I Only Hear What I Want To
I had my nose pierced on Saturday and absolutely nobody has noticed. This makes me feel quite pleased, like I'm wearing a secret or a private fact on my face, and I'm getting away with it. It makes me wonder what else I could get away with. What if I killed a pitiful creature (say, a really mean old person) and stapled it to my jacket? Would I be charged with murder in the first degree? Perhaps I shall dig up the corpse and find out. Or perhaps I shall sit here, freezing my nips off and drinking icy cold Cola Cao. It is the drink of kings! Having it hot, on such a chilly night, would be nicer, but if I put it in the microwave I will have to *stand* by the microwave for up to three minutes and I really haven't got the time or the inclination for that kind of carry-on.
I had a moment of sheer terror today - finance related terror. I got a letter from my credit card company informing me that I had not met my monthly minimum payment and they would be adding a little punitary interest to my account as a result. NOTHING TOO SHOCKING THERE OLD NEURO! you say jovially, giving me a slap on the back. Well. Would you be so jovial if you knew that not only had I faithfully paid my minimum payment of €26.00 over 10 days ago, I had paid an additional €874.00. AND THERE WAS NO RECORD OF IT! AND I LOST MY RECEIPT! AND THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN AND I NEARLY CRIED OVER MORE THAN HALF MY MEAGRE WAGES DISAPPEARING INTO THE WHIRLING FINANCIAL VORTEX OF ULSTER BANK INCOMPETENCY!
I won't keep you in suspense. The payment had indeed been registered. They were simply too stupid to notice. Everything worked out okay in the end and there was redemption for all, even the rapists and murderers.
The best thing about the Ulster Bank is their long list of hilarious misdemeanours. After several years as a faithful customer I was delighted to receive a letter recently informing me that I would be in receipt of a loyalty gift on my card of €40. Wahoo! says I, there shall be bread in our bellies tonight!
Not so.
Twas an error, committed by the feeble minded employees of Bankworld, and they sent me another letter, informing me that it had been a present by mistake, and they would be removing it from my credit card again. (On the bill it showed as "Reward Reversal". I always wondered what it would be like to have one of my rewards reversed.) And so all of the praxis-tard children starved and died and lay on the living room carpet, getting soggy and smelling up the parlour something awful.
I wrote them an angry letter, listing their moronic mistakes and thanking them profusely for all their flaccid council over the years, particularly in emergencies, like when you're standing at a payphone in Barcelona pleading with the bank to activate your cashcard (as they had assured you they would) so that you can get a few euros to pay for a hostel and eat something. That was brilliant.
ENOUGH BITTERNESS AND RAGE
Onto happier subjects. My health is not horrific! I have had 2 months of pain and bleeding and moaning and horror and on Saturday a peace came over my wretched body and I feel ok again. Hurray! This may or may not be connected to the earnest prayers of several friends in the days preceding recovery. Cheers darlings! Let's hope it lasts until my next consultancy in the Mater. The Mater! Where Nobody Matters!
Also: France-travelling buddies A and G are arriving over on Friday from the UK for the weekend, with G's mother in tow. That should be interesting! Also a man in Navan is having a spiffing party which I will be attending on Saturday night. It will be my first official holiday season event. I am quite excited about Christmas this year. I am convinced that I am festooned with holiday cheer because of the drudgery of my job. Any chance to party looks so appealing when getting out of bed for work is hard. WOE IS ME, WITH MY COMFORTABLE MANAGEMENT POSITION AND MY WONDERFUL BOSS, WHO IS GIVING ME THE DAY OFF FOR MY HUSBAND'S BIRTHDAY, BUT WHO WILL PAY ME FOR IT ANYWAY. Shit, I really need to get a grip.
Lisa Loeb is leaving on a jet plane and I am on my way to bed, where much sleeping and similarly pleasant things may occur. Now I disinfect my new nose wound and admire the sparkly jewellyness of it all.
neuro-praxis -- Cut Up
Posted by neuro-praxis on November 22, 2005 12:26 AM, in the category Bifidus Digestivum