Ooooh narky

So yesterday my mood was darker than an Arab plot to steal the world’s lightbulbs.

My credit card was used to open 30 internet porn sites – and I still don’t have access to any of them. Nor do I have a functioning card.

My Satellite connection went down, meaning that I had to choose between watching the finale of Hell’s kitchen and the semi-dénouement of Treasure Hunters. Ramsey won by a ‘camp head’ but I’m still kicking myself. The guy was supposed to be here between 8am and 10am; at 8.15 he called and said 12:00 and 3pm. If he doesn’t make it by 3pm I’ve arranged to switch to cable and they’ll be here by Friday.

My conversation regarding new jobs, fresh horizons and the like hit a familiar speed bump – work permit. It’s a long story and lawyers are ‘hopeful’ but I’ve been here before and can feel heart sinking.

My oncologist called, to arrange first scans in September. I started to cough immediately and now can feel huge lumps in my ‘Thymus.’ The thymus is sold by butchers as sweatbreads. Lovely. Will have dates soon.

Am spread too thin (‘too thin’ and me have been strangers for a while now) and sleeping too little (no wonder Thatcher went doolally) and flying too much – though I’m going to try video conference for the first time this week. I hope it works.

What else, what else? Working, along with the rest of New York on a big beer pitch. It’s the same old problem – ubiquity leading to invisibility. Nudity is only interesting in context – spend six weeks at a ‘nudist colony’ and it loses its power.

Anyway am trying to dial in on a conference call but the number keeps putting me through to a woman who offers me hot singles in my area. Very odd. Must get that sorted.