| .27 |
[16 Mar 2010|10:48pm] |
I am so tired of hearing about strangers' children! I work in a pub, people! A pub! If you think about it, I am deliberately trying to avoid children with every fibre of my being! But no, I keep getting fat old biddies with photographs of their grandchildren or their half-grown brats and I always smile and nod but sometimes they start talking about them, and for Merlin's sakes, if I have to hear stories about your stupid children when I could be sneaking shots in the back, I will be wanting a tip. Bloody cows. And sorry, but babies are ugly. They're hairless and their skin is eerily soft and they smell like Ben's attempt at Shepherd's Pie (that is to say, perfect shite).
I will put up with my dear friends' children and babies because they are my FRIENDS, but if I don't know you, DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN WHEN I'M ON THE CLOCK. Congratulations! You had sex! I hear it's common! Bloody hell.
And NO, I AM NOT A CREATURE OF EVIL. Urgh!!
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| .26 |
[04 Mar 2010|12:28am] |
It's sort of lovely not having massive amounts of death and all over this full moon. What's up with that? Anyway, today at Ben's it was a mad scene because there was this guy in there who was talking about how every werewolf should be silver bulleted on sight, which is sort of harsh in my mind, because there was that cute pop idol who came out of the beastly closet or whatever last year and admitted that he was a werewolf and he's much too pretty to die.
Anyway, so I usually let the crazies babble, but he kept asking me MY opinion on the matter, and I was trying to, you know, not GIVE it, but then he just kept right on and finally I told him that I thought that some werewolves were okay, and that not all were evil sons of bitches, and he got all quiet and raised his eyebrows and I really wanted to just back off after that. He got all loud, and Ben had to escort him outside, and once and for all, I am reminded why I always wear high heels:
It's so much more effective to kick a bloke in the nuts if he misbehaves.
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| .25 |
[21 Feb 2010|08:24pm] |
I don't know if anyone's interested, but I'm going to start singing in the waiting room. I've been here off and on since I got off of work. They're running out of chairs here - how terrible's that? They've been having to transfigure things into chairs. There's just so many injured people.
Anyway. Singing. I've not a bad voice and I've an awesome rack, so really, talent comes second, but I need something to take my mind off of my friend who's going to get better (dammit), so-- Requests? Imagine by John Lennon's first. There's this kid next to me who's sister was injured, and he's got a harmonica, so we'll start with that and see where it goes from there.
I feel like a big hippie, only I shave my legs and don't smell like rancid bologna.
Edited to add: And now a Mr. Smith - no, really! Mr. Smith - has brought out a triangle!
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| .23 |
[11 Jan 2010|06:56pm] |
So I've been trying to write an entry about the importance of cute footwear since like, mid-December, but tragic things keep happening to people I know so in an effort not to get yelled at for being shallow and inappropriate or whatever, I've been putting off writing it. And I was going to write it today at work (Platforms vs. Kitten-Heels: A Biped's Epic Struggle) but on my way to work this morning, there was totally a body hanging above the Prophet's archway, and now not only do I have nothing to say about shoes, but I'm pretty sure that I'm never eating again, and I'm also pretty sure that it was that fit reporter that had everyone griping about journalistic integrity or whatever. I don't even know. He's fit, so I don't care.
Anyway. I have no idea what to say because I'm sorry, and I'm sure that this is horrible for his family and loved ones and stuff, and it was pretty damn horrible for me, because I didn't go into Healing training for a reason you guys, and that was because seeing body parts like that really isn't my thing.
And now shoes are really not relevant to this conversation.
Though I suppose now is a good time to mention that wearing good running shoes will never go amiss.
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| .21 |
[02 Jan 2010|07:28pm] |
You know, now that it's 1980 and all, I want to drop Doris like it's a bad skirt and be known by a new name! And I don't mean by getting married either, though that's not meaning any offense to you ladies who are changing your last names! No, I want my first name changed! Wouldn't that be fun? Did you know that most popular girls names this year were Jennifer, Amy, Melissa, Michelle, and Kimberly? So much more fab than plain old Doris. But I still want my new name to be unique! Special! One-of-a-kind!
I think I'd like to be named Rio. That's a good name, isn't it?
Everyone! Call me Rio, now!
Also: New Year's was an utter bust this year, and I don't just mean because the night afterward everyone got munched. I had to work all New Years. I had three men offer to snog me at midnight, but they were all gross and now I feel all unfulfilled in addition to being poorly named.
Sigh.
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| .20 |
[14 Dec 2009|10:43pm] |
Yes yes, it's terrible what they're doing to the werewolves, even if the thought is SUPER-SCARY that Greyback's actually running around making evil fuzzy plans and all, but I can't help but wonder: if the werewolves can't have jobs, then how are they supposed to tip me? It's IMPORTANT. I've got a patriotic duty to stimulate the war economy and buy awesome shoes for New Year's Eve!
And yes, disclaimer time, I care about more than THAT, but... it just doesn't make much sense. Does it make sense to anyone else? I mean I don't want MY throat getting ripped out and all, but I can't help but think that if they're hungry because they can't buy a pint here at Ben's, they're more likely to just eat ME, and I've put on half a stone since school and am EXTRA-FLESHY and it's just terrible.
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| .19 |
[01 Dec 2009|08:50pm] |
I swear, there are some Christmas carols that should be banned from public hearing, FULL STOP. Every time I hear that bloody "All I Want for Christmas Is A Self-Stirring Cauldron" song I want to stab someone with my nail file.
How are all you beautiful people? How are all you ugly people? I'm honestly not certain that I'm looking forward to Christmas this year. Same with New Year's, really. It seems that anything big that happens, the bloody Death Eaters attack, so really, what's the point of celebrating? And that's a shame, because I know that I look forward to snogging in the New Year as much as the next girl. But I'd rather not lose my life for it, even if the snog's rather good.
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| .18 |
[13 Nov 2009|09:43pm] |
I'm going to see my brother this weekend! Danny's a monstrous pain in my arse, and he's getting married, oh my gosh! He's not telling my Mum because she doesn't like his girlfriend, but only because his girlfriend's a communist and believes that all things should be shared, or something completely fruity like that. I don't know, she told me about it, but I wasn't paying attention. Anyway, Danny's secretly engaged like a great big stupid-head and he asked me to help with the wedding, even though they're poorer than my Transfiguration mark and she's dyed her hair this completely hideous colour. It's going to be a small wedding thank MERLIN, I couldn't handle helping plan anything larger than fifty people. I don't know where they're even getting fifty people from, considering they haven't told their bloody families yet.
Danny's a Muggle, of course, and completely magically talentless, but he's really good at this stupid game where you pretend to be magical or demonic or something in a dungeon, which I guess is important or something because he's ALWAYS bringing it up, the great big square. Cee, his girlfriend, has abhorrent taste in footwear but I'm desperately trying to improve her.
Ben was a great big MEANIE yesterday. Wouldn't let me off work earlier, the bum. Made shit off of this one table who DIDN'T TIP ME, and I broke my bloody back for them. Public announcement time: IF THE SERVICE IS GOOD, TIP YOU FOOLS.
Also: ♥ ANDY GIBB!! ♥
And before I forget, my picture in my identification card makes me look like an anorexic panda bear. I needed more sleep the night before.
( Warded to the Tube: Underground Radio Station People )
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| 16. |
[01 Nov 2009|06:36pm] |
Well, I'm certainly never wearing high heels again. They're positively useless when running for your life. I'm just fine, but a lot of people aren't. My prayers are with those who lost others, unless you're a Death Eater, in which case death's too good for you. I don't care if that's cruel. They're cruel.
I gave away my shift at Ben's, but I wound up here anyway on my day off. Just drinking long and hard.
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| 15. |
[29 Oct 2009|09:08pm] |
Conclusion: Red nail polish is definitely classy on the right woman, and I've got the day after the masquerade off! EeeEeeE!
And I expect to be completely laid up the next morning from all the dancing I'm doing, so boys - don't be strangers, now.
Warded to Effie: Oy, you! Everyone's stupid! Don't let them bug you.
Warded to Edward Watkins: Modesty's the most amazing girl ever. If you hurt her, I'm going to tear off your fingernails and tie a hot coal to the quick. I hope you have a great time together! ♥
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| .14 |
[23 Oct 2009|07:50pm] |
Poll time! Red nail polish: Smacking of Cheap Street or classy on the right woman?
I've got a bet going with the guys and gals of Ben's. So this poll is important.
Cheap Street:
Classy: V ||
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| 12. |
[30 Sep 2009|11:46pm] |
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At least they didn't set fire to Madame Malkin's or something with cute clothes in it.
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| 11. |
[25 Sep 2009|02:51pm] |
Bugger it, if someone wants to come tell me that I never have to work again, then they can start passing legislation against sassy blonde Hufflepuffs! Please! I'd love it!
I'm mostly kidding, werewolves are scary but I don't suppose they're all bad, right? Maybe? Whatever. My brother's probably a werewolf; he's totally hairy and gross.
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| 10. |
[09 Sep 2009|11:15am] |
A masquerade ball is so romantic! It's like something out of a book, at least, if I ever bothered to read (reading's for squares).
I think I'll wear purple. I saw this beautiful purple dress with a gold star trim that swooped up the hemline all the way to the bust. I have big gold star earrings, and that way, I'd be totally OUT OF THIS WORLD HOT. Oh... though I suppose I'd better not write about my outfit, if my identity's supposed to be secret, right? Oh blast! I suppose it's a no on the purple dress, then.
What if you get to dance with a stranger, and it's so romantic and sexy and close, and then when everyone's unmasked at the end of the evening, you realise you were dancing with SOMEONE REALLY GROSS? HA HA HA! Gosh I hope that happens to people I hate!
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| 9. |
[01 Sep 2009|03:34pm] |
At work they were saying that Dedalus was killed. But that can't be right. Deddy wouldn't be out there! I mean, he didn't have anyone at the platform, I don't think, so there wasn't any reason for him to be around. Did he have relatives at the platform? I don't think... I don't... Well, it's a dirty lie to say he died. It's really mean to say something like that. I wish people would just stop talking about it!
Deddy can't be dead. He was just in here a few days ago! I saw him Saturday, or maybe it was Sunday, even. He was alive then! He was fine! I gave him a free pint on the house because he was so damn mopey and he was driving me CRAZY with it. Merlin, he's SO ANNOYING when he wants to be. So stop saying he's dead! He's JUST FINE. I'm sure someone's seen him. Who's seen him? He's got to be around here somewhere!
He used to tell the stupidest stories at school. They were so long and mad and DRAMATIC. Deddy darling, come over to Ben's! I want to hear one of your stories! Now stop doing whatever it is you're doing and tell all these people that you're not dead. You're scaring me! No more free pints for scaring me, you prat!
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| 8. |
[18 Aug 2009|10:18pm] |
Today at work some lady choked on a piece of lamb and Ben had to give her the Heimlich because he can't do healing spells for arse. For those of you who aren't Muggleborn (and subsequently FANTASTIC), the Heimlich is a procedure that's basically feeling up a person, but sanctioned by medical personal with know-how.
The lady spit the lamb all the way across the pub and it clocked some Pureblood twit in the back of his head. He howled for a half-hour about "WHAT SORT OF ESTABLISHMENT ARE YOU RUNNING" and "I DEMAND A BARRISTER" and all sorts of exciting things.
It was awesome!
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