The drugs don't work

So I went to Sheffield for my MRI scan.

It didn't start well. Car park this way says the sign. This way I went. Car park is a multi storey. Max height 1.83m. My car is 1.9m. That's a no then. Fortunately found a surface space.

Went in the hospital, and a feeling of "this place is knackered" was evident. Dirty, peeling paint, worn out. Went to the reception, and she tells me here is your form, you have to follow the blue line on the floor, but it's a bit worn out. More like there are random spots of blue left here and there. But never mind.

By now I'm expecting the MRI machine to be steam powered, and for them to ask if I've brought any coal for it. But no! There is the usual plaque on the wall. MRI department opened by... and the date is April 2011. So the machinery is new and shiny.

I get jammed in a plastic tube for 15 mins. Fortunately the small space, and noise doesn't bother me. By the end I'm losing time perception, and almost drift off somewhere else. Methinks I would quite like to try one of those flotation tank things..

So I escape, and am told that I will get an appointment for the results at some point. We drive off, and my radio comes back to life as I get closer to home. It's playing the verve - the drugs don't work. Ohhhh spooky!

Success! Fail! Fear!

We've got it all at C'riz towers.

Success was I phoned the post office people. Using a real phone. And talked to two different humans. And convinced them to do my bidding.

The result of this is I'm now officially applied to have a PPI account. The nice lady says I qualify, and will get it finalised in a couple of weeks. The exciting upshot being I will get post at "business" rate, not man in the street rate. With my own license number.

More exciting, at a quick calculate it will save me £1000 per year. What do I spend my riches on?

Fail was I misplaced the email she sent me. No problem, i'll login to the webmail system that keeps everything. And there it is. I also checked the settings to see why it was missing, to find something odd.

Apparently I'm called "Dave Gulzar" and not C'riz at all. And I've setup to forwards everything to a gmail account... And sent mail show I sent a few thousand people a message inviting them to claim a share of $20 bajillion dollars once they help me, er, Dave, get it out of Nigeria.

I think that counts as my account has been hacked. Sad face = on. Angry face is then on as I try to fight virgin's crap system to change the bloody password and delete 'Dave'. Tis done now, and settings changed that logining in for the first time on any pooter needs a code SMSing to my phone. That should fix it!

Fear is in exactly 13 hours I get jammed into a plastic tube for an MRI scan. Results of which will be notified at some later date says the letter.
Translation: Somebody else can tell you you're going to die, not us.

All I want for Christmas

is glue..... I think that's how the song goes.

Idiot Girl has announced what she desires. Prepare yourself to be shocked. A KINDLE.

I gave you ample bracing time!

Yes, Idiot Girl wants one of Amazon's electronic book thingies. I think this is rather a stupid idea. Idiot Girl's idea of a 'dead good' book is either a) Latest crap twilight vampire nonsense or more commonly b) misery porn. "The really awful story of a poor child, and the wonderful social worker who saved him/her/it" would be her dream title.

Besides the kindle obvious problems of IG will break it / forget to charge it / be too thick to use it, there's the snag that the books are really expensive. Deffo not sold below cost like the paper versions are at the supermarket......

Moi? Well as usual I want leaving the hell alone. You don't need expensive gifts to 'prove' you care.

Crime and punishment

Tomorrow is Friday. Which means it's stained glass class day!

Or 'Paedophile lock down simulator'...

It's now been moved to a skool. Where there are ankle biters at the same time. So you go to reception, sign in and are given your identity badge. You must wear it at all times. You must wait by reception, and not interact with others until the tutor comes to collect you. At this point everyone can be moved to E wing, er the classroom.

Once in class, should you require anything, eg visit to the little boys room you must call reception, await the warder, who will then take you to the toilet.

We went for coffee. As a group, for of course the rules say no one can be left behind. Most of us went down the stairs, the ones less able to walk took the lift. To find the unsmiling droids, blasters aimed. 'You are new here, so we will overlook this mistake once. Do not separate the group again'.

One fool asked about going for a smoke. To be told he must sign out of the building, walk off the premises to the roundabout. (1 mile away). He decided to quit for the day.

What makes it so extra stupid is several times ankle biters randomly wondered into our area. If we're so dangerous, why don't they keep the civilians away from us?

It's rather lacking in fun......

Words with fiends

So I've played a bit of the scrabble like game thing on the book of face. And learned a few things.

1) I'm crap at the knowing of words.

2) Other people know words I have to look up in the dictionary. (I'm looking at you Crawford).

3) It contains words that are made up. Having been bomped several times by people playing 'qis' I looked it up. It's the plural of 'qi'. : see ch'i.
This makes my head hurt. There should be a mode where you have to use the word you're playing in a sentence to prove you've not made it up. But no doubt this would happen.

4) I'm now taking the strategy of play my crap words on the triple point square things. And think about it hard while people on the other side of the planet are sleeping.

*************

In other news, the stained glass class starts today. But in a new location. A school. In school hours. One suspects there will be school pupils there. This cannot end well, and I'm rather unhappy about the prospect.

I had a dream last night

I'd somehow managed to piss off Barack Obama and Arthur Scargill. Worse, they both turned up at my house at the same time to tell me how angry they where.

Mr Obama arrived in that big car of his with lots of agent Smith look a likes. Mr Scargill turned up in a 2.8 granada, with two blokes with NUM donkey jackets, and a whippet. I was most scared of the whippet.

Tell me of your dreams?

Lazy blog:

Things to come

I was sent this photo:



Just in case you're doing the Rolf Harris 'can you tell what it is kids?" thing, I'll tell you. It's potentially my new toy, and route to world domination.

It's a CNC milling machine. Which I asked the vendor thereof to demonstrate that it can drill lots of dice. This is his solution. With a bit of up-scaling I think it could be a winner.

In related news, I am having a nice man visit tomorrow @ 8am. Who will attempt to show me how to build a wall in the rain, cold and wind. Yes, it's going to be awful.

Waiting for the end of time

Had this stuck in my head all day, so I'll share and maybe it will escape...



I think the car was prolly a yugo...

Flid

or Ma Ma makes a crap day worse.

Been feeling rather depressed, everything going wrong, alone in a godless universe, out of shake n vac etc.

I'm in the garage doing the work thing badly. She comes in and says 'Lynn' from the doctors phoned, I said you'd ring them back. Er, what did she want? Oh, you didn't bother asking... thanks a buncheroonie.

For new readers, I hate using phones with a fiery vengeance. Especially having to cold call someone who I don't know when I don't have a clue what it's about. Add in the background radiation misery and I'm seriously not happy. Ma Ma is oblivious, as it's all so easy for her.

So I did it. Turns out they want me to have a flu jab. Er, no. I should be feeling woo! for managing to do it, but instead I replay everything I said and criticize it in my head. I know it's wrong, but it's so easy to fall back into old patterns of thinking, and in a way comforting too if that makes any sense.

Ahead, flid factor 9 mr Sulu.

After the sun the rain

as teh hymn thing goes...

Sunny bit:


We be currently in a heatwave. Hottest day in October ever sort of thing. So I stopped doing the work thing and took Ma Ma to Haworth. The above be her attempt to take on a medium cone.

Happy was had by one and all. There was ice cream. Insanely steep hills to walk and drive up and down. Trains. Sunshine. Book shops. Park. Tea. Woo and indeed yay!

Here comes the rain again:
Of course I've been paying for it ever since. Mega tonnage of work to do for having a day off. Which I've been doing and almost caught up with now. Except my cnc lathe has now decided to throw a wobbler. Just when I need it. The z axis stepper motor has started stalling on fast moves, so getting the position wrong and ruining the work. I'm at a loss why, for nothing has changed. Tis scaring me silly, as usual when anything goes wrong with said machine.

Idiot Girl is back from her weekend keg, and has turned the stupidity up a notch or five. She's supposed to be ill, and has a signed sick note. Only snag is she's going to the donkey show this week for 2 days, then she's off drinking herself stupid(er) at chavvy shitehole butlins all weekend. This doesn't sound like being ill at all to me.

Then next week she's going to start driving again, but if anyone from work sees her, she was just practising, and she can't really drive yet and so can't possibly go back to work. The usual Idiot Girl urine extraction grade plans. ~sigh~.

In other news I've been CC'd in the the letter from the brain people at the hospital to my vets. It's all quite long words, but from googling it, there's something wrong and time for an MRI to see if that gives them any clues what.
Engage the return of my olde friend the cold ball of ice in the stomach area of doom. It wouldn't be that important if I go wonky in itself, but who will look after Ma Ma if I do? Still, there's always the hope they'll give me the Gallic shrug, 'dunno kid' and the advise to come back if I die unexpectedly.