creamygoodness

Sigh, back to reality. I've only been back at work after the weekend two days and already I've had to console a sobbing workmate about her timesheet, run through my arsenal of excuses to get out of the Library Christmas Party, starting off with 'I don't know, I might be doing something then', to 'I think I'm doing something with family on that day' right up to 'I have to go for some tests in the hospital about this lump'. I've also had to deal with Mr. Wisley. Mr. Wisley isn't his real name, but no-one knows what his real name is. He comes in a couple of times a week to ask us bizarre, pointless questions that he's already asked us 5 times before, normally something like 'I want you to give me the home address of the Paymaster of BP.' He's also rude, unappreciative, and fucking mad. He came in with an address with the postcode written on it and asked me to give him the postcode to that address. I spent ten minutes trying to tell him that the postcode was right there on the piece of paper, but he'd just yell at me 'NO! That's the ADDRESS! I want the POSTCODE!'

Obnoxious, senile old fucker.

Anyhow, at least I'm coming off a rather good weekend. It'd take far too much time and effort to properly chronicle the whole thing, so here's the edited highlights:

-On saturday a whole bunch of the usual SGUK suspects gathered at The Ship for drunken shennanigans all because some scotch git was in town. I think we were all fairly well-behaved for the most part, and I went on to a fairly nifty club afterwards, missed out on the promised rollerirls, and ended up watching Shaun of the Dead at about 3am, eating cheese toasties with Kate and Pearlbass.
-After waiting for the two lovely ladies in question to wake up the next day, I ambled along to the pub to meet some more people, had lunch, then toddled off with munch to see Saw, which I was highly pleased with.