Wastefulness

Work this afternoon is mind-numbingly dull. So far, I've found it impossible to motivate myself to do anything resembling work at all. As is common in such circumstances, the internet has assumed the role of fellow-addict; luring me deeper into the realms of brain-rotting, life-wasting crappity crapness. I feel sick; sick and disgusted (in the same way I do when realising, upon waking, that my level of drunkeness the night before ended in the (complete) consumption of a deep-fried pizza supper.). So far, my colleagues and I (the boss is off) have taken a number of pish internet tests. Today I found out that I am:

Drew Barrymore (Which star should play you in a film?)
Owen Wilson (the male equivalent for the above test apparently)
Red (What colour are you?)
Leo (Which star sign should you be?)
Bree (Which Desperate Houswife are you?)
Smart-sexy (What kind of 'sexy are you?)
Hera (What kind of love goddess are you?)
destined to live happily ever after (What's your Cindarella story?)
Dorothy (Which Golden Girl are you?)

Despite my being a complete waste of tax-payers' money ... no, hang on, I don't work in the public sector, it's all OK ... what have I learned this afternoon?

1. I need a new job - one that excites and motivates me, or, more realistically, one that at least keeps me busy enough not to be wooed by sad internet addictions.

Action: I have a new job and am just waiting to break the news to my boss. This makes me feel slightly better.

2. I am in possession of a multiple personality. How else could you explain someone being likened to both Drew Barrymore (drug-fuelled, rebellious wild-child) and Bree from Desperate Houswives (uptight, anal, repressed, prudish, perfectionist)? Oh yeah, that's right, these tests could just be a big bag of old shite.

Action: These tests ARE a big bag of old shite. Stop wasting your time.

3: While these tests sometimes boost your self-esteem (you are smart-sexy. A good thing, though possibly only for lesbian relationships as most men I meet seem to prefer 'you are skanky-sexy') they also diminish it (you are Dorothy from the Golden Girls. What? The one that looked and sounded like a man? Yes. Oh. That's a bit pish, isn't it? Yes, yes it is.)

Action: As above. And, seriously, would you really have been any happier if it had said you were Blanche? I remember a former colleague likening the chief executive to one of the Golden Girls as part of an exercise on a teambuilding day. She overheard him and gave him the look of death. He immediately tried to extricate himself from his fate by saying: "I mean the sexy one." To which everyone else replied: "Dude, none of them were sexy."

Next week I plan to: get a life.