In what might be the most soul-crushing NYE ever, I’m sitting here with 26 minutes until 2008… updating my blog. Next year I’ll have to make up for it and inject myself with jelly crystals and snort a few lines of sherbert, and won’t wake up until mid-February.

At work today I had just sent an email to my team leader I had been trying to put off. It basically went to the tune of “I’m leaving at the start of February unless some sort of more secure work magically turns up.” Note the secure, after the woman who accused me of unprofessional stapling practices was let go with one day’s notice. As soon as I hit Send, an email came out to the whole team that basically said the money which was funding my wages has run out. I could get the “Don’t Come In Tomorrow” speech any day now, or more likely the “Don’t Come In Tomorrow” e-mail.

To make matters worse, it’s slightly possible that I have am carrying chicken pox after my christmas day encounter with a highly contagious cousin. I’ve never had it, nor a vaccination, so I’m working hard to Glen-20 everything before I touch it. As a result, I’m in a semi-self imposed state of quarantine.

Finally, I’ll lead you into 2008 with a little story. For Christmas, my family bought a Wii. We played for hours and hours; tennis, boxing, baseball, all the games. The next day when I awoke, I couldn’t rollover. I was in so much pain I had to slide to the edge of the bed and kind of roll off. After a while it started to get better (carrying out certain bending actions still resembled my 97 year old great grandmother), but it wasn’t until I felt the second call of nature that I found myself in a real pickle. Getting the toilet paper was fine, but getting my arm around the stage door with the right pressure level was quite tricky. I had to use a kind of reverse psychology approach that I don’t care to explain. I considered the between your legs manoeuvre, but I have never done it before and this wasn’t the time to experiment.

The moral to this story? Poo before you Wii. Thanks, you’ve been a good audience.

3 minutes until 2008. Happy New Year!

For every good gift I receive, I seem to get three completely useless presents that only clutter my room until I find a way of getting rid of it or hiding it. Thanks to every one for trying, but in my books buying a gift for someone because they’re “on your list” is just demented. I appreciate the effort, but if it’s all the same, we might just call it quits for next year. That includes birthdays as well, but I’ve long had that policy for my birthday.

Some of the highlights include a pair of ugly brown shoes that I’ll never find an opportunity to wear, after specifically requesting black formal shoes after the last pair were damaged in the great storm walk of Nov ’07. The pair I received are those huge bulky, puffed-up shoes with suede on them that look like you’ve inverted two cows and are wearing them on your feet. I also received book by an author I haven’t read since I was twelve, and even then I only read one and a half of his books and eBayed them a few years ago. I received a bottle of Eau de Toilette that smells like a hotel shampoo, and a box of coffee flavoured chocolates – my most hated flavour.

The ultimate in gift crappery this year goes to my brother, after I bought him a DVD he wanted together with a hefty Amazon gift voucher. In previous years he’s done well giving me tickets to a show I really wanted to see but this year I scored a USB Exercising Mouse. This one I’m actually insist goes back. Not only is it hideous and stupid, but it’s PC-compatible only. I don’t care if I don’t get anything in return, but the burden should be on him to dispose of this thing.

In spite of the tone of this, I really did have a lovely Christmas and am in no way begrudging those who bought me the above gifts. It’s just a simple of matter of given the choice between receiving these gifts or nothing, I’d rather nothing. After all, excessive spending only boosts inflationary pressures, so next season, give me the gift of lower interest rates: Nothing!

I’m going to log off the internet now and never come back.

I was just listening to the soundtrack to the new Sweeney Todd film. The singing is universally weak and thin. I thought I’d do some reading while listening, and stumbled across someone who commented on how amazing a singer Jamie Campbell Bower is. She stated that he should play Phantom in Phantom of the Opera. She also used 55 exclamation marks.

I’ll catch you in about fifteen years when twelve year old girls stop singing A Little Priest at eisteddfods.