P dot A dot R dot T dot Y dot

**Believe me, Bob, these days gentlemen are an endangered species. Unlike bloody drag queens who just keep breeding like rabbits. – Bernadette (Terence Stamp), The Adventures Of Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert**

The party was alright actually, I behaved civilly all evening and was quite the hit with all these new people I was schmoozing [of course, they were all new people because C was only allowed to invite four friends to his own birthday bash, everyone else was a one of his twatty boyf's friends]. My fabulous schmoozing was no doubt aided significantly by the unnamed and dubiously-coloured noxious punch in the pink bucket, which had the appearance and odour of radioactive Pimms. Pimms o’clock!

Can Someone Really Change That Much?

**I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell’d skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
- Oberon, A Midsummer Night’s Dream**

I went a-shopping again - after my abysmal failure at getting anything I was supposed to last week - I failed again, instead of finding myself a smart, contemporary outfit for potential work I bought a fancy dress outfit for C’s birthday bash on Saturday. Obviously the party is fancy dress, because really it’s not a party unless you’re dressed in some monstrosity of an outfit.

Employment Quandary

**I need a job where my immense ego seems normal. - Dogbert, Dilbert**

A job I applied for what seems like a million years ago has got back to me and offered me an interview, woo hoo, I’m sure you’ll agree. The job itself is pretty damn ideal for me, plus it’s in Glasgow which is a perfect excuse for me to move out and get a place of my own. After all, the daily five or so hour commute would be a killer. However, and here’s the kicker, since the job was advertised the department have had a budget cut or something or other as the role is now only 0.8 contract, which obviously means that the pay is only 80% of what was previously advertised. Doing my maths, I don’t think I could afford to run a flat in Glasgow and have a social life on that wage. Well, I could have a flat, but I sure as hell couldn’t eat and I could wave bye-bye to even taking public transport, never mind running a car. Bloody public sector! I pay my taxes [okay I don't, I got a full refund for the last tax year as I didn't earn enough!] so I can get paid really badly by said recipient of my taxes? I just seems so very wrong.

And let’s face it, if the job’s taken a cut before it’s even been filled, exactly how secure is it going to be?

On one hand I think I could take the interview for a spot of practice, but even if they offer me it, I’ll have to say thanks, but no thanks. On the other hand, why should I take the opportunity of an interview from someone who would be willing to actually take the job?

You’re Fuckin’ Bisexual, Deal With It

[Publish not save. Publish not save. Publish not save.]

**I do not in the least underestimate bisexuality; I expect it to provide all further enlightenment. - Sigmund Freud**

I admit it, I have been watching quite a lot of terrible tv since unemployment came a-calling, but it’s just because I have so much time on my hands, it’s not like I actually enjoy it [well, not all of it]. If I avoid Jeremy Kyle during the day, then I have to get my fill of badly made tv in the evenings and thus I’ve been tuning into video diaries on some crappy MTV offshoot channel.

The Day I Took The Bus And Went Shopping

[Remember that note to self about the difference between save and publish?]

**If fashion is your trade then when you’re naked I guess you must be unemployed, yeah? - Underwear, Pulp**

So I went a-shopping today armed with a detailed shopping list and a bus timetable I laughed in the face of the fuel shortage and used public transport to make my way to Scumdee. I won’t be doing that again in a hurry. An hour and a half to travel 35 miles - and that’s just the outward leg of the journey. More amazingly I was the only person on the bus who actually paid for the trip, seeing as how I was the only one aged under sixty-five and thus don’t get free bus travel. The return leg saw the bus taking the coastal route which took one and three quarter hours, but in fairness I did get a lovely tour of all the areas of local towns I wouldn’t dare visit after sundown.

It’s Muffin Time!

[Note to self: clicking on the 'save' button doesn't make these ramblings all public; that's what the 'publish' button is for - as well you know.]

**Don’t eat muffins when I’m developing you. - Evan (Simon Pegg), Black Books**

I had the urge to do some baking, but with neither the patience nor energy to go to the supermarket-come-petrol station it was a case of having to make-do with whatever I could find in the good ol’ store cupboard. Thus Tropical Muffins.

Great Uncle Bob

**People say that your dreams are the only things that save ya / Come on baby in our dreams we can live our misbehaviour – Rebellion (Lies), Arcade Fire**

Another one of Great Uncles died [I know, that's all I seem to have in my family – dead Great Uncles], but ask me how I found out this one died. Go on, ask me. Well since you asked, I read it in the local paper. Sandwiched between the adverts for second hand sofas and the angry letters to the Editor [my favourite this week came from a pair of angry beauticians irate that someone didn't respect their months of training at beauty college] was the death notice of my Great Uncle.

Yes, I Didn’t Get Yet Another Job And You’re Surprised?

**Some things you do for money / And some you’ll do for fun / but the things you do for love / Are gonna come back to you one by one. – Love Love Love, Mountain Goats**

What exactly makes my experience of doing exactly the job advertised makes my experience “unsuitable for the position”? How exactly does doing exactly the same job as advertised mean that my skills aren’t a match to the criteria? How the fuck is it possible to reject me before the interview stage for my exact fuckin’ job?

They Fired Me! Dammit, Fetch Me A Lesbian And We’ll Sue ‘Em

 **I know I shouldn’t and it’s possibly wrong / To break from your kiss, to turn up a pop song. - Pump Up The Volume, Art Brut**

[Oh Eddie, that's not wrong, it's commendable]

If it’s morally wrong to check out the other applicants for a job and find out they’re all really quite shite before applying and making sure your application is better than all of the others [mostly because you know the difference between your forename and your surname] then I don’t want to be right.  Also, I got fired today - my last day’s Friday - because, and I quote, “there’s just not enough work”.  I’d like, if I may, to present the top five reasons why it shouldn’t have been me that went despite me being the last one in and the only one with no recompense in my contract. 

Life’s Too Short To Eat Bad Food

**You don’t make friends with salad, you don’t make friends with salad. - Bart (Nancy Cartwright) and Homer (Dan Castellaneta), The Simpsons**

This past Saturday night the mother decided that it would be just spiffy if we were all to have another one of our hideously awkward family meals; initially I tried to get out of it by psychically-wishing that someone I know would fall down the stairs and break a leg so I could use that as a valid excuse, but I gave that up because if someone did fall down the stairs and break their leg then yay! psychic powers, but ouch! broken leg and I didn’t want that on my conscious.  So being the ever dutiful daughter, I sucked it up and went along with it, how bad could an evening at the Aussie gastro-pub be?  But no!  It wasn’t to be, family-meal favourite the Aussie gastro-pub [where the food is above average but the decor is t.a.c.k.y.] was eschewed for in favour of the kitschy Italian restaurant I go to with my friends when we want to make fun of the less culinary sophisticated.  How very dare they?!