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What rhymes with bollocks?
Mar. 13th, 2006 10:30 amThe Society that I work for has just jazzed up our Intranet site and to celebrate this month's competition is to write a jaunty limerick about how fab the new site is, the first two lines are provided -As RedRoom begins a new day - clicking on, I feel moved to say? - and you fill in the rest. Fair enough. But the winner is being picked at random. What's the point of writing something when the winner is going to be picked out of a hat? There's no point trying to make what you are creating fun or witty if the content of the poem is has absolutely no bearing on whether you win or not.
I realise that this isn't important, not really, but it's irked me. I think it quite neatly sums up the way the Society works.
(Plus, being the sad person that I am, I usually enter the competitions and don't win – even when my captions are much funnier than the ones that win the caption competition. Feh.)
Yes, I have PMT. I'm just waiting to see what fun and frolics today's mood swings will provide.
The weekend wasn't bad. I went to a family party on Saturday; it was Tony and Peta's 40th wedding anniversary. Tony is my second cousin, or something; I don’t understand how all that stuff works.
It was okay really. It was just like family parties should be, I was surrounded by people I didn't know but was somehow related to, there was a dodgy disco with a DJ with a dodgy light display, little kids running around on the dance floor, ladies kicking off their high heels to dance in their stocking feet and a buffet with vol a vents and mystery dip. The only thing that was missing was the buffet didn’t have pieces of cheese, hot dog sausage and pineapple stuck on cocktail sticks. All good buffets should have pieces of cheese, hog dog sausage and pineapple stuck on cocktail sticks.
I watched telly on Sunday. Country File, stuff I had taped from the night before and some dodgy old film where the world is saved from imminent destruction by shooting a nuclear weapon at the thing that is destroying it – in this case a burning ring of gas surrounding the earth, I love how in old films just about anything can be solved by shooting a nuclear weapon at it.
Crufts was fab. There was synchronised heel work to music – which was a group of twenty people with golden retrievers marching around getting their dogs to sit and stay in time with Kylie Minogue, it made me laugh so much. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better there was a woman who put on a show with her dog doing pretty much the same thing. They 'danced', with the dog running in and out of the woman's legs and walking on its hind legs, to All That Jazz. It was complete insanity. I think I might have to go to Crufts next year to see it for myself
I have been thinking about the limerick. I can't think of anything nice and I don't think they would appreciate a snarky poem, I probably shouldn't submit this should I?
As RedRoom begins a new day
clicking on, I feel moved to say
what a pile of cack
bring the old one back
No one uses it anyway
I realise that this isn't important, not really, but it's irked me. I think it quite neatly sums up the way the Society works.
(Plus, being the sad person that I am, I usually enter the competitions and don't win – even when my captions are much funnier than the ones that win the caption competition. Feh.)
Yes, I have PMT. I'm just waiting to see what fun and frolics today's mood swings will provide.
The weekend wasn't bad. I went to a family party on Saturday; it was Tony and Peta's 40th wedding anniversary. Tony is my second cousin, or something; I don’t understand how all that stuff works.
It was okay really. It was just like family parties should be, I was surrounded by people I didn't know but was somehow related to, there was a dodgy disco with a DJ with a dodgy light display, little kids running around on the dance floor, ladies kicking off their high heels to dance in their stocking feet and a buffet with vol a vents and mystery dip. The only thing that was missing was the buffet didn’t have pieces of cheese, hot dog sausage and pineapple stuck on cocktail sticks. All good buffets should have pieces of cheese, hog dog sausage and pineapple stuck on cocktail sticks.
I watched telly on Sunday. Country File, stuff I had taped from the night before and some dodgy old film where the world is saved from imminent destruction by shooting a nuclear weapon at the thing that is destroying it – in this case a burning ring of gas surrounding the earth, I love how in old films just about anything can be solved by shooting a nuclear weapon at it.
Crufts was fab. There was synchronised heel work to music – which was a group of twenty people with golden retrievers marching around getting their dogs to sit and stay in time with Kylie Minogue, it made me laugh so much. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better there was a woman who put on a show with her dog doing pretty much the same thing. They 'danced', with the dog running in and out of the woman's legs and walking on its hind legs, to All That Jazz. It was complete insanity. I think I might have to go to Crufts next year to see it for myself
I have been thinking about the limerick. I can't think of anything nice and I don't think they would appreciate a snarky poem, I probably shouldn't submit this should I?
As RedRoom begins a new day
clicking on, I feel moved to say
what a pile of cack
bring the old one back
No one uses it anyway
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