uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Wed, March 18, 2015 15:40:38
I left my keycard on my desk. Now we wait. Or we just give up and go home.
uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Wed, March 18, 2015 14:35:55
After descending I had an email which reminded me that I've been consistently annoyed by someone at work. He annoys everyone, it's not just because I'm a misanthrope, so I used him as inspiration to write a paragraph of my book. One of my POV characters is an asshole and I love him because he's just going to grow in cuntishness throughout:
There’s a ruddy-cheeked man who sits opposite me at work. His body, which seeps around his tortured chair, is the consistency of cold custard. Looking at him is like observing a mound of slimey, chewed up gum thumbed into the vague shape of a person by a toddler with special needs. A toddler who has shown no exceptional ability in the arts despite being intellectually challenged, the way some of the autistic ones do. A toddler who is also blind, with no concept of what a human being looks like. A blind toddler with special needs and no exceptional artistic talent who has been given a potato to feel with his sticky fingers and cruelly told that the potato is the shape of a person and then given a pile of old gum to recreate what he has felt. That toddler’s God-awful gum sculpture would look exactly like the man who sits opposite me at work. And thinking all these things makes me feel tremendous guilt. Because the man is very nice. I hate him, he tells me about his live-in grandmother in excruciating detail when he catches me in the kitchen even though I waited until I saw him leave to go and make a coffee, but he is very nice. I send text messages to other co-workers complaining about the angle at which he holds his swollen head whilst he types. I would send these cruel gripes via email but I’m worried he can read them because he is the sort of grotesque blob who has so few social plans that he has probably learned a lot about programming, or at the very least knows his way around the office intranet better than I do. And yet I am the one thinking about him at midnight.
uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Wed, March 18, 2015 14:12:07
They're still chatting. COME TO THE LIFT. People will see me holding the lift. I can see through the gap. I can hear people on other floors.
uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Wed, March 18, 2015 14:08:17
We just went upstairs in the lift to drop something off with management and friend asked me to hold the lift but it's giving me concern what if someone downstairs calls it? I'm not standing inside in case it breaks and plummets to the ground. I can hear them talking. Stop talking. Come to the fucking lift.
uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Wed, March 18, 2015 14:04:18
And it looks so much better without the stupid butterfly demon
uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Wed, March 18, 2015 11:09:59
I've finished writing a blog post. I've had two coffees and a lot of water. Might go home. Or get a tuna sandwich. TUNA SANDWICH. That's a reference to an upcoming podcast, you're welcome. It's also the truth I really want a sandwich. And to start a blog.
uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Wed, March 18, 2015 11:07:32
I've been asked to write a blog post, oh yeah I do this professionally if it isn't obvious, on movies I've never seen, but pretending I've seen them. I'm having a bloody great time. I might start a blog.
uncategorisedPosted by Schlubs Tue, March 17, 2015 15:50:39
I went back to work today after having three sick days and also the weekend. I had no emails.
Today I have sent one email. To a colleague asking if they wanted to come to the bag shop with me because I bought to many books and didn't bring a backpack.
I have just received an email from my boss, Jon, saying we should all go to the pub at 5:30. I shall instead go home and play Cities: Skyline.
I have written 2,000 words of book 2 today. So it has not been a complete waste of time.
Also I saw a man outside in a dressing gown and told my friend he probably had a bomb so we ran. I hope he didn't think it was just because we didn't like him. It was health and safety. Sorry, man.