Oh My Lord. I was horrendously drunk last night. I was so drunk I couldn't get my own boots off and collapsed into bed wearing one of them. Boyf dragged me up and into the bathroom, where I lay and cried with my head in a bucket, throwing up. MJ undressed me and put me into my pyjamas. I tried to protest, "I'm not wearing a bra," but he said he wouldn't look and sent the Boyf out of the room which I thought was rather matronly of him :P The pyjamas he put on me were a pair I'd put to one side to throw out because they had big tears in the back like I'd been swiped at by a breed of large feline. He clipped my hair back in a random fashion and, when I was ready, led me slowly back to bed, walking in front of me, my arms around his waist.
I was wasted, completely trashed. And I wouldn't mind but I hadn't even drank that much. I must have had about six drinks, although I did mix them, and I have never ever been so drunk before in my life. I know it's regarded as rather a rite of passage, but I've never actually been sick before after a night out. And if I start feeling drunk, I usually slow right down or switch to water because I HATE feeling drunk and looking that unattractive.
I didn't realise I was that drunk until the last half-drink I managed, a Reef in the Fab Cafe. I thought I was merely happy. I had been laughing like a lunatic all night and dancing like one too. The source of such merriment? Himself. I sent him a text message. Before a drink had passed my lips. I'm still rather delirious about it.
At around ten to eight my Uncle Yank sent me a joke that reminded me of Himself, and so I spontaneously forwarded it on to him and signed it with my name and a kiss!
Then I did a funny little dance and got nervous about whether I should've sent it or not.
In the car on the way into town, I got a reply: Chica (my surname)? X
Chica: (surname's) the one. Mate just sent me that joke and I thought of you! Have a good night! x
It could have ended there right? I'm friendly but I give him an out at the end with the general tone of finality.
Himself: Thanks. That theme has been my topic of the week. Gonna go Mosquito again tonight. No surprise there. Are you staying in with the hubby tonight?
C: Nope I am off out to town. Might meet up with Heidi later and go cruising for boys. Where would the Mozzie be without you! Have fun! x
Again with the finality, right? He could just leave it there perfectly politely. But...
H: Excellent. (surname) is on the town. Who you out with? You should come to Moz so you can report back to 'Muffin.
(!)
C: I'm not sure. Maybe next week. I'm not in my Mozzie best! Rocking the skinny jeans tonight. Wouldn't want to scare the poor lamb, think it's best if he goes in blind! x
H: Cool. Well it would be nice to see you around my way tonight. Skinny jeans will be ok. Just get in touch if you fancy it. If not, hope you have a lovely night x
First of all, how lovely is he? I'm practically orgasmic at this point. Second of all, he uses predictive text. And thirdly, oh fuck. I'm on a night out with the Boyf and I've been invited to a club by the guy whose pants I've been trying to get into for the last two or three weeks. What would Jesus do?
I proceeded to get swiftly drunk and text everyone I knew about whether to go to Mosquito or not. In the end, Boyf suggested going because my texting was rather indiscreet (drunk, remember?) so I had to tell him that we had been invited to Mosquito by a workmate. But the first time we passed it there was a queue outside. Boyf does not do queues to get in places, ever. I was secretly glad but sick with excitement at the same time. After a drink in Mathew Street, we decided to head back to the other side of town, and when we passed Mosquito, Boyf tried his luck at the door. Apparently, you needed tickets. Boyf dropped Himself's name and the woman on the door looked kind of impressed and said: "He's already gone down." Boyf wanted me to ring him to get us in (he could've, he's well connected) but I thought that would be WAY too weird and suggested meeting Heidi at the Fab Cafe instead.
I failed to meet Heidi because she went home early but we continued to text each other until I was too drunk to read them. I'm still drunk now. I reserve the right to deny all this in a few hours time. Enjoy it while you can!
In a word: Eek!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Friday, October 20, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Love Muscle Russell
God, this morning seems like a long time ago! It's lucky I've got numerous emails to Guillermo and texts to my sis to work from!
So, you'll all remember that I got Himself's phone number from Heidi. What she didn't tell me was that she'd text him and asked if it was okay after she'd give me it! Today, I spoke to Himself first thing and he didn't let on about it. But he came and found me and Studmuffin while we were shelving books and teased us about being 'the happy couple.' When we both protested, he stroked my arm, apologised and said to 'Muffin: "Come on, Chica's a pretty girl." Then he said: Heidi text me and asked if it was okay that she's given you my number... I was like, what? no, fuck off!
There followed an exchange I can't remember. I think I maybe blacked out because whatever awkward response I managed to make to this has been wiped from my brain. I'm pretty sure it involved a lot of nervous laughter from me and the 'Muffin. At some point I managed a feeble 'It's okay I won't use it.' He said: oh no, use it, get drunk and send me pictures.
Then we talked about Heidi and how she'd just blatantly asked to watch them get dressed, and how she was all over one of the guys we work with. Himself said he liked her and I agreed: 'she's great; she's very upfront. I need lessons from her.'
When he left, 'Muffin and I discussed how to stop everyone from gossiping about us, 'cos everyone in work, ironically enough, think that we're at it! This came up at break again with Himself, who accused us of always being together. I said that everyone must just be jealous of all the time we spend together because really they wanted 'Muffin for themselves. Himself said: but obviously I'd be fancying you, not him. There were loads of other little flirty bits but I can't bloody remember them all! He was asking about my dress again, and wanted to see a picture, but I don't have one on my phone.
We also had some banter with me bravely stopping him as he walked past to tell him his outfit was a bit Russell Brand. He was indignant and demanded to know what was Brandish about it. I told him it was the floppy collar and the black scarf, which he took off immediately. We were standing pretty close. "I can't believe you said that, I hate Russell Brand, he's a wanker," he complained. I laughed and said sorry and he play-shoved me as I walked away!
Ah, it was a beautiful moment.
So, even though it's all a bit clumsy, I'm at least getting to know him a bit better! I think I need to do some damage control though over the me and 'Muffin rumours. Although, if they're busy talking about that, maybe they won't notice me drooling all over Himself!
So, you'll all remember that I got Himself's phone number from Heidi. What she didn't tell me was that she'd text him and asked if it was okay after she'd give me it! Today, I spoke to Himself first thing and he didn't let on about it. But he came and found me and Studmuffin while we were shelving books and teased us about being 'the happy couple.' When we both protested, he stroked my arm, apologised and said to 'Muffin: "Come on, Chica's a pretty girl." Then he said: Heidi text me and asked if it was okay that she's given you my number... I was like, what? no, fuck off!
There followed an exchange I can't remember. I think I maybe blacked out because whatever awkward response I managed to make to this has been wiped from my brain. I'm pretty sure it involved a lot of nervous laughter from me and the 'Muffin. At some point I managed a feeble 'It's okay I won't use it.' He said: oh no, use it, get drunk and send me pictures.
Then we talked about Heidi and how she'd just blatantly asked to watch them get dressed, and how she was all over one of the guys we work with. Himself said he liked her and I agreed: 'she's great; she's very upfront. I need lessons from her.'
When he left, 'Muffin and I discussed how to stop everyone from gossiping about us, 'cos everyone in work, ironically enough, think that we're at it! This came up at break again with Himself, who accused us of always being together. I said that everyone must just be jealous of all the time we spend together because really they wanted 'Muffin for themselves. Himself said: but obviously I'd be fancying you, not him. There were loads of other little flirty bits but I can't bloody remember them all! He was asking about my dress again, and wanted to see a picture, but I don't have one on my phone.
We also had some banter with me bravely stopping him as he walked past to tell him his outfit was a bit Russell Brand. He was indignant and demanded to know what was Brandish about it. I told him it was the floppy collar and the black scarf, which he took off immediately. We were standing pretty close. "I can't believe you said that, I hate Russell Brand, he's a wanker," he complained. I laughed and said sorry and he play-shoved me as I walked away!
Ah, it was a beautiful moment.
So, even though it's all a bit clumsy, I'm at least getting to know him a bit better! I think I need to do some damage control though over the me and 'Muffin rumours. Although, if they're busy talking about that, maybe they won't notice me drooling all over Himself!
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
The Girl Can't Help It
Okay, there's more. It's been a productive day.
At lunch, 'Muffin and I went shopping to pick Heidi some leaving presents up. Let me now just declare my undying love for Heidi, and later you'll see why. Upon returning, Heidi was in the Staff Room with Himself, so it was just the four of us, and we got to talking about the night out. I can't remember particulars, but Himself and I had a bit of banter going on, largely over style tips for 'Muffin. Heidi said she liked one of Himself's friends, and I asked what he was like.
Himself: He's ripped. He's really good looking. Imagine my personality...
Chica: ...but he's good looking to make up for it? ;)
I love teasing him, he does this great smile. But then 'Muffin was being way over the top obvious, saying things like: "Heidi can have him and Chica can have you then." The following exchange was even more horrifying, but luckily P.Diddy was there to laugh with and take the mortification away.
'Muffin: Well, give us an example of your chat up techniques, work your magic on Chica.
Himself: Chica's got a boyfriend!
'Muffin: Well, hypothetically...
Himself: ...no, I can't just do it here!
Chica: *dying*
But the reason I love Heidi so much is because she is an unashamed, unabashed flirt and she manhandles all the guys at work. She came straight out and asked if we could go to Himself's house and watch them all get changed - he said yes by the way - and get ready there (so not happening!) When I told her I fancied Himself, she replied with such great nonchalance 'Who wouldn't?' and gave me his number. And she almost got us an invite to stay at Himself's on the night out, except I immediately offered our spare room for Heidi (I can't handle such proximity) and he reconsidered and said that the Boyf and Sarah prob wouldn't be too happy if I stayed over. He didn't mention anything about Heidi staying over though? Hmmm.
Later, as he walked past the counter, we resumed the outfit conversation. I asked on the appropriateness of dresses, because we were both planning to wear them, and described Heidi's prom dress affair.
Himself: Yeah, the girls wear dresses, you can get as dressed up as you like where I go, you won't look overdressed. I suppose some girls wear quite slutty dresses...
Chica: So cleavage is okay yeah?
Himself: *looking suitably surprised* I can't WAIT to see what you're gonna wear!
His number is on my phone. Obviously I can't use it. But fuck.
At lunch, 'Muffin and I went shopping to pick Heidi some leaving presents up. Let me now just declare my undying love for Heidi, and later you'll see why. Upon returning, Heidi was in the Staff Room with Himself, so it was just the four of us, and we got to talking about the night out. I can't remember particulars, but Himself and I had a bit of banter going on, largely over style tips for 'Muffin. Heidi said she liked one of Himself's friends, and I asked what he was like.
Himself: He's ripped. He's really good looking. Imagine my personality...
Chica: ...but he's good looking to make up for it? ;)
I love teasing him, he does this great smile. But then 'Muffin was being way over the top obvious, saying things like: "Heidi can have him and Chica can have you then." The following exchange was even more horrifying, but luckily P.Diddy was there to laugh with and take the mortification away.
'Muffin: Well, give us an example of your chat up techniques, work your magic on Chica.
Himself: Chica's got a boyfriend!
'Muffin: Well, hypothetically...
Himself: ...no, I can't just do it here!
Chica: *dying*
But the reason I love Heidi so much is because she is an unashamed, unabashed flirt and she manhandles all the guys at work. She came straight out and asked if we could go to Himself's house and watch them all get changed - he said yes by the way - and get ready there (so not happening!) When I told her I fancied Himself, she replied with such great nonchalance 'Who wouldn't?' and gave me his number. And she almost got us an invite to stay at Himself's on the night out, except I immediately offered our spare room for Heidi (I can't handle such proximity) and he reconsidered and said that the Boyf and Sarah prob wouldn't be too happy if I stayed over. He didn't mention anything about Heidi staying over though? Hmmm.
Later, as he walked past the counter, we resumed the outfit conversation. I asked on the appropriateness of dresses, because we were both planning to wear them, and described Heidi's prom dress affair.
Himself: Yeah, the girls wear dresses, you can get as dressed up as you like where I go, you won't look overdressed. I suppose some girls wear quite slutty dresses...
Chica: So cleavage is okay yeah?
Himself: *looking suitably surprised* I can't WAIT to see what you're gonna wear!
His number is on my phone. Obviously I can't use it. But fuck.
Props
Oh, and because I know just how annoying I am, I must offer out a special thank you to the people who have shown themselves to be true friends and, instead of telling me to shut the hell up, have offered me advice and encouragement in this truly friendship-testing time. In no particular order:
- MJ, my rock!
- 'Muffin, without whom I would be totally lost!
- Wondy, for understanding exactly what I'm going through and going through it with me, and especially for her brilliantly funny e-mails in my hour of need!
- Heather, for her advice, encouragement, and lack of judgement!
- Guillermo, because despite how well you know me, you're still trying to make me see sense.
- And my lovely sis, because she's hilarious.
Believe it or not, this crush is a secret!
Thanks very much you lot, you are helping me cling on to those last fleeting shreds of sanity and self respect!
- MJ, my rock!
- 'Muffin, without whom I would be totally lost!
- Wondy, for understanding exactly what I'm going through and going through it with me, and especially for her brilliantly funny e-mails in my hour of need!
- Heather, for her advice, encouragement, and lack of judgement!
- Guillermo, because despite how well you know me, you're still trying to make me see sense.
- And my lovely sis, because she's hilarious.
Believe it or not, this crush is a secret!
Thanks very much you lot, you are helping me cling on to those last fleeting shreds of sanity and self respect!
Bunny Girl
Okay so firstly, to all of my friends and readers, and readers who are also friends, I am truly sorry. I know I am testing your patience. I realise that I should probably think of renaming this blog: I've got a crush on a guy and I'm gonna make you all listen to me talk about him until your ears bleed.com, but I think that's already taken. I understand that there are much more important things going on in the world that should occupy my mind, and more significant happenings in your everyday lives. Really, this whole crush scenario is utterly trivial, and it's scandalous of me to be complaining about it's effects while people who could be reading this are going through real actual problems that don't involve trying to turn the head of the office hottie... who just walked past.
Secondly, if you wholeheartedly agree with the above and are thanking the heavens that I've finally come around from a pheromone induced frenzy, then I would kind of avoid scrolling down. Or possibly checking back in any time soon. Because this is another one of those posts.
Yesterday, I launched Operation Bridget Jones. It didn't start terribly well as I overslept and had to rush around like crazy beautifying myself, which I obviously need about four hours to do. During this time, my sister docked with an emotional crisis and I, being a terrible sister, was trying to console her whilst straightening my hair and systematically laddering the tights I had paid a small fortune for the day before. (Actually, this is all sounding rather Bridget isn't it? I'll be sliding down a fireman's pole tomorrow - if I'm lucky!) But finally, I was ready. I had on a tight polo neck jumper, a short pleated skirt with a cute little belt, and heels. MJ gave me a lift to work so not only wasn't I late, but I scored what was to be the only time I had with Himself all day (MJ, I love you!)
When I walked into the Staff Room, it was full of people, so I couldn't look at Himself and see if anything registered, but everyone else practically showered me in compliments, including my boss - which was a big relief because I thought I might get told off for the risque skirt! Studmuffin nearly fell over and said I looked hot, and I swear some people were nice to me who usually don't even bother saying hello! But: nothing from Himself. Not even a flicker. Gutted. Sassy was a godsend because I probably would've buckled under all the attention except she said "Ooh, is this part of your mid life crisis? Oh no, you went to lunch with your friend didn't you - that's why." Phew. Himself went home early. At about half seven (I worked til 9) I changed into jeans.
But, not one to be easily discouraged(!), I woke up this morning more determined than ever and chose a black knee length skirt and a pretty top that highlights my waist and ties at the back in a bow. This morning, Himself walked into the Staff Room as I was applying make up at the mirror and said: "Another skirt, very nice," and watched me put on my mascara! I said, "Thanks, I'm glad somebody noticed," because I couldn't say, "Thanks, I'm glad you noticed." I told him I was acting on Hoggle's advice. Later, Hoggle asked me what the change was in aid of, because I never wear skirts to work since you are always bending over and stretching and standing on kick stools. I told her about the rut and how I was trying to change it in small ways, so I hope she hasn't noticed anything going on.
THEN, we were talking about the big night out at the end of the month and Himself was saying that the girls shouldn't go because Studmuffin will be reserved if we're there. So I pretended to be miffed and said I wasn't going unless Himself asked me nicely. He took me seriously and was like: "Oh no I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it like that." 'Muffin was distraught because he's desperate not to be thrown to the lions and wants us girls there for moral support. I insisted that I brought the wild side out in 'Muffin and could in any man(!) 'Muffin chimed in with a 'yeah, anything with a pulse,' then left us alone. Himself looked at me - with those eyes Wondy! - and said: "I'd love for you to come."
I replied: "I just have."
Okay, you know I so didn't! I mumbled something along the lines of a thank you and appreciating it, and he walked off, then turned round and flashed me a big smile.
*Sigh*
Yep, I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. You may want to cut me off now.
Secondly, if you wholeheartedly agree with the above and are thanking the heavens that I've finally come around from a pheromone induced frenzy, then I would kind of avoid scrolling down. Or possibly checking back in any time soon. Because this is another one of those posts.
Yesterday, I launched Operation Bridget Jones. It didn't start terribly well as I overslept and had to rush around like crazy beautifying myself, which I obviously need about four hours to do. During this time, my sister docked with an emotional crisis and I, being a terrible sister, was trying to console her whilst straightening my hair and systematically laddering the tights I had paid a small fortune for the day before. (Actually, this is all sounding rather Bridget isn't it? I'll be sliding down a fireman's pole tomorrow - if I'm lucky!) But finally, I was ready. I had on a tight polo neck jumper, a short pleated skirt with a cute little belt, and heels. MJ gave me a lift to work so not only wasn't I late, but I scored what was to be the only time I had with Himself all day (MJ, I love you!)
When I walked into the Staff Room, it was full of people, so I couldn't look at Himself and see if anything registered, but everyone else practically showered me in compliments, including my boss - which was a big relief because I thought I might get told off for the risque skirt! Studmuffin nearly fell over and said I looked hot, and I swear some people were nice to me who usually don't even bother saying hello! But: nothing from Himself. Not even a flicker. Gutted. Sassy was a godsend because I probably would've buckled under all the attention except she said "Ooh, is this part of your mid life crisis? Oh no, you went to lunch with your friend didn't you - that's why." Phew. Himself went home early. At about half seven (I worked til 9) I changed into jeans.
But, not one to be easily discouraged(!), I woke up this morning more determined than ever and chose a black knee length skirt and a pretty top that highlights my waist and ties at the back in a bow. This morning, Himself walked into the Staff Room as I was applying make up at the mirror and said: "Another skirt, very nice," and watched me put on my mascara! I said, "Thanks, I'm glad somebody noticed," because I couldn't say, "Thanks, I'm glad you noticed." I told him I was acting on Hoggle's advice. Later, Hoggle asked me what the change was in aid of, because I never wear skirts to work since you are always bending over and stretching and standing on kick stools. I told her about the rut and how I was trying to change it in small ways, so I hope she hasn't noticed anything going on.
THEN, we were talking about the big night out at the end of the month and Himself was saying that the girls shouldn't go because Studmuffin will be reserved if we're there. So I pretended to be miffed and said I wasn't going unless Himself asked me nicely. He took me seriously and was like: "Oh no I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it like that." 'Muffin was distraught because he's desperate not to be thrown to the lions and wants us girls there for moral support. I insisted that I brought the wild side out in 'Muffin and could in any man(!) 'Muffin chimed in with a 'yeah, anything with a pulse,' then left us alone. Himself looked at me - with those eyes Wondy! - and said: "I'd love for you to come."
I replied: "I just have."
Okay, you know I so didn't! I mumbled something along the lines of a thank you and appreciating it, and he walked off, then turned round and flashed me a big smile.
*Sigh*
Yep, I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. You may want to cut me off now.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Sshhhhh...
Since I have discovered today that not only do I have just two weeks to become Keira Knightley, but must undermine and sabotage Himself's relationship with "Sarah" (like, allegedly that's her name*, who is she???? who is she???**) in these same said two weeks, I have decided to bring out the big guns.
Thanks to Laura, I may find happiness with Himself yet!
I swear to you, I am kidding.
*SATC quote. Yes, desperate times call for desperate measures.
**The Nikki-ism's live on.
Back to Earth with a Bump
God, I am a total fucking idiot.
This is driving me crazy. I ended up spilling the details of my rubbish weekend to Sassy and Himself at break. Then:
Chica: So, how was your weekend?
Himself: Better than yours! I'm back with Sar-
C: Good!
H: She called me on Thursday so I saw her on Friday...
C: Good.
H: So we're back on.
C: Good, Happy?
H: Yeah.
C: Good.
Oh well, at least I got to flash some photos of the Boyf and gain back some respectability.
Ah, who am I kidding? I am a total fucking idiot.
This is driving me crazy. I ended up spilling the details of my rubbish weekend to Sassy and Himself at break. Then:
Chica: So, how was your weekend?
Himself: Better than yours! I'm back with Sar-
C: Good!
H: She called me on Thursday so I saw her on Friday...
C: Good.
H: So we're back on.
C: Good, Happy?
H: Yeah.
C: Good.
Oh well, at least I got to flash some photos of the Boyf and gain back some respectability.
Ah, who am I kidding? I am a total fucking idiot.
Ex Factor
He's back with his ex.
Gutted.
He also cheated on her on Saturday night with a random girl.
And yet I still like him. People in glass houses and all that.
That's a huge secret that the 'Muffin let me in on this morning. He was like: "...hun." I knew what it was going to be.
Chica: What is it? Hit me, slap me in the face with it.
'Muffin: He's back with his ex.
Chica: ......................What's her address?
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. And fuck.
Should I stop the madness now?
It's way too early for such bad news :(
Gutted.
He also cheated on her on Saturday night with a random girl.
And yet I still like him. People in glass houses and all that.
That's a huge secret that the 'Muffin let me in on this morning. He was like: "...hun." I knew what it was going to be.
Chica: What is it? Hit me, slap me in the face with it.
'Muffin: He's back with his ex.
Chica: ......................What's her address?
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. And fuck.
Should I stop the madness now?
It's way too early for such bad news :(
Sunday, October 15, 2006
The Edge of Reason
Quick update on the Boyf: monogamy sucks ass.
Now, let's get to the important stuff. How do I, in the space of two weeks, transform myself into Keira Knightley? Keira Knightley in the film Love Actually, to be precise.
God, if you gave her a laptop instead of a diary this is bloody me right now! I think I need chocolate. Or vodka.
Now, let's get to the important stuff. How do I, in the space of two weeks, transform myself into Keira Knightley? Keira Knightley in the film Love Actually, to be precise.
Himself named Keira as his fantasy woman, particularly in this film. Think about it: he likes Keira, I like Andrew Lincoln, it's obviously meant to be! Um, apart from the fact that the two don't get to be together in the film because Keira is already married... heyyyy!
So. Aside from saving up for drastic plastic surgery, how can I mould myself in her style?
In accordance with the juvenile behaviour of the last week, I am employing teenage tactics in the battle to get Himself to notice me this week and have purchased a short skirt. I plan to wear it on Tuesday, if I can find a top that goes with it, one that doesn't show any cleavage (I do one or the other, legs or chest, never both!) Perhaps this is more desperate Bridget Jones than lovely Keira Knightley but meh, I'll take what I can get.
God, if you gave her a laptop instead of a diary this is bloody me right now! I think I need chocolate. Or vodka.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Oi, Beyonce, Noooooo!
And on a lighter note, I have been listening to a lot of Beyonce lately. I'm loving Deja Vu and Check On It. Lines like Boy I try to catch myself but I'm out of control / Your sexiness is so appealing I can't let it go, and You think that I'm teasin' / But I ain't got no reason / I'm sure that I could please you / But first I gotta read you, have a particular resonance with me at the mo.
But why oh why did they let her call her album B'day? Don't they know what a bidet is?
Dead Zone
Okay, I'm reaching the point where I know I need to give myself a good talking to. Why am I getting so carried away with this stupid crush over a guy I don't know very well, a guy that the Boyf is ten times better looking than, and probably ten times more of a man than? Do I even like the guy himself at all, or does he represent something to me?
What something? He's a flash git, the type of guy I think girls are stupid to like, he spends a fortune on clothes, needs to be seen in all the right places, and has a roving eye for the ladies. I don't want to stereotype him totally, because I think there are hidden depths there; he's lovely to the 'Muffin and was in a five year relationship, he can't understand why people are scared of commitment. He's exciting, and he has a lot of get-up-and-go.
Let's examine the weekend I've spent with Boyf so far. Friday night, I could've gone out with MJ, but I stayed at home with the Boyf so we could spend time together. This was my own choice, but I did sacrifice a good night out so that I could see him. And what did we do? Well. He watched Taggart. I couldn't bring myself to watch Taggart so I blogged and chatted to 'Muffin on MSN. Then I got bored and decided to sleep. This is when Boyf chose to come upstairs, after having a few cans of lager, and watch TV. While I was trying to sleep. I didn't say anything. When he disappeared for a bit, I turned off the TV. The room was dark. I heard him come back in. He was eating something. Then a crash as he knocked a glass of water over the TV. He swore, had a go at me "this room is exactly how you want it all the time", and slammed the lightswitch back on. He looked at the damage, then left it, switched the light back off, and carried on chewing. I got up and cleaned up the mess. Then I got back into bed. I lay there fuming. He started to snore.
This morning. He acted like nothing happened so I followed suit. It wasn't an actual argument, so let's just forget about it. We decided to go shopping because we had to pick up a couple of birthday presents, and I wanted shoes. We drove into town. Once there, and in the first shop I went into, Boyf started to complain. I suggested he went and got his dad's present while I tried on some shoes, and to call me when he'd finished and we'd meet back up. Off he went. I popped into two more shops and decided to call him, when I noticed that he'd tried to call me but I hadn't heard it because of the music in the shops. It must have been about twenty minutes since we'd split up. "Where are you?" I said when he picked up. He'd gone back to the car. He'd alread paid the parking fee. He'd bloody left me in town!
I was like: "Are you serious?" But whatevs, I hung up on him, ignored most of the rest of his calls, carried on shopping. It was horrible. I was in a foul mood. I bought one skirt and some perfume for my niece's birthday. Boyf called me and offered to pick me up, I told him I'd get the bus. Because of the match traffic, I was stuck on there for ages. I got home at about half six. Boyf saw me getting off the bus and caught up with me. He couldn't understand why I was angry and asked if we were still going to the pictures. Obviously, I responded calmly and sweetly: "I'm never going anywhere with you again! Get lost!" He refused, and followed me to the door, where I demanded his key. "So you can open the door and then fuck me off?" he asked. "No," I explained, "I mean, give me the key back." He did and stomped off. Then he turned up like an hour later asking again if we were going to the pictures. Like, get the message.
So now it's Saturday night and I'm home, again.
I wonder why I'm allowing myself to get so carried away with this crush?
Relationships aren't always easy. I know this. And what I've described above isn't really a huge deal. But it's getting to be like this more and more. Sometimes, I think the Boyf is the most amazing boyfriend in the world. People in work tease me about him being the perfect man, and nobody comparing to him. And then sometimes we go through phases like this, when I can't get him to make any sort of effort. I'm so tired of trying. If this is going to get fixed, it's down to him this time. I'm keeping my options open - after all, you only live once, and I'm tired of wasting my youth.
What something? He's a flash git, the type of guy I think girls are stupid to like, he spends a fortune on clothes, needs to be seen in all the right places, and has a roving eye for the ladies. I don't want to stereotype him totally, because I think there are hidden depths there; he's lovely to the 'Muffin and was in a five year relationship, he can't understand why people are scared of commitment. He's exciting, and he has a lot of get-up-and-go.
Let's examine the weekend I've spent with Boyf so far. Friday night, I could've gone out with MJ, but I stayed at home with the Boyf so we could spend time together. This was my own choice, but I did sacrifice a good night out so that I could see him. And what did we do? Well. He watched Taggart. I couldn't bring myself to watch Taggart so I blogged and chatted to 'Muffin on MSN. Then I got bored and decided to sleep. This is when Boyf chose to come upstairs, after having a few cans of lager, and watch TV. While I was trying to sleep. I didn't say anything. When he disappeared for a bit, I turned off the TV. The room was dark. I heard him come back in. He was eating something. Then a crash as he knocked a glass of water over the TV. He swore, had a go at me "this room is exactly how you want it all the time", and slammed the lightswitch back on. He looked at the damage, then left it, switched the light back off, and carried on chewing. I got up and cleaned up the mess. Then I got back into bed. I lay there fuming. He started to snore.
This morning. He acted like nothing happened so I followed suit. It wasn't an actual argument, so let's just forget about it. We decided to go shopping because we had to pick up a couple of birthday presents, and I wanted shoes. We drove into town. Once there, and in the first shop I went into, Boyf started to complain. I suggested he went and got his dad's present while I tried on some shoes, and to call me when he'd finished and we'd meet back up. Off he went. I popped into two more shops and decided to call him, when I noticed that he'd tried to call me but I hadn't heard it because of the music in the shops. It must have been about twenty minutes since we'd split up. "Where are you?" I said when he picked up. He'd gone back to the car. He'd alread paid the parking fee. He'd bloody left me in town!
I was like: "Are you serious?" But whatevs, I hung up on him, ignored most of the rest of his calls, carried on shopping. It was horrible. I was in a foul mood. I bought one skirt and some perfume for my niece's birthday. Boyf called me and offered to pick me up, I told him I'd get the bus. Because of the match traffic, I was stuck on there for ages. I got home at about half six. Boyf saw me getting off the bus and caught up with me. He couldn't understand why I was angry and asked if we were still going to the pictures. Obviously, I responded calmly and sweetly: "I'm never going anywhere with you again! Get lost!" He refused, and followed me to the door, where I demanded his key. "So you can open the door and then fuck me off?" he asked. "No," I explained, "I mean, give me the key back." He did and stomped off. Then he turned up like an hour later asking again if we were going to the pictures. Like, get the message.
So now it's Saturday night and I'm home, again.
I wonder why I'm allowing myself to get so carried away with this crush?
Relationships aren't always easy. I know this. And what I've described above isn't really a huge deal. But it's getting to be like this more and more. Sometimes, I think the Boyf is the most amazing boyfriend in the world. People in work tease me about him being the perfect man, and nobody comparing to him. And then sometimes we go through phases like this, when I can't get him to make any sort of effort. I'm so tired of trying. If this is going to get fixed, it's down to him this time. I'm keeping my options open - after all, you only live once, and I'm tired of wasting my youth.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Charm Offensive
Chica: You've got a spring in your step today!
'Muffin: I have!
Chica: I think I've got a spring in my knickers.
'Muffin: I'd have thought it was more of a torrent.
Crude, but funny.
'Muffin was a little ray of sunshine today, and I have to say I now measure a true friendship by the lengths to which someone will go so that you can perv on the object of your affection! He ran down from the second floor to let me know that Himself had come in to work the afternoon, told me I looked lovely when I was standing next to him, made Himself stand up and give us a twirl in his v. expensive outfit (£300 pound on the shoes alone!) - enabling much ogling from me - and stood chatting so that I could get a final glance of his sexy bum before the drought of the weekend. He actually said: "Turn round this way so you can get a look at him!"
This man understands me.
Discussing 'Muffin's belly - which he describes as podgy - in the Staff Room, I told him he was more self conscious than he needed to be, and Himself made him stand up and told him to lift up his top. 'Muffin objected, and was on his way out when Himself looked at me and with a cheeky grin said "[My real name,] lift up your top!" 'Muffin pretended he was suddenly interested and ran back in the room. I think I actually managed not to blush, but it was hardly a charm offensive eh!
'Muffin: I have!
Chica: I think I've got a spring in my knickers.
'Muffin: I'd have thought it was more of a torrent.
Crude, but funny.
'Muffin was a little ray of sunshine today, and I have to say I now measure a true friendship by the lengths to which someone will go so that you can perv on the object of your affection! He ran down from the second floor to let me know that Himself had come in to work the afternoon, told me I looked lovely when I was standing next to him, made Himself stand up and give us a twirl in his v. expensive outfit (£300 pound on the shoes alone!) - enabling much ogling from me - and stood chatting so that I could get a final glance of his sexy bum before the drought of the weekend. He actually said: "Turn round this way so you can get a look at him!"
This man understands me.
Discussing 'Muffin's belly - which he describes as podgy - in the Staff Room, I told him he was more self conscious than he needed to be, and Himself made him stand up and told him to lift up his top. 'Muffin objected, and was on his way out when Himself looked at me and with a cheeky grin said "[My real name,] lift up your top!" 'Muffin pretended he was suddenly interested and ran back in the room. I think I actually managed not to blush, but it was hardly a charm offensive eh!
Freaky 'Fess Up
In the spirit of full disclosure, and inspired by Wondy's confession, I would just like to formally announce that, for a period of about two days, before it became totally eclipsed by my desire for Himself, I fancied Chad Michael Murray.
You may not know him. He's the doe-eyed kid L.Lo falls for in Freaky Friday, and he certainly did nothing for me in that role. He also features a bit on Go Fug Yourself, for obvious reasons, none of which could be said to engender attraction.
On Sunday night, I had a horror double bill of my very own, and watched The Descent (which rocks!) and House of Wax (not as much rocking but worth a watch if only to marvel at Paris Hilton acting.) In House of Wax, however, CMM plays a sort of bad boy character with a soft, heroic underbelly, and I totally fell for it. I thought he was looking a bit Justin Timberlake without the skinny kid element too. He's just like, the guy that gets things done. The guy you'd want on your team. As Paris herself would say: that's hot.
The Descent won out though, not at all what I expected, with good performances and genuine shocks. I'm not a major fan of scary or gory films but this one surprised me. I know it was out for ever ago but because I'm not a big fan of the genre I could never be bothered watching it until recently. If you missed it too, you should really check it out.
There you go, a post not entirely about the guy I like! I'm too good to you!
You may not know him. He's the doe-eyed kid L.Lo falls for in Freaky Friday, and he certainly did nothing for me in that role. He also features a bit on Go Fug Yourself, for obvious reasons, none of which could be said to engender attraction.
On Sunday night, I had a horror double bill of my very own, and watched The Descent (which rocks!) and House of Wax (not as much rocking but worth a watch if only to marvel at Paris Hilton acting.) In House of Wax, however, CMM plays a sort of bad boy character with a soft, heroic underbelly, and I totally fell for it. I thought he was looking a bit Justin Timberlake without the skinny kid element too. He's just like, the guy that gets things done. The guy you'd want on your team. As Paris herself would say: that's hot.
The Descent won out though, not at all what I expected, with good performances and genuine shocks. I'm not a major fan of scary or gory films but this one surprised me. I know it was out for ever ago but because I'm not a big fan of the genre I could never be bothered watching it until recently. If you missed it too, you should really check it out.
There you go, a post not entirely about the guy I like! I'm too good to you!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Flirting With Disaster
Since 'Muffin and I have apparently regressed about a decade and are acting like a couple of lovesick teenagers in the first flushes of their first proper crushes (I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!), we have devised a code for talking about the people we fancy at work. 'Muffin's crush is Ford, and my crush is Himself. Hardly one for the Enigma I know but we seem to be able to amuse ourselves for hours using these names and teasing each other. 'Muffin has made it his mission to see if he can make me blush continuously for a whole day, but to be honest, I'm giving him a lot of fodder, as in this exchange earlier today:
'Muffin: I want my Ford!!!
Chica: I want Himself half naked and tied to an office chair, but there we go.
According to 'Muffin, my crush on Himself has put a spring in my step, made me more playful and tactile, and he likes it. Shame Himself is leaving in three weeks and I'll have to go back to my old, gloomy, serious self then!
In accordance with my new, risque persona, 'Muffin and I have put together a flirting agenda. Now, before I even realised that I was annoyingly besotted with Himself, we had all decided to go on a night out at the end of the month, as part of 'Muffin and Crunchie's Mission. Before that happens, 'Muffin is going to drop a few hints to Himself that I have a bit of a soft spot for him. Why, when I have a boyfriend you ask? Good question. I'll get back to you on that!
Obviously the more important question is what the bejesus am I going to wear? A dress more suited to a sixteen year old attending her prom, I hear you shout? You're right (maybe!) For those of you on my Flickr list, see the pics of my niece! Mmmm Hmmm, that's right. Do ya dare me? :P
I can't believe she'll actually lend me it since it cost her a ruddy fortune! And you know, I still might not go there. I mean, it's pretty but it's really very... "hello, here are my breasts." I don't fancy him that frickin much!
I told my sis why I wanted something fab to wear, which is when she volunteered the dress, via text:
Big Sis: Thats terrible ur practically married haha, u go girl! dont b daft it would look lovely and of course Tink wouldnt mind she'd b chuffed. And by the way u dont need a dress to knock his socks off! x
Chica: Think I'd need a stick of dynamite to knock this guys socks off! I know Im practically married, but I'm not dead! :) x
What The Fuck am I doing?!
P.S. If you are popping over to Flickr, you can also see the object of all this idiocy. He's Cravat Man. No, really!
'Muffin: I want my Ford!!!
Chica: I want Himself half naked and tied to an office chair, but there we go.
According to 'Muffin, my crush on Himself has put a spring in my step, made me more playful and tactile, and he likes it. Shame Himself is leaving in three weeks and I'll have to go back to my old, gloomy, serious self then!
In accordance with my new, risque persona, 'Muffin and I have put together a flirting agenda. Now, before I even realised that I was annoyingly besotted with Himself, we had all decided to go on a night out at the end of the month, as part of 'Muffin and Crunchie's Mission. Before that happens, 'Muffin is going to drop a few hints to Himself that I have a bit of a soft spot for him. Why, when I have a boyfriend you ask? Good question. I'll get back to you on that!
Obviously the more important question is what the bejesus am I going to wear? A dress more suited to a sixteen year old attending her prom, I hear you shout? You're right (maybe!) For those of you on my Flickr list, see the pics of my niece! Mmmm Hmmm, that's right. Do ya dare me? :P
I can't believe she'll actually lend me it since it cost her a ruddy fortune! And you know, I still might not go there. I mean, it's pretty but it's really very... "hello, here are my breasts." I don't fancy him that frickin much!
I told my sis why I wanted something fab to wear, which is when she volunteered the dress, via text:
Big Sis: Thats terrible ur practically married haha, u go girl! dont b daft it would look lovely and of course Tink wouldnt mind she'd b chuffed. And by the way u dont need a dress to knock his socks off! x
Chica: Think I'd need a stick of dynamite to knock this guys socks off! I know Im practically married, but I'm not dead! :) x
What The Fuck am I doing?!
P.S. If you are popping over to Flickr, you can also see the object of all this idiocy. He's Cravat Man. No, really!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Got It Bad
I just wrote I HEART PR on a stats sheet at work, scribbled it out, then giggled.
I know. You don't have to tell me.
Furthermore, I confessed my feelings to my little mate Studmuffin, who is friends with Crush, last night, after the exchange I blogged about yesterday left me completely flustered. He was gobsmacked and is now very disapproving every time I glance in the Crush's direction. Now, if I happen to sit next to Crush, I receive pointed looks and later an 'ooh, get you!'
Luckily, since I actually like this guy I am completely unable to flirt with him. That would only bring me greater ridicule.
I feel my confession has brought me closer to the 'Muffin, as we then engaged in a full and frank discussion about sex, during which he happily and confidently declared that he wasn't very well endowed, asking if I thought the Crush would be.
Chica: I reckon he'd be about average.
'Muffin: Do you not think he'd be big?
Chica: Nah. 6 inches is about average.
'Muffin: (face falling) 6 inches?!!!!
Chica: Um, yeah, so I've read.
'Muffin: Hard?!
Laughed My Ass Off. But I also learned a new phrase from the 'Muffin, and though you're probably familiar with it, I give it to you now: Wankers 'tash.
That is all.
I know. You don't have to tell me.
Furthermore, I confessed my feelings to my little mate Studmuffin, who is friends with Crush, last night, after the exchange I blogged about yesterday left me completely flustered. He was gobsmacked and is now very disapproving every time I glance in the Crush's direction. Now, if I happen to sit next to Crush, I receive pointed looks and later an 'ooh, get you!'
Luckily, since I actually like this guy I am completely unable to flirt with him. That would only bring me greater ridicule.
I feel my confession has brought me closer to the 'Muffin, as we then engaged in a full and frank discussion about sex, during which he happily and confidently declared that he wasn't very well endowed, asking if I thought the Crush would be.
Chica: I reckon he'd be about average.
'Muffin: Do you not think he'd be big?
Chica: Nah. 6 inches is about average.
'Muffin: (face falling) 6 inches?!!!!
Chica: Um, yeah, so I've read.
'Muffin: Hard?!
Laughed My Ass Off. But I also learned a new phrase from the 'Muffin, and though you're probably familiar with it, I give it to you now: Wankers 'tash.
That is all.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Yes, I'm 14 Again
The crush continues and the plot thickens. My emails recently have obviously been so sad that Google Mail is now showing me links such as Is He in Love With You? Gawd!
I do not know why I like this guy or where it came from. In fact, I used to think I disliked him because I felt really uncomfortable around him. But now I know why that was! He's such a player and I really DO NOT want to fancy him. Today in the staff room I was just talking incessantly about my Boyfriend and The Crush asked what he looked like, and he steered the conversation so that it was as if I was comparing the two of them. On my break he was asking if I had ever cheated on the Boyf, if I'd ever kissed anyone else, or if I had ever wanted to kiss anyone else! Then he told me about how he'd been out with a girl who already had a boyfriend last summer.
If he knows I fancy him, he's a bloody good detective, and an effing tease!
I do not know why I like this guy or where it came from. In fact, I used to think I disliked him because I felt really uncomfortable around him. But now I know why that was! He's such a player and I really DO NOT want to fancy him. Today in the staff room I was just talking incessantly about my Boyfriend and The Crush asked what he looked like, and he steered the conversation so that it was as if I was comparing the two of them. On my break he was asking if I had ever cheated on the Boyf, if I'd ever kissed anyone else, or if I had ever wanted to kiss anyone else! Then he told me about how he'd been out with a girl who already had a boyfriend last summer.
If he knows I fancy him, he's a bloody good detective, and an effing tease!
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Second Chance Scousers
And on a completely different note, but perhaps demonstrative of said rut - it being Saturday night and all - can I please just be sad for a moment and say Oh My God to tonight's X factor?!
The title of this post was going to be We Woz Robbed until, in a dramatic twist (the other band that went through were disqualified because they failed to declare that they already had management, or some such nonsense) Eton Road rose from the ashes to claim a place in the final twelve! After the palaver last week with the places being increased just to accomodate scouser and former Brookside actor Ray, there seems to be something of a trend going on in this years show!
How can you not love a band with a front man who could have been dreamed up by Tim Burton? If you haven't seen the show, he looks almost exactly like this:
The title of this post was going to be We Woz Robbed until, in a dramatic twist (the other band that went through were disqualified because they failed to declare that they already had management, or some such nonsense) Eton Road rose from the ashes to claim a place in the final twelve! After the palaver last week with the places being increased just to accomodate scouser and former Brookside actor Ray, there seems to be something of a trend going on in this years show!
How can you not love a band with a front man who could have been dreamed up by Tim Burton? If you haven't seen the show, he looks almost exactly like this:
Wait, am I the cute one or the weird one again?
I love it!
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Self Demotion
Here is my second attempt at the witty interesting post. You'd think a second draft would be better but no... Here is the diluted version.
So, gentle readers (vicious ones would already have called me on it), I am well aware that this blog has SUCKED recently (you're all going, 'umm, recently???' right, am I right?) and I'm not sure what to do about it. There are times when I think of something really funny to post or something happens that I want to share but I either never get around to it or it loses something in the telling and I give up. Meh, what you gonna do?
Really I think it's a symptom of things generally for me in my life at the moment. Nothing is wrong; I consider myself very lucky to be where I am and who I'm with right now and really I feel that if you have your health and people to love then you're basically sorted. It's just that it's all getting a bit samey. Friends: I'm in a rut. A career rut, a relationship rut, a social rut, a style rut... there's a whole lot of rutting going on and not the good kind.
My mum is a very wise woman and one of the things she tells the many people who seek her advice is 'if you want things to change, do something different.' You may be thinking 'well duh, wise my arse', but I think some of the best advice is the most simple, and it's not always that easy to realise or to follow.
I also have this really annoying crush and it's not the kind you can indulge in and enjoy as a meaningless distraction to brighten up your day. It's the embarrassing blush every time you speak to him = avoid talking to him as much as possible = he thinks you're a weird social retard = more furious blushing vicious circle kind of crushes. The most annoying thing about it is that I wouldn't even want to go out with him, even if I was single. It's more that I like the idea of a parallel me going out with him and doing the things I'd secretly love to do and acting in a way I never could, if that makes sense. Unhealthy much?
Did I mention this guy would probably interview me if I go for the part time job at work? WHAT a bastard.
So, yeah, my blog pretty much sucks. Read the ones in my sidebar instead!
So, gentle readers (vicious ones would already have called me on it), I am well aware that this blog has SUCKED recently (you're all going, 'umm, recently???' right, am I right?) and I'm not sure what to do about it. There are times when I think of something really funny to post or something happens that I want to share but I either never get around to it or it loses something in the telling and I give up. Meh, what you gonna do?
Really I think it's a symptom of things generally for me in my life at the moment. Nothing is wrong; I consider myself very lucky to be where I am and who I'm with right now and really I feel that if you have your health and people to love then you're basically sorted. It's just that it's all getting a bit samey. Friends: I'm in a rut. A career rut, a relationship rut, a social rut, a style rut... there's a whole lot of rutting going on and not the good kind.
My mum is a very wise woman and one of the things she tells the many people who seek her advice is 'if you want things to change, do something different.' You may be thinking 'well duh, wise my arse', but I think some of the best advice is the most simple, and it's not always that easy to realise or to follow.
I also have this really annoying crush and it's not the kind you can indulge in and enjoy as a meaningless distraction to brighten up your day. It's the embarrassing blush every time you speak to him = avoid talking to him as much as possible = he thinks you're a weird social retard = more furious blushing vicious circle kind of crushes. The most annoying thing about it is that I wouldn't even want to go out with him, even if I was single. It's more that I like the idea of a parallel me going out with him and doing the things I'd secretly love to do and acting in a way I never could, if that makes sense. Unhealthy much?
Did I mention this guy would probably interview me if I go for the part time job at work? WHAT a bastard.
So, yeah, my blog pretty much sucks. Read the ones in my sidebar instead!
White Flag
Oh for fucks sake. I just attempted a witty and interesting post about how my blog sucks recently and Blogger has just effing LOST IT!
I surrender.
I surrender.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Would Like To Meet
Okay. Today in the Staff Room, during a conversation with Crunchie and Studmuffin, a challenge was born. Due to Crunchie's desire for free piano lessons, Studmuffin's ability to offer them, and Crunchie's expertise in the area of shopping, for the price of five piano lessons Crunchie is going to 'funk up' the 'Muffin, take him out on the town, and get him a girl. Rather an elaborate plan for a Saturday night clinch on the dancefloor I feel, but still gloriously entertaining. Hopefully there will be a video diary of upcoming events for me to share with you. (And I'm not even kidding!)
Deadline for this transformation of my beloved 'Muffin is the end of the month, the Saturday after pay day. Until then 'Muffin has been set homework such as discovering a style he'd be comfortable with on Zara.com, Crunchie's favourite shop. I have reserved the power of veto on the final outfit, and 'Muffin is begging me to go on the night out with him for moral support. Bless him!
Crunchie is newly single so I think he is enjoying the prospect of a new project. I'll keep you posted!
I love a good Before and After!
Deadline for this transformation of my beloved 'Muffin is the end of the month, the Saturday after pay day. Until then 'Muffin has been set homework such as discovering a style he'd be comfortable with on Zara.com, Crunchie's favourite shop. I have reserved the power of veto on the final outfit, and 'Muffin is begging me to go on the night out with him for moral support. Bless him!
Crunchie is newly single so I think he is enjoying the prospect of a new project. I'll keep you posted!
I love a good Before and After!
Monday, October 02, 2006
Hermitude
I had a couple of parties lined up for last weekend but it turns out I am Little Miss Unsociable. Friday was Yank and Li's wedding party; we turned up at nine, and left to the sounds of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody "Goodbye everybody, I've got to go, gotta leave you all behind..." at exactly 11. It was pretty rubbish. I think I spent longer deciding what to wear. I did discover that my black satin heels go beautifully with my skinny jeans, so it wasn't all in vain. My Jennifer Aniston lookalike cousin was there with her boyfriend and her mates, and she was sporting brown leggings with her dress. My niece has taken to wearing leggings a lot too. I must confess to considering buying a pair myself, even though I have oft stated that they are the scourge of the Earth and should burn for all eternity. (What's wrong with me?!) I don't know why I'm thinking like this, but I can really just see a cute little outfit in my head, that particular dress with a pair of leggings and maybe black flats. (Is it a disease, is it catching??)
Then on Saturday, we went shopping and Boyf got some new trews - I spent most of the day sitting outside changing rooms (resisting the urge to buy leggings). We were meant to be going out for a meal and then meeting the new girl and David Hasselhoff fan extraordinaire, whose birthday it was, Studmuffin, and the girls at It's A Scream at 9. But we couldn't be bothered. It's the end of the month. It was cold. It rained a coupla times. That was enough to induce me to opt for a cosy night in instead. To be fair, Lila and Weezer pulled out first, so I'd have only known Studmuffin amongst all the people there, and he didn't go in the end 'cos I didn't :P
Sunday we shaved the dog.
Not expecting that one were you?
Then on Saturday, we went shopping and Boyf got some new trews - I spent most of the day sitting outside changing rooms (resisting the urge to buy leggings). We were meant to be going out for a meal and then meeting the new girl and David Hasselhoff fan extraordinaire, whose birthday it was, Studmuffin, and the girls at It's A Scream at 9. But we couldn't be bothered. It's the end of the month. It was cold. It rained a coupla times. That was enough to induce me to opt for a cosy night in instead. To be fair, Lila and Weezer pulled out first, so I'd have only known Studmuffin amongst all the people there, and he didn't go in the end 'cos I didn't :P
Sunday we shaved the dog.
Not expecting that one were you?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
LibrarySex/PublicToiletSounds
Obviously I have reached the pinnacle of my career when among my many jobs of the day I find myself cleaning public keyboards with foam and tissue paper, and stacking cardboard boxes neatly under a table, only for them all to be thrown out the next day, and should be grateful to have reached such dizzy heights. However, I'm rather jealous that I'm stuck doing such mundane - but obviously dazzlingly significant - work while some people are nobbling each other in the disabled toilets. I mean, is it fair?
Sassy got the shock of her life today when she discovered two students 'at it' in the loos. Her verdict: nice bum on the bloke, good wax job on the girl. They certainly weren't shy.
Ew.
Sassy got the shock of her life today when she discovered two students 'at it' in the loos. Her verdict: nice bum on the bloke, good wax job on the girl. They certainly weren't shy.
Ew.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
The Swine!
Oh My God. My tutor is actually abandoning me and has quit his job. I'm being palmed off on somebody else with as little ceremony as an email suggesting I get in touch with his replacement.
Given up hope, do you think? The bugger advised me all wrong (he does not specialise in the field I'm examining, and therefore has tried to lead me toward other subjects, namely sexuality, despite the fact I'm interested in postcolonialism), and now he's going to let some other dude clear up the mess!
The nerve of it!
I'm planning on asking if there's any way I can go part time at work this week, but I had an opportunity to do just that today and bottled out because, in case you've forgotten, my boss hates my guts. I so need to but I really think that they'll say no. But I can't keep hanging around, waiting for a part time job to open up and fooling myself that I'll "make time" for my dissertation in the meantime. Because there's just too many things going on in my life for this to happen. And then there's the thing about having zero motivation to make this phantom time appear.
Maybe my new supervisor - a guy I've never met or even heard of, will help?
Yeah, I won't hold my breath on that one.
Given up hope, do you think? The bugger advised me all wrong (he does not specialise in the field I'm examining, and therefore has tried to lead me toward other subjects, namely sexuality, despite the fact I'm interested in postcolonialism), and now he's going to let some other dude clear up the mess!
The nerve of it!
I'm planning on asking if there's any way I can go part time at work this week, but I had an opportunity to do just that today and bottled out because, in case you've forgotten, my boss hates my guts. I so need to but I really think that they'll say no. But I can't keep hanging around, waiting for a part time job to open up and fooling myself that I'll "make time" for my dissertation in the meantime. Because there's just too many things going on in my life for this to happen. And then there's the thing about having zero motivation to make this phantom time appear.
Maybe my new supervisor - a guy I've never met or even heard of, will help?
Yeah, I won't hold my breath on that one.
Friday, September 22, 2006
I'm gonna blow it all away
OMG it's 16:48 on a Friday and the weekend is so close I can taste it!
Plans for tomorrow:
- a trip to The Big Country (Wales) to check out an investment opportunity (ooh, get me!) and scoff lots of food at the pub, and, if the weather's nice, maybe hit the beach or take a walk in the mountains and enjoy the scenery
- fireworks display at Southport, where we can wear snuggly jumpers and ooh and ahh to our hearts' content
Just hope we can squeeze them both in!
Now I've just got to bear 8 more minutes of interminable boredom... just think, you only had to endure about a minute reading this!
Plans for tomorrow:
- a trip to The Big Country (Wales) to check out an investment opportunity (ooh, get me!) and scoff lots of food at the pub, and, if the weather's nice, maybe hit the beach or take a walk in the mountains and enjoy the scenery
- fireworks display at Southport, where we can wear snuggly jumpers and ooh and ahh to our hearts' content
Just hope we can squeeze them both in!
Now I've just got to bear 8 more minutes of interminable boredom... just think, you only had to endure about a minute reading this!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Hello, I'm a robot, can I help you?
Dear Liverpool Lecturers,
I would like to humbly request that you stop giving your students little quizzes about using the library to fill in. It does not spur them into industry. They merely bring the survey to me, ask me all of the answers without endeavouring to look for themselves, and immediately relinquish any knowledge they may have gleaned from the exercise.
There are only so many times within an hour you can say 'The journals are all kept on the third floor in alphabetical order.' Or escort them to a particular class number (and always the same class numbers to everyone, can't we even mix it up a little?) while maintaining a friendly and welcoming demeanour. I have been sitting here for 23 minutes and have been asked these questions 17 times. I know, because every time they ask me, I have to tick a little box. (Yes, this is what I studied for five years to do.)
If you would like to talk to me in person, please do visit me at the library. I will look like this*.
Best,
Disgruntled Employee #1
* Stolen from Josh & Josh
I would like to humbly request that you stop giving your students little quizzes about using the library to fill in. It does not spur them into industry. They merely bring the survey to me, ask me all of the answers without endeavouring to look for themselves, and immediately relinquish any knowledge they may have gleaned from the exercise.
There are only so many times within an hour you can say 'The journals are all kept on the third floor in alphabetical order.' Or escort them to a particular class number (and always the same class numbers to everyone, can't we even mix it up a little?) while maintaining a friendly and welcoming demeanour. I have been sitting here for 23 minutes and have been asked these questions 17 times. I know, because every time they ask me, I have to tick a little box. (Yes, this is what I studied for five years to do.)
If you would like to talk to me in person, please do visit me at the library. I will look like this*.
Best,
Disgruntled Employee #1
* Stolen from Josh & Josh
Little Red Berghaus Man
Because of my dreamy and dogged pursuit of that extra bit longer in bed in the mornings (my snooze button allows exactly nine minutes), leaving the house for work is always rather a mad dash. Because of this, I invariably forget something (see: cake incident.) Usually it's something superfluous like my mp3 player, my mobile phone, or my trousers. Quite often it's my wrist watch. This poses rather a large problem since my job is quite a physical one and involves a lot of running about from floor to floor, all of which have clocks showing different times. As I work to a timetable and have to switch jobs at the randomly designated time of say, 11:50, or 3:10, this can be a bit of a pest. Luckily this is not a problem when I'm travelling to work as I have rather ingeniously (I think) adopted a coping mechanism which does not involve craning your head out of the window looking for landmarks with clock towers, OR *shudder* asking a fellow bus passenger the time. His name is Berghaus man. Or at least, that's what I call him. I can chart what time I will clock in at work to a fairly accurate degree depending upon which juncture of London Road I sight him. Rain, wind, hail, or shine he's there, strolling along in a red Berghaus and carrying or sipping at a hot beverage. Today I spotted him by the School of Tropical Medicine, which meant that either I was late, or he was early :P
Okay, so it may not be an exact science...
Okay, so it may not be an exact science...
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
A Hop, Skip and a Jump Away
I just had to rat on my best friend and reveal to you that MJ has been caught up in scandal - yes, you may soon see him plastered all over the front page of some trashy tabloid in a "LINDSAY LOHAN FAN BLOGS AGAIN" Shocker.
Okay, so it's not that dramatic, but I just wanted to say Ditto to this post. Love Ya Bunnies should always be ignored.
I'm currently on a late night in work discussing allotments with my two older female colleagues and therefore desperately feeling the lack of the erratic and lovably clueless Mr. Mybug, who is MIA.
All these young nubile students I spoke of are making me feel old. I have an urge to go to a grotty bar, drink shots, and do things I'll regret later. I'd say those days are over, but I'm not sure they ever happened for me. *Sigh*
Okay, so it's not that dramatic, but I just wanted to say Ditto to this post. Love Ya Bunnies should always be ignored.
I'm currently on a late night in work discussing allotments with my two older female colleagues and therefore desperately feeling the lack of the erratic and lovably clueless Mr. Mybug, who is MIA.
All these young nubile students I spoke of are making me feel old. I have an urge to go to a grotty bar, drink shots, and do things I'll regret later. I'd say those days are over, but I'm not sure they ever happened for me. *Sigh*
Let Them Eat Cake
I don't know if you may have gathered this about me already, but I am a firm supporter and believer in cake. During my holiday in France, for example, I scoffed quite a few chocolate eclairs and a very yummy coconut affair in this sweet little tea salon.
So, upon my return to England and the drudgery of work, I decided to share my passion and transport a chocolate cake back from the shores of France to the Hellmouth. We have one of those handy little fridges you can run off a cigarette lighter in a car and so we had it running all the way through the journey and all through the night in our hotel room in Ouistreham. And let me tell you: it's not quiet. The bugger kept me awake all night. But we'd bought some little cakes for Boyf's grandparents and other lovely people too so we thought it was worth it.
Yesterday morning, as I readied myself for work, I took the cake out of the fridge and sticky taped the box shut. I placed it in a shopping bag. Then I went into the hall for my coat, picked up my handbag, and ran for the bus, leaving the cake sitting in the conservatory, waiting to melt.
Ho hum. I rang the Boyf to tell him the news, and asked him to bring it when he picked me up from work so the late night staff could have it. Ever so obligingly, Boyf picked it up from my house and took it to his house, where he placed it safely in the fridge, then immediately forgot about it and picked me up sans cake.
In the end, his mother ate it.
Oh well, at least I remembered to bring in Studmuffin's bottle of plonk today, before she got her mitts on that!
So, upon my return to England and the drudgery of work, I decided to share my passion and transport a chocolate cake back from the shores of France to the Hellmouth. We have one of those handy little fridges you can run off a cigarette lighter in a car and so we had it running all the way through the journey and all through the night in our hotel room in Ouistreham. And let me tell you: it's not quiet. The bugger kept me awake all night. But we'd bought some little cakes for Boyf's grandparents and other lovely people too so we thought it was worth it.
Yesterday morning, as I readied myself for work, I took the cake out of the fridge and sticky taped the box shut. I placed it in a shopping bag. Then I went into the hall for my coat, picked up my handbag, and ran for the bus, leaving the cake sitting in the conservatory, waiting to melt.
Ho hum. I rang the Boyf to tell him the news, and asked him to bring it when he picked me up from work so the late night staff could have it. Ever so obligingly, Boyf picked it up from my house and took it to his house, where he placed it safely in the fridge, then immediately forgot about it and picked me up sans cake.
In the end, his mother ate it.
Oh well, at least I remembered to bring in Studmuffin's bottle of plonk today, before she got her mitts on that!
Monday, September 18, 2006
Rat Race
I'M BAAAAAACK.
And in work on my lunch hour, helping all the fresh new (young, nubile) students and feeling quite frisky for it too! Who says my job doesn't have its perks?
Well I can't believe my trip to France is over and it's a Monday just like any other. There are three new starters with us this week and I've already been told off for chatting to one of them, because we wouldn't want them to feel welcome or anything eh? Also got told off for chatting when I asked Helena a work-related question that took less than a minute for her to explain. It's mid September and I feel just like I'm back at school! Next I'll be sent into the naughty corner for chewing gum and kissing boys behind the bikesheds. Sometimes I want to pull Troutface about by her hair and scream - "I'm almost 25!!!!!" Well, 24 and a half.
But I digress. Since I've been back I've been catching up with everyone, unwrapping my new purchases, looking at lots of wedding photos and videos from Yank and Li's wedding, and cracking on with the old family tree. I've also already discovered two more jobs I'm gonna apply for, on my first day back. Tee hee.
Whilst we're on the subject, I'd just like to congratulate Guillermo on his swanky promotion and for purchasing a suit! (Pinstripe!) Now I know I'm getting old. Guillermo's 'The Man' - I never thought I'd see the day!
Now please excuse me, I must get back to catching up on Wondy's adventures and all the celebrity gossip I've missed. I really know the important things in life, me.
And in work on my lunch hour, helping all the fresh new (young, nubile) students and feeling quite frisky for it too! Who says my job doesn't have its perks?
Well I can't believe my trip to France is over and it's a Monday just like any other. There are three new starters with us this week and I've already been told off for chatting to one of them, because we wouldn't want them to feel welcome or anything eh? Also got told off for chatting when I asked Helena a work-related question that took less than a minute for her to explain. It's mid September and I feel just like I'm back at school! Next I'll be sent into the naughty corner for chewing gum and kissing boys behind the bikesheds. Sometimes I want to pull Troutface about by her hair and scream - "I'm almost 25!!!!!" Well, 24 and a half.
But I digress. Since I've been back I've been catching up with everyone, unwrapping my new purchases, looking at lots of wedding photos and videos from Yank and Li's wedding, and cracking on with the old family tree. I've also already discovered two more jobs I'm gonna apply for, on my first day back. Tee hee.
Whilst we're on the subject, I'd just like to congratulate Guillermo on his swanky promotion and for purchasing a suit! (Pinstripe!) Now I know I'm getting old. Guillermo's 'The Man' - I never thought I'd see the day!
Now please excuse me, I must get back to catching up on Wondy's adventures and all the celebrity gossip I've missed. I really know the important things in life, me.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Gone in 60 Seconds
So, Friday was great. I wore the red shoes. We didn't go to Newz because I couldn't walk in them, so hobbled in the general direction of Italian food and Spanish booze instead. Was made to run across the road in said stilettos = hilarity for all passers by. Had my coat pinched and later returned in the tapas bar. Ate yummy food, met nice Czech lady, got squiffy. All in all, a good night. And I got ready in six minutes - surely a record? (I was terrified of getting locked in at work by security!)
Spent the rest of the weekend starting preparations for the next French trip, which starts on Thursday. I can't frickin' wait. Haven't actually begun to pack yet though. Hmmm...
Ooh, also, gave in to retail therapy urges in phenomenal style and spent about £150 at Topshop and Miss Selfridge online. So now, after my holiday, I will come back to pretty things as well as old Troutface. Hurrah! New clothes take the pain away. The Haul includes:
Spent the rest of the weekend starting preparations for the next French trip, which starts on Thursday. I can't frickin' wait. Haven't actually begun to pack yet though. Hmmm...
Ooh, also, gave in to retail therapy urges in phenomenal style and spent about £150 at Topshop and Miss Selfridge online. So now, after my holiday, I will come back to pretty things as well as old Troutface. Hurrah! New clothes take the pain away. The Haul includes:
- A smart black 'bib front' tee
- Pair of smart black hipster trousers
- One ribbed oversize beanie hat in navy
- White poplin puff sleeve shirt
- A cream scoop neck tee with a funky blackbird pattern
- Headscarf with a geometric design
- A tomato coloured 'trapeze' dress with pocket detailing
- Long white skinny vest
- One rhinestone buckled Alice band!
Pretty good work for a Bank Holiday weekend huh? I heart armchair shopping! After my shopping blitz, Boyf and I hunkered down in our gorgeous bed, indulged in a rather nice Cabernet Sauvignon and watched King Kong on DVD. Bliss!
2 sleeps and I'm outta here.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Newz from Nowhere
So, the plan for tonight is to head over to the Newz Bar for a quick drink while deciding where to eat. We will probably pop into the tapas bar at some point for some sangria, but apart from that we've made no real plans and are just gonna see where the night takes us. I was looking forward to starting it all off with a drink in Newz, because I've heard good things from friends and it's not too far from where I work so I could make Friday cocktails a more regular thing, a bit like Champagne Thursdays.
Then I visited their website. Try not to hurl while you read this:
"Are you a "CAT" - Cool - Amazing & Trendy?
If you are, you belong @ Newz Bar
(AKA)
"The Bar For The Beautiful People"
Dressed to impress, the ladies are kitted out in the latest fashions and could be mistaken for one of the models from a Catwalk Show. The men are just as good, donning well cut suits with shirts and ties to match or the latest trendy gear that has just arrived in men's Boutiques.
So, if you want a fabulous night out in a bar that is dressed as well as you are, Newz Bar is the place for you. The bar staff and door attendands are even dressed to impress so that you feel you are in the right place."
Cool? Amazing? Trendy? Brain of your own? Well, this room is cold enough to give me goosebumps, I'm pretty amazed that I didn't kill anyone (yet) this week and I'm wearing a shirt I bought over a year ago right now, so make of that what you will. If I was a cat, I'd probably be a wizened old alley cat rather than a pampered moggy in a diamond studded collar and matching Lexus. I'm just hoping that, like with most hype, this is all a load of trash. I really don't want to spend time in a place where I feel like I'm a huge disappointment to the doormen.
Ugh. I hope it's not as pretentious as it sounds.
Then I visited their website. Try not to hurl while you read this:
"Are you a "CAT" - Cool - Amazing & Trendy?
If you are, you belong @ Newz Bar
(AKA)
"The Bar For The Beautiful People"
Dressed to impress, the ladies are kitted out in the latest fashions and could be mistaken for one of the models from a Catwalk Show. The men are just as good, donning well cut suits with shirts and ties to match or the latest trendy gear that has just arrived in men's Boutiques.
So, if you want a fabulous night out in a bar that is dressed as well as you are, Newz Bar is the place for you. The bar staff and door attendands are even dressed to impress so that you feel you are in the right place."
Cool? Amazing? Trendy? Brain of your own? Well, this room is cold enough to give me goosebumps, I'm pretty amazed that I didn't kill anyone (yet) this week and I'm wearing a shirt I bought over a year ago right now, so make of that what you will. If I was a cat, I'd probably be a wizened old alley cat rather than a pampered moggy in a diamond studded collar and matching Lexus. I'm just hoping that, like with most hype, this is all a load of trash. I really don't want to spend time in a place where I feel like I'm a huge disappointment to the doormen.
Ugh. I hope it's not as pretentious as it sounds.
Choose Life
I have never been so relieved to reach Friday in my life. I just cannot wait for 5 o'clock so I can yabba-dabba-do the hell out of this place. I have had the week from hell with my boss - the woman hates my guts. She really singles me out for some reason, and speaks to me in a way that she wouldn't dare talk to the older people here or any of the blokes. This week she even went so far as to trick me into doing something which she could later grill me over! I tell you, I am desperate for another job. Which is a shame, because as much as I moan about this place it's a pretty good job, and my main problem with it is old Troutface.
I really came so close to just throwing in the towel and quitting this week. I got really angry at myself for taking her shit and not being where I want to be in my life instead of having to play stupid mind games with the petty cow. And breathe.
To vent my frustration, the Boyf and I are off out straight from work tonight and plan on having a scrumptious meal to make up for such a crummy week. I'm massively proud of myself as I resisted going on a major retail therapy session and blowing all my money to cheer myself up - instead I am looking forward to my next French trip. But I did spend hours last night hunting through my wardrobe to find something to wear tonight. The red shoes are finally about to enjoy their premiere - I'm teaming them with jeans and black chiffon number that makes the Boyf look at me in that way. I just hope I manage to change quickly enough at five so that the security guard doesn't lock me in the building!
I really came so close to just throwing in the towel and quitting this week. I got really angry at myself for taking her shit and not being where I want to be in my life instead of having to play stupid mind games with the petty cow. And breathe.
To vent my frustration, the Boyf and I are off out straight from work tonight and plan on having a scrumptious meal to make up for such a crummy week. I'm massively proud of myself as I resisted going on a major retail therapy session and blowing all my money to cheer myself up - instead I am looking forward to my next French trip. But I did spend hours last night hunting through my wardrobe to find something to wear tonight. The red shoes are finally about to enjoy their premiere - I'm teaming them with jeans and black chiffon number that makes the Boyf look at me in that way. I just hope I manage to change quickly enough at five so that the security guard doesn't lock me in the building!
Monday, August 21, 2006
What's Up Doc?
Monday again. If I wasn't flitting off to France in two weeks time, I would be a very gloomy person indeed! The weekend was very chilled for me, watched the Big Brother finale - I love how Davina is pregnant for every other one - had a movie marathon, and took in enough stray animals to make Noah look like an amateur.
That last one needs explaining huh?
My sister took her kids and the bane of her life (Grinch) on holiday this week and left Anjelica's menagerie with me for safe keeping. After resisting the tantrums, hopeful requests, and letters to Father Christmas for eight years, my sister finally relented and allowed a pet to enter the super-clean zone that is her house. My sister has a problem with the mere suggestion of dirt. By the age of two, her children had been trained to fix the fringe of the living room rug whenever an errant footstep dared to mess it up. Actually, she did once allow them to keep a tiny little yellow bird in a cage. It was regularly bathed in soapy water.
However, for her eighth birthday, Anjelica received some living, breathing, fur-moulting, pooping, pee-all-over-your-new-sweater gifts. Gift 1) a floppy eared rabbit christened Thumper Jane. Gift 2) an inquisitive hamster going by the name of Princess. Gift 3) A butterfly farm, which currently houses approximately six cocoons. These are all currently residing at my address, along with 2 goldfish who claim to be Scooby and Scrappy. I am literally obliged to "put 'em up."
She'd have been better off buying a puppy. Am I right? At least you can walk a puppy. Goldfish are not happy about being dragged around the park to do their business. And speaking of puppies, I finally managed to get mine to fetch a ball. Unfortunately, the hamster was in it at the time.
Puppy is supremely unimpressed with the invasion of his space. He hasn't yet tired of barking, growling, scratching at the cages of, pretending to make friends with and then slyly nipping, our guests from the animal kingdom. See, in our house, Puppy is the King. He's the Godfather. He's got a paw in every pie, a dame in every port, he even has one of those little white caps that keep his dog food fresh. Not to mention a very cushy arrangement that keeps his happy pills and dog biscuits coming in nice and regular. And now he has these young bucks on his turf - well, you can imagine how he must feel, days away from his tenth birthday, to have to contend with such obnoxious intruders.
It's like a frickin' Quentin Tarantino movie in here right now!
That last one needs explaining huh?
My sister took her kids and the bane of her life (Grinch) on holiday this week and left Anjelica's menagerie with me for safe keeping. After resisting the tantrums, hopeful requests, and letters to Father Christmas for eight years, my sister finally relented and allowed a pet to enter the super-clean zone that is her house. My sister has a problem with the mere suggestion of dirt. By the age of two, her children had been trained to fix the fringe of the living room rug whenever an errant footstep dared to mess it up. Actually, she did once allow them to keep a tiny little yellow bird in a cage. It was regularly bathed in soapy water.
However, for her eighth birthday, Anjelica received some living, breathing, fur-moulting, pooping, pee-all-over-your-new-sweater gifts. Gift 1) a floppy eared rabbit christened Thumper Jane. Gift 2) an inquisitive hamster going by the name of Princess. Gift 3) A butterfly farm, which currently houses approximately six cocoons. These are all currently residing at my address, along with 2 goldfish who claim to be Scooby and Scrappy. I am literally obliged to "put 'em up."
She'd have been better off buying a puppy. Am I right? At least you can walk a puppy. Goldfish are not happy about being dragged around the park to do their business. And speaking of puppies, I finally managed to get mine to fetch a ball. Unfortunately, the hamster was in it at the time.
Puppy is supremely unimpressed with the invasion of his space. He hasn't yet tired of barking, growling, scratching at the cages of, pretending to make friends with and then slyly nipping, our guests from the animal kingdom. See, in our house, Puppy is the King. He's the Godfather. He's got a paw in every pie, a dame in every port, he even has one of those little white caps that keep his dog food fresh. Not to mention a very cushy arrangement that keeps his happy pills and dog biscuits coming in nice and regular. And now he has these young bucks on his turf - well, you can imagine how he must feel, days away from his tenth birthday, to have to contend with such obnoxious intruders.
It's like a frickin' Quentin Tarantino movie in here right now!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?
So, last night our "family hairstylist" as she should rightly be known was at my house until ten o'clock coiffing and teasing the locks of my sister, aunties, and myself. Yes - Aunt Boy George went for the chop. And, as predicted, she hates it. She has vowed that she will not be going to the wedding (she will) and that she hates us all for making her do it (she does.) Her fancy gown is meant to be arriving today, so let's hope that it does and that it looks good on her for Chrissake!
The wedding is proving a massive headache for me and the Boyf, as we are trying to arrange it around a trip to France. We have option one: run away to France for two weeks and forget about the hassle of work, family dramas, deadlines, etc. and pay Yank £100 for the pleasure of not going. Or option two: go and hide in France for one week, curse ourselves for having to come back for Yank's wedding, drive the length of the country upon return, carpool everyone up to Scotland, blow an absolute fortune, possibly engage in some sort of dramatic confrontation/cry in my room because of Judas, then go back to work early.
Hmmmm, what would Jesus do?
Can you tell which one I'm leaning towards? It's actually not as easy as I'm making it sound. Despite my reservations about all family gatherings involving... well, my family, I would quite like to go and see Yank and Li get married, and it'd be cool to go to Gretna. But I would much rather go skipping merrily to our little French retreat and have the Boyf all to myself for a while. If I was particularly close to Yank and Li - the way I once was - then I wouldn't even be thinking about not going. If MJ got married for example, there's no way in the world I would miss it and I would probably cry a Loch at the ceremony.
Over the weekend I watched quite a few soppy films (The Family Stone, Just Like Heaven, Elizabethtown - chick flick marathon ahoy!) and all I kept seeing was this message about family family family, how important it is and how beautiful and yeuch, all that sort of thing. I would love to feel like that about my family. I like the idea of belonging to a big family, but I do belong to a big family and I'm only close to about four people in it. I know it was prompted by Hollywood saccharine overkill, but it was maybe the first time I'd thought about having my own family and nurturing something to be different from what I've grown up in. Although this is quite hilarious to me: the first time I even consider the possibility of any kind of joy coming from having children, the vision I see is not of a young family but a mature one, with grown up offspring and zero responsibility :P
The Family Stone is totally worth a look by the way, if only for the cringiest meet the parents moment in the world (not to mention SJP, Rachel McAdams, Luke Wilson, I could go on!)
The wedding is proving a massive headache for me and the Boyf, as we are trying to arrange it around a trip to France. We have option one: run away to France for two weeks and forget about the hassle of work, family dramas, deadlines, etc. and pay Yank £100 for the pleasure of not going. Or option two: go and hide in France for one week, curse ourselves for having to come back for Yank's wedding, drive the length of the country upon return, carpool everyone up to Scotland, blow an absolute fortune, possibly engage in some sort of dramatic confrontation/cry in my room because of Judas, then go back to work early.
Hmmmm, what would Jesus do?
Can you tell which one I'm leaning towards? It's actually not as easy as I'm making it sound. Despite my reservations about all family gatherings involving... well, my family, I would quite like to go and see Yank and Li get married, and it'd be cool to go to Gretna. But I would much rather go skipping merrily to our little French retreat and have the Boyf all to myself for a while. If I was particularly close to Yank and Li - the way I once was - then I wouldn't even be thinking about not going. If MJ got married for example, there's no way in the world I would miss it and I would probably cry a Loch at the ceremony.
Over the weekend I watched quite a few soppy films (The Family Stone, Just Like Heaven, Elizabethtown - chick flick marathon ahoy!) and all I kept seeing was this message about family family family, how important it is and how beautiful and yeuch, all that sort of thing. I would love to feel like that about my family. I like the idea of belonging to a big family, but I do belong to a big family and I'm only close to about four people in it. I know it was prompted by Hollywood saccharine overkill, but it was maybe the first time I'd thought about having my own family and nurturing something to be different from what I've grown up in. Although this is quite hilarious to me: the first time I even consider the possibility of any kind of joy coming from having children, the vision I see is not of a young family but a mature one, with grown up offspring and zero responsibility :P
The Family Stone is totally worth a look by the way, if only for the cringiest meet the parents moment in the world (not to mention SJP, Rachel McAdams, Luke Wilson, I could go on!)
Saturday, August 12, 2006
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Congratulations go out to my friend Mrs. De Winter, who will be an actual missus by this time next year! I am chuffed to bits that she has found a lovely bloke to settle down and start a little family with. She sent me some really cute photos of her, her man and her gorgeous pup the other day and is doing so well. I love it when friends get in touch with such good news (she lives in Cumbria.)
I should also extend my congrats to Jojo who got engaged to her fella a couple of weeks before I went away.
It seems like wedding fever at the mo' with quite a few people I know either tying the knot themselves or getting hauled off to weddings right left and centre. Mrs. W also wrote in an email earlier this week:
"This time next year I'll be Mrs. W*****! Am I old enough to be "Mrs W*****"? What's Boyf's surname-I forgot? Are there any wedding bells for you? Maybe this will serve as a hint for him."
Well, I would just like to say that I will never be a Mrs. Anything as long as I can help it. I have always said I will keep my maiden name and that any children I have will also have my name. Now this isn't in accordance with some feminist ideal I have set for myself, as my surname has a patriarchal lineage of it's own in any case - being my dad's name, his father's name, his father before that, etc. I once had this discussion with my mum, who suggested I take her surname instead, but then that's her father's name, so there is really no escaping the male dominance of family names. But I don't see why if I should get married I would have to change my name while Boyf would just keep the name he's had from birth. Also, I am very proud to belong to my family and of being my grandfather's granddaughter, so would like to keep the name as a testament to him.
Funnily enough this topic came up the other day while I was having lunch with Studmuffin, and he was appalled that I intended to give my kids my surname. We eventually decided that since we had such opposing opinions on the subject that we should simply agree to disagree and cancel all our plans to have children together. I told him the same thing I always tell the Boyf: any kids he gives birth to can gladly have his last name.
As for this 'hint' business, I think I am way too young to get married, so any hints the Boyf might be getting from me would only convince him not to bother!
I should also extend my congrats to Jojo who got engaged to her fella a couple of weeks before I went away.
It seems like wedding fever at the mo' with quite a few people I know either tying the knot themselves or getting hauled off to weddings right left and centre. Mrs. W also wrote in an email earlier this week:
"This time next year I'll be Mrs. W*****! Am I old enough to be "Mrs W*****"? What's Boyf's surname-I forgot? Are there any wedding bells for you? Maybe this will serve as a hint for him."
Well, I would just like to say that I will never be a Mrs. Anything as long as I can help it. I have always said I will keep my maiden name and that any children I have will also have my name. Now this isn't in accordance with some feminist ideal I have set for myself, as my surname has a patriarchal lineage of it's own in any case - being my dad's name, his father's name, his father before that, etc. I once had this discussion with my mum, who suggested I take her surname instead, but then that's her father's name, so there is really no escaping the male dominance of family names. But I don't see why if I should get married I would have to change my name while Boyf would just keep the name he's had from birth. Also, I am very proud to belong to my family and of being my grandfather's granddaughter, so would like to keep the name as a testament to him.
Funnily enough this topic came up the other day while I was having lunch with Studmuffin, and he was appalled that I intended to give my kids my surname. We eventually decided that since we had such opposing opinions on the subject that we should simply agree to disagree and cancel all our plans to have children together. I told him the same thing I always tell the Boyf: any kids he gives birth to can gladly have his last name.
As for this 'hint' business, I think I am way too young to get married, so any hints the Boyf might be getting from me would only convince him not to bother!
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Sweet & Sour
Studmuffin continues to amuse and delight me as a unique specimen of the human race. Yesterday, he turned up for work wearing a pair of black trousers, a black shirt, and a black tie embellished with a silver dragon. Or in other words, he was rocking a whole world of fug. "Where are my chocolates?" I immediately demanded, "You look like the milk tray man crossed with a waiter in a Chinese restaurant." He really did. But Studmuffin was not best part pleased with my sartorial diagnosis. Especially after he conducted a survey 
around the office and learned that I was right. And even more so when, this morning, in response to a completely different outfit, Crunchie asked "What is THAT on your tie? It better not be a cartoon character."
Awwww.
But wait, there's more.
Studmuffin opened his library record to show me all the books he's taken out for his new librarianship course - which he is over the moon about. These included titles like Cataloguing Without Fear and How to Stay Awake During Shelf Revision.
(I made that last one up, but if anybody has any tips, send them in my direction.) However, I noticed a suspiciously unacademic, non-scholarly titled Let's Dance! on the list, and innocently enquired what it was. Here I was treated to a public, enthusiastic, and may I remind you public, demonstration of the Foxtrot followed by an introduction to Waltz!
Studmuffin is so called because of his blatantly obvious ogling habits and constant witterings about the beauty of curvy women. (That's right, women. The boy is straight!) So it was rather funny when, upon returning to the Staff Room after lunch, he picked up his mobile phone to check his messages and mused aloud: "Does anyone love me? ...Ooh, I forgot to ring my mum!"
Nothing but love, 'muffin. Nothing but love.
around the office and learned that I was right. And even more so when, this morning, in response to a completely different outfit, Crunchie asked "What is THAT on your tie? It better not be a cartoon character."Awwww.
But wait, there's more.
Studmuffin opened his library record to show me all the books he's taken out for his new librarianship course - which he is over the moon about. These included titles like Cataloguing Without Fear and How to Stay Awake During Shelf Revision.
(I made that last one up, but if anybody has any tips, send them in my direction.) However, I noticed a suspiciously unacademic, non-scholarly titled Let's Dance! on the list, and innocently enquired what it was. Here I was treated to a public, enthusiastic, and may I remind you public, demonstration of the Foxtrot followed by an introduction to Waltz!Studmuffin is so called because of his blatantly obvious ogling habits and constant witterings about the beauty of curvy women. (That's right, women. The boy is straight!) So it was rather funny when, upon returning to the Staff Room after lunch, he picked up his mobile phone to check his messages and mused aloud: "Does anyone love me? ...Ooh, I forgot to ring my mum!"
Nothing but love, 'muffin. Nothing but love.
Peace in the Valleys
Shocked as I am to report it, Big Brother's Welsh beauty Imogen actually managed to really entertain me yesterday. Between her cringeworthy 
"hot topics" radio jingle, which signalled a generous round of embarrassed body language among the other housemates, and her request for wine in the diary room, I think she enjoyed her most scintillating air time since the show began a hundred and thirty weeks ago.
"One bottle of wine," she scoffed, as if to say what's the problem? "Two pound fifty in Co-op."
Big Brother has really started to bore me since I missed a big chunk in the middle. And this new returning housemates thing seems to be in a bit of a shambles. What is it all for? It was quite interesting watching the ex-housemates talk about all the footage they've watched since leaving, as you never usually get to find out what they think about each other once they've left. And although I can see why uber bitch Grace was voted back in, I can't help wanting to slap her smug face for being so cocky about it.
It's not anywhere near as good a catchphrase as "I like blinking I do," but I wonder if Imogen's solitary moment of accidental humour will make it into Dawn French's fabulous Catherine Zeta Jones sketch?
"hot topics" radio jingle, which signalled a generous round of embarrassed body language among the other housemates, and her request for wine in the diary room, I think she enjoyed her most scintillating air time since the show began a hundred and thirty weeks ago."One bottle of wine," she scoffed, as if to say what's the problem? "Two pound fifty in Co-op."
Big Brother has really started to bore me since I missed a big chunk in the middle. And this new returning housemates thing seems to be in a bit of a shambles. What is it all for? It was quite interesting watching the ex-housemates talk about all the footage they've watched since leaving, as you never usually get to find out what they think about each other once they've left. And although I can see why uber bitch Grace was voted back in, I can't help wanting to slap her smug face for being so cocky about it.
It's not anywhere near as good a catchphrase as "I like blinking I do," but I wonder if Imogen's solitary moment of accidental humour will make it into Dawn French's fabulous Catherine Zeta Jones sketch?
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Couture Club
So. A multitude of happenings and tidings both good and bad flood into my brain as I sit with my fingers hovering thoughtfully over the keys. What to discuss first? Well, after such a challenging and horizon-broadening experience as renovating an 18th century French house and living in a tight knit community in the Northern Loire for almost a month, I must confess that one of the most prominent ponderings on my mind at the moment is: what to wear to my Uncle Yank's wedding next month. He's getting hitched to his long time love, Li, at Gretna Green. He is, I am afraid to say, a bit of a snob and quite openly judgemental. Therefore I have to ensure that whatever I wear/say/do does not reflect badly on the family. For this reason, I shall be surpressing any urges to sing karaoke, grope the Boyf in public, and sever Judas' head using those little tiny pins you stick flowers onto your lapel with.
So critical is Yank's judgement that my Aunt Boy George - so called because she once won a Boy George lookalike competition (and still bears a strong resemblance in the right hat) - is opting for a makeover. She is buying a very posh, light coloured frock (I have only ever seen her in dark colours, usually black, and never a skirt or dress.) She is going for a spray tan (her confinement indoors during daylight hours has lead to the popular belief she is at least partially vampiric.) And she is having. A haircut.
I realise this all sounds pretty standard to you, but if you consider that the last time my Aunt Boy George had a haircut was ten years ago for my sisters wedding, after which she hastily styled it back into her old 'do, then you may understand - as well as you can do without seeing the offence to follicles everywhere her hair actually is - at least a fraction of my surprise and delight.
While this may sound very superficial of me, I have to take a moment to record how well Aunt BG has been doing in turning her life around. She was never an alcoholic, but after my uncle died over a year ago from liver failure, she gave up drinking completely. She lost loads of weight, and looks and acts like a different person. She looks much healthier and seems happier. She has withstood peer pressure from her friends and family to start drinking again, and has shown true grit and determination to better herself. She wants to start travelling further afield and get more out of her life. Aunt BG, I applaud you!
So, I was thinking white trousers in the style of Heidi Range?
So critical is Yank's judgement that my Aunt Boy George - so called because she once won a Boy George lookalike competition (and still bears a strong resemblance in the right hat) - is opting for a makeover. She is buying a very posh, light coloured frock (I have only ever seen her in dark colours, usually black, and never a skirt or dress.) She is going for a spray tan (her confinement indoors during daylight hours has lead to the popular belief she is at least partially vampiric.) And she is having. A haircut.I realise this all sounds pretty standard to you, but if you consider that the last time my Aunt Boy George had a haircut was ten years ago for my sisters wedding, after which she hastily styled it back into her old 'do, then you may understand - as well as you can do without seeing the offence to follicles everywhere her hair actually is - at least a fraction of my surprise and delight.
While this may sound very superficial of me, I have to take a moment to record how well Aunt BG has been doing in turning her life around. She was never an alcoholic, but after my uncle died over a year ago from liver failure, she gave up drinking completely. She lost loads of weight, and looks and acts like a different person. She looks much healthier and seems happier. She has withstood peer pressure from her friends and family to start drinking again, and has shown true grit and determination to better herself. She wants to start travelling further afield and get more out of her life. Aunt BG, I applaud you!
So, I was thinking white trousers in the style of Heidi Range?
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Le Freak, C'est Chic
Super quick post: sorry for the disappearing act - again - but I have been living in France for the past month without internet access (or Big Brother!) But I am back now to bore you with renovation stories. There will also be photographs. You have been warned.
I don't suppose anybody missed me at all??? Well, I still missed you!
I don't suppose anybody missed me at all??? Well, I still missed you!
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Can you issue an ASBO to a three year old?
Okay. I think I spent too much time finding those Nikki clips last night. This morning, I turned into her and had a diva strop. Still in bed, rather early, I sat up and screamed my frustration at the opposite wall. It was a case of, if you can't beat them join them. I have spoken before about The Wailing Wall. But let me tell you, the decibel level has escalated to epic proportions since that time. The noisy little bastards have grown a year older - our street has become occupied territory. I sometimes forget that they don't actually live next door. Could they really be only visiting? Do their erratic acoustics merely echo and reverberate in my mind, or ricochet around the walls of my home, hours after they have left? And who visits anybody at 6 am, pray tell?
Can you issue an ASBO to a three year old?
I knew this would happen, of course. I could see it coming after The Ugly Dogs took up residence. My neighbours' grown up daughter, mother of The Loudest Children in the Land - seriously, if this was the Victorian era, the brats would be circus freaks - bought these two very large dogs of the same breed, and when she got pregnant, begged her parents to take them off her. So since then, my baby Puppy has had restricted access to the front garden, and we have to coordinate walkies so that the Ugly Dogs aren't in their front yard when we pass; one of them is particularly vicious, and Puppy has delusions of grandeur. When I found out the girl was having twins, I should've known they'd go the same way as the dogs and started looking for a new place to live immediately. At least three towns away.
But I digress. Back to this morning. For me, it was the culmination of weeks of torture. According to Wikipedia: 'Tenko was created by Lavinia Warner after she had conducted research into the internment of a nursing corps. officer Margot Turner for an edition of This Is Your Life and was convinced of the dramatic potential of these women's stories.' Yeah, whatever, I know the truth; she was laying in bed one morning after two weeks of being subjected to early wake up calls from the Spawn of Satan and trying to imagine something worse!
But enough of the dramatics. Let's look on the bright side. I am glad to report that one of the twins is very imaginative. This morning she invented a brand new game called Let's Shout the Same Word Over and Over Until Chica's Ears Bleed. The little darling! How precious!
This is seriously decimating what little desire I had to ever have children. Although you know, obviously I would be a much more responsible parent. I don't know why they don't make muzzles for children yet, but if I ever reproduce, you can expect to see them in all the major stores. Although to be fair, some days it's not even the kids that wake me up. It's their grandad, Bellowing Bill, an amateur town cryer if ever I heard one. And at least this morning it was the shouting rather than the crying (although the crying has since begun in earnest.) The crying is the absolute worst. Not because they are any louder, but because this provokes their mother into unleashing a string of expletives so loud and so unnecessary that I'm surprised it hasn't had some real and vital consequence. For instance, her high-pitched viral warblings could attract the advances of a randy Johnny Vegas, much like the mating call of a drunk badger. Or, her short-fused temperament and gutter mouth might invoke the spirit of the Slater Sisters. I can see her now, joining their ranks, painting their faces with Burberry stripes, running riot over Albert Square and placing a Chav Embargo on The Queen Vic. This would then plunge Walford into economic crisis and destabilise local politics to the Nth degree, allowing them to take power and exercise their will over all Cockney men, bringing closure to all of their affairs with Alfie Moon.
I tell you I am not taking this laying down. I am plotting my revenge. Maybe I could get BB's Nikki to visit me for Sunday lunch, then we could adopt her as a house mascot and wheel her out every morning as a sort of human alarm clock? Or I could take all of the clips I posted last night, set them on a tape loop attached to a succession of megaphones, and pump it into their house, or failing that directly into their eardrums? I could get a top surgeon to put a chip in their brains perhaps, and control their waking and sleeping hours with my mobile phone. I'm sure I could get someone to work on this with me; just think - I may have found an actual use for Bluetooth!
I think I just need to be an adult, invite their mother over here for a cup of tea and sit down and talk about this rationally. She could probably get an absolute fortune for those kids on eBay. Think of all the handbags!
Can you issue an ASBO to a three year old?
I knew this would happen, of course. I could see it coming after The Ugly Dogs took up residence. My neighbours' grown up daughter, mother of The Loudest Children in the Land - seriously, if this was the Victorian era, the brats would be circus freaks - bought these two very large dogs of the same breed, and when she got pregnant, begged her parents to take them off her. So since then, my baby Puppy has had restricted access to the front garden, and we have to coordinate walkies so that the Ugly Dogs aren't in their front yard when we pass; one of them is particularly vicious, and Puppy has delusions of grandeur. When I found out the girl was having twins, I should've known they'd go the same way as the dogs and started looking for a new place to live immediately. At least three towns away.
But I digress. Back to this morning. For me, it was the culmination of weeks of torture. According to Wikipedia: 'Tenko was created by Lavinia Warner after she had conducted research into the internment of a nursing corps. officer Margot Turner for an edition of This Is Your Life and was convinced of the dramatic potential of these women's stories.' Yeah, whatever, I know the truth; she was laying in bed one morning after two weeks of being subjected to early wake up calls from the Spawn of Satan and trying to imagine something worse!
But enough of the dramatics. Let's look on the bright side. I am glad to report that one of the twins is very imaginative. This morning she invented a brand new game called Let's Shout the Same Word Over and Over Until Chica's Ears Bleed. The little darling! How precious!
This is seriously decimating what little desire I had to ever have children. Although you know, obviously I would be a much more responsible parent. I don't know why they don't make muzzles for children yet, but if I ever reproduce, you can expect to see them in all the major stores. Although to be fair, some days it's not even the kids that wake me up. It's their grandad, Bellowing Bill, an amateur town cryer if ever I heard one. And at least this morning it was the shouting rather than the crying (although the crying has since begun in earnest.) The crying is the absolute worst. Not because they are any louder, but because this provokes their mother into unleashing a string of expletives so loud and so unnecessary that I'm surprised it hasn't had some real and vital consequence. For instance, her high-pitched viral warblings could attract the advances of a randy Johnny Vegas, much like the mating call of a drunk badger. Or, her short-fused temperament and gutter mouth might invoke the spirit of the Slater Sisters. I can see her now, joining their ranks, painting their faces with Burberry stripes, running riot over Albert Square and placing a Chav Embargo on The Queen Vic. This would then plunge Walford into economic crisis and destabilise local politics to the Nth degree, allowing them to take power and exercise their will over all Cockney men, bringing closure to all of their affairs with Alfie Moon.
I tell you I am not taking this laying down. I am plotting my revenge. Maybe I could get BB's Nikki to visit me for Sunday lunch, then we could adopt her as a house mascot and wheel her out every morning as a sort of human alarm clock? Or I could take all of the clips I posted last night, set them on a tape loop attached to a succession of megaphones, and pump it into their house, or failing that directly into their eardrums? I could get a top surgeon to put a chip in their brains perhaps, and control their waking and sleeping hours with my mobile phone. I'm sure I could get someone to work on this with me; just think - I may have found an actual use for Bluetooth!
I think I just need to be an adult, invite their mother over here for a cup of tea and sit down and talk about this rationally. She could probably get an absolute fortune for those kids on eBay. Think of all the handbags!
Who's that Girl?
That moment, for my fellow BB obsessive and Nikki fan Wondy! You'll find more classic Nikki-isms below.
Nikki is the caring, sharing type... I hear everybody needs good neighbours.
There's something rotten in the State of Susie, Nikki stages a coup!
Further evidence that Nikki is in fact the love child of Jimmy Krankie and Vanessa Feltz (if only such a union were possible!)
Friday, July 07, 2006
Paint the whole world with a rainbow
Hmm, for some reason Blogger is being very finickity about letting me upload certain images, so apologies for the lack of pictorials in the last few posts.
This week there has been a flurry of activity whilst the Boyf and I have been gathering things together for our trip to France. Cue many trips to B&Q and Ikea. Last night at about eight o'clock, we set out for Ikea and bought lots of soft furnishings to try and brighten up the building site AKA maison where we'll be living for a month. Now, the purchase pictured here may not seem to be the most necessary item of equipment for such an endeavour, but just look how pretty! I'm sure it will cheer me up of a morning when I'm drinking my French coffee and eating croissants! :)
The thing I like about Ikea is the little demo rooms they have set up. I remember being dragged around Ikea as a child, desperate to sneak in when the shop was closed and play house in the gorgeous little sitting rooms and kitchens. Now that I'm a 'grown up', the impulse hasn't waned, and I sometimes think wistfully of that phase I was determined to become an interior designer and make everything beautiful - a phase that was killed, I think, by overexposure to programmes like Changing Rooms and all the rubbish on UK Style my mum inflicted upon anyone who wanted to spend time in the sitting room. But now that I get to pick and choose my own surroundings to a certain degree (cash flow allowing), I can see again what a cool job that would be. And perhaps the French venture will be a good test for whether I'd be suited to such a life or not.
This may seem a bit of a swerve in direction considering I'm always banging on about how much I'd love to write for a living. And that may be true; writing will always be my first love. But I'm happiest when I'm being creative, and a job that not only allows but encourages and even demands my creative side is like my own personal holy grail. If I ever won the lottery, I would up and go and buy houses all over Europe to renovate one by one. Then I could write all about it and indulge both passions simultaneously!
Ah, we can but dream eh?
This week there has been a flurry of activity whilst the Boyf and I have been gathering things together for our trip to France. Cue many trips to B&Q and Ikea. Last night at about eight o'clock, we set out for Ikea and bought lots of soft furnishings to try and brighten up the building site AKA maison where we'll be living for a month. Now, the purchase pictured here may not seem to be the most necessary item of equipment for such an endeavour, but just look how pretty! I'm sure it will cheer me up of a morning when I'm drinking my French coffee and eating croissants! :)The thing I like about Ikea is the little demo rooms they have set up. I remember being dragged around Ikea as a child, desperate to sneak in when the shop was closed and play house in the gorgeous little sitting rooms and kitchens. Now that I'm a 'grown up', the impulse hasn't waned, and I sometimes think wistfully of that phase I was determined to become an interior designer and make everything beautiful - a phase that was killed, I think, by overexposure to programmes like Changing Rooms and all the rubbish on UK Style my mum inflicted upon anyone who wanted to spend time in the sitting room. But now that I get to pick and choose my own surroundings to a certain degree (cash flow allowing), I can see again what a cool job that would be. And perhaps the French venture will be a good test for whether I'd be suited to such a life or not.
This may seem a bit of a swerve in direction considering I'm always banging on about how much I'd love to write for a living. And that may be true; writing will always be my first love. But I'm happiest when I'm being creative, and a job that not only allows but encourages and even demands my creative side is like my own personal holy grail. If I ever won the lottery, I would up and go and buy houses all over Europe to renovate one by one. Then I could write all about it and indulge both passions simultaneously!
Ah, we can but dream eh?
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Overload
You know you've watched too much Big Brother when:
- you recall a conversation you had at work, but try to remember which housemate said it
- 'babes' becomes a catchphrase not only amongst your group of friends, but is used indiscriminately, with your bus driver, shop assistants, and the odd traffic warden
- you have a disturbing sex dream about Glyn
- you can remember the names of the blandest of housemates; Vanessa, Steph, or Amma anyone?
- during a fight with your boyfriend, you accuse him of being in it to win it and playing up to the cameras (he's not even Pete's real friend, he just knows he'll be popular on the outside!)
- you demand the use of at least three beds, and force all new comers to sleep on the floor
- you tear up an old gold lame number that's been rotting in your wardrobe since the eighties, festoon your loo seat with it and start ranting about how you're living in a house full of fake people every time you spend a penny. I take it as read we all have leather-clad bathroom walls yeah?
- when walking down the street, you suddenly start shouting "real people!" and screaming in the faces of passers by
- instead of popping down to the local Asda, Tesco, or what have you, you don an heinous amount of neon and lycra, dance very poorly on the lounge rug, then sit back and wait for the shopping to be delivered. When it doesn't arrive, you speculate about how 'they' are trying to turn you against each other, and that kicking up any sort of fuss would be playing right into their hands
By the by, I don't like all this secret house next door business. It's gone down like a lead balloon with me. Although Jonathon's "nice" when he left to a definite lack of fanfare was pretty funny. Poor old Jonathon, and mean old Big B!
- you recall a conversation you had at work, but try to remember which housemate said it
- 'babes' becomes a catchphrase not only amongst your group of friends, but is used indiscriminately, with your bus driver, shop assistants, and the odd traffic warden
- you have a disturbing sex dream about Glyn
- you can remember the names of the blandest of housemates; Vanessa, Steph, or Amma anyone?
- during a fight with your boyfriend, you accuse him of being in it to win it and playing up to the cameras (he's not even Pete's real friend, he just knows he'll be popular on the outside!)
- you demand the use of at least three beds, and force all new comers to sleep on the floor
- you tear up an old gold lame number that's been rotting in your wardrobe since the eighties, festoon your loo seat with it and start ranting about how you're living in a house full of fake people every time you spend a penny. I take it as read we all have leather-clad bathroom walls yeah?
- when walking down the street, you suddenly start shouting "real people!" and screaming in the faces of passers by
- instead of popping down to the local Asda, Tesco, or what have you, you don an heinous amount of neon and lycra, dance very poorly on the lounge rug, then sit back and wait for the shopping to be delivered. When it doesn't arrive, you speculate about how 'they' are trying to turn you against each other, and that kicking up any sort of fuss would be playing right into their hands
By the by, I don't like all this secret house next door business. It's gone down like a lead balloon with me. Although Jonathon's "nice" when he left to a definite lack of fanfare was pretty funny. Poor old Jonathon, and mean old Big B!
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Sasperella
A couple of quotes from my day at work.
Child: What's your name?
Sassy: Sassy.
Child: How do you spell that?
Pete Burns: C-O-W.
Sassy, answering the telephone: Hello, I'm a robot, can I help you?
In other news, I've had half of my hair cut off! I still get a shock every time I look in a mirror!
I am also searching for some pretty bikinis, and have e-mailed my tutor!
And Boyf and I have possibly settled on 'summer pecan 4' for the walls of our French bedroom.
Next post: how to... bring lasting peace to Tajikistan.
Child: What's your name?
Sassy: Sassy.
Child: How do you spell that?
Pete Burns: C-O-W.
Sassy, answering the telephone: Hello, I'm a robot, can I help you?
In other news, I've had half of my hair cut off! I still get a shock every time I look in a mirror!
I am also searching for some pretty bikinis, and have e-mailed my tutor!
And Boyf and I have possibly settled on 'summer pecan 4' for the walls of our French bedroom.
Next post: how to... bring lasting peace to Tajikistan.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Symphony in Yellow
So. Friday I had a half day booked at work, and rode off into the distance with Studmuffin for an afternoon of sexual experimentation. Or at least that's the rumour we've fuelled by leaving together at half twelve :P I did a bit of shopping in town, purchasing 3 stripey tops and a few bits and bobs, and getting my euros for our holiday!! Boyf met me, and caused me to get blisters on my feet rushing about from prospective meeting point to prospective meeting point while he tried to park the car, eating into my valuable shopping time, the swine! He also bought himself a striped jumper from River Island, then had a crisis when he saw somebody who "looked gay" wearing it. It's lovely so I reassured him that it was indeed very manly, and not the slightest bit effeminate. Though it is yellow. And MJ would so wear it.
Then we scurried off to have pizza, but were too late for the legendary pizza buffet lunch. This is a £3.99 all-you-can-eat wonder that allows numerous trips to the yummy salad bar. Every year before Christmas me and my sisters used to take our mum shopping and we'd have pizza buffet for lunch. Because we're such classy birds! Not the Ritz for us!
The evening brought a Big Brother eviction with a twist - the new neighbours. I am cautiously backing fellow scouser Jennie. Until she, you know, makes a tit of herself and I am forced to disown her. What the eff was Aisleyne wearing???!
Oh, and I've resurrected my Last FM account, hence the new button in the sidebar - I had a George Michael period last November it seems!
Then we scurried off to have pizza, but were too late for the legendary pizza buffet lunch. This is a £3.99 all-you-can-eat wonder that allows numerous trips to the yummy salad bar. Every year before Christmas me and my sisters used to take our mum shopping and we'd have pizza buffet for lunch. Because we're such classy birds! Not the Ritz for us!
The evening brought a Big Brother eviction with a twist - the new neighbours. I am cautiously backing fellow scouser Jennie. Until she, you know, makes a tit of herself and I am forced to disown her. What the eff was Aisleyne wearing???!
Oh, and I've resurrected my Last FM account, hence the new button in the sidebar - I had a George Michael period last November it seems!
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