Lost Blogs, Vol. I

[Editor's note: the following blog post has been hijacked by a voice from the past. Click the Lost Blogs logo at left to learn more. And buy Paul's book. I get nothing from this except the torment sheer joy of helping someone else earn a living. If you care to venture a guess as to who my 'mystery blogger' is, the comments are open! If not, don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.]

December 3, 1919

Mr. P, the dreadful wank, is still dispatched overseas. I have no idea when he's coming home but I do have my eye on a few tasty boys in the office. I'm only getting through this senseless, war-time absence thanks to ever abundant quantities of gin and the friends I've made at work on the new magazine. We'll be having lunch again tomorrow. If not for the dear old chaps, I'd probably slit my wrists from the boredom and drudgery of life right now. I know it sounds horribly misanthropic, but people really annoy me to no end. The miserable sheep. All they do is spin their wheels and ignore the utter pointlessness of life.

In other work-related news, if you must know, I've been asked to do theatre reviews. I already know how this will go - the play will no doubt be perfectly ridiculous enthralling and ever so enlightening and I will write a piece of tripe glowing and altogether brilliant criticism of the current state of the theatre. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes. I'm really annoyed actually that I have to do this at all, but a girl must pay the bills. All those years at Catholic school and finishing school are really paying dividends, aren't they? *rolls eyes*

Now, where's my drink?