Boredom and Meaning

So today is the second day of the third week of unemployment since the wankers of the TV company decided it wasn't working out. Having knocked my arrogance somewhat I've now resigned myself to lie-ins, My Super Sweet 16 and pressing refresh on the pitiful employment sites that promise to rectify my biggest problem: how to pay my rent.

But things, as usual are never easy so being in a credit crunch there is literally no work. Nada. Not even a crappy temp job in a starched shirt lifeless office. It's absolutely outrageous! I have a degree, 10 GCSES, 4 A-levels, 5 years of industry experience and I speak three languages and what do I get aside from student loan debt? Not even a shit data entry job. It's so inane it's almost poetic.

I have however, perfected the art of being a couch potato, so much show that I'm convinced I'm developing DVT or will end up like the fat people you see on Jerry Springer, covered in bed sores and wrapped in a bed sheet, having burst their clothes at the seams and become encrusted on the sofa. eurghhh it's happening I swear, slowly but surely Im growing.

Today's saga was trying to figure out which pervert has been sending me sexually explicit and downright disgusting text messages as well as 3am booty calls. At first I thought it was a prank from a stranger but the texts named me which weirded me out. Anyway after the kind of sleuth work that would have Columbo choking on his cigar, with his eyes wide open for once, (see, daytime telly is teaching me a plethora of useful life skills) I discovered it was my ex boyfriend's old and lechy friend. This isn't an 18 year old kid, it's a man in his forties. What would have been funny to a spotty, pubescent teenager, comes across as tragically pathetic when a man in his forties has to amuse himself by texting filth to a girl who is literally old enough to be his daughter. Sick fucker.

After that drama my day quietened down, with my only worries (apart from the huge no job no money saga) being how to find a new housemate, what to do if no new housemate was found, where to disappear for a cheap week in the sun, how to justify being able to afford a cheap week in the sun when rent's going to be an act of god.

Boyfriend's snoring is irritating me. You don't see this in love stories, bed time is always a romantically peaceful affair where the beautifully perfect couple fall asleep in each others arms. In my relationship our backs are turned as soon as possible to avoid dead arm syndrome. The only contact we have whilst we sleep is the loving sharp kick to the shins we inflict on each other to put an end to the snoring. Ahhhh domestic bliss...