Let's Go Stalking, Stalking, Stalking...

If you've ever Facebook-stalked somebody just because you met them once and you thought they were kinda cute, say 'aye'.

Aye.

*tumbleweed rolls past*

Right. Now I feel like a total absolute stalker.

And he wasn't even all that cute. In fact, his Facebook profile is really not very encouraging. So now I am wondering what my own Facebook profile says about me.

Probably nothing very flattering.

In fact, judging by my applications and info you'd think I was some kind of Jensen-Ackles-crazed anarchist nut.

Oh wait...

Damn you Facebook.

Exam Ponderings #1

Picture this: you're walking along on a happy sunny day, and out of the blue, a cricket ball hits you on the head.

The normal reaction would be to swear. Maybe get an ice pack.

Of course, you could also sue. Dragging it through three courts and setting a very irritating legal precedent for generations of law students to come.

All because some dude hit a six in a cricket game.

I hate Torts.

Hark! The Builders Have Escaped!

THE BUILDERS HAVE GONE HOME.

Thank the Force.

Until 3 o'clock today, I had to suffer impromptu renditions of classic rock hits being butchered (LOUDLY) by the builders next door.

There's nothing wrong with singing. Except there's a time and place, and some things are better behind closed doors. With sound-proof walls. And preferably without an outdoor radio. And frankly, if you have no rhythm you shouldn't be shouting it out to the entire bloody neighbourhood BECAUSE I AM TRYING TO STUDY AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU MASSACRE DURAN-DURAN AT A VERY UNPLEASANT VOLUME.

It's incredibly hard to focus on the irregular Spanish verbs of the preterite tense when you can hear someone yelling, "Are- you- gonna- be- mah- girl?" followed by some very loud hammering, some even louder drilling, and then a lovely duet of profanities between two other builders.

AARGGGH.

I rang my boss this arvo, and he said, "How's the studying going?"

"GAAAAAH."

"I take it...not so well."

"There's workmen next door. And they're singing along to Jet and Wolfmother."

"That's not good...did you tell them that this isn't a bloody neighbourhood audition for Australian Idol?"

At which point I had to crack a smile.

"Tell me," says my boss, "Do you have a lemon tree in your back garden?"

"Yes."

"Well," says my boss, sagely, "This is what you need to do. Go to that lemon tree, grab a whole lot of lemons, and start throwing them randomly over the fence next door. You might even hit a few of the builders."

Had they not gone home at 3, I might have actually taken that advice and started readying an army of citrus missiles.

If they start up again tomorrow and subject me to six more hours of Triple M played full blast, I'm going to bring out the big guns and hook up my iPod to the amplifier.

Let's see how much they like my Ultimate Girlband 90's playlist raping their auditory canal.

But I said, "No, no, no..."

Tomorrow, I am doing a little moonlighting as a computer technician.

Actually, 'technician' is the wrong word. 'Technician' would be implying that I am actually competent in that field.

And that is a LIE.

So let me rephrase that- tomorrow, I am masquerading as a computer technician.

So this could go down very, very badly.

And this is why I should just keep my mouth shut.

So why take on the job, you ask?

Well...let me tell you a story...

When I was but a lass of seventeen, I was desperate for a job. Even McDonalds didn't hire me, so I really only had two choices- prostitution or telemarketing...cos really, those are the only two careers where you don't really need experience to get a foot in the door...

...needless to say, I chose the latter :P

Please not that I really only suffered through five days of telemarketing, only two of which were on the phones. It was, quite frankly, "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short," with emphasis on the 'short' part. I actually did quite well, but I hated it with such a passion that I quit immediately after I'd finished the five-day training sessions.

Except...my mother was deeply affected by my plaintive tale of telemarketing woe. So much so that now she actually exhibits sympathy for telemarketers. In fact, she now exhibits sympathy for anyone trying to sell her anything. As she said to me, "Oh, but I was thinking, 'This could be Daphne' and I felt really sorry for her..."

"Mum, I only did five days of telemarketing. Not even that- only TWO days on the actual phones!"

"It doesn't matter, I still thought of you with your little childish voice asking for donations..."

And that mentality has just made her WEAK.

Let me just cite three examples off the top of my head:

The first incident happened when she got a young girl on the phone asking her to sell tickets for an epilepsy raffle. "I thought of you in your telemarketing days," says mother, and so she caved.

Now, the Epilepsy Foundation will not leave us alone.

Secondly, one day she returned from shopping with a bizarre chicken strudel.

"This is random," says I. "Why'd you get one of these?'
"They're new. The girl at Lenards was trying so hard to get me to buy one. I thought of you trying to get a sale and I felt really sorry for her."
"Right. So you bought a strudel."
"Yes."
"Oookay..."

Probably the most impressive one was when she was swayed by the over-eager desperation of the commission-based World Vision girl at a shopping centre- "She was so desperate, and I thought of you trying to get a sale..."

So she adopted a child.

And now I have an adopted little sister in Bangladesh.

Anyway, the point of my story was this- I've been ridiculing her for this weakness, but today I was coerced into saying yes simply because the desperate woman in front of me was my Mum's age, also Asian, and completely hopeless with computers.

Just like my Mummy.

And I thought, "What if it were my Mum seeking out computer help and everyone wanted to charge her $98 just to look at her PC?"

So I caved.

Sigh.

Anyhow...from what I gathered, her computer just seems to be low on virtual memory. So I figured that all I have to do is delete some shit on her hard drive and browser cache and increase the size of her paging file.

I think.

I mean, if it turns out to be anything harder than that I am royally, royally, screwed.

At any rate, it wasn't just the fact that she reminded me of Mum that made me say yes...she also looked at me desperately and said, "I'll pay you whatever you want. Anything!"

And y'know, that might have swayed me.

Just a little.

Awake is the New Sleep*

It's 1 a.m in the morning and I am about as sleepy as a squirrel on Red Bull.

I'm not a morning person. This much is obvious from anyone who has seen me in my tousled, bunny-pyjama-clad, squinting glory at any time before 10 a.m. In fact, I once frightened our local Avon representative when she dared disturb my slumber at 9 a.m in the middle of my summer holidays.

I opened the door in my pyjamas and blinked half-lucidly at the horrible sunlight behind her head.

She didn't come back after that.

I've often wondered if my morning beauty would be strong enough to repel a Mormon.

Anyway, Daylight Savings started on the weekend, and I'm still fighting to adjust to having that extra hour of daylight. It would normally be midnight right about now, but of course, it's now 1 a.m and I am still absolutely awake.

However, I am also quite cold right now, so I might attempt to grab some shut-eye before I frighten my Torts tutor with my scowling visage tomorrow morning.

I also plan to get some decent coffee. Ever since I stopped part-time work, paring it down to 4.5 hours a week, I had to make certain sacrifices....and the coffee was the first to go. I've been living, albeit miserably, off instant cappuccinos and Jarrah and Robert Timms instant granulated, and it just isn't the same.

Four weeks. Four weeks until I finish exams, four weeks until I recommence part-time work dispensing tired advice, four weeks until I get that part-time income back and I can get access to my caffeinated precioussssss...



* kudos to Ben Lee for the blog title