Tag Archives: hulk

Friday Fails…

Everything anyone has ever said about weddings is true. Especially the come down.

I genuinely had the worst case of man flu that has ever existed….True story!!

I felt particularly sorry for myself, but I have now sucked it up, manned up,  and I am well on the road to recovery.

That is, except for the extreme exhaustion I am still feeling. This is a whole other level of exhaustion, it’s some kind of nasty life sucking, energy draining beast.

I can’t even think clearly, I am desperate to blog properly again, but I can barely drag… and I do mean drag myself out of bed, let alone blog. Whatismore, for medical reasons I am having to withdraw from caffeine…

This has led me to do a really good impression of death warmed up right now, I am also throwing in a pinch of the lights are on but no ones home just for good measure. I am not functioning. I don’t understand sentences, I cant text and this blog will ruin me for at least a few days!! 😛

Basically I am so tired I am totally incapable of doing anything… Apparently I am not young enough to do a typical Sacha and burn the candle at both ends and in the middle, and get away with it. I am paying a steep price… I look like the kid in the picture!!

 

Today was an epic failure, but Friday was so so much worst.

Friday…

Actually Thursday night…. We went for dinner with some friends and the usual Gran Canaria pride chat  came up again. After much discussion it was decided that like this year we would all go.

This year was epic, there was a group of about 10-15 of us that went, and it was genuinely one of the best weeks of my life. Anyway. I go to book the hotel, pay for it, and then realise I have booked the wrong dates. Fuck.

I ring the hotel in Gran Canaria, try to have a Spanglish type conversation and establish that its too early and I need to ring the travel company and sort it with them. Which I do and just about get it sorted after some serious fannying about on their behalf.

So I search for flights but can only find flights for the furthest airport away from us. ugh. But decide that I would rather book early than wait for the price to go up just so I can get a closer airport.

I book the flights, and go to bed happy.

Friday morning…

I wake up seriously bleary eyed and had to forcibly rip myself from my cosy warm bed and into the shower. Whilst I am showering I realise that I feel like something is wrong with the booking.

I pick up my mac and open the receipt page for the booking, everything looks fine. I open up the web page to manage my booking and to my horror, they have messed up my surname… (we have double barrelled btw). So I am particularly irritated at this point already seeing as I fucked up booking the hotel. I ring the stupidly expensive phone line and get half way through sorting the problem and the phone gets cut off.

RAGE.

It is at this point that I look back at the web page and utter horror washes over me, as I look at the dates.

I booked the wrong fucking dates.

How did I do that?

HOW CAN I DO THAT????…. twice?? for gods sake.

I go back to the search page just to make sure I am not going insane and I did actually search for the right dates its just the piece of shit web companies mistake for showing the wrong flights… and possibly mine for not double checking. *cough*

At this point, I am having to really suppress Hulk back down. I am also  late for work, have no caffeine, no breakfast and I need to ring the company to sort this out.

I get on the phone to one of them and they tell me to ring the airline direct.

More rage.

The airline tells me thats no problem they will change the dates and my name and wipe the admin fee… but the flights are more expensive. like £90 more expensive.

Not happy.

It is at this point I am now REALLY late for work, and I go to gather up my bag and stuff for work. I get flustered because I have had no breakfast and now cant find my wallet.

The wife rings… “Babe I just found your wallet in my car… do you need it?”

RAGE.

Of course I need it. So instead of going to work, I have to drive to her work to pick up my wallet first.

I check my diary to make sure I am not going to be late for a meeting and just my luck I have a 9:30am meeting booked in. Luckily its with someone who is ALWAYS late, or just doesnt turn up. Plus they didnt accept the meeting request, so I am pretty sure that they wont be coming.

I run into work throw my laptop on the desk and ring the guy I am meant to be meeting, who of course, today….is waiting for me in the canteen. Fuck.

So I have to run to the canteen, I get three quarters of the way there and realise I left the single most important piece of paperwork I needed in the office. At this point I am sweating and flustered. So I have to bolt back to the office rifle through a mountain of papers just to find one thing!!

When I get there. He has the smelliest, most tasty looking coffee, and I am beyond envious. withdrawal is not fun.

The last fail I managed to rack up on Friday was epic on a huge proportion.

I like to think of myself as technologically ‘with it’ I know how to use most technology without being told how, I like techy things, and generally I am very careful about which profile I use to say what.

Apparently, not when I am tired.

I managed to tweet my boss from my Sacha_black profile without realising, and inadvertently gave him access to my blog, my twitter, my rants… everything. #fml.

I just need to sleep. But my cats like to see to it that they get fed at ridiculous o clock in the morning, or let out, or in, whenever they see fit even if its at 2,3,4 or 5 am.

Even my work mate turned round to me today and said…

“mate… dont take this the wrong way… but you look like shit!!”

Great.

Conniption- My Secret Inner Hulk

con·nip·tion/kəˈnipSHən/

Conniption
Noun: A fit of rage or hysterics

Conniption

I am literally the poster child for conniption, and angry lesbian!

As my dear friend likes to tell me on a regular basis.

I tend not to ‘do’ many emotions other than extremely angry or extremely happy.

This causes problems.

Mostly for other people, but occasionally for myself.

Particularly when people can’t handle me, and they make me feel like I need to moderate myself on their behalf. We don’t tend to stay acquainted for long.

Working in the public sector being a conniption is a massive problem.

People are often unsure how to take me, I am admittedly slightly unstable, (in a conniptiony type way- not mentally!) and they are never sure if I will react to something with a fit of rage, or a fit of hysterical laughter.

When someone has something important, or controversial to tell me I can see their unconscious wincing before they open their mouth… and then they brace themselves for whatever reaction they might get.

If I had more of a heart I’d feel bad about it. But I shan’t apologise for who I am, and if I missed a few emotional DNA strands along the whole birthing process well that ain’t really my fault is it?!

Thing is, usually I respond with red rage. This is normally a burst of momentary rage.

I would speak loudly.

(This is most important. I find it highly irritating that people always tell me that I shout at them.

I don’t

I am loud ALL THE TIME! Just because your little ears can’t handle any noise above a whisper, does not mean I am shouting)

I might spew some profanities at whomever had irritated me this time. This adds to their perception of me shouting.

I am not shouting. I am talking loudly, and….passionately.

And thats another thing. Why do people always take my passion for aggression?

I am loud, and passionate, therefore I MUST be aggressive?

AND WHY, why do they try to make out like its a bad thing, and make you feel bad for it?

Well I don’t, I am entirely proud of me, and won’t be made to feel bad about it.

Generally after an outburst of my inner hulk If you give me five minutes, I am over it.

They usually aren’t… for quite some time.

I don’t get this.

If people stopped getting offended all the time, we would all get on a lot better. People say offensive things to me all the time, you don’t see me crying over it.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” “sticks and stones”

For example, my manager recently told me:

” You really need to be a little bit less Sacha. Your personality is a risk to your reputation.”

I instantly felt my inner hulk smashing at my skin to get out.

Inner Hulk

I managed to contain my inner hulk.

Just.

However I did have several mental senarios run through my head – mostly of jumping across the desk and savagely punching him in the face, knocking a few teeth out and wiping the satisfied smirk smile off of their face.

I did none of them and contained myself, with great mental sacrifice.

After an hour long lecture from my manager about how I need to moderate myself, and how bad my personality is blah blah blah… As I left the scene of crime, my manager had the cheek to tell me not to get road rage on the way home.

Cunt.