'Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself' indeed...

I'd forgotten how horrible call centre work is when you're overhung. It's just as bad when you're learning how to do it, as I am now. At FirstSource there's one computer you can use teh Innernetz on, and Facebook doesn't work, so I might as well try to bash my brain into order by writing something. Tried to read some of Heart of Darkness there. I could feel grey matter dripping onto my shirt, so I called a halt to that. And I took all the skin off the middle knuckle of my middle finger playing an air conditioner like a reco-reco in Lavery's. Helluvan enyjoyable though.
I've been thinking about this- the last time I bothered my arse dancing on a night out for any more than thirty seconds at a stretch. Time was me and Laughlin would pull outlandish shapes until one of us got hit for spilling someone's drink or girlfriend or something. Wonder why I stopped? But the point is I bothered my arse making a tit of myself, rather than working on getting as blocked as possible in as comfortable a fashion as possible. And it was great craic. I remember the buzz now, of actually having to sit down for a while and take stock, pick things out of the blur of stuff happening, and not just sitting on my hands and then wondering why I've got no money left and naught but frown lines to show for it. Someone remarked last night than I've become awful quiet recently. Self-consciousness seems to have snuck up and bike-locked itself round my neck without my noticing it. Must try and do something about this.