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Friday 30 July 1999

Do you like irony? I do. And no, I didn't say ironing, cos nobody likes that. Irony. I love it. Ironic. Want to know what's ironic? The day before I leave monster.co.uk, I apply for a job at a certain bisucit company. The contact had nothing to do with TMP (the monster's mother company) as far as I could see. So yesterday I get home and have a letter with the monster stamp on it. The monster stamp of disaproval. I thought, hey, it's probably my payslip that hasn't turned up or my P45. Is it P45 or some other P? I can never remember. Anyway, rip it open. OK, so that's exagerating, I open the letter and it's a TMP letter headed paper, saying that I couldn't have the job with the bisucuits at the biscuit company because they'd already filled all their vacancies. So why advertise? Anyway, that probably means absolutely nothing to you, but I thought it was ironic that I had spent ages at the Monster Board, applying for jobs which had absolutely no relation to TMP or could ever get back to the monsters that I was applying for jobs and then I leave and they know. It's not really irony is it, but I like the word, and I have not idea what other type of humour or comedy it is. My french teacher once tried to teach me the difference between things like wit, sarcasm and ironing and things but I never really caught on.

Apparently I'm getting temperamental. I have mood swings which no one sees except my parents and my brother, cos they have to live with me and they're the only people I feel safe to unleash this on. I sympathise with anyone who has to live with me. I'm moody at the moment apparently. I like to bottle up my feelings and emptions, but when I am forced to say what is wrong, I will and it opens a whole can of worms and whatever I say is wrong and I'm really not trying hard enough to solve my problems or look at them realistically. But my problems are big problems. OK, maybe not on an adult scale. I mean, I don't have to think about where my next meal is going to come from or how I'm going to pay off that mortgage, but my problems are my problems and I like to sort them out my way, not have someone diss them and say they're not real problems. OK, so my only problem is that I've got this new job and I'm still wondering whether I've made the right decision, but I try to say Never look back, you can never look back, but it doesn't work. I'm just in wibbly wobbley mode and I will eventually get out of it. I mean it's not like me to complain about not having work to do. I guess I should relax and prepare myself for the onslaught of work that will come my way soon. And then, I'll be so busy I wont have time to tell you anything about what's happening in my life.

My brother's off to Cambridge on Saturday, in case I haven't mentioned it yet, so we're going out for an eat everything Chineese meal tonight. It's one of these menus, where you can just keep on ordering more and more food and scoff all you can eat and more! Should be fattening!! Not that I care. I mean Anthea Turner's supposed to be keeping me in trim. So far she's pulled a muscle in the back of my thigh. I don't like the word hamstring, it reminds me of food, it's like pork on a rope or something. Maybe it's walking up to the fifth floor of this building that had done it, but I prefer to blame Anthea. I can call her Anthea, she's tortured me for 2 days now!!

Should anything further happen today that excites the pants off me, I'll let you know.

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