Elvis! Elvis! Let me be! Keep that Pelvis Far From Me.

Today I was pretty much running on empty because I had a grand total of 2 hours sleep. However this just made me kind of high all day so I could entertain myself at work with sleep deprevation induced thoughts. And redbull got me through, as it always does. What would my life consist of without the unhealthy products I put into my body. On the other hand, today I’ve been a very good girl and havn't smoked or anything, as I figure I should detox before I return to Canterbury (as I'm sure my quest to destroy myself will return with avengence back at Kent), and now is the time to do so. However I am going out with my drinking partner in about an hour so who knows how long my good intentions will last. Especially with the wino she is. Or the whino. Haha see what I did there.

Today at work I was on the phones pretty much all day which is basically like being a London chavs punching bag. They have so much time to call me because they choose to be unemployed, and they aren’t at that hour of the day out stabbing anyone or vandalising bus stops. Oh I’m sorry do I sound like a snob? I DON’T CARE THEY FUCKING PISS ME OFF. Odd how some people can get so needlessly angry about a broken door (then again yesterday I did go on a rant about a 'Baby on Board' badge). Take a Kalms for fuck sake. Sometimes I feel like saying something dramatic like
“well your door may be broken but at least your heart isn’t”,
or something equally wise and life-affirming like that. I could be like Bill Bailey in the first episode of Black Books when he swallows the Little Book Of Calm, spouting words of wisdom and happiness to anyone that will listen.
Hmm maybe not.


I find it particularly difficult to not tell every rude fucking person I talk to, to not go end their useless selves. One guy told me I was an “incompetent little girl behind a desk” .
What I wanted to say in return was
“Actually I’m in full-time education and working through my summer, while you are 30 years old and sitting at home in the middle of the day on a Tuesday, out of choice.”
Of course, I didn’t say this, I’m a lady of etiquette and class.
Here is a conversation I had with an angry caller, who I shall for now name "Cretin".

Sarah: Good Morning Axis, Sarah speaking how can I help?
Cretin: Aiiiiiiite.
Sarah: Erm…hello.
Cretin: Where's ma fuckin' plumber, I bin waitin' lyk 'alf an hour, I got shit to do innit
Sarah: I’m very sorry Sir, I can find out where he is, what is your job number?
Cretin: I ain't got a clue bruv
Sarah: Your postcode?
Cretin: I dunno, it got an S in it though init. I only lived 'ere 6 months.
Sarah: Right…I can’t find your job without a number or postcode...
Cretin: WHY YOU SPILLIN ME SHIT BLUD FUCK SAKE
Sarah: I don’t believe I am spilling you shit Sir, I just need your job number otherwise I cant help you.
Cretin Tenent: You gettin' up in ma face?
Sarah: No sir, that would be impossible as I am on the phone to you.
Cretin Tenent: Do you fink your funny?
Sarah: No, I just want to find your plumber.
Cretin Tenent: And I just want my fuckin light fixed innit.
Sarah: …Then why are you asking for a plumber?
Cretin Tenet: COS I WANT HIM TO FIX MA FUCKIN LIGHT, WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKIN' NAME?!
Sarah: Erm, my name is Sarah Hayes, and what you want is an electrician, not a plumber.

And so on.
I can’t wait to go back to uni, at least the idiotic men I talk to there are usually pretty to look at. And while I am having stupid (though at the time very deep and important) conversations with them, I’m usually wasted on sambuca and high on life (obviously) instead of exhaustion and redbull.
Also today on the phones I got told by someone that I “disgusted” them. This was because I had the audacity to ring them and find out if they were happy with their new kitchen, out of the kindness of my cold dead heart. That is indeed a first. I’d love to know, Mr Tenant of Batley fucking Close (whose name I now know is Dickhead McWankerson), how I could have actually been more polite, considering you were telling me to go fuck myself. How tempting it was to actually tell you that you seemed to be the one that needed to get laid, not me. I imagine he whiles away his days in his new kitchen like this:



But like I said, I'm always classy.
Get me back to Canterbury please.
Three weeks today is my last day of work until next summer. Ohhhh the sweet, sweet freedom that is so close and yet so far.
In other news, I am debating on the purchase of a life size poster of elvis for my new bedroom. That would be a very good investment.





Also need to start thinking about festival attire, you would have thought after 3 years of going to Reading I'd have learnt not to wear shoes made of cotton for 5 days.

Despite this bitchy post (and my bitchy self in general), I’m actually very happy today.
I’m off to the pub, yum yum.