This weekend was rather docile, Rocker and I lolloped about in bed (steady) all morning, waking up at about noon, stumbling down the stairs eventually to watch the latest serial killer flick (Summer of Sam if you must know). Sunday was much the same, all good intentions out of the window when the great British weather let us down once again. Sometimes it really does get a bit much just having rain, rain or rain to choose from.

Roll on a lovely sunny bank holiday weekend not this weekend, but the next.

Work was quite blurry today, I don't think I actually did any. Brent called about three 'Let's touch base' meetings today, and I managed to doodle my way through them, relatively unscathed.

Fuckface thanked us for our hard work and smiled specifically at me. I nearly fell backwards off my chair. I'm sorry, you talkin' to me? (Then who the h*ll else are you talkin' to? You talkin' to me? Well I'm the only one here. Who do you think you're ...)

It's been relative bliss since he went to his own office. I never have to see his ugly mug. And we're reshuffling the office this week so the Credit Control gang can 'be togevver'. This means Medieval Girl and I can gossip all day. Hurrah!

Boy Mad went on and on and on for about 700 hours about being 'stalked' by her latest admirer. Oh why don't you. Just. Shut. The. Fuck. Up!