It will make a very, very good book. It is to do with work, of course, and cannot be spoken of.
In the meantime, I am here a lot, pinning things on imaginary walls and realising that I may in fact be a Danish lesbian. If I were the type of lady that does moodboards for her wedding hair, I would be in company. Thankfully, I am the sort of monkey that knows of the man who does this, and who also does this, so I am (mercifully) in good company.
For my next trick, I will join another call with APJ, bang that fucker on mute (as apparently they say), settle back with some lukewarm Jack Daniel's mixed with flat lemon sodapop, and watch "Smash"
Pip "China Team?" pip!
NWM
p.s. I have not forgotten about the caption competition
Regular readers will be aware of the work of Corndog The Cat, who had some kittens and hid them in the branches of a bush, where they all lived quite happily until she (Corndog) was adopted by my husband, a French-Canadian veterinary histopathologist (who enjoys pre-clinical safety biomarker validation). (The kittens were also adopted and not used in any pre-clinical trials.)
Here she is. Corndog. When I look at this picture, I think: it will not be physically possible for my adoring readers and/or fans to resist engaging in a "Caption Competion" when they see this snapshot!!!
Come on. You know you can't resist. So here you are. Give it your "best shot":
NB: no captions along the lines of "I am sad I am so fat I wish my owners would not give me so much food!", if you please, for the simple reason that passive-aggressive first-person anthropomorphism is just what it sounds like, i.e. a pile of wank. Plus we are not blind OR stupid, but it is hard to control this simple fact: Corndog is very fat because she is able to open the refrigerator door and eat all the butter. This is not a joke.
I woke early, just before six, and thought it was Tuesday; it was not; it was today, i.e. Saturday. I got up and thought, O I know, I will do the washing the ironing etc, have a shower, have a cup of coffee and maybe a boiled egg, and then I will go to the hairdresser and get the weird hair clump left over from the Amsterdam haircut cut out.
It didn't go well. The washing machine, which is cheap and accessed from the top, spun out of control and forced the water pipe to spring gleefully from its rear, causing a low-level flood. I mopped it up and thought, O I know, I will have a shower now. The tap ($600) came off in my hand and the water went all over the walls. I thought, O I know, I will have a cup of coffee. I put the coffee pot on (I have written of this before, many years ago), but before I could place it on the ring, the handle came off in my hand.
I had a go on some Wet Wipes and a cold tap and went to the hairdresser, which is precisely 2 minutes' walk from my house. On the list:
Eyebrow tidy
Colour
Haircut
Let me explain.
Eyebrow tidy
Fuck knows there's not much going right when it comes to my physical appearance, but my eyebrows have always been clear and unexcitable. I am afraid of 'tidying' them myself, though, as there is not much room for error; every 5 years or so I remember this, and get someone else to do it. They always look better, but as the ladies are plucking, they ask if if I have facials and I say I have had 2 in my life, and they say, but how is this possible?, as if I have said I have never had a bath. I will not go in to my theory on skincare (don't fuck about with it, use lots of moisturiser, people squeezing your blackheads is weird), but I think I left with a verbal agreement to go back so they can "cleanse my skin for the better accommodation of product". I am unlikely to honour the contract.
Colour
When I was about 21 I got a weird hormonal thing I and I got very fat and my hair (which until then had been thick and slippy) got thin and crap. That was OK but I am 42 now which means the colour is fading. I wouldn't care if I was going grey - in fact I would like it - but the colour of my hair is that of "un souris qui est en train de mourir très lentement", as I said to Bob (in a French accent), the "Colourist Host". I therefore have it coloured a bit so I do not look like I too am a mouse who is in the process of dying very slowly.
Haircut
For some time - despite a brief foray into the 'choppy bob with fringe', which suited me but was a pain in the arse to keep looking OK - I have shared a haircut with Dan Gillespie Sells, lead singer of one-hit wonders, The Feeling. There is no point arguing; it is the best haircut for me, unless a mentalist gets her misguided scissors on it in Amsterdam and makes me look like a portly visitor from the island of Lesbos. Today it has been righted.
Anyway, I managed to get through the eyebrow and colour bit before my hairdresser pointed out that I had toothpaste all over my chin. I take consolation from the fact that it was only on my chin, but wonder that I managed to make it through an hour without a) noticing it myself; b) having it pointed out by anyone else.
It is, now it is less disastrous, a strange day. My husband, a French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist who cuts his own hair, is in Geneva sulkily ski-ing with clients he does not like, and I am alone in Montreal where I moved about 4 years ago. It is at the weekends when you are alone in a city that is only 53% home with nothing to do that you realise that your oldest friends are not in the same place as you, and you rather wish you could see them. I also wish I could still be excited by 4 inches of snow, which is what I think is falling in England at the moment. (In Montreal people don't even put their proper coats on until it is -20 and there are 3ft on the front doorstep).
I do not talk about being homesick because there is no point; whining about it doesn't change anything, but still, I am feeling the distance and wondering if there is anything I can do about it, short of installing videoconferencing facilities (with conference phone option) in the sitting rooms of all dear friends and sending out a meeting request for a status meeting.
In other news, here is a film you should watch. I found it very funny.
Night draws in, and with it the prospect of our much-longed-for 10pm conference call with some people in "APJ", i.e., Asia Pacific Japan, i.e. Japan, China, India, Australia & Singapore. (We are in Canada.) I am going to write about it "on the go".
OK here goes. Dialling in.
If I need assistance I am to press 'star'.
Japan are saying hello! They are well, which I am glad to hear.
Someone in India is not listening.
Australia are on!
China are on!
This is amazing.
SOMEONE CALLED LANCE IS ON. Who is Lance?
China are not on. Oh hang on. Are they?
There is a dog barking.
We are giving China one more minute to join. I am not hopeful.
They are sorry about doubling up on the pdf.
China are going to be joining in one minute.
Japan cannot read the tracker.
There is a crashing sound. Someone has just gone on hold and some country and western music is playing.
Everyone is doing their email and Skyping their mums. I am typing my blog.
They are talking about timelines now and challenges. And dates.
China want some PSOM. I do not know what that is.
We aren't going to be able to give Japan the required material in time.
NEW MUSIC!! It is like Star Wars. Someone is saying 'hello' in an echo chamber. IT IS CHINA TEAM!!!
They are not aligned with the go-to-market team and India's toolkit is at risk.
We have passed the deadline.
THEY ARE PUTTING IT ON THE TABLE. China team are going to develop something - but we have to let them be aware of what we are developing.
No they are not. They are keeping the global version. Phew.
I do not understand what anyone is saying. They are now in a wind tunnel. No-one I work with understands either, but someone called "Susan" is being spoken about in revered tones by a lady in Singapore.
Someone is being pushed for the key visual. I do not like the sound of that one bit.
China Team wish to have the concept (I think).
I have literally no fucking idea what is going on.
Whatever it is works very well for China Team, but Friday is too late.
Unless someone says a big 'no' to something, there is 90% chance something may or may not happen.
Everyone is laughing but I do not understand the joke.
We cannot count on the global handover date!!!!! WHAT?!!! There is nothing funny about that one little bit.
Grace is OK on this. That's good to know. Who is Leslie? Concept lock that, ladies and gentlemen!
Final approval date, timeline, concreted global retail development toolkit scheduled.
Santa is on the line! He is OK with the copy being approved by February 14th. That's good.
OK we are going to talk about spiders now.
It's the music again!
"Oops", say Japan.
India are concerned that the carbon fibre will not look good on the newspaper and it is not done yet. No it is! They have the file and the results are coming back today. There may be feedback.
The man on the street may not be engaged by it. I am sorry to hear that.
I write to my husband, the French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist.
"We left Montreal at 4 in stupid stretch limo. Journey was supposed to take 1hr 40 mns. After 2 hours, checking
what time we would arrive on our phones, saw the twat had gone the wrong way. Someone also pointed out that we had gone across a river on a ferry at some point, which made no sense. Someone else pointed out that we were in Ontario. Driver didn't admit was lost. Stopped at shop for a wee, redirected driver who finally admitted he had taken 'a wrong turn'. Wanted to make up time so he starts driving across country in a snowstorm in a stretch limo
with the rubber falling off one of the windows and 0 (zero) snow tyres with 8 people
drinking beer in the back. Started skidding, ended up in a ditch.
Laughing so much we nearly weed in our pants. Some of the boys climb out (NB car is at 45 degree angle) to smoke cigarettes; Ontario Police come along, breathalyse driver, tell us we are not supposed to be drinking beer in back of car. I am by this point hiding under coat trying to have a snooze. Everyone posting on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram
etc; everyone at agency still sober enough to be replying; everyone freaking
out; us still laughing our heads off. Left agency at 4; by now it’s
8.
Wait another hour, man comes, tows us out, gets us on the road, we
keep driving. Arrive at 9.45. Dinner over, videos over. Everyone too pissed to notice us arriving and cheer - we are sad we are not centre of attention - so we go and eat dinner in the over-lit bar and drunk people ask us why we were in the ditch until we can’t be bothered to tell the story anymore. Laugh roundly at
irony that of all the teams to drive into a ditch, it would have to be ours. Then too tired to do anything else and hate office parties anyway (esp as average age of agency is 23 & as you know I hate young people) so go to bed at midnight. Bed bliss. Wake up at 7, have breakfast (omelette made by someone who calls me 'dude'), get back in limo (same driver) at 8 and drive back.
Now are on a conference calls. All day. Everyone else is doing dog sledding and showshoeing in a five star hotel in the country."
