randomrabbit's Diaryland Diary
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All around my... oh never mind
2 weeks to Christmas and I�m finally starting to get a couple of things sorted. I�m still in a Christmas can go stick its twinkly shit up its arse kind of mood, but it�s marginally less traumatic to make a half-arsed effort and buy a few things for people than get it in the neck constantly off the mother and sister. Joy of giving my arse. Rest assured if you happen to get a present from me, which, let�s be honest, is fairly unlikely, it won�t have been bought on a wave of festive glee, skipping gaily round the shops, it will have been bought with spite and venom and ill will and constant scowling at the all meandering piss-monkeys clogging up shops with their festive joy and fat, jovial arses.
So yes the dad is sorted. Actually that�s as far as I�ve got, but he�s a bugger to buy for so at least the hardest is out the way. Oh and I got the girls some live mealworms as a treat. The girls being the chooks, just, you know, in case you thought it was some women I happen to know. I may not know much about these things, but I�m relatively certain girls don�t want worms? Or, for that matter, a picture of your cock in a santa hat, apparently.
I�m a bit stuck for stuff to do at the moment. I�m busy trying to get sorted so I can have a couple of days off to use up my holidays, but the computers are down while we�re being upgraded so I can get fuck all of it done. The plus side being on the upgraded system we can, and you�ll possibly piss yourself at the state-of-the-artiness of this, email stuff straight from it, instead of printing things out and trudging down the corridor to the fax machine. The future�s happening people, right here in my office.
My arse hurts once again, but this time I�ve sussed what causes it. I went for a walk on Sunday with my dad � up and along Mam Tor, rimming Castleton � whilst wearing a thermal trouser, and I�m pretty sure it�s the lining of those buggers that causes my arse chafage not the actual walking like what I thought. It�s got slowly worse all week so I limped in to Boots last night from work to get something more effective than a chapstick to smear on and found Lanacane Anti-Chafing Gel. If you�ve ever wondered what it was like to laminate your arse, try this stuff. If only I�d known such a wonderful thing existed I wouldn�t have minced all the way across the fucking country with my little pot of Vaseline:
Atwixt my legs is not a cool place and having warmed through Vaseline dribbling down your inner-thighs isn�t an altogether pleasant sensation, plus it makes your trousers look like you�ve been sitting in a puddle. This dries like Teflon and gives you hours of frictionless buttock. Splendid stuff.
Home time. Hoorah.
4:38 p.m. - 2008-12-11
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