The Oh So Predictable Postponement
I Don't Usually Do This Kind of Thing
Yes, today was the supposed day of Blockbuster reckoning and lo, I found myself unable to complete quizmasterly duties and do a full results table thingummybobbins due to a slightly foreseen change in work circumstances and a Norwegian comedy of errors. If you think that I am actually making sense, well done!
Well, for the first time in two years, four months and six days (hey, that could almost be the title of an elephant abortion film ... my sweet lord, that is NOT funny ... but yes, it has been that LONG). I have been working in an office, surrounded by PEOPLE, and getting up at times of the day good citizens of this fair nation deem NORMAL, and being a PRODUCTIVE member of society. It's to do with TELEVISION. Glamorous? As glamorous as Charlie Brooker makes it out to be, but without the rampant runner-on-producer/star oral sex. It won't last I tells ya, and not just because I am getting a sniffely, red nosed-cloud and a throat as dry as my driest humour missiles (and you know how Gobi dry that can be when I am on form). RANDOM CAPITALISED WORDS.
Therefore, the Blockbuster deadline is delayed til February 17. Sometime during the day. I dunno when. Try me. Go on.
Instead, momentarily amuse yourself by watching me hold a sheet of ice while my hyperactive monkey of a mate, Oliver Marsh, headbutts it into many jagged splintery splashy pieces. See how we amuse ourselves in the Sussex countryside (at least, we don't have sex with animals and burn immigents.)
Yes, today was the supposed day of Blockbuster reckoning and lo, I found myself unable to complete quizmasterly duties and do a full results table thingummybobbins due to a slightly foreseen change in work circumstances and a Norwegian comedy of errors. If you think that I am actually making sense, well done!
Well, for the first time in two years, four months and six days (hey, that could almost be the title of an elephant abortion film ... my sweet lord, that is NOT funny ... but yes, it has been that LONG). I have been working in an office, surrounded by PEOPLE, and getting up at times of the day good citizens of this fair nation deem NORMAL, and being a PRODUCTIVE member of society. It's to do with TELEVISION. Glamorous? As glamorous as Charlie Brooker makes it out to be, but without the rampant runner-on-producer/star oral sex. It won't last I tells ya, and not just because I am getting a sniffely, red nosed-cloud and a throat as dry as my driest humour missiles (and you know how Gobi dry that can be when I am on form). RANDOM CAPITALISED WORDS.
Therefore, the Blockbuster deadline is delayed til February 17. Sometime during the day. I dunno when. Try me. Go on.
Instead, momentarily amuse yourself by watching me hold a sheet of ice while my hyperactive monkey of a mate, Oliver Marsh, headbutts it into many jagged splintery splashy pieces. See how we amuse ourselves in the Sussex countryside (at least, we don't have sex with animals and burn immigents.)
posted by That Quiz Guy at 1:20 PM
2 Comments:
You reckon there's no lowly-office-monkey-on-senior-personnel oral shenanigans involved? You obviously haven't read your contract closely enough.
This story makes me so happy. Well done Lavo!
Post a Comment
<< Home