Alex keeps taking the piss out of the group I'm with for the research module at uni. We're all mature students who have worked in proper jobs before, and therefore we have experience of organising things effectively. We all want to do well, we've all sacrificed a lot to be doing this degree...so therefore we're very dedicated.

Alex things we're like the geeky kids in the corner. I think he wants to throw paper aeroplanes at our heads.

We all met up this morning to practise our presentation for Monday, leading to Alex sending me the following mean text message:
"How was your executive power meeting? Was it all proactive*? Did it give you all the chance to touch base?"

I think it's a bit uncalled for, really.

* I hate business buzzowrds. I think I may have mentioned this in another entry, so I won't go into it here...but ugh. They make me feel all itchy around my ears. I can't stand them.

IT'S NATIONAL 'BE MEAN TO KATE' DAY...

My sister has been at it as well. In the middle of an msn conversation last night she asked if I'd been dense at all, then sent me this.

Soon followed by this:

Do you think she's trying to tell me something?

THE CATS ARE ALL BROKEN.

Firstly, I just want you to see this photo of Carrott being Dictator Cat.

Don't you think he looks like he's missing his globe? Like he should be stroking at his chin in a menacing and knowing manner? Like he should be telling James Bond that he's been expecting him?

But yes.

I realised yesterday that all the cats I've ever been around have been broken. We've got our two; Carrott - gay and has to suck his tail while he's falling asleep, and Flea - small, fat, says "bless you" if you sneeze. My cat when I lived with my parents, Phoebe, was like Hannibal Lecter in small furry packaging. Then there's Bunty, the current parental cat. This picture tells you all you need to know.

What is it we do to our animals that fucks them up in their heads so very effectively? And is it a wise idea for me to be trying to raise a child...?

OH NO...WRATH OF THE MIDWIFE

Buggerit. I've got a midwife appointment in about an hour and I DON'T HAVE A BOTTLE OF WEE. We don't have any wee-bottles. There is nothing in the house in which I can trasnport wee to the doctors.

Midwives - they want your wee.

Midwives - they get angry when you do not give them wee.

Buggerit buggerit. I hate it when people are angry with me.

AND ON THAT NOTE...

If I want to avoid invoking further midwife wrath through lateness, I should probably bugger off and get myself hence to the doctors.

IT'S REALLY STARTING TO GET UNCOMFORTABLE NOW...

GO ON, HUG A WEEBLE - IT'S FOR A GOOD CAUSE.


give Kate-Lee more *HUGS*Get hugs of your own