Comfortably Numb

How do you do, I see you're reading Heat?

Yesterday we went to Manchester, did a bit of shopping, had dinner at Tiger Tiger, and on to the MEN Arena to see Aussie Pink Floyd. I bought the Boyf tickets to this event for his birthday, but some were surprised to learn he was a fan:

Boyf: I'm off to see Aussie Pink Floyd tomorrow.
Mate: You're into Pink Floyd?
Boyf: Yeah.
Mate: I didn't know you smoked weed.
Boyf: .........I don't.

Yeah, I think the smoke machines were getting a little help at the gig. The first half was rubbish as I didn't know any of the songs and was bored off my head. I wasn't the only one - a guy a few rows ahead of us fell asleep. Mouthy bloke behind him yelled "Come on we're falling asleep here, look at him!" as they broke into Time and a gazillion alarm clocks went off. This is the point where it got good. Best bits were everyone singing along to Wish You Were Here, the female vocalist doing Clare Torry's screechy bit - I mean, 'the evocative wordless vocals' - on The Great Gig in the Sky, and a giant inflatable pink kangaroo getting rapturous applause. Worst bits were the ten to twenty minute instrumentals - *snooze* - and that they had a really early interval just when everyone had arrived. Other notables were them playing the intro to Neighbours and Prisoner Cell Block H (the Aussie bit, see?) and the beginning of Another Brick in the Wall. It was fun, but once is enough.

Dress to Kill

Oh my Lord, I have a job interview tomorrow and I have a crazy case of the jitters! It's not just nerves though (tomorrow morning will be a whole different story, as I try to scratch my way through the walls of the waiting room with my bare hands), it's also excitement. Even though I have a feeling I'm not going to be lucky enough to get it, and even if I did I'm not sure I could make it work out, I'm excited at the thought that as from tomorrow my life could change in a pretty significant way. Even if it doesn't, it could, and that's a big light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel ray of hope for me to mull over when I'm shelving the same books for the twelfth time in the middle of the week. It speaks of possibility.

I am completely freaking out about what to wear though. I did some shopping in Manchester yesterday (more on that later), and went to Primark and H&M. The shops in Manchester are too big, they are colossal, they're like consumerist places of worship. You can get lost in them; they're disorienting. Next stands on a corner like an intimidating giant, it's curved front like the prow of a ship. I think I covered the whole of Primark but I can't exactly be sure. I didn't really get much in there, just a few tops and stuff for the summer. It's so good for basics. Boyf's complaining hiked up a gear once we got into H&M and then he waited outside. MJ, I think you've spoilt me, you do realise that Boyf doesn't even carry any of my bags and would just let me struggle along loaded up like a donkey before offering to take anything? But anyway, I tried some things on. I browsed around the whole ground floor, tried stuff on, queued at the tills and bought my items in under 20 minutes! I think that's quite impressive. From there I got a really smart pencil skirt, a blue wrap shirt with frills and a really pretty white blouse. Unfortunately, none of them work together as an outfit. The blue one is too fussy and the white one doesn't look professional enough. I'm out of ideas, and it was all I could think about when I was trying to sleep. I got out of bed at three AM to try on an outfit! Including accessories! The main problem is that I have no jacket. And I need to buy hosiery.

Another thing I am debating is whether to wear my specs. I never wear them as a rule because I hate the things, but, though it sounds silly, I think people might take me more seriously when I'm wearing them. Granted, I've never tested the theory, but that always seems to be the way it works in American TV shows about High School, and as Clarissa explained, they make you look more intelligent. I have to weigh this up against a possible detrimental effect on my confidence though. Plus I'd hate anyone to leap from behind a photocopier and tell me I should've gone to Specsavers.

I may hyperventilate now.

Bygones

So I could not sleep last night. I stayed up late watching Something's Gotta Give and was surprisingly entertained by it. Fleetingly fancied Keanu Reeves. I think I have a weird thing for men in scarves. Not just any old scarves; I don't think woolly affairs knitted by a doting grandmother would have quite the same effect, especially if they are bearing some kind of woodland animal, but stripey scarves, the type worn by what my dad refers to as the 'college pud'. I don't know why but I just think men look so handsome in them. I can't take my eyes off the Boyf when he wears his one I bought him. I am officially a weirdo!

Watching the film itself felt like I was watching Sex and the City if the series had ran for another 25 years and been dramatically censored. There was Diane Keaton naked, generation gap dating, writing about men and sex at a laptop, and an ending in Paris - the same bridge? And yes I really did say Diane Keaton naked, full frontal if you will.

After it ended I was still wide awake, so I checked my emails, worked the blog roll, and then went to lie down and stare at the ceiling in the dark. It was about three thirty. The birds were hollering outside my window. Whenever I had trouble sleeping as a kid my mum would tell me to think about something nice, like Christmas or my birthday. I am a big daydreamer these days and have in Ally McBeal* terms a 'rich inner life', but I realised something last night. None of my daydreams are essentially about me anymore. I guess everybody daydreams so I don't know if this is a normal thing or not. I don't imagine myself in my perfect job, I don't dream about my wedding, having kids, recite my Oscar acceptance speech, smack my boss in the face with a smoked haddock, none of that. My daydreams are like sitcoms with an ensemble cast. They're kind of like what would happen if? dreams. What would happen if we bumped into such a person at a party? and action! It can even be about someone I don't like, someone I would loathe to see again. It's like I'm preparing myself for some encounter. Is that crazy?

*I used to watch Ally all the time with Li when she lived with us, but once Billy died I could never really get into it again, then it went all bizarro with her daughter turning up and everything. I've no idea how it ended. I blame this show for my short skirt phase.

Who wears the pants?

The boot of my boyfriend's Land Rover filled up with rainwater yesterday. The carpeting in there is saturated, and underneath the carpet is all the wiring for the electrics etc. So he's had to take it to the car shop today and SHOPPING HAS BEEN CANCELLED! I think he did it on purpose.

So, I may give up on the idea of having Boyf accompany me and go tomorrow, or save it for Manchester on Wednesday. I am toying with the idea of buying a pencil skirt to wear for interview on Friday, because people keep telling me I would suit one and I have so many pairs of black trousers already (I want to buy a suit jacket to match.) But I don't know, trousers to me just seem more professional, I think if I teeter in wearing a tight skirt and courts that I'll just look like a dolly bird?

Decisions, decisions. I really want something that screams "hire me"... I think maybe the skirt just says "spank me"?

I also re-read the application form I sent them and boy do I have a lot to live up to! I never knew I was so accomplished! I think the word I'm looking for is... embellished. What a funny word that is when you look at it. Better than liar liar pants on fire though :P

Mums the Word

Happy Mother's Day! Today, we celebrated for mummies everywhere and one in particular with duck pancakes followed by cheesecake. And now I'm off to find myself some beefcake! Tee hee.

Ahem. But seriously. My mother - a former Miss Royal British Legion, I'll have you know - is a really amazing woman, and if I grow up to be (!) anything like her then I will consider myself a very lucky person. And rather amazing!

The battle to turn my tiny bedroom into the penthouse suite at some big swanky hotel the name of which momentarily escapes me continues. It's still looking more like Andi Peters' broom cupboard. We moved around all the furniture today and I hated it immediately but am too scared to ask Boyf to help me put it all back just yet :P Tomorrow there is shopping on the agenda, and he's pissed off enough about that! It's been too long!

Maybe I should hang lots of mirrors, or line my walls with murals of furniture and windows like the inside of my old Barbie Dreamhouse?

Speaking of which, I attempted to use Dreamweaver and I don't know what the fuck I am doing!

Also, I think I may have located Mary Brown. I narrowed it down to about 12 anyway and via a combination of cross referencing my sources and gut instinct, I think I've found my great gran!

Guess what her mum's name is.

Yes Please

Flicking between channels during the ad breaks on Friday, MJ and I wondered why on Earth people sit through the Commonwealth Games. Then we got our answer. Diving is the new black. See how good it looks on him?

Ode to Paris

In response to my post on Feng Shui in action, MJ said:

"Remember that teeny denim outfit you had? I don't think you were ever brave enough to wear the bra top, it was like an homage to Paris Hilton. Hun, you were way before your time!"

Witness the horror that was my fashion sense at the age of 16 in the year one thousand nine hundred and ninety eight. Those are rosebuds appliqued on there. Pink ones. The tape measure is there for purposes of scale, and is at 12 inches. And no I never ever ever wore the bra top!

Just for the record, I'd like you to know that my sister aided and abetted me in that purchase. It goes without saying I looked like this in it:

No, I don't mean the cow, cheeky!

Hanging on to clothes from when I was 16 is the reason I am having a garment overflow crisis. But getting rid of stuff isn't as easy as I at first thought. Here is an edited version of MJ's attempts to help me chuck out the chintz.

MJ: Why don't you just store all the clothes you hardly wear in the storage boxes under your bed?
Chica: Now why didn't I think of that... because they're full.
MJ: Of what?
Chica: Um, clothes.
MJ: They're in there too?!

Chica: What about this jumper? Shall I chuck it?
MJ: Oh don't ask me this is too hard!
Chica: I wore it twice three years ago.
MJ: But it's so pretty!

Last night's labours have resulted in a bin bag full of clothes and one empty drawer. One! I gave it to Boyf, so am back at square one! Yeah, this is so worth it...

I'm glad I'm Team Richie these days.

The Freaks Are Out

Doctors surgeries can be very amusing places. It's the place to go if you feel like spending the morning with a menagerie of, shall we say, 'characters', all intent on discussing their life stories, travel arrangements, hospital records, and long standing feud with the receptionist in front of an audience averting its gaze lest they stumble into eye contact, an obligatory smile, and then bam, a conversation has been initiated with a lunatic: You find yourself enquiring about persistent corns and balking back the urge to ask if they've been prescribed anything for their halitosis or that bad case of verbal diarrhoea... um, for example. My favourite this morning was a woman who repeated an indignant cry of "I've been up since 8 o'clock!" as if she was saying "I was at Dunkirk!" when she was told she would have to wait for an emergency appointment. (It was 10 AM.)

I forgot to tell you yesterday that somebody stole my 7 year old niece's packed lunch from her school! They found out the culprit was a 14 year old lad and his mother. If it's not nailed down, I tell you... No scouse jokes please!

Feng Shui

This morning I woke up and sprung out of bed with a light foot and a happy laugh... oh okay, that's a lie, I did jump up out of bed, but mainly because I can't breathe when I lie down with this cold. I have actually had quite a productive week; I began a spring clean of my/our bedroom and it's looking much better. I still need to tackle that omnipresent wardrobe though. It's like I'm storing up my emotional baggage in the form of All Saints-era combats and platform shoes we'll pretend I never wore and even if I did it was because of a love affair with the 70s and not in any way was I influenced by the Spice Girls, okay?!

The Spice Girls model Chica's wardrobe, circa 1996.

(It's not that effin' funny bitches! At least Posh is taking it seriously...)

It's basically teen angst with sliding doors. So I'm going to gradually, drawer by drawer, shelf by shelf, get rid of it. I've even decided that after almost seven years of loyal service, it may be time to offer Boyfy the use of a drawer. At the moment, he only has a couple of t-shirts and a pair of pyjama bottoms chucked in a wash basket reserved purely for this purpose at the bottom of the bed, along with an ab roller of his I pretend that I use (and sometimes intend to.)

But back to this morning. I accepted the offer of a cup of tea from the Boyf - who makes excellent tea by the way, apparently it's builder's tea - and let Puppy out into the garden, whereupon I noticed some mail for me on the table. It was from my workplace and looked suspiciously like an application form. I apply for all kinds of jobs all the time, regardless of whether I am qualified for them or not, so the sighting was not unusual. But lately I've stopped applying so much and couldn't think of anything I'd sent off for recently. Then I got paranoid and started to think it was a letter about my being off sick and tore it open. It took me a few moments to realise that it wasn't another application form but was in fact an invitation to interview for a job in the journalism department! It's only part time and doesn't pay much, but if I got it I could hopefully work out something with the library to do less hours or something, and it would be great experience for me. It's not a writing job or anything like it, it's as a research assistant. So the interview is next Friday. Between now and then I must complete the following:

- learn how to use Dreamweaver
- brush up on research protocol (i.e. find the methodology chapter I wrote for my A' level Sociology project and wing it from there)
- identify perfect interview outfit - might even spring for a suit! (I love the black jacket/white top combo Kate Hudson wears in How to Lose a Guy when she resigns from the magazine... it's appropriately smart but not stiff)

Should I tell my boss I'm going for an interview to get the time off or shall I just book a half day out of my holidays and keep quiet? Hmmmmm.

Anyway, must dash, I'm doing my niece's food technology homework! Unfortunately, it doesn't involve eating...

Who, What, When, Where, Why?

I am seriously considering going back to uni to do journalism. Scary eh? I consider lots of things like this all the time - if you just ask Guillermo, in the past few weeks I have bought and sold a house, moved to a desert island, and gone part time at work all in my little old head. But this journalism thing is something I keep coming back to. Writing is what I want to do with my life. But the only decent course I can find in Liverpool is an undergraduate one where you get loads of work experience too, but I'd have to do it part time and keep working, so it would take me five years. You do realise that in five years I will be not 21? Then I thought, I've always known I wanted to be a writer, why the bejesus (I said that word in church yesterday, incidentally) didn't I take it the first time? Then I remembered: I had decided that I couldn't be a journalist because I wasn't confident enough. At eighteen, I let that hold me back. *Insert International Gesture for What-Am-I-Going-To-Do-With-You?*

Maybe I should ask my tutor about it! You know, after I do some work for his course, naturally!

Baby Love

So today was little Baby Blue's Christening, and it was a many splendid thing. He was so sweet in his little outfit, and only cried once when the priest woke him up pouring water on his head :P I didn't go to the party afterwards (Judas made an appearance), but it went very well by all accounts. We spent Saturday preparing all the food for the table, and Pebbles had Baby Blue's name in huge silver balloons hung over it. They had all kinds of activities on for the kids, and then Pebbles released the balloons with her son's name into the sky for her dad who recently passed away. (Not a dry eye in the house.) Pebbles and Tink both looked fab - Tink was godmother. I might put some pics on flickr for those who have the secret password :P I know all people say that their baby nephews are gorgeous but I'm not a baby person at all, and I'm telling you this kid is CUTE!

I also had fun scaring my boyfriend by asking as seriously as I could muster if he thinks we should have a baby. There was a surprised pause. Then he cottoned on. "Nah, maybe in about a year," he said rather devilishly, to which I replied: "Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Kiss Me... I'm Irish

Happy St. Patrick's Day bitches! I'm wearing green and the Guinness is in the fridge! Well, in truth I'm looking green (still sick) and I'm banking on the Boyf to celebrate enough for the both of us as he's still livin' it up in Newcastle. Oh, and the dress pictured always reminds me of St. Patrick's Day for some reason? ;)

Although I won't be able to celebrate in the traditional way, I am getting closer to Ireland in the old family research. I've also discovered that one of my close ancestors was possibly named... Lancelot! No! It's too good! Either that or whoever transcribed the indexes had a kicky sense of humour.

This weekend I have a Christening to look forward to - I know how we all do! So I have to drag myself shopping tomorrow for a gift for little Baby Blue. And an outfit for Great Auntie Blue (sorry for my gloomy post!) I'm looking for something cool and casual, in light colours. I'm thinking creamy tones and maybe a signature piece of jewellery to pep it up a little. Which all sounds lovely but Baby Blue might just have to put up with something from the Britney school of fashion at this rate. Or Auntie Chica's monkey print pyjamas. With a cute hat or something of course!

This is appropriate for church right?

Have fun if you're celebrating, and don't get too drunk!

Heartbreak Hotel

So it's been a year since the shit hit the fan as far as my relationship with my family goes. That's kinda something. I shan't bore with details, suffice to say that I had my heart broken, not by a former lover or potential mate, but by the people I grew up with, the people who populate my childhood memories, and the people whose betrayal still gets to me even a year down the line. Firstly, my sisters. It's hard to describe in words my relationship with my sisters - I find that guttural screaming and discreet sobbing under pillows late at night sum it up much more viscerally. I still speak to my sisters, I mention them on here from time to time, and I love them both in an annoyingly unconditional way that probably only exacerbates my issues with them. I am closest to my eldest sister, but there is something between us that I'm not sure if she is even aware of, something that makes me throw a brick wall up around myself so that even when we hug each other, I keep her at arms length. Her attitude to what happened a year ago frustrates me, and even though all that crap has been massively overshadowed by more recent events, I still carry it with me all the time. Maybe it's because I not only never received an apology from anyone involved, but nobody actually even acknowledged that me and my boyfriend were getting a pretty rough deal, and now they all pretend like nothing happened at all, while the ones who caused all the trouble in the first place have complete carte blanche. In short, they've won. Only instead of driving a wedge between me and the Boyf, they've driven one between me and my family. I'm not even going to try and explain my relationship with my other sister. My other sister has diplomatic immunity on the grounds that she's been completely fucked up by her husband. If my sisters have taught me anything, it's how destructive men can be. Or maybe I should qualify that - how destructive bad relationships can be. I'm overly cautious as a result I think; I'm always on the look out for the next way Boyf is gonna disappoint me. Then there are my nieces, and that big side order of guilt. The Grinch that I make reference to is their father, so if he ever did get his comeuppance and/or people acknowledged that the story he and Judas cooked up was bullshit then that would just be like a slap in the face to my nieces. And even though I think they secretly know that their dad is a liar and coward, he still is their dad and they love him, like I would. It's a vicious circle, one that's been going around and around in my head since last March. I know that all I can do is let go - nothing else is in my power, and it's not like I think about this stuff all the time. Sometimes I can even shake it off and think it's meaningless anyway - if my family could do that to me then it's not worth having any kind of trusting relationship with the majority of them anyway. But then I think how sad that sounds. What happened to make me the expendable one? I never did anything to hurt anyone, and I still wouldn't do the same to Judas even though he completely stabbed me in the back and totally floored me by his callousness afterwards. I just feel like I don't really matter. There are very few people in the world that I feel that I can count on, that are special to me and that reciprocate my care and attention. The people that are most important to me and that I am equally important to in my life today I can count on one hand. And I know that I'm lucky even to have them. Sometimes I wish so badly that my grandparents were still alive that it hurts. I was special to them, and I would have loved them to meet Boyf so much. I know this is a pretty selfish rant to be indulging in, but I'm gonna blame it on delirium from this evil cold. Oh look, time for more drugs! - Beechams Flu Plus that is.

You know when you have an argument with somebody and then all you can do for days afterwards is think about what you should have said? It's kind of like that except I never had the argument.

Nobody likes a Mr. Sniffles

I called in sick this morning and made my legitimately croaky-voiced excuses. My face hurts. I do feel awful, and I got like zero sleep last night, but I still managed a giggle as I gathered together a stack of DVDs and relocated my laptop to the couch. I ordered a bunch of new DVDs the other week and they arrived on Monday. They include: Big Fish (I defy you not to cry during this movie), Igby Goes Down, and Almost Famous. I'm sounding pretty cool with my purchases thus far, non? But stay with me, I reveal my true colours in the next paragraph.

So last night was my TNL (Tuesday Night Late) and the supervisor was off. Oh my goodness, it was so weird! It was me, Potter and Elspeth and I was just like, agog: "It's just us?" I realised with a feeling not unlike that of a child when a teacher leaves the classroom. As sod's law would have it, it was ridiculously busy and we had little opportunity to slack, but it was so much more relaxed and pleasant. Elspeth has given up chocolate and cake for Lent (cuckoo - chocolate and cake? Give yourself some room to move!) and so I delighted in describing to her the warm Alabama fudge cake with a couple of scoops of vanilla ice cream I enjoyed on Monday night in front of (...and here it comes...) How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. This movie is perhaps the definition of a chick flick, but oh how I love it! Kate Hudson is simply hilarious. The highlight for me has to be the following line: (in a sing-song voice) "little big little big, I do not know we will find out!" It's not without its flaws ('Frost Yourself' has to be the worst slogan for diamonds I ever heard) but I could watch it like a million times, and I kind of plan to. Sorry Boyfy!

"I love you Benky, but I don't have to like you right now."

Hothouse

It's three thirty on a 'school night' (or morning?) and I can't sleep for the life of me. I feel like shit. I think that's the speediest I have ever developed the dreaded lurgi, and blame the ridiculous temperatures at work today. I don't know if I have introduced you to our boiler but it has in my mind a big red dial on the front with two settings - freeze, and cook. I think maybe they're trying to see what makes us work faster? Expecting to freeze, I dressed appropriately for work today and immediately broke out in a sweat when I arrived. We had people demanding to speak to the manager because it was so hot. I skipped my lunch and hiked into town so that I could get something cooler to wear. Why am I so tired? I wondered at eight o'clock, then realised all I'd had to eat all day was an apple, a banana, and a yoghurt. This was also probably not a wise move. Fuck it, I have to call in sick tomorrow. What else is a girl to do? Stick a fork in me, I'm done.

Urban Shipwreck

Anytime I watch Shipwrecked (if you visit the site now they have a clip of the boys stripping for your viewing pleasure - I'll have the cowboy please) it just makes me want to run away and live on a beach somewhere. I'm sitting in my bedroom in a very snowy Liverpool thinking about spending my life in a bikini and taking up badminton - a random combination I know. I'm in a very energetic mood but am stuck with my dissertation to study for and a pile of ironing to do. How old am I?! My life is about as exciting as Pauline Fowler's :( I just want to chuck it all in and join a sun-worshipping cult. Boyf has just rang me and his activities today have involved chilling out in the jacuzzi of a hotel near where he is working (he's staying in a dodgy hotel around the corner from it but gets to use the posh hotels facilities!) and having a shave in the sauna! No fair!

I'm still stuck on the family tree stuff and have had to fork out for another months subscription to ancestry.co.uk cos I forgot to cancel it on time! Doh! But I'm considering buying my granddads birth certificate and his parents' marriage certificate in the hope of some clues. My scouse ancestors are proving very elusive!

As to another worthwhile project, last night I taught my Nintendog Moo - a cute little pug - to shake, roll over, lie down, and spin! Yes, my life is very fulfilling as you can no doubt imagine.

Un-Canny

So, it is Saturday afternoon, and so far today I have done lots of important, practically crucial, stuff: circled what films I want to watch on Sky later, caught up on Wondy's Celeb Pages, done some birthday present research on Play for the parents, who both celebrate their birthdays this month (then there's Mother's Day too, oh happy coincidence), and checked the River Island site to see if they've had any more of these really cute red striped hoodies ordered in, since they only have size 14's left :( Yet it has been a more productive morning than these lines first suggest, as I have come up with a really interesting opening for a novel that I hope to begin working on soon. Later I plan to swot up on some dissertation stuff, and while this may seem laughably implausible on a Saturday night, let me just remind you that I plan nothing more exciting or challenging than watching a film in my pyjamas. This is because we are all skint from MJ's birthday celebrations last week and my life's main distraction, Boyfy, is in Newcastle for a week. Newcastle seems to be providing a bit of a theme for my day, since some of the research mentioned above involved seeing what Catherine Cookson products were out there cos my mum is a huge fan. However, while I think I'll avoid the Ale, I'm not sure that Boyf will be doing the same.

Welcome to the Hellmouth

Can you feel it in the air, the weekend is almost here! *excited*

Shocker: The past few days at work have been mildly interesting! I had to give interviewees and therefore potential co-workers personal tours of the building - me! - on Thursday, and I managed to get through it without putting any of them off (although four people didn't turn up at all, I blame that on word of mouth.) One woman even said I seem like a very happy person, I guess crediting some of it to my workplace... I refrained from revealing that I refer to it as The Hellmouth. It was a bit stressful, but it was cool getting a glimpse of who our next victim might be, and yes, I have my favourites :) The highlight of my tour, if you ask me, was when I informatively pointed out that the sketch of the tables in the postgraduate research area look like Y-fronts. And when Lila did the tours last week, she very professionally told the candidates where the loos were "in case you need a piss." *Applause*

Today we had evacuation training, and were basically told that in the event of fire, we have to guide any disabled users on the upper floors into a 'refuge' between two fire proof doors (which last for a good half hour, at least!), inform them that someone will come to collect them "at a later date" (I shit you not, these are the actual words used) and then tell the unspecified person in charge that they are there, so that they can tell the fire brigade, who may or may not refuse to go in and rescue them! This is the official line?! There was also a smattering of the phrase "before anyone fries". Personally, I don't think I could leave somebody up on the second floor stairwell with the promise that somebody might come and get them at a later date, like next Tuesday perhaps. The manager was like, "So we have to tell disabled people that they go upstairs at their own risk, because if there's a fire drill they might never get back out?" Apparently, they're still working the kinks out of their policy, which they've been developing for two years. Scared.

There have also been some really annoying students campaigning for some student union election thingy hanging around reception harassing people (a couple of people asked me if there were any alternative exits so they could avoid them!) There is in particular one really pushy girl with a loud voice bellowing "Cheers dude!" to people who voted and "Bit of support!" to those who didn't. Then they left litter all over the foyer. Today they were giving away chocolate biscuits.

Ooh, and on the hair front, I am happy to report that ceramic hair straighteners are my best friend, as they sorted out the bouffant the silly trollop left me with after her horrendous blow dry. She gave me a good cut though, if slightly shorter than I'd hoped. I made a bit of an effort on Thursday for showing people around too and was complimented on my shoes, hair, jumper, and (usually reserved for non-work activities) jeans! I'll try not to wear those jeans for work again though, or they won't be special anymore. You know when you start wearing something for work a couple of times because its like your favourite thing and you want a bit of a lift but then you wear it more and more often and then it comes to the weekend and you're like, blah, I can't put that on I wear that for work... no? Just me then?

It's official: I hate my hair

So, Monday night I got my hair cut, as did my sista, whose hair now looks frickin amazing, she looks so much younger (she be 35) and despite the fact that the stylist was working from a pic of Ashlee Simpson, her hair rocks. Cut to me. What the bejesus has she done to my head? I think lady went a bit too crazy with the layering. I've actually had to perform an emergency ponytail today. I'm just hoping it can be rescued with the help of my straightening irons until it grows a little. If not, I'm considering a bob. Yes people, desperate times call for desperate measures.

What about this for my new look?

Fuck, I could even go for this (stolen from Josh & Josh), it couldn't get much worse.

Chillin' like a Villain

I so want this tee! How cute is it?! According to Pink, Natalie P. got to some gangsta rappin' on her SNL appearance, but since the video of her performance has been removed, G, you'll have to make do with this pic! I really wanted to effin see that too *sulk*

EDIT: You can watch it legally here :P

Ice Breaker

So the snow didn't exactly last out over the weekend, but it did fall enough on Friday night for us to build a most excellent snowman in the park on Saturday and watch the ducks skating around on the frozen pond; we bought hot chocolate and I promptly burnt my tongue - it still hurts a little bit! I actually got up early to make the most of the snow, and then I couldn't sleep in on Sunday morning either so I am not my usual rested self this Monday. Our snowman bit the dust even before we'd left the park though, as on our third circuit of the Hall somebody had rolled it into the bushes and its crumpled head marked the spot where he'd stood. Not before we saw somebody taking its photo though :) The Boyf and I also had some fun in a powdery snowball fight.

Puppy waddled around in the park yesterday in his new jumper, and we also bought him a new harness and some bling - a bone-shaped ID tag with his name and phone number on in case he ever gets lost. Cute! Then I watched Turner and Hooch and cried at the ending :(

We also celebrated MJ's birthday, but in an effort to prompt a blog post out of him I'm leaving all that stuff out! Oh except to say that we ate tapas again on Saturday and are getting quite the expert orderers (we're such foodie people), and I wore my new very smart jeans, white shirt, and heels that hurt A LOT! But they're so pretty!

No rest for the wicked...

I'm walking down one of the book aisles towards the computers on my lunch hour in work, carrying my handbag, silver purse, mobile phone and listening to my MP3 player (My Humps), and some woman actually stops me to help her with the printer, and looks slightly miffed when I direct her to the computer help desk. Some people!

"You're not old cos that means I am"

Happy 24th Birthday MJ!

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year!

Almost Famous

Thanks to Jennifer Aniston lookalike Wondy for the entertainment she provided us when she linked to My Heritage, where you can scan in your mug and see which celeb you resemble. It's also quite funny to scan in different photos to see just how different the celeb matches are - the general rule seems to be, if they have a pic of a celeb doing a similar head tilt to you in your photo, then you must be separated at birth! The most hilarious matches belonged to MJ, who according to My Heritage is a cross between Matt Le Blanc and... David Hasselhoff! I am not even kidding. Imagine the hotness! *snigger* A couple of my best friends are Nicole Kidman/Julianne Moore and Ashley Olsen/Naomi Watts hybrids, whilst I am - get this - a cross between Shania Twain (!) and Kate Hudson (!!!) The lovely Boyf got Joaquin Phoenix. Whilst I am perfectly aware that I am certainly no Kate Hudson and Boyf is of course about ten times better looking than Joaquin, how cute a couple would those two be?! It's a travesty that they aren't happily married and off making beautiful children together somewhere.

Bet you didn't know MJ was dating Laurence Olivier and Hayden Christensen!

The Big Purple One

Note to self: when handling extremely new and expensive purchases, it is wise to take the greatest of care, rather than dashing, say, a Sony New Walkman MP3 player against the slate tiles of your kitchen floor with an untimely bag swing. You just can't have anything nice dear, can you?

So, my MP3 player does still work but is covered in tiny little scratches. I had it in perfect condition for all of about 12 hours. It really walloped the floor too so I suppose it's not that bad a result. It also reminds me of something I can't quite put my finger on.... hmmmmm, what could it be? And why this sudden urge for chocolate?

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Today it is snowing in Liverpool! The snow always seems to just miss us, so I was chuffed to see everything covered in white this morning when I peeked through a crack in my blinds. I was less chuffed when I had to tiptoe to work through sludge and ice and arrived 2 minutes late, but if the snow sticks around over the weekend then it will all be worth it. Yeah, I know it probably won't, but a girl can dream can't she?

Just as an aside, remember those slacking tips I mentioned just yesterday? You'd think since it was on my mind I'd have spotted a golden opportunity when it was staring me in the face and instead of rushing to be a paltry two minutes late, had an hours lie in and been properly late since it's registered on the clock either way. The excuses in such weather are boundless and everyone else was bloody late, why oh why didn't I think of that eh? I'm a failure as a slacker! I'm so ashamed...

Anyway, after my precarious and slow journey to work, trying desperately not to fall over and break my ass, I arrived to find Lila and Jojo rolling around having a snowball fight while the manager watched them in amusement!

I just cannot wait to go home and play in the snow (if it hasn't all melted away by then...)

And since I pass my boyfriend's street every morning on the way to the busstop, I nipped down it and left a little message for him in the snow at the end of his path. An I HEART U. His dad noticed it first and when the Boyf was carrying his toolbox down the drive called out 'Chica's wrote I love you in the snow,' at which point my boyfriend swung his toolbox around and dented his car! So he called me on the bus to both thank me for such a romantic gesture and blame me for damaging his beloved vehicle. Ah well, you can't win them all eh!

I'm covered in beeeeeees!

So, last night I dreamed about Eddie Izzard. I dreamed that the library I work in was part-hotel, and he came to the desk and asked for a room, and even though I'd never booked anyone into any of the rooms before I insisted on doing it because it was EDDIE IZZARD! So I had to get one of my supervisors to show me where we kept the room keys and everything. Then after I served him he extended his hand to shake mine and I asked him if I could shake his hand in the same instance, creating a moment of awkwardness :P That's all I remember, except he was very handsome in the dream-flesh.

I was rudely awoken at six thirty this morning by somebody tapping on my front door. I thought it was my alarm clock and sat bolt upright, but then noticed the clock and promptly fell back asleep. I wondered if the knocking sound was a dream until Boyf said he'd heard it too. Note that neither of us bothered to get out of bed and see who it was though. Pair of old lazy boneses!

I can't wait to get my MP3 player! I ordered it off Play and the wait for it is agonising, I want it so that the bus ride home doesn't drag so much, and I also plan to try and sneak it around work with me when I'm on the boring jobs that nobody else seems to bother with but me. For example, this morning, me, Lila, and Hoggle were all timetabled for the same dull job, but I was the only one that turned up and the other two skived off in some undetectable manner. I would so get caught - I need to study them and learn their secrets! Any tips for A class slacking?