On cats and current affairs

It never ceases to amaze me just how many sources of irritation there are in my life. Today for example I missed the cat's bowl after having stumbled out of bed at the ungodly hour of six o'clock, and slopped a mess of the gelatinous fish guts on the floor; I didn't sleep well last night because the baby cat jumped on my head then proceeded to move every item that was sitting on my dresser onto the floor by way of chasing it until it fell off the edge in a loud fashion; my other cat is bordering on obesity and is a rare sight at the house, most likely because one or several people are frequently feeding him, intravenously I like to think (If I ever get my paws on them..). There was a strange man at the train station this morning who got it into his head that he was going to stare at me. The strange part about him was that he did not look very strange at all, but was wearing a pink pair of feminen-looking thongs. There may have been a story to him but I didn't ask and he didn't tell, but neither of these facts discontinued his staring at me.

Today I have effectively sent variations on the same email to a man six times who replies with "Thanks" but half an hour later replies with something interchangeable with and equally as baffling as "From the phone bill I will need also the pair pages otherwise I couldn’t quote." Most nights I am home alone while housemate one is at work and housemate two is having a social life and I sit in front of housemate two's television and watch Office Space and eat a banana that hasn't been stolen by the possums that live in the roof. Sometimes I think how alike my life is to the story and how very much I would that I could destroy the pc load letter spewing nazi fuck printer that I have spent a very close and personal few years with.

In all likelihood I will probably be at this same desk in five years thinking about how I will go home that night and watch Office Space and compare my life to it. "I was a pussy five years ago and I am a pussy now," I will think to myself. There is nothing distinctly bad about my job - I am paid well and treated with respect and the staff are invariably kind and caring people - I just hate working.

I wonder sometimes if I was meant to, instead, go out and get myself pregnant four years ago (at the tender age of 16) and be on shows like A Current Affair with my friend Tamantha who has an eyebrow piercing and a bub in one hand with a fag in the other. We would complain that the government does not give us enough money then we would go home and tell all our friends how we were on the telly. I am from Queensland after all and this stinking heat has a tendency to breed a certain type of person.