The Watcher
I made the mistake of buying The Boy Football Manager 2007 for Christmas, and ever since I've had to fight to get access to our PC when he's in the house. He either hovers around, peering over my shoulder, trying to figure out if I'm nearly done yet, or he comes and sits in the spare room with me. Watching me. Waiting until I nip to the loo or go and make a cuppa, so that he can sneak on and check the score.
He's watching me right now - he's just sitting there smoking a fag and (as if that wasn't bad enough) watching me. It's freaking me out because I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. He's willing me to hurry up and just let him onto the computer already. I don't know if he can read what I'm typing from his side of the room.
If you can read this Boy? STOP WATCHING ME. You know I can't concentrate when you're just ... HOVERING... Go read a book or something. Oh, and while I've got your attention? The kitchen's a midden, and it's your turn to clean it.
I want a laptop. That way he can manage a fake football team to his heart's content, and I can sit on the sofa and write my post from there in comfort, peace and solitude.
We've got the day off tomorrow. We're not doing anything in particular, other than taking Coco to the vet for her booster. This means I have to wrangle her into her box first thing in the morning, which I am not looking forward to - she may only have three functional paws, but she makes good use of em when she's determined.
However, forcing a small unhappy cat into a confined space is much preferable to going in to my office - the tension I mentioned in yesterday's post escalated today into full blown huffs and histrionics, and I SO can't be arsed with that on a Friday. They can fight it out amongst themselves tomorrow, and I'll tune in for the office bitch-fest on Monday...
He's watching me right now - he's just sitting there smoking a fag and (as if that wasn't bad enough) watching me. It's freaking me out because I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. He's willing me to hurry up and just let him onto the computer already. I don't know if he can read what I'm typing from his side of the room.
If you can read this Boy? STOP WATCHING ME. You know I can't concentrate when you're just ... HOVERING... Go read a book or something. Oh, and while I've got your attention? The kitchen's a midden, and it's your turn to clean it.
I want a laptop. That way he can manage a fake football team to his heart's content, and I can sit on the sofa and write my post from there in comfort, peace and solitude.
We've got the day off tomorrow. We're not doing anything in particular, other than taking Coco to the vet for her booster. This means I have to wrangle her into her box first thing in the morning, which I am not looking forward to - she may only have three functional paws, but she makes good use of em when she's determined.
However, forcing a small unhappy cat into a confined space is much preferable to going in to my office - the tension I mentioned in yesterday's post escalated today into full blown huffs and histrionics, and I SO can't be arsed with that on a Friday. They can fight it out amongst themselves tomorrow, and I'll tune in for the office bitch-fest on Monday...
Labels: Cats, Computers, Fiance, Office
This entry was posted
on Friday, March 16, 2007 at 12:44 am.
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I got a free laptop from my last work. OK technically I kind of kept it to get them back for the non existence of their redundancy pay.
If you don't want to steal / leave job / get made redundant then get the boy to get you one for your forthcoming birthday.
Everyone wins.
Ps why did you buy the game for the PC and not the X box thingy? School girl error.
Like Drama Queen I have a work laptop. It is absolutely rubbish and incredibly slow. I love, love, love my super fast new Dell one though.
Why don't you just make some transfers to his side when he's not looking - get rid of Ronaldo, Henry etc and draft in Laurel, Hardy, Keith Harris and Orville etc.
That when you can have a laugh at the squeak of terror he logs in next to find his team have just been thrashed 300-0 by Accrington Stanley.
ps you might want to check out Toys R Us (not for him) but I noticed they were selling laptops for under 300 quid when I was there shopping for mini-gothess last week.
2 computers. It's the only way forwards.
We have the same problem in our household. Matt pokes his head into the room every five minutes to gauge how much longer I'll be. "Let me know when you're off the computer," is our code for "My turn! My turn!"
I can sympathise with the Boy and Football Manager obsession. Why a fake game is so exciting to them we may never know, but giving him a PSP and the same game has eased the tension. Although now he can play it where ever he goes....
(i found you through stacey's blog-hodoeporicon & like your writings!)
DQ/Cat - Even if my employer were able to buy me a laptop it would probably be off ebay for £20... And unfortunately I think I'll have to wait to get my own laptop, what with our other expenditure this year.
Goth - I don't know who Accrington Stanley are but I'm guessing they're not good at football?! Unfortunately he read your comment and is now taking precautions lest I attempt to sabotage his winning season. Boo.
Hannah - You're right, in the interests of harmony it's the only way to go!
Melissa - I feel your pain. The Boy's new tactic (which I think may be revenge for this post) is to come in and open the window on the pretence of having a cigarette, then buggering off! I may not be able to feel my fingers but at least he's not hovering!
Sarah - hello, and welcome! I think mobile-game-playing might be worse... But at least he could, you know, go outside or something.
I thought you were asking for a laptop for Crimbo - did Santa let you down?
Accrington Stanley - made famous by the Milk ad where some little twatty kid drinks a glass of milk and his mate asks what it is. Little twat then says "if I don't drink milk me ma says I'll only be good enough to play for AS" "who are they?" asks equally obnoxious little twat "Exactly" is the answer, cue hysterical laughing from somewhere.....
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