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izmeinaIzzie has been a most lazy serpent. A forecast of rain was just the excuse she needed for afternoon snoozies after a long day at work this morning.
Tomorrow the new roster with the pissy 5-9pm evening shifts starts. Great for one's social life and for extra lurking in Cyberia but not so much fun when pay day comes.
Izzie intended to get up around 4pm and then head off on a coffee crawl until 7pm before catching the bus to the Min. But the serpent basket was way too snug and cozy and the coffee crawl ended up being the pokie little pie shop around the corner from the Netcafe. There is no decent cafes in this place within walking distance after about 5pm. Iz goes mainly to read the papers and squiggle postcards and stuff.
So the pie shop was on the menu. But that was until Iz got to the front door with her green bags and keys. Suddenly Iz seen a sleek tawny thing slink past at the speed of lightening and make a bee line for the upstairs bedroom. Yessss - only once did the resident queen of Cats (Who Iz used to call Smokie but now calls Sitella in memory of her favorite Fairy Godmother) ever sneak into the Izzie lair and strut around and stare at the Iz as if to say - now go get me some milk and tasty fisheses and then go piss off.
Yessss. The clever creature had been casing the joint ever since and took advantage of the opportunity.
Iz did not want to leave the house with the Cat locked inside so she had to go. Three times Iz managed to get her out from upstairs but she kept slinking back again.
After about 15 mins or so Iz finally got her out into the garden. Some other day she will get invited in when the Izzie is at home for the day and then she can play with the mousies that the other Queen of Cats sent to the Iz and who sit contentedly in their place of honour in the Izzie Serpentine Shrine.
When Iz finally hit the road, it was already 6.45 and the pie shop while still open had all the chairs stacked up and were obviously packed up for the night. Mikasa - the local Japanese/Indonesian kind of joint did have the papers but they were all two weeks old and anyway nothing in their cupboards was kosher. Iz ended up having a rather ghastly cup of 'coffee' at some other greasy chopstick Chinese joint. At that stage the cheapest option of actually BUYING the newspaper was no longer available.
On the way back from the Min enroute to the nasty netcafe where the Iz is now (and where she definitely cannot download any LJ archives) was a most fascinating story about a new movie in the USA which will be on Izzie's must see list. Apparently this thing was made for only a few hundred thousand dollars and shot straight to number one on Amazon in dvd sales and stuff. It's about as fair and balanced as it is possible to be and the Iz is just dying to see it. As far as the Iz is concerned, a special spot in the ninth inner circle of hell is reserved for the likes of that mudblood filth Rupert Murdoch and his ilk.
Lots of residents and staff at Izzie's day job are die hard addicts of Jerry Springer. Iz thought he was bad but he seems like the essence of posh and polished politeness in comparison to the lumpen ogre O'Reilly something or other from Fox "News"
They played an excerpt from the movie where this foul and filthy lapdog 'interviews' one Jeremy Glick whose father was killed in the 11 September bombings. This was simply the most outrageous and disgusting ritual humiliation and display of ignorant arrogant vulgarity that Iz has ever had the misfortune to hear on public broadcast. It's a bit of a worry when even ex CIA and FBI agents are less afraid of speaking out in public than the chickens in the fox den.
Izzie is curious if any of her serpentine associates have ever heard of this incident. Iz got the impression that Mr Glick junior would have only be about 16 or 17 which makes it even more disgusting.
Izzie would so so like to leave Mr Reilly alone in a room with Private Lyndie England and a pack of rottweilers. (Yesss...the evil Izzie buttons are easily pushed)
Izzie is happy to have found some rather tasty snippets for the great lifejacket debate on Friday. The only problem now is to avoid the temptation to go totally overboard.(Yesss. Izzie knows this snippet came from a newspaper of the evil fox empire but here the odd dissenting voice still manages to get printed)
Such a pity Izzie has nothing in her wardrobe that would suggest grey shades of Cornelius Fudge. A green bowler hat will simply not do and Izzie has no trouserses at all in her clothes cupboard under the stairs.
Tomorrow the new roster with the pissy 5-9pm evening shifts starts. Great for one's social life and for extra lurking in Cyberia but not so much fun when pay day comes.
Izzie intended to get up around 4pm and then head off on a coffee crawl until 7pm before catching the bus to the Min. But the serpent basket was way too snug and cozy and the coffee crawl ended up being the pokie little pie shop around the corner from the Netcafe. There is no decent cafes in this place within walking distance after about 5pm. Iz goes mainly to read the papers and squiggle postcards and stuff.
So the pie shop was on the menu. But that was until Iz got to the front door with her green bags and keys. Suddenly Iz seen a sleek tawny thing slink past at the speed of lightening and make a bee line for the upstairs bedroom. Yessss - only once did the resident queen of Cats (Who Iz used to call Smokie but now calls Sitella in memory of her favorite Fairy Godmother) ever sneak into the Izzie lair and strut around and stare at the Iz as if to say - now go get me some milk and tasty fisheses and then go piss off.
Yessss. The clever creature had been casing the joint ever since and took advantage of the opportunity.
Iz did not want to leave the house with the Cat locked inside so she had to go. Three times Iz managed to get her out from upstairs but she kept slinking back again.
After about 15 mins or so Iz finally got her out into the garden. Some other day she will get invited in when the Izzie is at home for the day and then she can play with the mousies that the other Queen of Cats sent to the Iz and who sit contentedly in their place of honour in the Izzie Serpentine Shrine.
When Iz finally hit the road, it was already 6.45 and the pie shop while still open had all the chairs stacked up and were obviously packed up for the night. Mikasa - the local Japanese/Indonesian kind of joint did have the papers but they were all two weeks old and anyway nothing in their cupboards was kosher. Iz ended up having a rather ghastly cup of 'coffee' at some other greasy chopstick Chinese joint. At that stage the cheapest option of actually BUYING the newspaper was no longer available.
On the way back from the Min enroute to the nasty netcafe where the Iz is now (and where she definitely cannot download any LJ archives) was a most fascinating story about a new movie in the USA which will be on Izzie's must see list. Apparently this thing was made for only a few hundred thousand dollars and shot straight to number one on Amazon in dvd sales and stuff. It's about as fair and balanced as it is possible to be and the Iz is just dying to see it. As far as the Iz is concerned, a special spot in the ninth inner circle of hell is reserved for the likes of that mudblood filth Rupert Murdoch and his ilk.
Lots of residents and staff at Izzie's day job are die hard addicts of Jerry Springer. Iz thought he was bad but he seems like the essence of posh and polished politeness in comparison to the lumpen ogre O'Reilly something or other from Fox "News"
They played an excerpt from the movie where this foul and filthy lapdog 'interviews' one Jeremy Glick whose father was killed in the 11 September bombings. This was simply the most outrageous and disgusting ritual humiliation and display of ignorant arrogant vulgarity that Iz has ever had the misfortune to hear on public broadcast. It's a bit of a worry when even ex CIA and FBI agents are less afraid of speaking out in public than the chickens in the fox den.
Izzie is curious if any of her serpentine associates have ever heard of this incident. Iz got the impression that Mr Glick junior would have only be about 16 or 17 which makes it even more disgusting.
Izzie would so so like to leave Mr Reilly alone in a room with Private Lyndie England and a pack of rottweilers. (Yesss...the evil Izzie buttons are easily pushed)
Izzie is happy to have found some rather tasty snippets for the great lifejacket debate on Friday. The only problem now is to avoid the temptation to go totally overboard.(Yesss. Izzie knows this snippet came from a newspaper of the evil fox empire but here the odd dissenting voice still manages to get printed)
Such a pity Izzie has nothing in her wardrobe that would suggest grey shades of Cornelius Fudge. A green bowler hat will simply not do and Izzie has no trouserses at all in her clothes cupboard under the stairs.
