Work Woe

Today saw me getting the most detailed and relentless dressing down at work. Now I'm the first to admit my slightly erratic work ethic leads to random probability of any one task getting finished but even I was surprised by the ferocity of the bosses comments. By all accounts my work is badly organised, generally full of mistakes and generally not up to the high standard that my admittedly hefty wage demands. Page after page of incorrect figures were produced and my project management was deemed too slow. It was painful to sit there and be faced with it all. Even though I can see there are obvious problems mainly caused by my dyslexia and the odd bump of K at the office my boss W is a particularly anal little man (if one were being rude you could go so far as to suggest he has ADD.) who seems hell bent on finding fault in the slightest error. Given the full throttled nature of the verbal savaging I received I think the situation was handled fairly well on my part. Calmly and carefully I assured him in the face of each of the proffered examples of my incompetence that it was within the remit and capability of us all to better ourselves and reinforce our weaknesses, what a load of old arse but if you cant bullshit the boss who can you?

My two day week at work was preceded by four full days of really nasty food poisoning, slightly aggravated by that fifty grams of K I mentioned in my last post. Fuck me it was  a trip I really thought I was done for, its been a little while since I was that sick bar from the chemotherapy. 

D came over on Wednesday and given my prone and wracked state decided to turn my request to go out and get me some rice (the only thing I could think of eating) into a lovely Spanish Paella replete with prawns and mussels. Really. Words failed me and it was the best I could do to convey my utter disgust at the mere thought of eating such lively foodstuffs, and bless him he was so incensed with the idea of wasting it he decided to go ahead and cook it anyway. The wretched smell of fish and rich juice filled the flat and left me wanting to decorate my bedroom wall with yet more bile and snot. Bless him though lovely gesture but so off the mark its untrue. With D sometimes you have to accept he is a bear of very little brains and just let it go.

So its down to me to have a good long this weekend about work. Whilst I do not want to waste any ones time (too much) I really cant afford to be unemployed again especially after having had so long off unpaid with the cancer. Maybe a medium weight designers job in an interior design practice would save me from so much precise figure work but still any job has to have a good amount of that no? I'm sure by Monday I will have decided everything is fixable in my usual over optimistic way but I really have to pull my finger out this time or its curtains (sic) for me.

Deep trouble

Oh my what a fuck up! Who thought it was a good idea to buy a whole litre of k.... I'm paying for it now, haven't been this sick in a long time. As rock bottoms come this one is pretty sore. My liver is screaming, my stomach is shot to bits and It's the best I can do to just lie here and sweat. When will I ever learn?

The Best News

May (the cute young doctor from the Outpatients department) just called. Apparently the CT scan and blood tests both came back completely negative. She speculated that the pain I have been having might be from scar tissue or an infection which is amazing news. Really amazing. I'm not sure quite how to take it although it's all good. Mum and Dad, P and D all got a text straight away telling them the good news and now I'm just not sure if I should have mentioned it in the first place before getting it checked out. The creeping sensation of creating a drama out of a mole hill is coming on..

The dull ache under my left arm (in the same spot that I had the lump which turned out to be my cancer last time) developed over the weekend. These things always happen at the weekend? It woke me up both Saturday and Sunday morning. Although I'm not sure if I can feel any lumps I thought it was best to get myself off down to the outpatients ward this morning to get it checked out. Funny thing was that when I did get there this morning the feeling was nearly all but gone. 

Being me I managed to get a full nights dancing in at DT before I went. My God I'm paying for it now. My knees are sore and my feet are throbbing. P got stuck into me last night for being irresponsible, probably rightly too. Still its nothing a good nights sleep and a decent meal wont sort out. It's ten to nine and I just had a bowl of Cous-Cous and a Tuna steak and I'm tucked up in my pit between about ten pillows. 

The results of the scan should be back by the end of the week.  Maybe there is nothing to worry about. The thought of going through all that Chemotherapy shit again just fills me with dread. Hopefully I'm being a bit of a hypochondriac but there is so much familiarity in the pain that it is scaring the hell out of me. 

R the young Spanish boy I met at the sauna he other day has been on at me to come over and stay. The creeping feeling that I should tell him about my HIV status is beginning to get to me. Its that same old thing, when do I say? One part of me thinks that the longer I leave it the worse the surprise is going to be. The other part of me thinks that so long as I'm safe it really isn't the end of the world if I keep quiet. I'm sure that I will sort it out in my own time. The fact that my night last night was like a slag-fest is quite another matter. DT and I had a little reunion in Vauxhall up on the hills. Made the acquaintance of a very charming little 19 year old called John K there too, and the club offered up a couple of sweaty G fueled encounters with various Brazilian hookers too. Feeling suitably dirty and sullied now. That is the sign of a good night out after all? 

Mum an Dad came up for lunch on Sunday. We went to the Formosa Street Dinning rooms in Maida Vale. The food was fantastic and really good value but my the service was sullen. It ended up being a bit of a struggle on account of the amount of K I had munched the night before and that morning walking round Primrose Hill with CG and D. Still it wasn't quite the car wreck it could have been..

Good news

Good news to impart.. The production company have asked me to do a second screen test. This time they want a longer piece to camera
scripted by me talking about the building material of my choice. I've got to meet up with the director next week and get it done. 

Im getting quite excited about the whole thing now, hope it works out?

Ready for my close up..

So I just got in from doing my first screen test ever. It was for a production company who have been approached by BBC2 to do a Grand Designs type high brow Interiors show. They wanted to show one of my current projects.. however as any cunt knows my rather tragic solo interior design career came a bit of a cropper at the end of last year due to my abject laziness and rather substantial drug habit so I took them round P's house. Although its a good six years since I finished the house it still stands up as a decent project with enough sparkle to impress. Four floors of bachelor pad sexy right in the middle of London's trendy Notting Hill.

H, the director who was the one doing the filming for the test was really nice and put me at my ease. It was a surprise how relaxed I was in front of the camera and he seemed totally pleased with the waffle I was issuing forth. They are going to present it to the BBC tomorrow so fingers crossed. It would be great to relaunch my Interiors career off the back of a bit of TV exposure.. Anyway work at EI is keeping me more than busy at the moment so whatever happens will be cool. Im looking after the devil dog C this weekend which will be fun. Mum and Dad are going to come up too so hopefully the weather will hold? Maybe we will go hang out in Regents Park

How easy am I?

So I'm at work today, it's been a pretty good week in as much as I didn't fuck anything up royally which at the moment counts as good or good enough at least. Facebook is chirping in the back ground on my laptop. RG messages me all flirty like the old whore he is.. Cut a long story short he asks;

"Wen we gonna hook up" (sic) and in a flash I'm sat with a hard-on saying yes whenever you want like some sex starved cunt. So my question to myself is how easy am I? I mean was there any call? It's like any old fucker that does not bother calling me from one month to the next knows that I am a good bet for a jump at a moments notice. No wonder everybody thinks I'm a slag, all my ex boyfriends included. Not great for my self esteem. Why the fuck do I bother. And the really daft thing is I bet it never comes off. Either I will fall asleep or he wont call and the whole thing will leave a nasty tang in my mouth, for all the wrong reasons. Maybe next time I might manage to play it a bit cool and be, like, ever so slightly stand offish? Chance would be a fine thing. 

So one thing clear to anyone bothering to notice (That's just me then?) that my libido has come back with a vengeance since the the chemotherapy made me dead from the waist down. My mojo has risen. Not quite to its full previous glory. I'm not bothered by the desperate urge to masturbate all the time like I used to be, rather the thought is there even if the flesh isn't quite up to speed yet. Don't get me wrong when push comes to shove the old fella is well up to the job in hand it just needs for there to be someone else in the room. This was never a problem before the cancer but seems to be taking a hell of a time to return to the way it was. Maybe it wont ever come back to normal, I could just be getting old. God forbid. I probably manage to come about once a week now rather than three times a day. Still I can't say its too much of a problem and at least I get a bit of head space to think about other things. 

This relative calm in the storm that was my old lust must be a good opportunity to focus my attention on finding a nice little boyfriend rather than chasing round after old ally cats like RG? Who wants to be with the biggest slag in town? Not Mr Right that's for sure.