stuff... and things...

drinks... of the friday night kind

On Friday night I went out for a few drinks with people from work. Having never involved myself in Friday Night Drinks with People From Work at any point in my life thus far, I was both intrigued and apprehensive. What to talk about with the people you have micro-conversations with inbetween answering calls all day?

Anyway, I discovered I work with some fantastic and intriguing people. Friday night drinks is definitely on my To Do List sometime again soon. It's amazing how the way you perceive people can change in a matter of moments once you see them outside of work.

Another interesting development of the friday night kind is that [finally!] someone from work asked the ever so scary "Are you... like... gay?" question. I'm not really one to wear my sexuality like a merit badge. I am who I am, and that happens not to include limp wristed gestures or an endless preoccupation with fashion and teenage celebrities. According to said workmate, I'm "hard to read" and "nobody would really know unless you told them" (Look here if you want my two cents on "gay culture"). So now I'm sure the rest of my team at work know all about my rampant and disgusting homosexuality... and the beautiful man I raved on about while drunk.

byron loves:

• The Sydney Morning Herald because they referred to Mischa Barton as "...the emacatied former starlet..."

• Cupcakes On Pitt - Who needs vanilla slices when cupcakes are this good? If you're in Sydney, go there. Now. The lovely Helen does them justice here.

• The girl listening to "Sweet Dreams" by Marilyn Manson on her iPod. On repeat. For thirty minutes. Next to my ear. Yes dear, we can tell you're plagued by many deep and unsolveable emotional problems thanks to your artfully ripped and slightly unwashed ensemble, the nine days of Fudge Hair Putty in your black-with-ginger-roots-hair and the entire eyeliner pencil you used for that misunderstood-abused-teenage-junkie effect. Must you torment the world with your poor music taste? Marilyn Manson is not even emo. You suck. Go back to your LiveJournal.
  

byron hates:

• The customer who called me a "FUCKING CUNTFACE MOTHERFUCKER!" nineteen times in the space of seven minutes today. He has told me he is going to "SUE THE MOTHERFUCKING XXXX BANK!" and that I will be "ON FUCKING CENTRELINK LIKE A FUCKING BOONG!" because once he has succesfully sued the Xxxx Bank for complying with federal banking laws despite his requests for us to break them, he will "FUCKING OWN THE FUCKING BANK!" and have me fired.

• The way Toni Braxton whimpers as though someone has licked her vaginal area ear at the end of "Breathe Again". Don't ask me why I'm listening to this song.

Me. Post-illness.