Deborah Kalin's Blog, page 38

i have been team-built

For those of you waiting for its arrival: I haven't seen a copy myself yet, but it looks like Postscripts #18 has been released into the wild.

This is the issue which features my story, "The Wages of Salt", and google alerts tells me it's made at least one good impression so far.

Now, being a writer, and therefore of delicate emotional constitution, this pleases me immensely. But I'm especially glad to see this story available for general purchase, because it's one of my favourites. Part of that

every damn morning

What I read: EROTIC POTS

What the sign actually says: EXOTIC POTS

This exercise in Freudian visual disturbances is made worse by the fact that the second line of the sign is EXOTIC STAFF. What on earth does a garden store mean when they claim they have exotic staff?

i promise to check more often in future

I just discovered a few questions had been sitting in my FAQ queue for who knows how long. Perhaps foolishly, I expected my FAQ plugin to send me an alert, either by email or through the dashboard, when it needed my attention. So if you've been checking the FAQ, wondering why I was ignoring you, my apologies. It was not deliberate; I'm simply a touch inattentive and forgetful at the best of times. And clearly I put far too much trust in "lite"1 software programs.

By way of apology, I offer up a l

stop living so fast already

Question of the Week: But don't you want to get married? have kids? settle down?1

Yes, that's right, settle down. Because it's just party central over here in Debville. I don't know what gave it away. Perhaps it was the fact that, when a work colleague asks about my weekend, my answer is inevitably, "Oh, I met up with some mates at the State Library. We have this thing, where we get together every Saturday and sit in a room where we're not allowed to talk to each other, and we don't let ourselves

felicitous moments

one:

At work on Friday, during fraud and ethics awareness training, I discovered an amusing editing artefact in the Code of Conduct. Apparently, all employees "must treat everyone with respect and with harassment."

Now that, my friends, is one hell of a code of conduct. Licence for polite savagery: issued. I don't care what the manager says about mistakes, I have written evidence.

two:

Sitting on the tram on Thursday, I was listening to the conversation of two nearby school girls, who want to be wr

i've paid my money, i'm here to stay now

I have a cold1 and I cannot breathe and I'm not particularly happy about this development. Breathing, dear internet, is not overrated in the slightest.

The cold has struck just in time to ambush my Victorian licence photo, which consequently features me complete with soupy eyes and bleary expression.

But never fear: I know what conquers colds. Alcohol! Tomorrow I launch a retaliatory strike, with my good friends the ethanol army.

omigod it's swine flu we're all gonna die, run, save yourselves, it