apologies

No running today, as yet, and precious little time for blogging either. How can I work when I keep getting these emails saying “Topic - Run for the kids 2008 has been updated” every 20 seconds. Yes, yes, I know if I stopped answering them, they wouldn’t come. But, take that to it’s logical conclusion and I may, horror of horrors, have to do some work.

We can’t have that.

The Ausrun forum emails almost outnumbered the proper, hard-core spam today. My gmail account usually gets the “we can make your penis bigger/longer/faster/tastier/paint red go-faster stripes down the side” type things, but for some reason the world’s spammers decided when I’m at work I want to buy a dodgy watch. I’m bombarded with invitations to buy “genuyne” Rolexs and other brands who’s names I don’t recall. Odd.

Anyway, by mid afternoon I had finally wearied of look of photos of Jojo getting sloshed at 11am, so I earned my exorbitant salary with a brisk 20 minutes emailing, and then chooffed off home, ready for bed. If I make it that long, I may spend some time getting acquainted with Master Carey on Andrew Denton’s show, but only if I manage to fend off oblivion and unconsciousness for a few more hours.

“Oblivion and unconsciousness”, “Wayne Carey”. The two concepts have an odd sort of resonance together. Or is it me?

Time
If you happen to be one of those churchy types who think obivion’s just around the corner, you might have cause to be a bit nervous right about now. Eh? Why, you ask me? Because the very fabric of time is crumbling around us.

My computer says it’s 19:25, the lift at work thinks it’s 18:24, and the real time is???? Is there such a thing as “real time” any more?

My trusty, reliable, watch (which Em sneeringly referred to as “analog” on Sunday) thinks it’s last Tuesday. Actually, it thinks it’s Mardi, as it’s a bilingual watch that has somehow lost the ability to speak English. I can’t hide my disappointment: it only had to remember 7 words.