A Sulking Post!

Today is a day for eating cheese and sulking.

Yesterday was a day for not getting a job and a landlord retracting his acceptance of the offer on our new flat.

The Temping Lady sent me to an interview without really telling me it was an interview, and it turned out badly. Nearly as badly as the time I auditioned for a pop group without realising it was an audition and nearly had to take off my clothes and pose in tacky lingerie for slathering bling-encrusted "producers" with expensive cameras and cheap expectations. Not quite as bad as that, but still not great.

I am cross today.

No harm done, I can tell myself in motherly tones. I didn't want a job I don't have the skills for, and I certainly did not want shots of me looking alarmed and semi-naked plastered all over the Internet.

(To avoid confusion: I was not asked to strip in the interview yesterday. I am referring to a whole different event, which took place years ago. It is just that I am a bit cross and so my capacity for making rational links is severely diminished.)

Elephants!

(See?)

Outside the world drizzles. Inside I sulk. I have a cold coming on and I feel fat. The dog just looked at me funny. It is, in short, all going very wrong.

However! I am singing on Friday at a cabaret night at The Good Ship in Kilburn. It is a fundraiser for a theatre company and promises to be a super-ace night, packed with jollity and tequila-slamming nuns. We are on at about ten-thirty, so if you're around do come along. If you can't make Friday then maybe you can make Sunday at Madame JoJo's instead? More cabaret, more fun!

No, it isn't working. I am resolutely not being cheered up. I have writing to do for a Secret Special Project I am working on in my lair, but all I want to do is sulk and be a bit dramatic, perhaps with a small slice of cheese.

Sulk.