Jan. 25th, 2009

deathboy: (Default)
hoooo, boy.

I don't normally see 6am from this side, but it's my turn taking care of t' nipper. it's pretty harsh on my body-clock, but corben's so lovely to be around in the morning. he's got a generally sunny disposition, but he's a grinning angelic ball of fun this time of day.

The only thing that's starting to drive me insane is the kids' TV. I can pretty much dig In the Night Garden, it's deliberately soft and chilled, but the rest of the ADHD, saccharine stuff is driving me out of my mind. corben, sadly, loves it.

Mind you, the female presenters are uniformly, supernaturally hot - which seems, i don't know... odd... perhaps they're meant to be eyecandy for bleary-eyed dads...

Right. enough of this, I'm going to stick a duvet on my head and go tickle Corben's feet for a bit. he looks like he'd appreciate a random encounter with a duvet-monster. That'll learn him.

[edit]: ow. he delivered a swift ninja-kick to the duvet-monster's eye. that'll learn me.

phone rage

Jan. 25th, 2009 09:09 pm
deathboy: (Default)
So, I answered the phone to an unknown London number

Me: "Hello!"

Friendly-but-somehow-not-quite-right voice: "Hello there!"

"Who's that? Sorry, I don't have your number on caller ID!"

"Who am I? Well! *I'm* the guy from the cab company you called last night!" (Voice changing timbre as if to indicate someone revealing a nasty surprise)

"Wha?"

"Yeah, you know, the company you ordered the cab from to pick up in Chelsea at 4 in the morning, when you left him sitting in the street for half an hour before saying you wanted to cancel the cab..."

"Not me, mate!"

"Oh, so you weren't in Chelsea yesterday, then?" (accusatory, disbelieving)

"Uh, no, man. Camden, then Enfield".

"Oh, so your phone number's not 07966 blah blah blah, two wrong digits"

"No, mate. It's [my actual number]"

"Oh. oh well... well, sorry" [click]

When phoning up to deliver a self-righteous bollocking to a stranger, might I recommend double-checking you dial the phone number correctly you tit!

I wonder what he was planning to say to the time-wasting punter.

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