The Scottish layabouts are still in bed too, don't forget.

I'll have a coffee, thanks. White, no sugar.

Well, maybe it's splitting hairs but, while I may be an arsehole, I'm nobody's asshole. I'll have a coffee thanks - just a touch of milk, no sugar.

you can take the boy out of the states ...

I'm working from home today, have finished a briefing paper on Disability Discrimination, as well as drafting a couple of decisions on my casework.

In view of the weather forecast, which says it'll snow tomorrow, my next task is to go to Morrison's for a big shop.

Well, maybe it's splitting hairs but, while I may be an arsehole, I'm nobody's asshole. I'll have a coffee thanks - just a touch of milk, no sugar.

you can take the boy out of the states ...

Ah, here's the thing. I can't really win.

If I type ARSEHOLE, then people say things like "Fucking jerk - doesn't he know that he's American? He can't use English in that way. He isn't ALLOWED. He has to speak, think, and type in an American fashion FOREVER, even though he never plans to return to the states and is already working towards getting full UK citizenship."

If I type ASSHOLE, then people say things like "Fucking jerk. He lives in England now. Can't he spell properly? Jesus. Get the boy a dictionary. If he's going to embrace his new homeland, he's going to have to learn to communicate."

I brought this on myself, dg. I know. Some complete dickwads on metafilter attacked me the other day for just this sort of thing... like I'm not allowed to state a preference for any country (or set of customs) other than that of my birth. Fucking Philistines... they really pissed me off.

Typically, I wrote a rather unwise and vitriolic post about it here and taz was forced to delete it. Jon did spare a few kind words for me, though. He's the only person (who was inclined to dislike me for my choices) that I've been able to persuade that I'm not some sort of Anglophile wannabe twat. Fuck, man, he even called me a LIMEY.

The Scottish layabouts are still in bed too, don't forget.

I'll have a coffee, thanks. White, no sugar.

The Scots are all still drunk from Hogmany.

*makes coffee for chrismear*

Whatever made you think you were supposed to win?

Now, where's my fucking coffee?

I'm working from home today, have finished a briefing paper on Disability Discrimination, as well as drafting a couple of decisions on my casework.

Sounds like you're having a productive morning.

In view of the weather forecast, which says it'll snow tomorrow, my next task is to go to Morrison's for a big shop.

Here's my story. I went to Morrison's recently to buy some shit, and I got a hair dryer. I don't usually use one, but I don't like going out with a wet head in the winter.

When I got it home, it was broken. The back of the thing was all smashed. So, I took it back.

When I got there, the (female) teenaged Morrison's Customer Service Representative was flirting with some boys. She looked supremely annoyed to see me.

"What?" she asked, tersely.

Pulling out a receipt, I said "I bought this hair dryer the other day, and when I got it home, it was broken."

[accusingly] "How did that happen?"

"I've no idea. It must been damaged during shipping."

[rolls eyes] "I can give you a voucher for £8.99 but you have to use it right away." She grumpily scribbles on a card and hands it to me. Then, she turns back to the boys she was talking to.

British Customer Service at it's finest. It's fucking amazing, really, that anyone in this country manages to get any service at all.

Rule of thumb: don't shop at Morrison's. Or Argos. Or PC World. Or Tesco. Or Asda. Or Boots. Or, or, or, or...

Whatever made you think you were supposed to win?

That is the best answer I've been given since my Philosophy professor told me that I'm meant to suffer (then proceeded to make a drunken pass at me).

Now, where's my fucking coffee?

Here you are, Sunshine. *grins*

No, I don't want to go back work. I probably have 300 emails to read since I've refused to log in on vacation for the last two weeks. And it snowed last night. Bleh.

I have 12,936 emails (no joke - that's how many are on my email server). Most of them are about my penis.

James: The same procedure as last year, Miss Sophie?
Miss Sophie: The same procedure as every year, James!

*sigh*

chillmost, your response is most eductional (as ever).

What shall I pour? White Wine? Port? Sherry? Champagne?

OK, I'm at work now. Happy, you damn jagoff? (That's Pennsylvania for arsehole).

Aargh! CW, it's sherry, white wine, champagne and port, get it right for heaven's sake!
(That's a cult classic you're messing with, it has to be THE SAME PROCEDURE as every year!);)

oh, and just finished work, make mine a mulled wine!

(That's a cult classic you're messing with, it has to be THE SAME PROCEDURE as every year!);)

Apparently, it has been broadcast more times than any other show, ever. I had no idea what it was until earlier! I'm still catching up.

I'm a Canadian layabout that just got up. I start work tomorrow! Wah!

Yay...work means metachat!

Sore throat, probably a sinus infection, so tea, please & thank you. I am at work, slacking. The great thing about an IT job is that no one can tell that you're typing on MeCha and not typing evaluations. I'm avoiding typing evals because I hate to type. and I hate evals. I like slacking. Slacking is good. However, I must go visit someone's bluescreened machine. Carry on.

theora55, I, too am an IT monkey. I need to be in Coventry, Reading and Leeds simultaneously tomorrow. Any suggestions?