Lovely ballsNow, don’t quote me on this, but I think there may be some kind of football competition on this month. I know! They kept that one quiet, didn’t they! Here’s a more interesting ball game for you, courtesy of the lovely Terry: http://www.lovelyballs.co.uk/
 Lookit what I got!
For a long time I persuaded myself that I didn’t need an ipod. (And when I say "I persuaded myself", what I mean by that is "Terry persuaded me"). But the thing is, we have no stereo. I know! See how poor we are! I really wasn’ joking with the "pit" thing! Actually, that’s not true: I do have a stereo, but when we moved to this house I didn’t bring it with me, purely because there’s nowhere to put it. Now, I know that as you read this you’re probably all, "No way do they not have space for a stereo, have you see the size of those things these days?" but it’s true. We live in a shoebox. If I’d brought the stereo with me, we’d have had to put it right slap in the middle of the living room floor and, y’know, that’s where we keep the alcohol… Anyway, we have no stereo. But! But! We currently have four computers, (See – poor!Oh, the humanity.) all of which are loaded up with mp3s and Cd drives. So we were sorted, right? Well, not really, no, because the computers all live in the "office" and that’s pretty much where we live as well, so you can pretty much guarentee that when I want to listen to music, Terry will want to work, when Terry wants to listen to Meatloaf, I will want to kill myself, and so on.
So, long story short, I squweemed and squeemed until I was sick, and then Terry bought me an ipod. Why no, I’m not spoiled, what makes you say that? I love my ipod. When I was installing the software it told me I had to choose a name for it, so I named it Sawyer. As soon as I got it, I realised that my life had been just crying out for white plastic-clad music. I’ve been busy loading my CDs onto itunes, and it’s like meeting up with old friends that you haven’t seen for years, but as soon as you see them you’re all, "OMG, I will never leave you again, little dudes!" My life, once again, has music in it. I am happy. And so is Rubin. Technorati: ipod shuffle Telemarketer-baitingThe Phone rings. Me: Hot Igloo, Amber speaking [because I'm all about being professional when I answer the phone] Caller [is clearly not a native English speaker, and also: is a telemarketer]: Is that Amber? Me: [No, I just said that for fun!] Yes, it is, how can I help? Caller: Can you confirm your address for me please, Amber? Me: Ummm, why? Caller: So that we can proceed with the call. Me: And you are? Caller: I’m Lynette! Me: And why do you need my address, Lynette? Lynette: So that we can continue with the call! Me: OK, and what’s the call about? Lynette: I can’t tell you until you’ve confirmed your address. Me: Well, I think it’s pretty odd for a complete stranger to call me up and demand to know my address, Lynette, so you tell me why you need to know my address, and then I’ll decide whether I want to give it to you, OK? Lynette: Oh, I’m not a stranger – I’m Lynette! Me: Um, I don’t know you, Lynette, so yes, you are a stranger, and I’m not in the habit of giving my personal details to strangers who just call up and demand to know my address. Lynette: But I need you to confirm your address before I can speak to you! I’m from MBNA! Me: I see. And why are MBNA calling me? Lynette: I can’t tell you until you confirm your details, so I know who I’m speaking to. Me: And how do I know who I’m speaking to? Can you give me your address? Your home address? Lynette: [laughs] Why do you want my address? Me: So that we can proceed with the call. Lynette: But…but… Look, I can’t tell you why I’m calling until you’ve confirmed your details. I don’t need your whole address, just the first line, house number, post code and telephone number. Me: Why? Lynette: So that we can proceed with the call. Me: * headdesk * This call went on in the same vein for at least ten minutes. And yeah, OK, I was totally doing it on purpose, but seriously: why on earth do companies think it’s OK to call me (interrupting my important work!) and demand that I tell them my personal details before they’ve even identified themselves or told me why they want to speak to me? How does that work, then? I mean, you wouldn’t just walk up to a stranger in the street and demand that you tell them where you live – why is it OK to do it over the phone? And people wonder why I’m so phone phobic… Technorati tags: telemarketers, call centres Baby it’s hot outside…Well, heeeello June! And I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. You’re hot! And sunny! You’re hot and sunny all at the same time, and now that I’ve said that I just know you’re going to pour down for the rest of the month, but today? Hot like whoa. Love you, June! One of the things I love most about working from home is the fact that on days like today I can just switch on the answerphone and head to the hills. This is what I decided to do this morning: just me, Rubin, and about forty schoolchildren all out enjoying the beauty of nature at Dechmont Law. The problem with this, though? Well, I pretty much underestimated the weather. And also: Rubin. Specifically the fact that Rubin: a) is very small It all went swimmingly right up until the point where we headed for home. Rubin was happily hysterical, I was basking in the rosy glow of it being Friday and sunny, and everything was just peachy. Then we exited the park and Rubin just lay down on his belly, looked up at me and was all, "You expect me to walk home now, what, are you crazy?" It had to be done, people. I picked him up and carried him. Now, I only managed to carry him for two minutes at most until he spotted a lampost and wanted down to pee on it, but those two minutes? Humiliating. Humiliating for the most part because Rubin: d) is a Bichon Frise. Bichon Frise = a little, white, fluffy dog. And while it has to be said that Rubin’s not so much with the "fluffy" (or, indeed, with the "white" most days. You try keeping a dog clean when it lists its main hobbies as "digging" and "peeing".) it also has to be said that I looked like some kind of Paris Hilton wannabe, trotting along with my little white purse dog and my pink mobile phone holder. I could practically hear the people in the cars passing by, hating me. Anyway. We’re home now, and if that was summer, well, I guess we’ve had it. Good while it lasted, though…
Technorati tag: Bichon Frise  |
Subscribe/Follow
Search the site |
.jpg){kind=link}