Thursday, January 28, 2010
My lawyer told me yesterday that I should've been a private investigator.
Either he's buttering me up something chronic, or it's what lawyers say on a regular basis, but he's too bloody right. I should've been a private investigator.
Whenever I watch the Crime & Investigation Channel (overly frequently) I think: Damn. I could do that.
Hi MI6, if you're hiring.
But private investigation does exhaust the hell out of ya, even if you DID manage to find the exact name of the ship, it's fleet, it's captain, and even it's fucking crest, that your great grandfather was on, during the exact period in which he had his daughter, docked at the exact place. During the War. With pictures. That took 4 days.
And I'm only getting started.
Internet scourage is making me feel quite nauseous at times - had aN 'oh no I think I'm going to vom and I don't know why' moment over the office scanner this morning. I think it's just the excessive and obsessive manner with which I am approaching this, and I'm not sleeping helluva well.
So I made myself a Mocha Choca Shockah [A Peas drink which isn't half bad, have you know] and faceplanted on the [good threadcount] sheet.
PS: Have promised The Dove I won't dry hump Richard Hammond's leg tomorrow.
Dove: Think that's a good idea. Specially if your Dad's there.