Days to 1st annual 29th birthday: 9
Pounds to lose so that I may buy myself a new hottie birthday outfit: 7
I can not tell you how excited I am about the reunion that's happening in July! We've officially called it the B.E.E.R. (Bunac Everyone Everywhere Reunion) and it's exactly 64 days away now. I'm on a mad hunt to trace down a few missing persons that really should be there so that I may take full and shameless advantage of them. Oh, it will be lovely.
Actually... now that I think about it... it's a long-shot, but let's give it a try anyway... If anyone knows anyone who lived in London, England on a working/holiday visa through BUNAC or SWAP in 1998, and they lived at 31 Store St... tell 'em to get in touch with me. There's a reunion a'brewin'.
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So, we have these new toilets in the office. I don't usually consider toilets to be worthy of mention, but these ones... well, they're special.
See, the Piranhas, although they can clinch a deal and bring home the dough and generally scare the hell out of me on a good day... well, they're not too good at flushing. Seriously. No, I'm serious! It pains me to remember the number of times I went to the loo to find a gift waiting in one of the bowls. So, finally, after many signs taped to the doors, and many quiet rants of disgust, the brass decided to install those automatic flushers that do the deed when you stand up. Nice, huh? Cuts down on surface bacteria, and those such as I who find a clean bowl necessary are kept happy. Except... except... they don't work right! They either flush when they're not supposed to, or they don't flush at all.
Lord, if I wanted a bidet, I would have installed one at home! It's like the toilet is an over-achiever, eagerly wanting to complete the job before anyone else, thus not allowing me to actually give it a job to do before it's power-washing my bottom. Then, it's like she turns on the porcelain sparkle just a little bit brighter, smiling at me with a hand outstretched, waiting for a tip.
Then there's the teenage rebel in the stall next door that sulks petulantly, refusing to do his duty until I stand and sit and stand and sit again, finally forcing me to wiggle my bottom like some kind of cracked flush addict that just needs a whoosh baby, just one little whoosh to get me out the door...
Have a lovely day, poppets. You know I adore you.
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