Time for a rant. I know: how unusual!

I left Blockbuster in November because... well, many reasons, but the pay was shite and the manager was an arsehole. They never managed to sort out my tax code (what the hell does Payroll do all day? Come up with new ways to screws the employees?) so I phoned up after I'd left. They promised to call me back.

I'm still waiting.

In January I filed a repayment claim with the tax office. I'm supposed to expect repayment in 28 days. Well, my maths ain't that good but I'm sure it's been longer than that. And a new tax year has begun, too.

I just sat down with a calculator, my old payslips, and a pen, and worked out that of the £217 they took off me, they only deserved £9.45. And that's giving them the benefit of the doubt. They took 22% of everything I earned. At minumum wage they're only supposed to take 10%; and only on hours in excess of 20/week. So, I'm pissed off. Again.

I did have a lovely hugs and puppies day yesterday when a contest judge told me my voice was phenomenal and she can't wait to see me published, but now I'm back to being pissy again. Go figure.

It's happening again. This drives me insane. I took an hour off to eat tea and watch Bremner, Bird & Fortune (how else am I supposed to know what's going on in politics? Five seconds of the news and I want to kill myself), and within a minute of coming back up here, Dad wanted to download or update or whatever word he uses now to mean sending emails. On a Sunday night. I asked him a while ago if he gets paid for working weekends. Of course not, he replied. So why do it?

If the answer is 'to annoy Kate' then he should get a bonus. Ever since we got this stupid wireless system it's been one thing after another. It wouldn't work on the other computer, so Rich had to use this one. Then he gets a new computer, and apparently it's the location of it that's the problem. So I move this whole room around, and he says yes, it'll work now. But I'm not going to use it there because I don't want to muck up my expensive new computer with downloads.

Really? Like you did with the old one? Which is why I got this one. Which - guess what - is now the internet computer. Yes, the. As in singular. Because despite asking, understanding, demanding and finally throwing a complete hissy fit and refusing to talk to him for two weeks, he still is using this computer instead of his own. And complaining about it.

Then we have dad, who maintains that as soon as I moved the modem he couldn't get a signal. Work in the conservatory, I said, it's right under this window. Can't get it there. Bring the fucking thing upstairs and put it next to the router. Still nothing, unless he plugs in for an initial connection. Then he can work elsewhere.

And then that fails. So to use the internet, he has to plug in here. And can't understand why I'm so annoyed. After all, I can use my computer at the same time, right? Well, seeing as he can't write an email about optics with someone watching, I don't see how he expects me to write erotica with him sitting there behind me.

God, this makes me so mad. And the worst thing is, I don't know what to do. I don't know what the problem with Dad's laptop is, or if it's a problem with the wireless card, or the LAN, or his server, or what. And since the company's just changed hands, they have bigger things to worry about than the Director of Tech Services being able to contact anyone. Or more to the point, the Director of Tech Services being able to use his arms and legs after his daughter has broken them in pure frustration. I don't know how to fix the problem. I don't know how to get Rich off this fucking computer. I don't know what I can do - because I feel like I've tried everything - to get my own bloody computer, that I bought (when I was broke, I might add) and set up, in my own study that I've tried so hard to make into my own space, back to my fucking self.

But in the end, what I do doesn't make any money, so how can it be important? If I was earning 50k a year, would I still have to put up with this shit?

No, I'd be living somewhere else, in my own house with my own computer, and a big fucking lock on the door so no one else could come in and use it.

Off to look at property websites. If I worked full time I could probably afford the rent on Tasha's old flat, which is smaller than this room, but has a really big lock. Trouble is, last time I worked full time I was too knackered to write anything. Not to mention that I had to wait two hours after I got home to use my computer, because while Dad wasn't connected up, he was sitting up here talking on the phone (the mobile phone, thank you very much) so I couldn't tell him to get the fuck out.

Any ideas?

So, best cure for an R? Apart from chocolate and vodka, that is. Well, it's finalling in a contest, of course, with an untried (and as yet unfinished, eep!) story. And if you want the real funny: Temptation thought my story had too much sex. I just finalled in the Erotica category.

It's hard to type when you're rolling on the floor laughing.

Actually that's supposed to be 'nearly three months'. Jan 14th. Too depressed to type properly.

Positive comments include: good story, characters, prose, dialogue, sense of place, rounded characters, believable characters, great motivations. Bad points include: heroine too kooky, conflict not sustainable, heroine has no direction, too much sex.

So what's wrong with a blue-haired heroine? Hmmmmm? The only reason I'm not blue is because it'd make me look cyanotic, which is not a look I favour. I've been purple, pink, and pillar-box red though. Why is she inaccessible? Personally I find high-flying career business types totally inaccessible. What the fuck drives those women? They don't have any fun. A woman with blue hair and a petticoated skirt - she has fun.

And how the fuck can there be too much sex in a 'sensual romance'?

Bah. More St Petersburg vodka needed.

Well, my nearly-two-months of waiting is over - I finally heard from Temptation. We have read this with interest but regrettably have decided not to pursue the project further. At least they gave me the whys - I've never had a personalised rejection before. Makes me feel all special - for about a second. Ah well, what can you expect? I did only write it in about two weeks. Stupid pitch was all at the wrong time - I needed to polish, people!

See, that's the denial phase. Stay tuned for Phase Two, entitled I suck! I suck!

Did I mention I'm on a wheat-free diet? Got so sick of itchy skin even with my mega-strength antihistamines. Not quite ready for a full elimination diet (recommended : rice, water, pears, lamb. Except I don't eat meat so it'd be rice, water, pears. For a freaking month). So I'm eliminating things one at a time. For now it's wheat. Some small improvement (could also be to do with the fact that I'm not clouded with flour all the time any more) but not a lot. Haven't taken a tablet since Thursday, so I'm doing pretty well, really. If this fails it's dairy. Gonna be hard - that'll be pretty much a vegan diet. Eeek!