Got Wondy?

'Muffin's recent post reminded me that I started writing this a couple of days ago, but got swept up in the news that ALFIE HAS BEEN DUMPED BY THE AIR HOSTESS... I mean, swept up in the continuous mirth of Wondy after show parties, getting drunk with Orlando Bloom - who sadly, failed to win anything or be nominated at all (I spent much time commiserating with the fellow, whilst discreetly polishing my virtual award) - and eating burgers and swearing with Helen Mirren, who popped by in the hopes of our esteemed Host's autograph and a borrow of her lippy.

In case you haven't heard: I'm a Wondy Winner!

I would just like to thank my two main influences and fellow stylish females: the much maligned, elegantly coiffed and mistress of glamorous hosiery Nora Batty (pictured), and unlikely fashionista (curly green wig and all), Grotbags, who has inspired me since childhood. But most of all I would like to thank Wondy, for bestowing this title upon me so generously despite my tawdry association with leggings (despite my resolutions), and unbreakable habit of getting dressed in the dark.

Wondy, you're the best.

Much Ado About Nothing

Okay, quick update: he came, he saw, he conquered.

Meh, not really.

Last night, I got kinda nervous about the possibility of seeing him today. What would I do, what would I say? Would the smug and blatantly delighted look on my face give the game away that I knew he had been unceremoniously DUMPED? (There could have been a ceremony, involving bonfires and photographs and possibly pubic hair... I was about to say there should be a ceremony but the pubic hair thing put me off.)

But I digress.

I channeled all my nervous energy into deciding what to wear. Despite the fact that I had already ironed a perfectly cute outfit, including a little belted pleated skirt, before I even knew Alfie could be hitting up my workplace. But everything about Alfie makes me doubt myself and makes me feel not good enough, so naturally this informs my decision making skills re: fashion. This is how I found myself hand washing three garments in the bathroom sink at 11 o'clock last night. I left them to drip dry in the shower, and funnily enough they were still soaking wet less than 12 hours later. So I turned the heating up real high and draped them artistically over the radiators. I decided on the blue dress (again, it's my dress of the moment) and my new boots, and went to work feeling physically ill at the prospect of an encounter.

He came in about half three. I was answering the telephone as he walked past, and he mimicked my greeting. Then he went into the staff room, and I went up to the second floor.

The End.

So not worth the effort. But you know it had to be done!

The Spy Who Loved Me

What do I do with this succinct yet horror inspiring text message?

'Muffin: Alfie been in. Single now. Might be in tomoz.

So much to fret about...

I'm cool. Really. Swear to God.

*gulp*

I'm working on the assumption that he won't come in, or that he'll come in before my shift starts. That way, I'll actually be able to make it in to work.

Any advice? Any one??

UPDATE: Hahahahahahahaha, he got dumped, hahahahahahahaha.

Wooooh, head rush.

It Takes Two

Last night I had a date with Dedalus. We hit the tapas bar for sangria, then took in Jim Carrey's new movie, The Number 23. As an aside, Dedalus was born on the fifteenth of August. 15 + 8 = 23. There are 23 letters in his name. You think I should be worried?

It was so strange meeting him. It was like a rerun of the Alfie date, without the nudity or the part where I allowed myself to sleep in a bed underneath a fake fur throw. (Dude, you'll be installing mirrored ceilings next, wanna stop being such a kissable cliche?) I got a lift into town and was dropped off in the same place. I walked the same walk. And I waited in the same spot where Alfie stood waiting for me. Then I drank two sangrias and felt tipsy: nothing new there. (Staff in that bar must be like, heyyy, there's that whore again!)

Similarities end there. Dedalus and I actually converse and everything, without me doing all the work, it's totally refreshing. I wore my blue dress and the Faith boots. He looked pretty cute.

We'd got to talking about tricky subjects again the night before on MSN, but luckily no mention was made while we were out. He kept saying stuff like that he wished I was his girlfriend and he wants me to know he never stopped liking me and did I ever like him back then? I was firm but fair, and asked him if he was sure it was a good idea to see each other if that was how he felt. But he reckoned he was fine with it and he knew nothing was going to happen, it just mattered to him how I felt about things in the past. I think we should maybe cut out the 2 am chats though.

The movie itself was interesting but a little convoluted towards the end. It introduced certain characters too late for you to care and they drive towards wrapping up the plot a little too overtly, if that makes sense. It's like the ending of a Scooby Doo episode where they explain everything and pull off the scary mask to reveal it's actually been the janitor all along. Worth seeing though, if only to freak Dedalus "23" out.

Awkward moment of the night: "What was the name of the bar we always went to? Studio 50-something? Maybe it works out to three times 23... oh no, that's..." - Dedalus

Amy Rocks the House

OMG, Amy Winehouse was AMAZING! I went to see her at the Liverpool Academy last night. The beehive was bigger than I've ever seen it, which was good because it meant more of her was visible to me, being a short arse (or three and a half apples tall, according to 'Muffin's measurements. Have to admit he has a good eye, guessing my vital stats in one, so I'll defer to his superior knowledge.) I had the usual problem of viewing the gig between the bobbing heads and various haircuts of those in front of me, and spending half the night on tippy toe. But it was plain to see from even my vantage point that Amy is getting Olsen Twin skinny. She has the tiniest little waist ever, and her arms are starting to look a bit Nicole Richie. Size Zero can not support all that hair, Amy, s'all I'm saying.

Anyway, the whole set was brilliant. She has the coolest and most enthusiastic backing singers in the whole wide world. I want to go again right now; I'd go just to see them. Her voice was amazing. She incorporated a bit of Lauryn Hill's Doo Wap (That Thing) into the show, and finished with The Zutons' Valerie. Girl knows her audience. I properly love her. Seriously: it's up there with Take That.

Her support act was rather good as well; Lila tried to get tickets just to see them. Check them out here: Mr Hudson and the Library.

After the gig, Boyf wanted to go to the bar where Mybug works ('cos if I've been somewhere he hasn't he sulks about it.) So off we toddled. I spotted him behind the bar but town was booming and he was really busy so I didn't say hi straight away. He looked kinda handsome.

"This is my church." - Faithless

We ordered some drinks and pinched a 'reserved' booth. A gang of girls joined us. Boyf is pretty trashed already at this point, since he has been drinking three times faster than me. He was trying to order some more beverages when Mybug walked past. I called out to him and he smiled, said "All right girl!" and dived on top of me. Girls looked bemused. He asked what we wanted and I introduced him to the Boyf. He brought us some drinks over - I was drinking £6 cosmopolitans! - and refused to take the cash for them. Then when Boyf went the loo he leaned over the bar for a little chat and a kiss. No tongues!

Had a giggle over Boyf asking the toilet attendant if he had any "Muscular."

Attendant: No... I've got some "Masculine."
Boyf: Oh... *realising that's what he'd meant* Nah, I'll leave it.

I realise that's a total location joke, but oh, how we laughed!

Taxi home, portion of chips, bed. Pure class, eh?!

Not Big

I know I'm blogging too much today, that's what working part time does to you, but can I just say, for the record, that I hate hate hate chain letters? And I never send them on. I live with the threat of 2 years of bad luck just because I don't want to inflict the possibility of 2 years worth of bad luck on anyone else. So I say to all out there, don't be so SELFISH! I especially hate the ones that promise great glory/your true love, or ones that trick you into opening them by bearing a subject such as HEY, I GOT THE JOB, I'M MOVING TO JAPAN!!! So you click on it thinking, 'Heidi is moving to Japan?! What did I miss?!?' and then, boom, 2 years of bad luck as punishment for taking a passing interest in a so-called friends life. I don't need to be ambushed with bad luck on myspace, I have that ticking time bomb of karma to contend with.

Don't do it people, just say no! We can cast off this ugly yoke of oppression, together!

Don't Label Me

I'm liking my new blog layout. I know it's not very original but it's neat-looking and the colours are pretty. A change is as good as a holiday, they say! Cannot get labels to function no matter what I try though. All the right boxes are checked. I don't even particularly feel my blog needs labels, but because it's not working and I don't know why, it's eating away at me like... like, some sort of flesh eating ant and I am the picnic!

An Alfie label would be pretty redundant anyways, huh?

Bizarrely, I seem to be getting some of my interests back. This may sound weird, but I stopped enjoying a lot of the things I traditionally enjoyed while I was consumed by the Alfie stuff with the burning fire of a thousand suns. I'm even able to converse with people about a multitude of subjects again! Much to the relief of everyone I know. I'm currently viewing my time with Alfie with a mixture of great amusement and incredulity. (Ya'll don't have to congratulate me, I'm patting myself of the back... with my good arm.)

Stella got her groove back, and she likes it.

I Wanna Six You Up

I've been tagged by the lovely April! I have to list six random and/or strange facts about myself, then tag 6 others to do the same. Hmmm, I have a feeling I've done very similar meme's before, so apologies for any repetition. Read on for random strangeness.

1. I'm a walking disaster area, for whom even the most basic tasks prove to be too much. I hurt my right arm on the bus yesterday and it's quite painful. It hurts even to type. I've written like, 4 posts since then. My dedication to blogging is so great :P Meh, it hurts when I'm still anyway, I may as well be typing and taking my mind off it! I couldn't sleep last night because of it. It's a handbag injury; I think I twisted my arm the wrong way while picking mine up to get off at my stop.

2. I'm frugal with my lips. I've only kissed 7 boys. I should say men, though some of them were boys when I kissed them. 'Men' would just make that sentence sound less like I was writing this in my diary at the back of a science class, dotting the i's with love hearts. Given my time over, I would only have kissed two of them. One of them is Boyf.

3. I'm still one of the crap kids in the shallow end. I can't really swim. I had a scary experience in a public swimming baths when I was little, but I am not afraid of the water. While holidaying in Toulouse, I swam a little for the first time. I began practising with the aid of a pair of neon pink armbands and a child's Finding Nemo float, which I purchased for myself.

4. I almost passed myself off as intelligentsia (me!) I've stayed at Oxford University twice, once on an access course (where they let young people from disadvantaged areas get a taste of the good life!), and once while interviewing for a place there. I'm not sorry I didn't get in; I think I would've hated it. Nice deer park at Magdalen though. You have to sign a disclaimer before they let you into the Bod library saying you promise not to set anything on fire. Tee hee.

5. I've replaced hot sex with hot beverages! I really like drinking tea, wild child that I am. Boyf makes the best cup of tea ever. When we are both off work, he gets up first in the morning, makes me some tea, and then wakes me up when it's ready. He also puts the kettle on when I get home from work. We call them love cups of tea :P

6. I'm an evil genius, who spends many hours plotting devious schemes of revenge. I don't get along with Boyf's family, due to a dispute many years ago with his sister, and the fact that his mother is doolally. Once, also many years ago, we looked after their house while they were away. I only stayed there one night, the atmosphere in that house is just horrible. But I helped some in the big clean up before they came home. I forced Boyf to vacuum downstairs while I brushed up on the landing. I looked around up there and couldn't find a bin to empty the little pile of lint into, so I opened his sister's door and threw it in there (hahahahahahaha!) Small pleasures, people, small pleasures.

Now for the lucky six! I don't think I even know six bloggers?! Do this if you feel like it, unless you are 'Muffin, in which case I demand six facts, since you are still brand new. I'll even let you put down the one about how fast you can shelve a trolley. I'm good like that, see.

Oh! Darling

My mum has a really challenging job working with troubled teenagers in care. The way the care system in this country is managed is criminally messed up and as a result it's often difficult for people in the profession to make a difference. The kids my mum works with have really bad behavioural problems and they can often be abusive towards her and her colleagues. She's called terrible names on a daily basis and has been physically attacked. Despite this, she says the worst part of her job is dealing with the ineffective managers, whose priorities are all out of joint. Frankly, they sound like downright bullies, and clueless ones at that. That's why I love it when my mum tells me a story like the one she did yesterday about a shopping trip she made with one of her kids, D.

I know for a fact that D. is no angel and can be a nasty so and so when he wants to be, but in this story the dude sounds wicked. After a meeting in town, D. asked if he could pop into Dawsons, a music shop. My mum agreed and so they made their way there. D. informed her that he was well known in the shop and that they were expecting him to bring his grandmother in; for the purposes of this visit, she would be his grandmother. They also believed he was interested in buying a grand piano. So, D. plays every piano in the shop for the next hour or so and has all the staff fussing over him, until my mum announces: "Darling, I think we should go away and think about it. It is a lot of money, and I have a meeting I need to get to." D. replies, "Okay darling," sweeps his scarf over his shoulder, takes my mum's arm and sashays out of the shop. Then he goes to a jewellery store and pretends he wants to buy a diamond ring worth over a grand. How fun would shopping with him be?

D. also possesses excellent manners, opening doors for others and letting them pass through first, and walking my mum to her car every night. Once, when my mum was on the phone to my sister, he said: "Oh, I must speak with her," and they made fictional plans to go to dinner. He also once made my mum sit though a cabaret act he had devised.

Genius.

70/30

Today I had a conflab with Mybug on MSN. A happy outcome occurred I think. I told him off a little bit for being all over me when we went out. He objected at first, then when I said I was shocked because he'd never acted like that before, he admitted he'd been 'testing the water.' I asked him what the result had been. He said he got no response so he knew he'd have to leave it. I said: Good, so we don't have to talk about this then? He said no: 70/30 rule, but he had been praying for a response deep down.

The 70/30 rule, I discovered after getting him to elaborate, means that the maximum a guy can come onto a girl is 70%, and for this she has to be giving 30. For girls, it's vice versa. (So I was meant to be doing 30% of the work and somehow getting Alfie to give 70 - yeah, good luck with that, past me!)

So, he was actually exercising some restraint last Thursday! Who knew? After I left him to catch my bus, Mybug stayed out drinking until 9 am. He said he would've invited me to stay out with him but when someone mentions catching their bus three times in conversation, he can take a hint! I was like, what, you want me to be stranded? He said: taxis do exist. Then he invited me to his place to share a bottle of wine. Firmly, not happening, and I told him as much, though I did say we could maybe meet up for an after work drinky. Not sure how smart that would be yet; might give it some time.

I like him though because he appreciates rubbish jokes like this:

Mybug: Shall we be really pretentious and go and have espresso after our foreign language film? Will I get away with it in Reebok Classics?
Chica: Maybe, if you're wearing them ironically.

Girl with a Pearl Earring

FYI: I have been spending like a WAG possessed recently. I don't know who I think I am. You've seen the evidence of the weekend's splurge, and on Monday I popped into H. Samuels and treated myself to two pairs of earrings (one of which is pictured, left. I have them in right now. I think they're my favourites! Ahem, apart from the ones you got me 'Muffin. They obviously have enormous sentimental value as well as being lovely and my only pair of actual diamond earrings. And I do like them, despite what you think! I've blogged about them somewhere...) Check me out!

Speaking of which, who saw the shots of Coleen McLoughlin posing as figures from famous pieces of art last weekend?

Coleen gets ragged on for being famous for doing nothing except shop and turn a blind eye to her footballer boyfriend's dalliance with prostitutes a few years ago. But if someone handed me the opportunities she's had, I'd grab them with both hands and run too. Lucky cow!

I'd rather have Boyf than a footballer or any amount of money in the world; I'd quite like to just fall into a career in journalism (well, write my own fashion column, hello Mothership!) by virtue of shopping heavily though.

I'd say some girls have all the luck, but then she does have to sleep with Wayne, who has a habit of doing really stupid things like signing deals with The Sun newspaper, despite what they did to us after Hillsborough. My niece once dated him, and dumped him for being boring. That always amuses me.

Justice for the 96.

And you are...?

I was running late for work this morning, but for some reason I took the time to change my clothes about three times and fiddle with my hair for fifteen minutes. I decided that I wanted to make an effort and try and feel good about myself. I faffed about with my outfit and my hair until I looked half decent, and even put on gorgeous tan-coloured knee length boots I got for Christmas with a matching belt. The heels on them are really high so this is not normal work wear. They are killing me as we speak.

The first job I was on was a really boring one, so I smuggled my phone with me. Now, whether to text Alfie or not has been an idea I've been toying with recently, often culminating in red flashing lights, warning signs and all my friends collectively yelling nooooo in my ear with a megaphone. But I didn't want to text him as part of a route to anything: this is not Operation Bridget Jones revisited. I just don't like when things are left on a bad note and I wanted him to know that there aren't any hard feelings, whether he cares or not.

Anyways. I got lots of compliments in work on my outfit. While I was on the boring job Shelverboy came and chatted to me for a bit; he asked me if I'd changed my hair because I looked really different and he hardly recognised me. I told him I'd clipped my fringe back but didn't think that alone could render me unrecognisable. He said it looked nice, then started moaning about his girlfriend. Spontaneously, I took my phone out of my pocket and forwarded a willy joke on to Alfie, thinking (almost) nothing of it. Don't look at me like who are you kidding, I said almost.

After the job was over, about twenty five minutes later, I went downstairs to the office and told my supervisor of my progress. On the job, not Alfie. I'm not that bad. He didn't hear me properly at first, so I had to repeat the class number a couple of times, and someone kept asking him for the number to my right. I didn't register it because I was thinking about my next task, but then the voice moved closer and when I turned he was looking at me. Alfie. He'd been waiting for me to notice him.

My first instinct was to throw up a little bit, but I repressed it. I don't think I looked that pleased to see him. I said 'hi' and laughed and ran walked away. My skin immediately went hot and I was instantly nervous. When I went on the counter my hands were shaking while I was serving people. Lila and 'Muffin were looking at me and giggling together at reception, so I went over to see what was so funny. Lila had the idea in her head that I knew Alfie would be dropping in and that we had enjoyed some sort of secret rendezvous because I was dressed up and smiley! 'Muffin was like: "No, she'd never betray me so!"

Although I am happy to provide amusement for my work mates, oh my God it was so excruciating. I didn't really see him that much, he just asked how I was and stuff. He was here to pick up some books. I tried to be relatively cool and kept my distance, but I did lose all ability to operate the cash register.

How delighted am I that I wore the boots and made an effort though? Someone was watching over me while I was getting dressed this morning! Um, I mean that in a totally non-pervy way...

Even though I freaked out momentarily and was admittedly in a total state, I think I'm kind of okay. It didn't seem like he was the same guy I've been stressing over so much and writing about. And there wasn't as much of an oh my God I've been underneath you feeling as I expected.

Ladies and gentlemen: Alfie has left the building.

Smile

Whoa, I actually feel happy and cheerful right now, WTF? Someone press a cold flannel to my unfurrowed brow, stat. I was merrily listening to Lily Allen and chatting to 'Muffin last night when I noticed something was different. It feels good.

Yesterday noon, I hopped on the bus and rode it into town. I was due to meet Dedalus for milkshakes at 3 o'clock, but I had some time to kill before then and, well... I was a little bit naughty. Naughty, but nice! Could these be the source of such contentment?

Oh yes, my friends. I'm back!

With a vengeance!

Dedalus actually went with me while I tried the heels, and we browsed the shelves of Waterstones together too. It was nice book shopping with a boy. He bought trashy thrillers and has read everything by Dan Brown, but still. I like the Black Eyed Peas, how can I possibly judge? I managed to resist buying any books, which was a small victory for my bank balance. Patrick Suskind's Perfume was even in the 3 for 2 offer! Dedalus says he's never seen me happier than when I was buying shoes. I should always be shoe shopping.

We talked about American politics, jobs, and um, Top Gear, over our shakes and then walked aimlessly around town chatting. Well, truth be known the aim was the find a movie to watch but neither cinema had anything much going for it so we bid farewell and took a rain check on the movie. While we were walking, he asked me about a comment I'd made about not wanting to lead him on because I knew how it felt and it wasn't nice. (Yeah, I'm this subtle in real life too!) I told him a little bit about Alfie - the bite size version. The simplicity of the bite size version was actually kind of good to hear - it all sounded much more manageable and, I don't know, everyday. I wrapped it up with: "Anyway, he's got a new girlfriend. It's over."

Truth be known, I had a mini-crisis on Friday and almost text Alfie. Nothing heavy, just to see how he is. But I told myself just to wait one more day and then I could text him. But yesterday, I didn't even want to. I was in a good mood and I didn't want to spoil it, and I think I kind of didn't care. Snaps for me! (Or Schnapps, I think I should get Schnapps.)

Anyway, so we had this awkward conversation about the past again which, yes he keeps bringing up but I think we've dealt with it now. I told him I thought he was cheeky to even be bringing stuff like that up because he was out of my life for so long and then he comes back on the scene dragging up ghosts from three years or so before. He agreed. We reached an understanding about the whole leading people on issue, and I told him that I wasn't agreeing to see him for anything like that, but that we were close once and it would be a shame to throw that away. He agreed :P But it was sincere I think, and even though it was a little bit awkward, I feel better about us.

Oh yeah, and then after me explaining some of the Alfie palaver, I asked him why he and his ex really split. He said: "She met someone else, basically."

Doh.

But look again at the boots! How can I feel anything but triumphant? I may even do my happy dance.

Hmmm, one step at a time.

'Muffin Top

Although in its infancy, established around twenty minutes ago, the hotly anticipated (by me) Ramblings is born. After the launch party, the Rambler turned in early in order to properly prepare for his imminent and - naturally - largely female fan base. I managed a quick interview with the budding star before he suavely made his excuses and left:

'Muffin: well hun I'd better make my way to my boudoir
'Muffin: the ladies can't control themselves any longer
'Muffin: I feel wrong denying them like this

Potentially hilarious.

EDIT: 'Muffin has since decided his Ramblings are more like pearls of Wisdom. The updated link is here. Watch this space.

Facked

Lest we forget: Mybug. It was Our Day Out yesterday. We were due to meet at 5:45 outside FACT, to see Pan's Labyrinth. By some fluke of science - or maybe physics in particular, I recall some sort of equation about speed and velocity, but nothing about the number 14 bus - I managed to get there early despite leaving at 5 o'clock, the journey usually taking at least 45 minutes, being in rush hour traffic, having to walk from one side of town to the other in high heeled boots that were certainly not made for walking, and not being entirely sure where FACT was (I was last there August 2004 with Dedalus, for The Bourne Supremacy, and I had to hide from my old pretentious tutor whom I spotted in the bar.)

He managed to turn up a little bit late. And a little bit drunk. He was paint-spattered, which was cute, because he'd been working with kids all day. I went to kiss him hello on the cheek and he grabbed me and kissed me on the mouth. He had a huge cold sore. Not so cute. Remember how much I fancied Alfie and the thing on my lip was basically gone at the Christmas party and I pushed him away when he tried to kiss me because of it? He still believes I rejected him to this day. There is no excuse for wantonly spreading herpes.

The film was really good and he brought sweeties. I'm not a sweeties during the movie type of girl but still, thoughtful. However, he kept grabbing me and trying to hold my hand, he'd put his arm around me or lean on my shoulder, at one point I swear he tried to cop a feel but for my deft manoeuvring, and then he bit my shoulder. I'm just sitting there thinking oh, fuck and waiting for him to read the body language. I don't think he would have done any of that except he'd been drinking. I was thinking it's probably difficult for someone with ADHD to sit through a movie like that?

Spoiler alert: you know the scene where Ofelia's mother is dying and the Captain says to save the baby before saving her? Mybug actually said to me, "If we were in that situation I'd save you." I said; "I'm glad you're not a fascist." He said, "I just love your boobs too much... that was borderline wasn't it?" I said, "No, you're so across the line!"

After the film, we went to the bar where he works, had mojitos, and he introduced me to some people. Then I said I'd have to get my bus, so he walked to the top of Bold Street with me. He asked me to dance in the street, grabbed me, spun me around, whipped me up into his arms, and twirled. Meanwhile, I am like as stiff as a board yelping, "I'll fall!" and "Trust issues!"

Asking him to the movies was such a good idea, non?

Lordy. So I guess I need to speak to him now or not see him again, because he was obviously treating it as a date despite the fact that every second word out of my mouth now is 'boyfriend', the first word being 'my'. There were some funny moments as he is quite witty but it was just far too uncomfortable, I really didn't want to say anything about it at the time but it was not a pleasant experience when he was getting all hands-on in the cinema. To compound matters, I was thinking about Alfie the whole time because 'Muffin bumped into him during a staff visit to his new workplace. I was dying to ask him a million questions despite the fact that I wouldn't get any answers that would satisfy me. He did say he's lost more hair though. It's such a shame for him :P

Tomorrow: Dedalus.

I need more girl friends.

Deja Vu

So, I called up my doctor today for my test results and they are all normal. I realise that this is probably a good thing but I am really frustrated. I've been trying to research it myself but I can't make a diagnosis on my own, and I feel like they're never going to work out what it is and it will just keep getting worse and worse until I am no longer able to have contact with ordinary human beings. I don't even know what specialist to ask to be referred to and they will just keep fobbing me off until I give up. The future is not looking bright.

I read about one thing that might be causing it and to diagnose that they do blood tests, but differently to the one I had. They do numerous tests in a controlled environment to work out the cause and the area of the body it's in. So maybe the blood test I had wouldn't even detect the problem anyway. And maybe I need to start gearing myself up for many many needle pricks. Fun.

I dislike my doctors so much - they are husband and wife and they're just so useless. When I went last week, she just shoved the papers at me to get the blood test and said "fast". She didn't tell me how long to fast, where I had to go for the test, suggest what could be wrong, offer any kind of comfort, or anything. Bedside manner much?

If this does keep getting worse I'm going to have to become a hermit before I accidentally smother somebody with a pillow.

Stupid Cupid

With the aid of a pair of eagle eyes to rival Mr. Cherry, and a Carly Simon song, 'Muffin, a work mate might I add, has found my blog. Now, we all know how rocking the 'Muffin is, but do I delete or do I trust? Alfie could literally "ruin me" here. Answers on a postcard please.

Cherub

I thought I would wish everyone out there a Happy Valentine's Day a leetle bit early while I get the chance. I hope to be busy lip locking and playing the harp tomorrow night. Picked Boyf's card up on the way to work this morning, but have an embarrassing lack of gifts since I'm getting him football tickets but he hasn't decided what match he wants to go to yet. Boo. Will make up for it in other ways.

In work at the moment, with three and a half hours of boredom stretching out in front of me. It's so bad I might actually use my initiative and get stuck into some work I never get timetabled enough time to do... Oh my, I'm slowly turning into 'Muffin. Who, by the way, does the funniest frickin' Elmo dance I have ever seen. We're doing lunch tomorrow.

I informed the boyfriend of my Mybug plans this morning over tea.

Boyf: Leaving me for a younger man eh?
Chica: Yep *cough* ten years younger *cough*
Boyf: You can't leave me for a ginge. Anyone else, but not a ginge.
Chica: Born in nineteen eighty seven *cough*

I have the most laid back boyfriend in the world. It's kind of great.

Just Friends

I've been wallowing in my diva's recently, warbling along to Aretha and Etta and, um, Lily Allen, shamelessly. I am becoming more and more convinced that Amy Winehouse has had a fling with Alfie at some point in her life. Practically every song on Back to Black reminds me of him. Except that one about weed. Maybe I should fashion my hair into a beehive and drink lots and lots of Stella Artois. It seems to have worked for her.

The whole experience left me with the resolution that I would never ever ask a boy out ever again (we're assuming that I am single at some point in my future,) and that I would never advise a girlfriend to make the first move. Until about ten minutes ago, when I asked Mybug to the movies.

In my defence, he asked me first. And I really wanna see Pan's Labyrinth before it disappears from the cinema.

This is platonic, I assure you, in both our cases. But he does have rather a cheering effect on me :) Bring on the fun.

Hurting All Over

Well, today I woke up to my first hangover of the year! It took me about ten minutes to get drunk on a bottle of Pinot Grigio last night. The Boyf and I finally hit the town, I wore my green silk dress, and there was dancing. I had a little bit of a freak out in the bar Alfie and I kicked off our date two months ago in, cos that was the last time I was there. But I figure the more I go there with other people, the more stuff I'll accumulate in the way of that memory, if you get what I mean. Luckily, I got away with it under the 'oh no Chica's drunk again' licence to ramble meaninglessly. Moving on, I swear, just with a few minor hiccups thrown in every now and then. It takes me for ever to get over loss. I hate losing touch with friends too, even if it's clear the friendship is sort of floundering. I will always give people another chance because if I don't a big annoying WHAT IF? follows me around. But sometimes I think it would be better if I could just draw a line and cut people off; I have friends that can do this, they've fallen out with other friends for one reason or another and they don't even consider forgiveness. Black and white living must be much simpler than this greyness.

Anyhoo. We blew £100, but we haven't been out for a long time so I guess that's okay, even though I'm spending a lot lately and he's meant to be watching the pennies. I ordered some music the other day, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington, and Billie Holiday Best Ofs. And we all know I'm going to buy those shoes. They would have looked great with my outfit last night. Plus I keep buying things for my new and improved bedroom. I feel a trip to Ikea coming on.

I had a blood test on Friday. Now, I don't know if you are familiar with my history with needles, but it ain't a happy one. Yay for me, I didn't pass out. I'm kind of antsy to know the results already though and it's going to take at least a week to ten days before I'll know anything. Fingers crossed, although I'm not sure what outcome to hope for. If they don't find anything, I don't know what to do next, and with my doctor, you have to know what to do next because they're not big on the diagnosing of stuff. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

High Heels and Low Lifes

Today marks two years since I started blogging, which is crazy, because it seems like yesterday I put together last year's Top 5 Posts. And I'm a bit disappointed that nothing I've written this year would have made that list. But whatevs. This is warts and all blogging. So, here are my best bits since last Feb, curiously perched at a jaunty angle on a witches nose near you.

1. Ode to Paris. A lesson in teenage fug.

2. Oops I Did It Again. Mybug, mybug, mybug, mybug, I love my ginger bug.

3. I'm Not Dead Yet. Chica can fuck up any aspect of her life!

4. The Edge of Reason. Back when Alfie was just "Himself" (before I created a monster.)

5. Closer. The longest post in the world, all about a snog.

It might not be pretty, but it's all true. Another year? Bring it on!

A special thanks to my, um, let's say "exclusive" group of readers and commenters, some of whom have become good friends and a big part of my days. You're ace!

Toxic

Did I mention that Julie is an air hostess? This is what Alfie calls her; I'd say flight attendant. A couple of my friends have this theory that he's attracted to the glamourous image they have. He's a total status freak: the places he goes, the clothes he wears, and he schmoozes with all the right people at work. I do think he'd get a little kick out of it. If he had a secretary, he'd be shagging her. Even 'Muffin said he needs to be careful before he becomes a caricature of himself.

The email really hurt my feelings but his callousness also killed off any desire I had to be with him. I would never go there now even if I could because I've seen how he is capable of treating me. So maybe he did me the biggest favour of my life, in hindsight. I still have some feelings for him obviously, I can't turn them off like a light switch. But I'm getting to grips with the idea that he really is bad news and nothing I do can change that.

I also have a little theory about the way I felt about him which I am going to investigate further. Don't worry, it's nothing to do with him, it's about me and without wanting to sound overly dramatic, it's something I'm going to see my doctor about. The intensity of my feelings for a complete and obvious bastard isn't the only out-of-character thing I've been noticing lately. I've developed a couple more symptoms over the past month especially that I am worried about. I don't think it's anything serious and I think it is treatable. I suspected something like this a while go but I thought I was being silly or clutching at straws to explain away what I was feeling. I don't want to say too much because I don't want to sound like a hypochondriac. In a way it would be good if I got a diagnosis but it would also be a bit scary. I'd rather be an idiot when it comes to men than have a bona fide medical predisposition for catastrophic affairs! I'm joking about that last part! All will become clear.

Fantasy Footwear

Ladies and gentlemen, the next great love of my life:

I should NOT buy these, as I have only wore my gold ones, which were also £60, once, these twice, and these (which I bought last summer!) twice. I also have a really similar pair, except they are satin and have no platform. I kind of wrecked those a little on my night out with Alfie though, marching down London Road and drunkenly yelling 'rendezvous' at each other. How obnoxious!

I really like them, and I'm hoping I can take off the ankle strap. If I buy them. Which I shouldn't. But I might.

Purge

Very busy few days. The project is taking shape and now closely resembles a bedroom rather than a cesspit. My walls are Treacle Tart #5. My floor is absolutely beautiful - I was laid by a professional! Might post pics despite nobody being remotely interested in wooden floors I'm sure. Now I just have the mammoth task of reloading my bookshelf, and I think I'll save the rest of the reorganisation for tomorrow. I went through some of my clothes today and made up two bin bags full for charity - some of them with the labels still on! I have a ridiculous amount of clothes that I never wear. These are housed in three different rooms. I'm going to continue the premature Spring clean as soon as the room is completed; I just don't want to make a helluva lot more mess right now.

I also have a lot more books than I realised, but I can never throw a book out and don't see why I should. I really haven't been reading enough recently and am going to try and set some time aside just for this. It's difficult when you share a house and there are so many distractions. I need quiet to be able to let myself become engrossed by a book and I generally have people talking to me or following me from room to room turning on the TV (that's you Boyf - who will never read this blog for obvious reasons!) But somehow, even if I have to lay down the law, I'm gonna try for this one. I've been reading the same novel for months and every time I pick it up I have to skip back a few pages to remind me where I'm at. I read a whole lot of the time when I was in France.

So sleepy. So many books to dust.

I rock Friday nights.

Karma Chameleon

I realised today that at 24, I am the same age my sister was when she married her late husband. That's a little frightening, since I remember the wedding like it was yesterday. And I was only 14. Teenage years are notoriously slow. In the blink of an eye, I'll be 34, the age my sister is now... no wait, she was 35 last month. (I have two sisters. The other is 36. If I mention my sister, it's usually the eldest one I'm talking about, since we are closer.) I thought: I really need to get out there and get happy. I don't have months to waste on Alfie. I need to start thinking about me again, not what he wants or what would make me more appealing to him, or any man for that matter. I don't mean that like, I'm going to do anything I want and not think about consequences (so over that!) I just mean, I think I need to find myself again, but not in an introspective, think about all my mistakes in order to learn from them kind of way. I mean, in a getting my hands dirty and keeping busy kind of way, until the months pass and all of a sudden: poof, I'm a new me. I've done enough brooding and it can't hurt to try it this way, right?

By the way, I want you all to know that I do recognise that I deserve this. I'm not just thinking 'poor me, bad, bad Alfie.' This is my fault, my mess, and my karma. You can't argue with karma.