She got tha moves

My new craze is Salsa. The dancing, not the dip. Though the dip is pretty funky too. Oh, didn't I tell you? I kicked guitar to the curb. My teacher just wasn't down with my personal sound. Also, he had a strange obsession with girls having good posture whilst playing guitar. Yeah. So, instead, Mags and I are going to become fantastic Latin-type movers. It's going well so far. And when I say 'going well', I mean that we turned up, paid an obscene amount of money for what seems to be a slightly more energetic form of line-dancing, got scolded by a stone-cold Spanish bitch of an instructor and looked like full-on tools. Without dancing a step!

I'm a PAYE drone! Like, for real!

I don't know about this 'new job' malarky. Yeah, I get these important-looking keys that swing off my belt and make me look really cool, and I get money for going in there every day, but otherwise, what is it really doing for me? I mean, my sleep pattern is totally thrown off with these early mornings. And my gratutitous internet browsing is really down. There are literally thousands of gossip blogs and web cartoons going unread by me on a daily basis. Until half an hour ago, I hadn't checked my emails in two days! Yeah, I only had seven new mails and four of these were from myself on my work email saying 'hi! Isn't is so so so so so cool having a work email?! Kisses, mwah!', but, my God, it's the principal of the thing. This is the question I find myself asking on an hourly basis, especially in those wearisome hours when I have to fill out accident reports for knocking a coat stand on myself, or when I have to talk to yet another customer about how much they just loved PS: I Love You: Is work worth working for?

That doesn't make sense? Well, screw you, I've got a pension now. And maternity benefit should the unexpected happen. Oh, if only the unexpected would happen...