended up at Stalictites, a fairly well-known Melbourne Greek restaurant, pretty tipsy and with a bad case of the beer munchies. Jo piked on us around one am, and Steve bullied me into a taxi (I apparently thought it was a good idea to walk home) at two. And I was having an argumentative drunk - I insisted on talking politics to anyone who couldn't get away all night (I blame you for this, [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]), including the very patient taxi driver. I'm surprised I didn't end up in a dumpster somewhere.
Saturday: Woke with the realisation that perhaps my activities of the night before had been ill-advised, considering I was meeting Phil and a mate of his at noon for the Festival of Beers. Things looked marginally better after a shower and some brekkie, and improved drastically once I found a chemist and bought some Neurophen. It was a gorgeous day after the torrential downpour of the day before, and I soaked up the sun sitting on the Flinders Street Station steps waiting for the Poms.
There's nothing like someone with a worse hangover than you to make you feel better. *grins* It seemed I wasn't the only one to misbehave on Friday. After a restorative brekkie, we caught the train out to Sandown Park and the beer festival. Fortunately by this time I was reconciling myself to beer again. We were temporarily geographically confused, because Sandown is out in the 'burbs and well out of my usual knowledge range, but eventually we not only found the place, but a gate that let us in.
There's something ineffably pleasant about sitting in the sunshine, drinking beer and talking about whatever comes to mind. And the first series of beers were very good, even the raspberry one, which is as close to girly frou frou as a beer is ever going to get. Once the sun went down we headed into the pavilion area (Mark's living in Brisbane and was getting cold, poor dear *grins*), heard some pretty good bads, drank more beer, and got waylaid by the t-shirt selling girl. Of course, any shirt that has the motto "Drinking Piss for Peace" on it has to be purchased - you'll get it, [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] once I've washed it. ;)
And if Phil tells you some wild story about me changing shirts in the middle of the pavilion, then I'll deny it.
So, things are going well. Then Mark came back from the beer stall with three cups of something called "Raging Bull". It claimed to be beer, but I'm thinking someone was trying to make a few bucks selling cough medicine instead of beer - it tasted just like the evil stuff I have at home that I'll do anything to avoid taking, including ripping out my own tongue. This was truly, truly bad beer, and effectively ended my drinking for the night - I managed about three mouthfuls, gagged on the last and gave the rest to Mark, before winding up making a hurried trip to the Ladies' and discarding the rest of it. *shudders*
I can take a hint. When you get sick, it's time to switch to soft drink, which is what I did. Which was kind of fun too, because I got to see the antics of everyone else from a rapidly sobering viewpoint.
Oh, and Mick Thomas played! He of Weddings, Parties, Anything fame. I was much with the happy. Painters and Dockers were also there - they've been playing punk in Melbourne for the last twenty years, afaik, and are pretty good, even if the lead singer has gotten old ungracefully. Pulling your shirt over your head looks good when you're in your twenties and fairly fit, but not so attractive on a forty-something male with a beer gut.
Things wound down around midnight, and the bogans were getting scary-friendly, and the beer was running out, so we jumped the last train back into the city. A taxi was eventually found for me, and that was the end of Saturday.
Sunday: Quiet one for me - I slept until noon, and then staggered aimlessly around for a while. I was contemplating going to get a video, but then the heavens opened with biblically-proportioned rain and I decided spending the afternoon writing was a better idea. I worked on both my outstanding stories, got them both closer to being finished (oh, <lj user= "Yasminm", any chance of that wedding ceremony stuff now the assignment from hell is done?), and then pulled my CBFFA segment into something resembling done. All I'm waiting for is a result and it's complete. Possibly a wasted day (apart from the writing thing), but that's what Sundays are for, lying around and taking it easy, especially if there's a beer festival the night before. ;) And that brings me up to date. Still no work, so I'm going to have to find some diversion. Emails, as always, welcome and in fact shamelessly begged for (joanne.howard@justice.vic.gov.au). And I think I shall peruse the job sites. :)
What does this all mean? It means that there is very little to no work and I'm bored out of my skull.
I hate this. I really do. Mainly because I need to keep busy to make the day go by, and I get bored rapidly. And there's the feeling that if there's so little work, why the hell do we have all these staff? Why make me come to PERIN if there's no work for me to do?
It's all very aggravating.
***
Weekend roundup:
Friday - I succumbed to the lure of Legals and their Happy Hour. Having plans for Saturday that involved beer and Phil, I'd decided early on that I'd only have a couple.
Insert hollow laughing here.
Sometime round midnight, the three of us that remained - me, Steve (as usual) and one of the other Jos (which looks odd, but dammit, I can't use an apostrophe, it's just plain wrong) ended up at Stalictites, a fairly well-known Melbourne Greek restaurant, pretty tipsy and with a bad case of the beer munchies. Jo piked on us around one am, and Steve bullied me into a taxi (I apparently thought it was a good idea to walk home) at two. And I was having an argumentative drunk - I insisted on talking politics to anyone who couldn't get away all night (I blame you for this, [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]), including the very patient taxi driver. I'm surprised I didn't end up in a dumpster somewhere.
Saturday: Woke with the realisation that perhaps my activities of the night before had been ill-advised, considering I was meeting Phil and a mate of his at noon for the Festival of Beers. Things looked marginally better after a shower and some brekkie, and improved drastically once I found a chemist and bought some Neurophen. It was a gorgeous day after the torrential downpour of the day before, and I soaked up the sun sitting on the Flinders Street Station steps waiting for the Poms.
There's nothing like someone with a worse hangover than you to make you feel better. *grins* It seemed I wasn't the only one to misbehave on Friday. After a restorative brekkie, we caught the train out to Sandown Park and the beer festival. Fortunately by this time I was reconciling myself to beer again. We were temporarily geographically confused, because Sandown is out in the 'burbs and well out of my usual knowledge range, but eventually we not only found the place, but a gate that let us in.
There's something ineffably pleasant about sitting in the sunshine, drinking beer and talking about whatever comes to mind. And the first series of beers were very good, even the raspberry one, which is as close to girly frou frou as a beer is ever going to get. Once the sun went down we headed into the pavilion area (Mark's living in Brisbane and was getting cold, poor dear *grins*), heard some pretty good bads, drank more beer, and got waylaid by the t-shirt selling girl. Of course, any shirt that has the motto "Drinking Piss for Peace" on it has to be purchased - you'll get it, [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] once I've washed it. ;)
And if Phil tells you some wild story about me changing shirts in the middle of the pavilion, then I'll deny it.
So, things are going well. Then Mark came back from the beer stall with three cups of something called "Raging Bull". It claimed to be beer, but I'm thinking someone was trying to make a few bucks selling cough medicine instead of beer - it tasted just like the evil stuff I have at home that I'll do anything to avoid taking, including ripping out my own tongue. This was truly, truly bad beer, and effectively ended my drinking for the night - I managed about three mouthfuls, gagged on the last and gave the rest to Mark, before winding up making a hurried trip to the Ladies' and discarding the rest of it. *shudders*
I can take a hint. When you get sick, it's time to switch to soft drink, which is what I did. Which was kind of fun too, because I got to see the antics of everyone else from a rapidly sobering viewpoint.
Oh, and Mick Thomas played! He of Weddings, Parties, Anything fame. I was much with the happy. Painters and Dockers were also there - they've been playing punk in Melbourne for the last twenty years, afaik, and are pretty good, even if the lead singer has gotten old ungracefully. Pulling your shirt over your head looks good when you're in your twenties and fairly fit, but not so attractive on a forty-something male with a beer gut.
Things wound down around midnight, and the bogans were getting scary-friendly, and the beer was running out, so we jumped the last train back into the city. A taxi was eventually found for me, and that was the end of Saturday.
Sunday: Quiet one for me - I slept until noon, and then staggered aimlessly around for a while. I was contemplating going to get a video, but then the heavens opened with biblically-proportioned rain and I decided spending the afternoon writing was a better idea. I worked on both my outstanding stories, got them both closer to being finished (oh, <lj user= "Yasminm", any chance of that wedding ceremony stuff now the assignment from hell is done?), and then pulled my CBFFA segment into something resembling done. All I'm waiting for is a result and it's complete. Possibly a wasted day (apart from the writing thing), but that's what Sundays are for, lying around and taking it easy, especially if there's a beer festival the night before. ;) And that brings me up to date. Still no work, so I'm going to have to find some diversion. Emails, as always, welcome and in fact shamelessly begged for (joanne.howard@justice.vic.gov.au). And I think I shall peruse the job sites. :)
