Category Archives: i’m an astronaut

where’s my sausage?

Posted in angst, i'm an astronaut by

It’s hard enough to find something to eat in Yuppie Town that doesn’t come with caviar and a Lexus or cost more than my annual salary without having to worry that the food you DO order is going to come out all wrong and nasty. I ordered a sausage roll (it was that or the fois gras truffle platter), but she gave me a veggie roll instead. I want my sausage. This is the second time I’ve been foiled in my quest for sausage, and I am just as unamused now as I was then – less, in fact. What a rotten Friday.

Alla and I are planning a mass mutiny at the Space Station. It’s the Friday before Christmas, and no one seems to be in any kind of festive mood at all – everyone here is quietly and diligently working away instead of falling down with liquid happy. Our plan was to have an office party today that would be large with the merry, but our brilliant ideas were shot down in Scrooge-flavoured flames. The rest of the city is getting off early today to start their holiday season, but we’re still sitting here in our cold, silent, undecorated office. It’s depressing. We’re plotting to storm out and leave early, space be damned – we want to have some fun, even if we have to go find it ourselves.

We’re also a little pouty because no one thought to remember us in the spirit of giving to your minions this holiday season. It’s not like we were expecting diamond tiaras or shiny gold lamé space suits or anything, but any gesture at all would have been nice – a card, a candy cane, a festive kick in the ass with a lead boot. It’s so un-merry around here I could cry, and Alla and I are both feeling a little unappreciated. We want some love, damnit. People would be surprised at the benefits reaped by just a little foresight and calculated thanks – even the smallest act of appreciation makes for happy employees. It’s not that we’re UNhappy, but .. y’know. Everyone likes to feel valued and remembered.

Oh well. I have a bottle of holiday spirit at home in my fridge; I’ll just leave work early and go appreciate myself until I’m exhausted and out of lube.

space rage

Posted in fuuuuuuuu, i'm an astronaut by

Taking a shower this morning was like swimming in a lake. The water smelled like mud and weeds and more than just a little goose poop – I cannot wait for the water to get back to normal. Last night I wanted nothing more than a hot bath for soaking goodness, but the water was not playing along. BAH.

I’m also experiencing ass marbles at the lack of ice available in the city. I really only drink things with ice in them, and it’s hard to come by except in our freezer where one or more bottles of water are sacrificed for the freezing daily. 7-11, however, claims all their water-based products are 100% safe thanks to their 5-time filtering. I took the plunge and got some ice today – if I die, be sure to check my blood for turbid herpes.

I’ve been having a very difficult time getting a Christmas wish list out of Ed. He’s notoriously hard to buy presents for, and in recent years I’ve had to quite literally beat any semblance of a hint of what he might want or need out of him. Recently I’ve started requesting a formal list from him to at least give me a guideline to go by, but he’s dragging his feet. I set up a list for myself and have had a great deal of fun e-window shopping as well as providing him with any number of ideas for gifty fun. His reluctance to do the same for me is making me grumpy, since I derive a great deal of pleasure from watching people be surprised at their presents. If he doesn’t cough up something soon, I’m going to have to take my gift-buying cues from what I see on TV: power tools, large SUVs, and shaving cream.

Teaching someone the tricky ins and outs of cutting and pasting over the phone is giving me a massive headache.

request: how to shank

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I am going to shank one of our designers.

I am not 100% certain what all is involved with a shanking, but I will endeavour to do some research and shank until all my rage has subsided. I am currently taut with fury and astounded that this person keeps getting work. Nevertheless, I am confident that a good hard shanking by my tiny, tiny hand will dispel her grievously erroneous notion that I am her girl-servant and perhaps even banish her to places that are not in my immediate reach.

Also, I have jaundice on the middle finger of my right hand. That glint of yellow you see is me giving people the finger; the traditional precursor to shanking.

I can’t stop reading news sites. For the first time in a very long time, I have a wee bit of hope that the entire world isn’t going to implode in an orgy of evil before the end of the year. I mean, it probably still will, but at least in several US states people apparently woke up and realized that what women do to their bodies is their own business, other people’s gay marriages won’t kill them, and perhaps stem-cell research isn’t the first step towards harvesting our bodies for energy ala the Matrix because although Keanu Reeves is nice to look at I wouldn’t want to entrust him with saving me from mental slavery either. Also, one down: two to go.

Perhaps I did open this door after all.