Raging Bullshit

Isn't it funny, the way people can just be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or that they just might have picked the wrong person to piss off on a particular day?

I generally like to shut myself off from the outside world when I'm out and about. I don't like to listen to the sounds of traffic or machinery when I'm enjoying a leisurely stroll. I usually firmly implant my iPod headphones in my ears to counteract any of this extraneous noise. Listening to music on the go also insulates me against "smart" comments from teenagers and people who think they can get my attention so they can ask directions by driving slowly - kerb crawling if you will - alongside me while honking their horns. These I studiously ignore.

Occasionally, certain things will encroach upon my personal space, irritating me. A waft of stinking fag smoke from a passer-by. Idiots walking in a group, several persons abreast, thinking I'll step off the footpath for them (usually reserve my elbow for the nearest one of these). But these are accidental and unintentional.

The deliberate interference with other people in public is something I can't abide. Lecherous old men who think women are fair game and attempt to grab them. This has happened to me once and the perpetrator was on the receiving end of a "Go fuck yourself" from me and a stern warning from a uniformed Garda I knew.

Today was nearly as bad. I was walking close to the Department earlier on. I was somewhat preoccupied with a work related problem and was thinking about how I would approach the person responsible. All guns blazing, or softly-softly? Hmm. I prefer the former myself. But in the interest of future workplace harmony, I have to go with the latter. To make my temperament conducive to a gentler approach, I take out my iPod and begin shuffling it in the hope of finding a nice slow classical piece.

I had to settle on "Dancing with Myself" by Billy Idol, even though that wasn't going to achieve the effect I'd desired. I'd had to put the gadget away somewhat quickly as there were two boys walking towards me and there was something about their whole demeanour I didn't like. The iPod was in my pocket with my right hand closed firmly around it.

As the little fuckers passed, it turns out my instinct was correct, one of them did try to make a grab for it. Unsuccessfully, as my hand was around it, and remember, I was still in an all-guns-blazing frame of mind.

So if anyone was in the vicinity of the Department earlier on today and happened to see two boys running for their lives pursued by a swearing office worker, well now you know the story.

I didn't keep it up for long. I had no intention of catching them. I had better things to be doing you know. But I gave them a good fright and they weren't to be seen again. A couple of minutes later, I couldn't stop a broad grin from spreading across my face as I pictured the scenario. I've laughed about it to everyone I've spoken to since. Laughter truly is the best medicine and I did find that it diffused the tension I had been feeling where music couldn't.

The moral of the story? Leave Govstooge alone in public. This EO bites.

The Hate Issue...

As is my wont on this suppurating-pustule-on-a-greeting-card-company-marketing-executive's-arse of a day, I dedicate this post to the things I truly hate. Allow me to vent my spleen in the most bilious manner.

In no particular order, I bring you...

1. Hallmark holidays. I have been, for the greater part of my life, a singleton, and proud of it. I refuse to engage in any activity in pubs or restaurants on this date. I could have conformed and accepted the invitation to go out from an ex-boyfriend who has been getting back in touch, but instead I slagged him for being corny and made arrangements for next week instead. And to bring flowers if he wanted. Flowers that aren't marked up by 100% for the day that's in it. There's a recession on don't ya know. Oh, and Halloween is shite as well. They'll be exchanging cards for that next.

2. Our Government. They're completely shit. I don't blame Brian Cowen. I blame Bertie for dumping him in the shite. 1% income levy, stupid pension levy, soon I'll be paying the Department for the privilege of working there. And this is just the beginning. The Government have plans to cut spending right up to 2013.

As hundreds of people are made redundant every week, I am grateful for merely having a job, and acknowledge that we should make sacrifices (like the 3.5% pay increase on September 1st under the National Pay Agreement which has now been axed). What's pissing off many of us lower and middle-income public servants, however, is how we are being villified by the media, (did you know that as a post-1995 recruit, I was paying my own pension all along?) and also the fucking disgusting incompetence of senior bank executives, who have gotten away with murder!

No-one's going to have much sympathy for us paper-pushers if we go on strike, but why take it lying down? Steeeee-RIKE!

3. The bloke with a chocolate addiction who sits at the opposite end of the section to me. His man-boobs have increased from a B-cup to a C-cup since last summer, and worst of all, I can hear every bite. Even at that distance. Bleurgh. You disgusting noisy-eating bastard.

4. The wet patch in my back garden. It makes noise when I walk on it.

5. The voice of a worker in a neighbouring section that can be heard over a considerable distance. I'm sure she is a very nice person, but her voice could cut sheet metal!

6. The fact that the neighbour who backs onto me STILL hasn't taken down his outdoor Christmas decorations. I can see Santa on his roof as I type. Lazy twat.

Ummm.... that's about it. Must be losing my touch.