Ich bin eine Hamburger. Isst mich.
Well hell, I’m up shit creek. I need transcripts of my degree in order to get a job in Korea. I sent an email to the relevant department ages ago, and today I decided to phone them up to see why they were being so quiet. Turns out that the address I emailed was ‘out of date’ (so change it on the bloody website then!) and that in any case, transcripts take forty pissing five weeks to process. Bastards.
I have no idea what to do right now. Why did no-one tell me, upon graduation, that you ought to get these things? Well, I don’t know if you even have to, but the huge waiting list (it cannot take that long to make these things!) suggests that either everyone else knew, or that there’s a Greek in charge of the whole process. Which means cigarette:work ratio will be wildly disproportionate and grrrrr. Looks like I’ll have to think of something else now. Marrying a rich man would be a good start.
Von Smallhausen has given me no sympathy about this yet, and the Evil German Woman seems to be taking some glee from this situation. Perhaps. I wish I’d made more effort with learning German now. He’s bellyaching about the phone bill (25 cents for one minute. I suppose that’s ok-ish) and demanding I get a phone card.
Argh. I think I might leave the house for a while – Evil German Woman is walking about in her (pastel coloured, since you ask) underwear and listening to a substandard copy of substandard Enya music. It’s a good thing she’s got it on so low I can hardly hear it, because the bits I can are making my ears bleed. And I know Von Smallhausen doesn’t like this music either, so why is he putting up with it?
I sense sexual politics are at play here. So, I’ll make my move soon. But I have absolutely no idea what to do, since I don’t even really want him anymore. I mean, a shag would be nice, but that’s just about it. He’s a cocking nightmare on every other front. Who else would complain of being freezing in a place where it’s 40 degrees or so everyday when I put the fan on setting one?
Mind you, I can't wait until she finds this out. She didn't seem too happy about the ant problem, but I doubt she'll say anything about it until she realises all this shit. Will she then be so eager to walk around in her pastel coloured underpants?
Ant problem: we are a giant ant nest. There's a swarm of the little fuckers round some brown, unidentifyable foodstuff in the kitchen. Von Smallhausen examines it with academic interest, I nag at him to get rid of it (I'm not allowed to lay down poison because it might kill them. Um.), and EGW sort of made a face, but said nothing. I notice more and more that she looks a bit like Jade off Big Brother, so I was a little surprised when one of the (more elderly) gentlemen of the parish said 'she's quite good looking, you know'. Probably only wants her for her pastel coloured underwear, the pervert!
So, I’m very, very sweaty. He tells me I smell of sweat. I wonder why, Sherlock.
I have no idea what to do right now. Why did no-one tell me, upon graduation, that you ought to get these things? Well, I don’t know if you even have to, but the huge waiting list (it cannot take that long to make these things!) suggests that either everyone else knew, or that there’s a Greek in charge of the whole process. Which means cigarette:work ratio will be wildly disproportionate and grrrrr. Looks like I’ll have to think of something else now. Marrying a rich man would be a good start.
Von Smallhausen has given me no sympathy about this yet, and the Evil German Woman seems to be taking some glee from this situation. Perhaps. I wish I’d made more effort with learning German now. He’s bellyaching about the phone bill (25 cents for one minute. I suppose that’s ok-ish) and demanding I get a phone card.
Argh. I think I might leave the house for a while – Evil German Woman is walking about in her (pastel coloured, since you ask) underwear and listening to a substandard copy of substandard Enya music. It’s a good thing she’s got it on so low I can hardly hear it, because the bits I can are making my ears bleed. And I know Von Smallhausen doesn’t like this music either, so why is he putting up with it?
I sense sexual politics are at play here. So, I’ll make my move soon. But I have absolutely no idea what to do, since I don’t even really want him anymore. I mean, a shag would be nice, but that’s just about it. He’s a cocking nightmare on every other front. Who else would complain of being freezing in a place where it’s 40 degrees or so everyday when I put the fan on setting one?
Mind you, I can't wait until she finds this out. She didn't seem too happy about the ant problem, but I doubt she'll say anything about it until she realises all this shit. Will she then be so eager to walk around in her pastel coloured underpants?
Ant problem: we are a giant ant nest. There's a swarm of the little fuckers round some brown, unidentifyable foodstuff in the kitchen. Von Smallhausen examines it with academic interest, I nag at him to get rid of it (I'm not allowed to lay down poison because it might kill them. Um.), and EGW sort of made a face, but said nothing. I notice more and more that she looks a bit like Jade off Big Brother, so I was a little surprised when one of the (more elderly) gentlemen of the parish said 'she's quite good looking, you know'. Probably only wants her for her pastel coloured underwear, the pervert!
So, I’m very, very sweaty. He tells me I smell of sweat. I wonder why, Sherlock.
posted by Emma at 5:04 AM
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