This, generally, has been a tough week. I don't really want to go into it, but the result is that me and my glamorous other half are no more. She wants to be my glamorous ex-other half. Shit, ain't it?
Still, I could throw myself into my work. I'd rather throw myself into a threshing machine, but seeing as I live in the ultra-urban conurbation known as Birmingham, threshing machines aren't exactly ten-a-penny. There is Thresher's, however, where you can purchase a whole range of stuff that your sorrows can learn to swim in.
My work is shit. Literally. We had a meeting last week where all us fully-grown shop-floor employees were called up to the canteen and were told by our foreman and shop-steward that we're not to shit on the seats of the toilets. Thanks for the advice. I've told you all before about the knuckle-dragging cro-magnons I call my colleagues, and their toilet habits. Well, apparently, our cleaner has had enough and she's refused to clean up the big chunks of faeces that have inexplicably ended up stuck to the bog seat. Fair play to her. It was at this precise moment that I decided I really, really don't want to work there any longer (if it wasn't for the Jane Eyre fiasco I wouldn't have been, by now.) I've decided to re-train myself. I don't know what as, yet, but like the cleaner, I can't put up with this shit any longer.
In other news, the Arts team at Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery (The people I did the ArtsChampion leaflet for, last summer) got in touch with me today and told me thay want to give me another three hundred quid, as they're going to put the above image on the side of a couple of vans that they're using to promote the scheme. Though it's probably not the work I'm most proud of, it has earned me a fair bit of cash, and given me some free publicity. Thank fuck for the ArtsChampion! (despite the fact Jonni called him the ArseChampion!)
So, if you're in the sprawling Second City at any point in the future, and you see an ArtsChampions van, you now know who did the picture. For what it's worth.
2 comments:
Can I give you a (non-gay) hug?
I like the Arse Champion picture but not the shitting on toilet seats. Who/hpw/why would anyone do that?
A hug is always welcome, but if I feel anything poking me...
Thanks for liking the 'Champion, and as for why someone would shit on a toilet seat, it is beyond me. It's like my foreman said, though " If you are going to shit on the toilet seat, don't, basically."
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