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Must Have Been One Of Those Blue Moons I’ve Heard Tell Of…

7 Jan

…I silenced a teenager today. 

Spud came in from school and as usual didn’t listen to a thing I said (okay, it was all orders; but that’s not the point, is it?).  I followed him into the lounge and started that forced-out panting pregnant women do.

S: What are you doing?
M: Wasting my breath.
S: Why?
M: Thought I might as well carry on because I wasted it telling you to turn the hall light off.
S: … … …

A small victory, but I’ll take them where I can get them.

We’ll Let You Know

7 Jan
Richter Magnitude Scale

Image by Sean Claudio Mancillas via Flickr

Today’s postaday2011 prompt is to write about a memorable job interview.  I can’t do that because all of my interviews have followed this pattern:

  • a sleepless night before the big day, then panic as I don’t hear the alarm
  • no liquid after seven a.m. on day of interview
  • thirty-three trips to the toilet, seven of those at interview premises in the ten minutes prior to interview
  • tremors so bad it registers on the Richter scale at 3.2
  • a rictus grin and dead arm from the handshake for the interviewer
  • answers rattled out like a shaken box of Maltesers under the Christmas tree by a desperate me
  • the interviewer bids me good day and secretly wipes my sweat from his good hand

The only employer to take me on after that is either desperate or, well, desperate.  Cardboard cutouts have more personality than I do in an interview, unless you count ‘terrified’ and brain-dead’ as personality. 

Talking of earthquakes, did you hear about our typically British one last week?  An old gent was interviewed on Radio 4 and he said, marvelling, ‘The wife’s wardrobe doors rattled for at least ten seconds.’  Nobody does understatement like us Brits.

*

I wasn’t really inspired by this week’s Big Tent prompt and what I got is just more of the same on a theme I’ve been chasing on my South Africa blog; but here it is.  Maybe I’ll come back to it in a couple of months; though I doubt it.

Don’t Walk On By 

I have no shoes; no shirt.
I have feet and hands and hunger.
I have pain, fear, famine.
Apathy is the enemy.

You have shoes; a shirt:
you can feed me. 
There is no dignity in my distended belly. 
Give me food.  Give me life.

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