PTSD: Post Traumatic Suntanning Disorder

URGH! I am waaaaay to de-motivated for the start of the working year. In fact, my company does not know it, but they are actually paying me to become the Tetris World Champion of 2009. Yup. I have spent the majority of the past 5 days becoming incredibly excited about moving blocks into neat little lines. In fact, it’s pretty much the sole thing I’ve done solidly for 45 hours this week.

No not THERE you dummy - to the left!!!

I read this article about how American doctors have discovered that when returned soldiers from Iraq play large amounts of Tetris, they show a significant decrease in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So my theory goes, I am obviously suffering from PTSD (from the distress of returning to work after a lovely 3 week holiday) and need to play Tetris to counter-act my disturbia. Or else I could go completely psycho, strip down to my underwear and lie on the office floor believing that I am tanning on Clifton due to insidious beach holiday flashbacks. Otherwise known as PTSD – Post Traumatic Suntanning Disorder (also reserved for chronic sunburn, you know like that lobster sunburn the poms get when they come to Cape Town for a holiday?). Well that’s my theory and I am sticking to it (especially if my boss catches me doing it!)

But seriously, my brain feels like cotton-wool. No, actually it feels like cotton-wool that went to a special school for learning disabilities, then decided “ah f*ck it” and went on a Amy-Winehouse-esque crack and whiskey binge, before getting syphilis from a unsavoury hooker (possibly Amy Winehouse) and then getting bitten by a rapid street pigeon. Oh, and throw in some scabies just for good measure. That’s how my brain feels.

Attractive

I have no way how I am going to fake my way through work today (well, I am already writing this blog on MS Word in the disguise that I am writing a scintillating article on our green end of year function). Luckily my work station is in the corner and my boss is still away until the 19^th, so I have the elements of inconspicuousness (WOW that is a big word for a strung out, STD’d ravaged piece of cotton-wool) and the whole of next week to come up with excuses for me to fall back on.

URGH – it’s 9:07 – I still have 7hours and 53minutes to kill. To be perfectly honest, I could spend those 7 hours and (now) 52 minutes just staring blankly at my screen and randomly hitting the keyboard like Carol in Little Britain (computer says no). I’ll let you know how that works out for me.

Sho, I hope my brain wakes up for work next week, otherwise I just might end up a crack-whore myself…!!!

Computer says NO!

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