Come Fly With Me, Fly!

I have just been told that the person who is replacing me at work is a former Miss Universe entrant and I have to sit next to her for some days to teach her the job.

Be prepared for some serious crises in confidence that week. Apparently she is very nice and intelligent, and luckily I am the sort of person who does not judge herself on the relative merits of the person standing next to her. Even if that person does happen to be a fucking supermodel.

I will be attempting to buoy myself with things like "once I told a really good joke" and "I am quite good at drawing horses", but all in all I will need to be told I am pretty once or twice that week.

This morning I nearly got run over twice. Once was my fault, the other was not and so I was justified in my exclamation of "what the fuck?" and a brief eye-rolling exchange with a bus driver. I sort of enjoyed the eye-rolling. Like one of us had tutted and said "bloody cyclists!" and the other had replied "oh I know, they think they own the bloody roads" and we'd both shaken our heads in mutual disgust and taken a sip of our pints.

I walked past a group of schoolgirls this morning (shortly before the attempted murder by the cyclist) and one of them said "oh, that girl smelled nice!". I'm not sure whether she would say that, although I had sprayed myself liberally with my Eau De Merde Du Chien (Dior) just moments before. It is nice to have effort appreciated.

Tonight is the table football night, and I will be spinning away like crazy. I know it's cheating, but it doesn't actually benefit me to spin, I just enjoy it, so I don't see how it can really be bad. Naughty, perhaps, but not sinful.

I just told Tom that my replacement was going to be a supermodel/Miss Universe and he said "I hadn't really decided to replace you but, oh, alright then." Then I drew him a small horse and he quickly remembered his priorities. He knows which side his bread is buttered. (I'm not sure which side that is, hopefully the upper side, but as long as he knows it's probably alright.)

I must go and sulk for a little while, and wait for people to get in touch with me and tell me that, while I am no Miss Universe, I could safely be nominated for Miss Making A Fuss Out Of Nothing (2006) and be certain to get in the top three.