Well. It's done. Doomsday. Or not. I sent in my report to my supervisors to read over before I send it in for good. Am preparing for harsh criticism and people being disappointed in me.

I've been working for my old kindergarten for two days, filling in. It's wonderful, I mean, really great. Without sarcasm. (I'm too sarcastic, when I rave it sounds fake. But I mean it now!) What other kind of job could you go back to where you get showers of hugs and kisses and smiles? I've actually taught practically all the kids in that kindergarten, the oldest ones there I took care of when they couldn't even speak. I miss my kids a lot. One has moved away and I'm so sad I can't see her. Anyway, now I don't have to go to the unemployment office to beg... just yet... hire me? As you can see I'm a brilliant pen. Yup. Also a bit insane. Partly from thinking I'm a brilliant pen and also, well, you know... just in general. But in an extremely dull and ordinary way. Boy, did I just blow it with the film festival, I've hardly had time to see anything. I went to one panel discussion and I've seen two films (good connections, hon). I'm planning to see Gegen die Wand tomorrow though.
After work. Where I get to scramble around a bunch of cuties all day long. Who think I'm funny. People don't think I'm funny nearly enough. People have a bad sense of humour. Apparently, when they're two, it works juuuust fine.

Hey, can I have a pet peeve column? I've go two just bursting to come out...

Pet Peeve Column (mental note, check how peeve is actually spelled)

One thing that annoys me: When people call me on my cell phone I like to know WHO they are and WHEN they call.
I don't like private numbers.
If you don't want me to know who the fxxx you are, don't call me!

One other thing. I'm not as big as you think I am! It's really weird. I read this book by Dean Koontz the other day, and for the first time in my life I read of someone with a similar problem as me. There's this guy who's kind of tall,kind of husky, right? But people always get the perception of him as being huuge. Like, guys his own height describing him as extremely tall, right? With appropriate nicknames. Well. Weheeell. Newsflash. I'm NOT 185 cm. tall. I'm 177,5 cm., been trying to stretch up to 178, which is a much nicer number, for yeeeears. A cousin of mine, who is 179 herself (you know who you are!) had to measure twice to finally believe me to be shorter. And probably still thinks of it as a difference in sock thickness. My aunt (you know who you are!), being 3 cm taller than me described me as once having been shorter than she, but after having grown up to a strapping 182 cm I'm much, much taller. Don't get me wrong, I would love to be taller, it makes for a better view and all, but this is just plain weird.
And these are close relatives. You should hear the stuff I get from strangers. I get this aaaall the time. Maybe it's because I've always had tall friends so instead of stooping down I've kindof stretched up. I feel as tall as my tallest friends. Hmmm.
(p.s. to all relatives featured in this text, you know I love you anyway, right?)

And before you say something let me just say this one thing: It's a BLOG, it's SUPPOSED to be self-centred. You wouldn't really want to read about my views on the proposed draft for public spending, would you? Ok, I know some of you would. I have weird friends. But I expect you acknowledge this oddness in your personalities and come to my blog to absorbe some of my egocentricism.

Cheers, darling.