July 06, 2005
The first: Sitting in my pajamas yesterday with a cat on my lap and a plate of peanut butter crackers (Dear Queen Elizabeth: Please see what you can do about asking Big Tony to import Reduced Fat Jiffy. Some of us want to make sure our tiaras always fit, ok?), I was reading work emails. The cat, who was having Reiki vigorously applied to her shoulders, was purring contentedly and making biscuits on the tender skin of my wrist, and despite my ass completely falling asleep I wouldn't have moved to save my life. An email popped up on my screen with an attachment. Being an icon of the Pavlovian response, I opened it.
And lo and behold, there in writing, I see that I and my team have won a second award for my rocket riding gerbil. There in writing, I see that I have been given money again and the chance to win a trip next year like the Monaco trip I got this year (I won't win, I know I won't win, but heck, it's nice to be eligible, anyway. I may not get to sit at the bar, but at least I don't have to use fake ID to get there).
And there, in writing, was the word "Thanks".
It made my fucking day.
The second: The Hand Herpes has slowly faded, and just in time for a major event at work. An event so surreal that I can't actually believe it's happening. An event so huge that I am not remotely nervous because it just doesn't feel real.
Hi.
My name is Helen.
I was raised in military housing, housing where you weren't allowed to paint the eggshell white walls and you'd soon be moving on anyway.
I went to an inexpensive university and am co-owner of two pre-loved cars.
I don't even own the house I shag the lovely Angus in on a regular basis.
And I've been asked to do what I know is quite likely the biggest event in my career so far. I have been asked to do a demonstration of my rocket riding gerbil today. I am dressed in a long and professional business suit and that amazing vintage necklace. I am going to try to arm myself with confidence to surround myself with the fact that I just can't believe it's all real and despite the fact that I'm the poster child for low self-esteem. I'm a simple girl in this very un-simple world, and I just can't get my head around this.
I have to demo my rocket today with some of the men that made my life a living hell three weeks ago (and as a side note, my ringtone? Yes, I have a new one. I have downloaded the truetone of the infamous James Brown song It's a Man's Man's Man's World. It's called irony. I will not take this sitting down anymore). But this time, I think they're nervous, too. This time, I hope they let me go about things and give me some space.
I have my demo today.
At Westminster.
To Parliament.
-H.
PS-no, I am not kidding, on drugs, or delusional. But any one of those three might make this seem easier.
PPS-really not kidding. My devouring of Tums can attest to it.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
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