I DON'T recommend...

I've decided to start a new "blog post series" which will be titled I DON'T Recommend. And it begins here and now.

For a start, I don't recommend going and telling the public speaker at the lectern downstairs to be quiet because you're trying to work. It's not like this is your building, after all. You don't own it. You're just a guest. Albeit a paid one.

So don't try that one at home, friends. Or at work, for that matter.

It's MUNCH time!

And by munch I mean morning tea and lunch combined. Well, it's 10:39am, so closer to lunchtime than to morning tea time. Wouldn't you agree? Ohhhhh, now here we go, let's start debating.

Kidding, kidding. My colleague and I just walked up the street. In the distance I saw a rather wince-worthy sight - COM was headed our way, a determined look on his COF (for an explanation, see the Facetious Fesaurus). I wanted to cross the street to avoid him, but my colleague said "It's too late, he's seen you!" So we kept walking...and he walked right past and didn't see us.

I said, "Maybe he didn't recognise me, what with my swollen head and everything." (See previous blog post for details on Harry-ette Potter, the librarian who lived)

Anyway, COM has been read the letter of the library law and maybe, just maybe, we've seen the end of him. Only time will tell.

Meanwhile...it's 11:00am...still totally MUNCH time.

Harry-ette Potter...the librarian who lived

Yeah.

That's me. I've got a Harry Potter-esque (Zorro-esque) (Superwoman-esque) sutured laceration on my forehead right now. People keep saying "That's one serious scar!" but the fact is, it ain't a scar yet people. Scars are what you end up with, not what you have in the beginning!

Let me illuminate the confuzzled murk of your mind by linking you to the following:

A previously posted blog post in which a picture illustrated what the heck I'm talking about in this blog post

On that note, I'm going to fly off into the sunset (or the pre-sunset, since the sun is currently still up, albeit totally obscured by threatening grey cloud) with my fancy blue cape and try and figure out how I'm going to get away with wearing a pair of bright red underwear over a pair of bright blue tights tomorrow...at work.

When is a scoff fair enough?

Now that's a lotta 'f' sounds. But seriously, we need some input here.

Apparently because the fan in our office is an oscillating fan, it's going to oscillate some air when it's switched on. I scoffed at this notion but not because I doubt it. No, because I found my colleague's choice of words rather scoffworthy... Even amusing!

Now I leave you with some timeless questions:

1. When is an oscillating fan not an oscillating fan?

2. When is a scoff fair enough?

I know a library lady...

...who once was quite anti-cats. Well, I wouldn't say she was anti them, more that she had a dog and cats were just 'eh' to her. Then a relative of hers got a cat, and suddenly the thought of having one of her own didn't seem too bad. She adopted a very cute little kitty, which shocked all her colleagues. Wait a sec...you've got a kitten? I thought you didn't like felines! But then it got even weirder...!

She adopted a second kitten. Colleagues were puzzled, confused, arching brows all over the place. I tell you, brows were simply out of control! How could this lady who didn't really have much passion for the feline kind suddenly have two cats?

AND THEN...........it got weirdest of all! Because this library lady got a THIRD CAT.

It was official. She'd joined the ranks of library cat lady. But she wasn't alone, because numerous of her colleagues were already in those ranks. Don't get me wrong, there are still staunch dog-only library folk in the same workplace as these cat ladies. But there's just no denying that, in this particular library at least, the tradition of cat lady-ness is strong.

CANFU

Constant and Never-Ending...well, I'm sure you can deduce the rest.

I'm eating old man lollies right now. Sounds gross, right? Well, they're actually the most tolerable kind of old man lolly on the market - gummi bears. If you've got any kind of choice at all, you should leap at the chance to choose old man gummi bears. The jelly babies don't really cut it. Party mix is very plasticy, but they're preferable to jelly babies. Then there are the utterly icky Jersey caramels that the entire chain of libraries is sick of by now. Finally, you occasionally have the choice of freckles. But I really wouldn't go there if I were you, they're not as good as they look.

Morning morning not just morning

When there are two people in one office, and one person passes by that office, said passing person must say "Morning morning" instead of just "Morning", one "morning" for each occupant of the office.

Toady, we did this...but not that

I was explaining to a colleague or two (or three) that sometimes (quite often, actually) when I try to type the word 'today', it turns out as 'toady'. No, I don't mean that guy on Neighbours whose nickname is Toady. Or was it Toadie? I'm not a huge Neighbours buff, so I can't say for sure without Googling it, and I'm far far far too lazy at present to open a new tab for that.

But anyway, we've taken to saying things like, "Toady I did this... Huh? No, I didn't do that toady." Oh, and "Not toady, thanks." I'm sure you get the picture.

Freakin' cressy!

Roses chocolates for dinner...Pods for dessert

One of our number just had a holiday while her husband took her kids down south for a few days. She informs us that last night she had a box of Roses chocolates for dinner. Dessert? Pods!

Said chocolate-eater's cat got in a nasty fight recently, and he's in a bit of a sorry state right now. But from what I understand of this burly bully cat, we should see the other guy (who, incidentally, is called Fiddy...or Blackie...or Barry White, depending on your perspective).

In other news of the feline variety, there once was Evil Orange, a cat of mighty evil-ness, but now he's living in Kalamunda. There is however a replacement, an evil kitty protégé who has stepped up to the mark. This white cat is known only by the name Whitey McWhiterson, but undoubtedly he has an actual proper name.

One thing's for certain, though - this cat is goin' down! Nobody messes with Superhero Librarian Elizabeth Rary's cats.