Mermaid Liaison gets a slap: Letters from Mer-xico

From: Harassed Collegue

Dear all,  

We have a problem with the water pump on the roof, the plumber has just left the building and we now require an electrician to come and do his bit, then the plumber will need to come back again.  Due to the pump not working the whole building is slowly loosing water. 

Building owner is aware and in the process of sending an electrician who is on his way now. 

All toilets on all floors will be effected including the ground floor, we are surmising that there will be one flush in each cistern.  I will keep you all updated as the new comes to hand.

Kind Regards,
Harassed Colleague

From: Hay Girl

Dear Harassed Colleague,

RE: WATER SUPPLY

Despite the fact I am currently in negotiations over the Mexican Gulf oil spill with BP and President Barack Obama on behalf of displaced Mer-xicans of this crisis, I am writing to you to express my sincere concern and distress over the turn of events of this morning at the proposed site for Land and Sea negotiations.

Previously you have indicated that you were willing to engage in dialogue over establishing the first-ever land based Consulate of the High Sea.

However, I see from your intelligence that you, and your elders, have in fact cut off all water to the aquaconsulate, hence making it impossible for it to ever be made into an environment suitable for mermen, mermaids and merbabies and of course, all creatures of the sea, big and small.

“Due to the pump not working the whole building is slowly loosing water,” does not constitute an excuse as to what the merpeople regard as a blatant slap in the gills in what they had come to view as a productive aquatic relationship.

Needless to say, if you do not restore said pump in adequate time in order to meet the construction for the Consulate of the High Sea, severe consequences will ensure for mer-human relations.

I certainly hope that the last flush remaining in the cistern is not a symbol for said relationship and may I assure you in good faith that if it were a reverse situation, I would remain,
Your faithful seavant,

Hay Girl

Mermaid Liaison, Special Envoy to Mexico, Consul-in-Chief to Mer-xicans, B.MerRels.

HayGecko

Was recently striding merrily down street when excellent incident occurred.  

Elderly, Eccentric Acquaintance happens to pull over in loading zone. Leaps – leaps – out of car and dances around bonnet waving arms. Feel must intervene as am really quite fond of Elderly, Eccentric Acquaintance and do not wish her to be incarcerated in correctional, mental or otherwise facility.  

HAYGIRL (concerned): Elderly, Eccentric Acquaintance! Is everything OK?  

ELDERLY, ECCENTRIC ACQUAINTANCE: Yes, yes, can you see him?  

HAYGIRL (searches sky, thinking perhaps strange jig around car is rain dance and the him in question is rain god): Ehrm, no, I can’t.  

ELDERLY, ECCENTRIC ACQUAINTANCE (hopping from one foot to other): You can’t? 

HAYGIRL (still looking at clear blue sky): No, I can’t. 

  

ELDERLY, ECCENTRIC ACQUAINTANCE: You can’t see the gecko on my windshield? 

HAYGIRL: OOOOOOOO. Yeah, I see him. What’s wrong? 

  

Elderly, Eccentric Acquaintance: I couldn’t bear him looking at me with his poor little eyes. Had to pull over and get him off before he flew away and met untimely death.  

HAYGIRL (scoops gecko off windscreen): There we go.  

Elderly, Eccentric Acquaintance (no longer a-prance): O, you’re a good girl.   

Promptly leaps back into car (is really vairy spritely elderly woman) and drives off, sans gecko. Gecko scuttles away. HayGirl continues merrily down street.  

HayGecko: Saved by HayGirl

   

   

   

   

   

   

HayGirl mourns

The HayFarm has recently suffered tragic loss of a HayPuppy elder, known to HayGirl as BungEye. 

HayParents convey this bereavement in entirely unsuitable manner via email. Arrive at work and receive said sad tidings in cold sweat and panic as in addition to canine calamity the faithful HayCruiser refuses – refuses – to start. 

Go about daily duties and receive mandatory phone call from Colleague – who is neither Esteemed nor Otherwise as do not really know them. 

UNKNOWN COLLEAGUE: How are you? 

HAYGIRL (touchy): Do you really want to know? 

UNKNOWN COLLEAGUE (Clearly ignorant of ways of world and protocol in this instance): Yeah, go on, tell me. 

HAYGIRL: Well, my dog died and my car won’t start so I would say that am feeling rather miserable.  

UNKNOWN COLLEAGUE: Don’t worry, my dog died as well. 

HAYGIRL (aghast): TODAY! REALLY! 

UNKNOWN COLLEAGUE: No, few years ago, so I can relate. 

HAYGIRL thinks to self. Whatever. I am so not sympathising with your ancient plight. Is practically dancing on poor dear BungEye’s grave.  

HAYGIRL (admittedly, tiny bit hopeful): Was it traumatic? 

UNKNOWN COLLEAGUE: Yes. My brother ran over it and it was blind and deaf and then someone had to shoot it. 

HAYGIRL: Oh. 

The moral of this sad little tail (note that even in grief, can still pun) is that nobody ever really gets over loss of canine friend. 

And try to restrain yourself from heart to heart with Unknown Coworkers. 

More to come, but am off to don a black paw band.

XOX HG 

“Vale BungEye “ 

The merpeople of Hay

Further merriment:

HARASSED COLLEAGUE: Lifts down. Building owner iterates that they are doing all they can at the moment to rectify the situation and thanks you all for your patience.

Logical response:

Dear Harassed Colleague,

On behalf of the merpeople of Oceania, I would like to convey my disappointment in your refusal to help them in their efforts to have build the very first land based Consulate of the High Sea.

I have approached Crocosauras Cove as a suitable venue, however there is some concern the crocs may eat the mermen, mermaids and merkiddies.

Disappointedly,

HayGirl | Mermaid Liaison

Shortly thereafter:

Dear HayGirl,

There are some lovely people at Narcotics Annoymous, you may know them already, may I suggest you go and see them as undoutably they will have some suggestions for you.

Kind regards,

Harassed Collegue.

And again:

Harassed Colleague,

The merpeople thank you for your kind words and recommendations.

We will ask the lovely Narcotics Annonymous should they have suggestions for the site for construction of the Consulate of the High Sea.

In peace to those of sky, sea and land,

HayGirl | Mermaid Liaison

 

Hay girl goes underwater

Received humourous email blast (To All) from Harassed Colleague whose primary chagrin is maintaining  a meteorologically sound environment in the HayOffice and suchlike:

HARASSED COLLEAGUE: Sorry if this email does not relate to you.  The air con on level XYZ has been reported and technicians are on site now.

For some reason, find this very hysterical and, inspired by recent viewing of Malibu Barbie Underwater Adventures,  promptly respond.

Dear Harassed Colleague,

Indeed, this does not relate to me. I am currently saving Oceania and wearing a mermaid’s tail, and certainly do not have time to deal with trivial matters such as failures in air-conditioning. 

From underwater, I remain, 

Yours faithfully,  

HayGirl | Mermaid Liaison

Shortly after:

HARASSED COLLEAGUE (despite harassed state): You’re ridiculous. What does a mermaid liaison do anyway?

Types speedily in offence:

Harassed Colleague,

A mermaid liaison saves Oceania from great peril. Yours in all things aquatic,

HayGirl | Mermaid Liaison, Bachelor of Mermaid Relations

Strangely enough, no reply. Except for another blast, much later:

HARASSED COLLEAGUE: If it doesn’t rain it pours, well actually it is the air conditioner leaking onto the lift that has caused it to malfunction.

I find this equally hysterical and promptly respond in accordance with my new found profession:

Dear Harassed Colleague,

Due to my aquatic expertise in all things water related, may I proffer some advice?

It is critical in furthering good relations with merpeople that we now feature a land based facility where meeting can be conducted. Such a facility must be “mer-friendly”, that is, underwater.

 I urge you therefore to not stopper the leak, rather allow it to continue and fill the HayOffice with water. 

It will be a large facility and will come to resemble an aquarium over time. It will be known as The Consulate of The High Sea.

You will rightly be commended in due course for your major contribution to bridging the gap between people of the Land and Sea.

Thanks kindly,

HayGirl | Mermaid Liaison

PS: Below is an image I think may make a good logo – what do you think?

Reply:

Dear HayGirl,

What can I say! You read too much or watch too much TV and have an incredible imagination.

Kind regards,

Harassed Colleague.

Much more to come on HayGirl and her merry tribe of merpeople,

HG, ML, B.MRs.

The Politics of Cupcakes: Part II

Storms continue to rage in the proverbial tea cup. Of our non existent tea room.

YARNALOT (towers over desk, very impressive given that he is a slightly vertically challenged man): Incredible.

YARNALOT: Another morning tea.

YARNALOT: I just can’t believe it.

YARNALOT: They never invite us.

YARNALOT (wondrous expression): Incredible.

HAYGIRL (very smug): I got a given a bootlegged sausage roll. Home made. Vairy vairy good.

Yarnalot stomps off. To return minutes later:

YARNALOT (Very loudly): I think it’s about time we had a morning tea. Don’t you think so?

HAYGIRL AND ESTEEMED COLLEAGUES (in chorus): Yes, yes, excellent idea.

Yarnalot stomps off again, this time with self satisfied expression in anticipation of glorious cupcake festival to come. Which, alas, I will be unable to partake.

Let them eat cake. But I shall break down this Berlin Wall of office wining and dining.

Watch this space – now packed with incident,

HG.

The first line of defence: Esteemed Colleagues in the Cup Cake Wars

Hay is my middle name

I write to you from the depths of my hangover. But this must be recorded.

Very, very drunk. Many drinks. Many randoms. Conversation turned to, inevitably, middle names.

FRIEND OF FRIEND: I hate my middle name.
HAYGIRL: Mine infinately more bizarre. And worse.
FRIEND OF FRIEND: Mine far worse. What’s yours?
HAYGIRL: Hay.
FRIEND OF FRIEND: Hey?
HAYGIRL: Hay, really.
FRIEND OF FRIEND: Gay.
HAYGIRL (animated): NO, Hay. H-A-Y.
FRIEND OF FRIEND: NO, Gay. G-A-Y.
HAYGIRL (very animated): No. Hay. Is. My. Middle. Name.
FRIEND OF FRIEND: And. Gay. Is. My. Middle. Name. GAY!

No slurs intended; blame the Hay and GayParents.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Hay Girl sees red

Seeing red and not in good way

Was feeling on top of world about impending Holi-day by yet another spectacular image (above) of Holi festival.  

However, typed a tiny bit too soon. Old Man Yarn-A-Lot appears at desk with a not uncomprehensive looking document in tow: 

YARNALOT:  This is wrong. Why am I looking at this?

 HAYGIRL: I do not know. Esteemed Colleague has just updated and I am in process of editing.

 YARNALOT (jabs at wad of paper):  See – this is wrong – edit this.

 HAYGIRL:  HAS been edited. You are looking at wrong doc.

 YARNALOT: Well, make sure it is changed.

 Lengthy pause.

YARNALOT: So, if you didn’t print this out, who did?

HAYGIRL: I do not know. Please discard it. It is irrelevant.

YARNALOT: Very well.

 *Throws 50 pages of paper all over HayGirl, desk and floor. Very much feel like am in leaflet drop. Is a tiny bit magical and think to self, if only it were money. Temporary moments of insanity however before natural reflexes kick in:

 HAYGIRL (very high pitched): YARNALOT! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!

Feel like am trapped in bizarre screenplay which is something like David Thorne meets The Devil Wears Prada.

Which is not to say Old Man Yarn-A-Lot doesn’t have any redeeming qualities. Attempts to console me as slowly drown in incorrect, unedited manuscript:  

 YARNALOT: Settle down. You can have a G’n'T now. You have no reason to be stressed.

 Agreed. Definitely looking forward to my Holi- Day.

 HG.

Let them eat cake: Hay Girl and the March Challenge

Have survived FebFast bloodied but unbowed. This is stupendous news. From this, have come to two life changing conclusions:

1. Am not alcoholic as originally suspected by friends, family and coworkers alike.

2. DO have discipline of steel and not that of 5-year-old as has been alleged by many individuals in aforementioned groups.

Very reassuring. Makes me think very big scheme, like could win Nobel Peace Prize or possibly even become US President. Or both, just like Barack Obama, except for minor detail that my nationality makes this combo impossible. Darn.

Does make me think, however, should set new challenge for self. So for the month of March have made (the very spontaneous) decision to ban consumption of (to employ a fabulously outdated term) sweeties.

Basic perimeters are as follows - lollies, chocolates, gateaux (that’s cake), ice cream and biccies are off the HayMenu.  As well as hot chocolate, milkshakes and mocha. And no more controversial cupcakes for me. Tear (mixed with a little relief at the later. Too much pressure).

And the fine print? There are various  ‘get out of jail free’ cards – if am invited to High Tea I may have my cake and eat it also. If someone throws me a Mad Hatter’s Tea Party in honor of forthcoming film (hint, hint), I may graciously acquiesce. Or if am invited to dine with Queen or some prominent world figure, I may also politely indulge (as I said, discovery of willpower has had overwhelming side effect of delusions of grandeur).

Let them eat cake? Not for March. But a Bombay Sapphire (muddled lime and tonic water) will do very nicely in the meantime.

Watch this space, now sugar free.

HG.

Colour, cupcakes and crazies: Want to go to Mad Tea Party very, very much.

Friday afternoon: Storm in a tea cup

Firstly, must just note that I love, love, love this expression (storm in a tea cup).

Secondly, must record importance of a tea room to the inmates of an office. And the bizarre politics that ensue:

YARNALOT (sneaks up to desk, looking furtive): Gosh they have a lot of morning teas over there…

HAYGIRL: Yes, agreed.

YARNALOT (hushed tone): Like everyday…

HAYGIRL: Again, agreed.

YARNALOT (even more hushed tone): And they never invite us.

Adding to the mix – the fact that the HayOffice actually has no tea room. So Colleagues (Esteemed and Otherwise) must crowd around single desk to break bread. Very awkward.

Recipe for disaster, forgive the pun.

All for now,

HG

The politics of cupcakes: Food glorious foe!