Nah nah nah, nah nah ne nah nahhhhh....
I have the very irritating habit of placing bad songs in people's heads and then getting the hell out of the vicinity. Like the surreptitious lift farter, I can place the snippet of a song in the brains of my colleagues that leave them tearing their hair out without getting caught. I rather enjoy quietly strolling through the aisles of Tin Can, String and Whistle Ltd humming such classics as "Mah Na Ma Nah". Had the Integration Engineers doing Dr Teeth's drum solo in harmonic unison the other day.... he he.
For those who don't know what I'm talking about see the link below - it's still funny forty years on...
Mah nah mah nah
Work Husband is a favorite target - the They Might Be Giant's classic Dr Worm is a favourite to drive him spare - that and the Discovery Channel Song all get into his head and he starts throwing things at me from over the partitions. Mind you, he got me back - driving through Apollo Bay in his hairdresser's car (his MX5) with the top down he blared the later treasure out the stereo. I just wanted to climb into a more sensible vehicle and die.
People are aware of my dreadful predilection. Sometimes they try and get me back.
Allow me to digress for a bit. Probably the best thing about Tin Can, String and Whistle Ltd is the multicultural nature of the office. I love that I work with people from all over the world. University fostered this love - having a lot of Asian friends I got to appreciate other cultures, foods, religions at a fairly early age for somebody born in the late sixties in Adelaide - a last bastion for the White Australia Policy. It was really formative and cultivated a love of travel, listening to stories, trying new food and going new places. Then living in multicultural England, my eyes were opened to even more.
I'm so fortunate to meet all these wonderful people and experience these cultures. It's one element of my life I'd never give up.
So coming back to Tin Can, String and Whistle Ltd, within a staplers throw I find myself in the company of all sorts. People with origins that are based in China, India, Afghanistan, Algeria, Belgium, Germany, Greece, Turkey, Ireland, England, Lebanon, Vietnam, Malaysia, Nepal, Pakistan, Brazil, Indonesia, Japan, Scotland... some have become Australians, some have been brought in by the company, some are becoming Australian. The best thing is, none of that matters. I work with a wonderful bunch of people. 95 percent of whom are men (or big little boys depending on the time of day, stress level and sugar consumption) You can find anything to eat from fried anchovies, seaweed biscuits, baklava, spekulaas, king munts, curries to cheese and biscuits sitting on the central pod tables there for the trying. You name it, it's sat in the middle of the table amongst the Tim Tams and Doritos waiting for somebody to screw up their nose - and finally appreciate the offering.
I've left one group out, the Dutch Mafia. Like the seven dwarfs, we had the five Dutchmen - Strange, Sweet, Silly, Smelly and Sexy. I'll leave them to fight over the monikers. One has since returned to the US (Reindert) and one is back in Holland for the moment. I've become an honorary Dutchperson, mainly because I can handle the double salt liquorice they love like redskins and after two years I'm understanding and speaking more of the "Hurdy Gurdy" they are prone to talking.
Digression over, Work Husband and his wife, both Dutch, got me back the other night in the song department the other night with this gem -
Schnappi Die Krokodil
It's the Belnelux version of the Crazy Frog.
Bastards. It's more insidious than a dentist's drill. It goes around more than that awful Kylie Minogue song.
And then after spending the afternoon with one of my Irish counterparts, what should come up but Dustin the Turkey and the Sultans of Ping FC.
So if anybody knows how to get "Where's me Jumper?" out of my head, complete with Cork accent, I'd really appreciate some advice.
Where's me Jumper?
On more regular topics, my head is getting around the running, finally completing the 20 minute week 5 run 3 psychological barrier on Tuesday. My head is getting back in the game. Also the no ice cream, chocolate and chip rule is going fine, as is the no Bejewelled Blitz. And I may have found that writing name...
Not the best of offerings tonight - other things are in the offing, my head is a bit full and only time will tell if I can divulge.
Card of the Blog: The Fool - not what you think (though rather apt) taking risks, leaps of faith, starting a journey.
Oh I hope so!
Kilometres walked since 29 January: 96 km
Kilometres run since 29 January: 53 km
Currently reading: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami, Ultramarathon Man by Dean Karnazes
Weight lost since 29 Jan: 0.7 kg