Drinking in the Morning

Today I had a little walk down memory lane when I sat in the bath with a bottle of pink champaigne getting ready for work. It hit me a lot harder than I remember it doing and I went into my room and boked in the bin. Talk about bad timing. If I'd just needed to do it when I was in the bathroom I could have done it in the bog and flushed it away.

I had to carry the stinking mess downstairs in a carrier bag to chuck it in the bin. I was met by Hot Baby Roy and Battle Cat.
"Where's Gingerella?" I asked.
"I don't think you should be calling her that. She should be called something like Hot Firey Love Lady."
"Maybe," I shrugged. "Where is she?"
"She's away back to her house they're having a meeting with the landlord about Mother of Bowling Ball. Hot Firey Love Lady is going to get him kicked out of the house. None of the other housemates like him so he'll get his mutherfucker."
"You know if you'd give me her address I'd like to go and give him a severe beating for you."
"I want to try it her way first," he said. "You can't always be there for scraps and I'm a lover, not a fighter."

I felt him tick something inside himself off from a very big long list of moments he's wanted to have in his life.

"That's true," I said just to underline it for him.

I hope Gingerella does get Mother of Bowling Ball kicked out then I can fight him on the streets.

Hot Baby Roy made me drink some strong black coffee before I went to work. He said it would sober me up but it didn't. It just left me still drunk and jittery and I was all giggling away to myself about nothing as I walked to work. I'm now sitting in the canteen feeling my guts slowly disolve into chewing gum. My poor bowels.

Bye Bye Kissy Boy

Today was Kissy Boy's last day at work. He said he was fed up with the place and that we should try to get the fuck out of there. Call centres are a dying profession he said. In the future robots would do the work for us and we'd lay around all day getting suntans and working on our beer guts.

Then with a quick fuck you to Truffle Shuffle, he said he was going to say it to his face but he only said it under his breath, Kissy Boy was away, breaking the hearts of every girl on the floor. Kissy Boy said he didn't care because they all looked like they'd been born here and would, hopefully, he nodded at Little My, die here too.

She snuffled a laugh like she thought he was joking but he was dead serious. He has a point, not really about Little My, but about getting the fuck out of here. I don't want to be call centre cannon fodder. Our job is basically a buffer zone. No one ringing in to complain can actually get to speak to anyone who will do anything for them and we are expected to get them off the phone as quickly as possible. It stinks.