Spies like us (PG 13)

Forgive me for my lengthy absence, honestly I'm fine. I've just been a little spooked by the discovery that someone has attached something to my blog that tracks my every Internet move. I keep seeing this dgz.specificclick.et net address keep showing in the bottom left as my blog is loading. Allegedly its source is Sitemeter who allegedly have sold out to some spyware collective bastardy people so that's about to be given the royal order of the boot.

Bastards have kept me off the net for a couple of weeks because I thought I had a virus attached to my blog, which was compounded by the fact that I've had spam from every bank in the land except the one I actually bank with asking me to verify my account. Paranoia ain't the word for it.

I shouldn't be typing this while 3 sheets to the wind but what the heck, I'll look back on this in a couple of days and groan. We'll see if all the links work in the morning.

I went to the doctors, I've got pills for depression. Nothing too strong. He cracked me up, I haven't met this guy before and I gave him my potted medical history and he was a sweetie, tutting in all the right places. Eventually he said, "I suppose you're really fucked off with life then aren't you?" I said "that's an accurate assessment". I think he knew a thing or two about being fucked off, he looked like he'd had a stroke or Bell's Palsy or something. Bless him, he even wanted to sign me off work for a bit longer (I wish I'd taken him up on that now).

So, pills, I'm actually feeling a tad better, a little bit more cheerful, a bit more human, part from today after a run in with my cnut of a boss. God I hope my Dad doesn't figure out how to get back here.

My lump is supposedly nothing to be concerned about, it's a fatty lump called a lipoma from an injury or something. Thinking about it I do bump that bit into the oven door an awful lot.

The cough is getting a bit better. Flares up now and then. It's worse when I'm on dialysis so I think my throat gets dry, that's all. No asthma, but thanks for suggesting that I should add it to my armoury of ailments guys :-)

Don't worry. I'm fine. I see someone called the Independent Assessor tomorrow. He's the final hurdle to jump before the transplant. He decides if we're well enough informed of what we're getting into, decides that I'm not coercing Capt Scarlet. I'll just tell him that I'll withold sex and home cooking forever more if I don't get the bloody kidney. We'll see how that affects the decision. Hey ho. Seriously this is just a formality apparently, we're looking at June or July for the operation. Can't happen soon enough. When I'm fixed I'm quitting my job and opening a fancy dress hire shop. Seriously.

Amy can you move closer? I might have some work for you.

I'm really fucked off with my new boss. Fucked off. Twat. After 5 years of being the continuity in this squadron I'm no longer able to decide how I manage my work space. What I thought was my office is really only part of his 3 dimensional chess set. Wanker.

Lawks a mussy I'm going to regret this in the morning. Love y'all.