there's a cauldron of resin gently bubbling away in the corner of the lab, releasing its infamous heady vapour in double strength. its first wisps were delicate and fragrant, deep inhalations of air bringing a slight buzz of exhilaration. But now its so strong, it just smells like rank cheese.

The police guy called and left a message on my voicemail, cancelling the appointment for today. I still can't catch what his name is. I have yet to call him back. Maybe if I call late at night I can get his name off the answer machine. He does has an aussie accent, though.

I got a call from a policeman today, out of the blue. His name's Steve. He might have left me his last name on the voicemail, but I didn't catch it, so i only know him as Steve. The voicemail started off as 'Hello Sharon, my name is Steve (last name) from the Metropolitan Police...' at which point I broke out into a sweat, because I automatically thought 'omg, what have I done?' I haven't knowingly done anything dodgy or underhand, but you know how you get those moments when someone asks you when your birthday is, and for a second, you've forgotten it? Another scenario would have been maybe I dispensed a prescription incorrectly (I'm a pharmacist) and accidentally killed off some poor unsuspecting OAP.
As it turned out, it was about this incident last year where this guy handed me about 8 fake prescriptions, which I noddily dispensed. Because of the quantity of the prescriptions, I didn't have everything in stock, and i told him he would have to come back for the rest. I didn't know they were fake at the time, the other pharmacist checked'em out because he'd seen the guy before. Plus the presriptions looked fairly dodgy, they all had the same handwriting on them, but they had different doctor's signatures and different patient names on them. I only work on saturdays, and as luck would have it, the guy decides to come back not during the week, but the following saturday, when I also happened to be working at the same pharmacy.
He walks in bold as brass, I start mentally flipping out, whilst maintaining a calm exterior. I try various delaying tactics as the shop manager goes and phones the police - ie taking a really long time to get his stuff together, pretending i couldn't find the scripts, and then pretending that i had found them after all. And then whilst I'm pretending to gather his stuff together and taking a long time doing it, the police arrive. They walk up to him, and he looks at them, completely like he doesn't know he's done anything wrong. They ask him his name, they ask for i.d., etc etc, and then they arrest him. it was pretty cool.
And i thought that was that, but apparently it was part of a huge fake prescriptions racket, so now I'm going to give this police guy a statement tomorrow, all going well.

wooooooooohoooooooo!!! Great britain (well the scottish, really) won the olympic gold for curling! Yeah, ok, I didn't know what curling was either, but still. Its like the first gold medal that GB has won at the winter olympics since Torville and Dean. And the ending was a nail biter as well, its all round excitement here. Its the first time i've seen an olympic sport where the participants are all middle aged housewives, with brooms to scrub the ice with no less.

I was reading lyd just now, and i found out how Joey from Friends became a minister and married Monica and Chandler, because apparently you too can become a minister in three minutes via the internet.

The rain is pouring down, so much so that if you stood outside for a few seconds you'd be drenched. The sky is almost black... blue-black. Its the colour of the rain cloud because you can see the edges of it, a thin band of turquoise blue sky with white fluffy clouds suspended in it. And against it the dark silhouette of the buildings and leafless trees stood in contrast.

Robbie is up for the Brit awards again? Do we have no other talent in this country? I guess no.

"I'm sick and tired of being judged. I'm sick and tired of people who don't know me but claim to. I'm sick and tired of people telling me I'm still the same. I'm sick and tired of people who have no clue what-so-ever about who I am and what I'm about when they don't even know themselves. Most of all I'm sick of people who are hypocrites. I'm sick and tired of people and their fucked up trust issues. I'm sick and tired of people who doubt me. I'm sick and tired of it all. And yeah, I'm sick and tired of you too." - kasia.

I just thought that was beautiful.

Firda's got these weblog layouts that you can use... I think I might just nab one, I don't really get all that html and css and table stuff. (in big melodramatic voice) I just vant to write!

I look at the blank screen, the cursor blinking expectantly at me, waiting for words to come.

I wuv cats, and I think that cc is such a cute name for a cloned cat. I can't go into the whole is cloning right or wrong, I just like cats.

I had a really girly chat this lunch time about fanciable singers. Lenny Kravits and Ronan Keating came up. I had to have a think about it, but I don't find any of them particularly attractive, I used to think George Micheal was luverly, before he came out though. And... that's it.

Happy Valentine's day y'all. We-hey to love, we-hey to good relationships.

I had a dream a couple of nights ago. I dreamt I was in this bar, and I saw Patrick Owen. You won't know who Patrick Owen is, he's this guy I met on two occassions at two seperate conferences, once in zurich, and once in Hawaii. Nothing happened, but we kind of hit it off, and he's really pretty cute. A bit of a geek (ethnobotanist). I think about him sometimes. And I know this sounds yucky, but I sometimes yearn for him. I'm sorry for the oversentimental schlock, but there's no other way to describe it. It could just be because I haven't been out with any guys for ages I suppose.
But anyway, back to the dream - I saw Patrick, and I couldn't believe it, and I called out his name and he turned around and looked at me. We exchanged a couple of sentences before I realised that it wasn't him after all, it was someone who looked like him. But this guy knew Patrick, said they were friends and that Patrick would be coming along any minute. The guy sits down next to me, and starts talking, I don't know what about, and I can somehow sense that Patrick is just there, just out of sight, and I'll see him if I just stand up and peer. So I stand up, peer and.... I wake up. Strange. You know how some dreams you really struggle to recall, some you forget as soon as you wake up, but then there are some that really linger in your mind... do you know?
I wonder if I'll ever see him again. I wrote him an e-mail once, but then he didn't reply, so I guess that's a hint. I have that affect on people. I don't really think I will see him again, because the next conference is this september, and I think I'll be finished with my PhD by then. I often think that the only reason why I pay any extra attention to him is because he's good-looking. And that I've had more meaningful dialogue with other guys less blessed looks wise and not given them a second thought once they were out of my life. But then why shouldn't I chose to have a good-looking bloke? why should I have to have a minger? well, I don't have to, but now I am alone. But much happier than i was when I was shackled to my ex-boyfriend (yeuch).

I called up my mum yesterday to say Gong hei fat choi or whatever the heck the spelling is. And now today's valentine's day, this week is just packed with special dates.

Pink's new album is called 'Missundaztood'. I just thought I'd like to say that even if I couldn't spell, I still wouldn't spell 'misunderstood' that way. (did I spell it right?)

I did my pharmacy thing on Saturday at Burnt Oak. I survived. I found out that my sister was in Tokyo the week before last. And if I hadn't happened to have gone home for the weekend, I might never had found out.

I bought the Linkin Park cd. I like it actually, although i'm not exactly a rock chick.

We've finally decided which hotel to go to in Venice!!! A place called Casa Petrarca, a stone's throw from San Marco. It'll be a room with four beds in it, because I don't want to spend that much money on accomodation. If it were up to me, we'd be staying in a youth hostel, I quite like the youth hostel life. One of the girls wasn't keen on sharing a room with 3 other girls, so it was a little tense for a bit, but hopefully it'll be ok. Its only for 4 nights, anyway.

I'm going home this weekend. It hasn't really been that long since I last was home, about a month, but I felt it was about time I went home for a visit. I'll be working in Burnt Oak tomorrow, in a little independent chemist. No doubt I'll feel guilty for charging them an enormous bill for my services (we get paid by the hour, y'know), and I'll either have a really, really quiet and boring day, or I'll have a run in with a mouthy customer (cos its quite rough in Burnt Oak) and be totally humiliated. Well. I might not even need a mouthy customer to humiliate myself, I haven't worked in a chemist in almost 4 weeks. I have to go to Asda to buy some hair conditioner and some Raisin and Frosted wheats. I seem to have become attatched to the asda conditioner, and my local safeways doesn't sell the said brands of breakfast cereals. I also need to go clothes shopping, get a pair of shoes, trousers, and boots.

Dican has broken up with her boyfriend. I don't know her, I just occassionally read her blog since she got nominated for best asian weblog in the 2001 Bloggies. I found the way she's talked about the break up touching. He seems a bit of a prat.

I sometimes find myself strangely attracted to the lab technician Gus... Which might be half ok if his BO wasn't so bad half the time. It might even be half ok if he wasn't such a weird geek, wearing strange clothes like shorts and cut off jeans and clogs. But I think its his eyes, I think he's half indian or something, so they're kind of slanty, and he has black hair which I think he's losing, and he seems to be very empathetic, you could talk crap, but he makes you sound ok, and he lifts really heavy stuff and cycles 40 miles when he's drunk.... OH MY GOD!!!!

I went to Bar Salsa on saturday night with Raji. Raji was having one of her depressed mood swings, so she was kind of not talking much and complaining about feeling ill during dinner in a chinese resteraunt with four of her 'friends'. The inverted commas are because earlier on in the evening she had tried to ditch them by gatecrashing a dinner party in Amalfi's in Soho. She was on a mission to have 'a good time', and didn't feel she would have it with these guys, so she was desperately trying to talk some other people to come with her. Hence the gatecrashing - i hadn't realised what she was up to, I thought the people we were going to 'meet' in Amalfi's would be expecting us, so it was looks of shock and 'what the hell' all round. So the guys we were with decided to ditch her and go eat somewhere else, and I followed them leaving Raji behind to deal. So we ended up in the chinese resteraunt, with Raji meekly joining us about 15 minutes later.
So yes... after dinner nobody wanted to go to Bar Salsa other than me, and this other guy Ashok who's a doctor. Got there, coughed up £8, waited in the cue for the coat room for 15 minutes, coughed up another £2 (so along with the meal at the chinese resteraunt that was £20 gone, gone with the wind) and then finally got onto the dance floor and started grooving. I didn't have guys bothering me at first because Ashok was there, but after he left at about 10 or something, I had to dance the obligatory salsa dance with drifting guys wanting to do their thing. I danced with this massive egyptian guy who kind of shuffled from foot to foot. I danced with this lithe italian guy with an intense stare who kind of stood diagonally, and grooved from side to side. I danced with this guy who was really into spinning the lady, and he kept on making me spin round and round, although it wasn't easy on the packed floor. And I danced twice with this small greek guy who couldn't really dance salsa, but pretended he could by doing lots of hand movements and spinning. Plus he then kept on telling me how nice I was, which I find quite a turn off - once is fine, but four, five times - too much! I excused myself and perched myself on the little wooden fence that ran along the edge of the dance floor. And boom! My eyes, my eyes! I saw Raji snogging this guy she was dancing with. Woah, I ran off and recovered in the seating area. The rest of the night was me cuing up for another 15 minutes at the bar to get a beer, and then being turned away because I wanted to pay with visa, drinking water, dancing a little bit more with Raji and dancesnog guy, running off to sit down and then bumping into a guy I barely know from University, chatting, him leaving, and then chatting the rest of the night away with his mad friend who insisted he was in fashion. Still, atleast he could dance. We left at 2am when the place closed, and walked back to my flat even thought she was in new high heels, and my toes were being squashed into unnatural positions in my dance shoes. She didn't want to lead her salsa guy on and she'd lost interest in him anyway. When we got back, it was 3am. fantabulous.

I went to a bar called Propanganda last night on wardour st just off Oxford st. It was - and I know i'm obsessed - just like one of those bars you see on sex and the city - I don't get out much. They had these leather sofas, facing each other with a little wooden table in between, and you can also order Thai food to eat. I went there with my friend Raji, who had invited some other people along. She had originally intended a dancing evening, but the music wasn't to her taste, and I didn't much feel like it, so we kind of just parked on the sofa, with one of her friends - who left at about 10ish and was promptly replaced by two other of raji's friends. The music had started off loud, but not that loud so that you could talk fairly reasonably, but then as the evening progressed got louder and louder, until they started playing dancy funky tunes as a signal for everybody to get up and dance. What I thought was funny was this couple on the sofa opposite us, who were adopting various sprawling cuddling positions. They started off just sitting up and staring into each other's eyes, went onto lying down staring into each other's eyes, and then ended with woman on top blatantly straddling man, whilst staring into each other's eyes. Wow, that was practically pornographic. They left eventually, but they were there for an awfully long time, and i was thinking how far were they going to go before they decided to go get a room? We left at midnight. No we didn't pick up any guys.