I've been meaning to post for ages. But ya know what it's like when you're trying to juggle two jobs, three sisters, five nieces and nephews, two parents, a smattering of demanding friends, a gym membership, cycling, running, squash, housework and a girlfriend. That list isn't in order of preference, btw.
Anyway, the point is - I can't do this anymore because I just don't have the time. I'm not one to say never again and then re-appear a few months down the line, I'm not that flakey. So if anyone wants to keep in touch (sorry, I've turned comments off), then feel free to email me.
I'm not one for long and drawn out goodbyes. Obviously. I'm northern. So that's it. Fuck off. Seriously, get lost. Go on, there's nowt left to read here...
p.s. Ok I'll leave you with one last profound thought; Who do you think is weirder - a boy who has a nose so shiny windows are reflected in it or a girl who repeatedly tries to suck noodles through a straw? A question my 7 year old nephew posed based on actual real kids in his class.. Personally, I went for the noodles girl. Try it once, love; if it doesn't work knock it on the head. The boy with the shiny nose just sounds super clean to me.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Monday, November 05, 2007
Running out
My mum has had to provide some temporary lodgings for one of my cousins. He's in the spare room, aka my study, so I'm not online so much these days and fast running out of places from where I can blog. I'm also running out of time, I take on more and more things to do with my 'spare' time, it seems, and something has to give. I'm also running out of things to say here and have been for a long time.
So if I'm not around, thems the reasons.
So if I'm not around, thems the reasons.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Overheard
in the last week, at work, at home, at my mum's, at my sisters..
1.If he slams those cupboard doors one more fucking time, he'll be wearing them like wings.
2.We were in a meeting and she looked over at me and mouthed "I need a poo".
3.My tummy is rumbling. Quick! Put some cake in it!
4.Those tablets you take for your period pain - do they do anything for your mood?
5.Whenever I feel under pressure, I sing "The heat is on" in my mind. It helps me focus.
6.Bitch, where's my quiche?
7.I'm verbally gifted in the mouth area.
8.I wanna go travelling. Starting with a tour round a chocolate factory.
9.Do NOT throw that cracker at me. Don't you dare throw that cracker at me. I mean it.
10.Mind you, if 10 policemen were knocking on my door I wouldn't open it either. I'd be over the back fence and off.
11.If a plant had a bum, that's how it would smell.
12.She thinks Ann Frank invented tampons.
13.Now I know you don't like fish pie but I've made you it anyway.
14.The only way I can deal with my mother is to take sleeping pills and hope she's gone by the time I wake up.
15.All I want for Christmas is botox.
16.Mashed potato is for losers.
17.I don't like that shop, it smells like a butcher's back alley on a warm day.
18.I'll leave a carbon footprint on your face if you don't stop lecturing.
19.On the application form it asked for my religion. I couldn't spell atheist so I put C of E as the only other religion I know how to spell is Muslim.
20.I only slept with him by way of an apology and now he won't leave me alone.
21.Come here dork, let me slap some cool into you.
22.I ordered a cappucino but instead I got a cup of mud with scum on.
23.I'm not high maintenance - just feed me and fuck me.
24.No, I didn't mean the country - I meant the shop - I need to go to Iceland because I want some chicken drumsticks.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
But the Chinese lady who looks like she weighs no more than 5 stone made chin ups look easy
Pronouncing words incorrectly make me happy. I don't know why. Like brian instead of brain. And tarjay instead of target. Even when I'm in the foulest of moods, silly things like that pour little bits of happy dust all over me and I smile inside. Doesn't last long, the happy dust sticks to my clothes and it pisses me off and puts me back in a bad mood. But little things eh?
Anyway, Pixie and I have set ourselves some tarjays to acheive within the next 10 weeks. I shall detail them here because the more people who know, the less chance I have at failing. I don't know why - it's just the way my brian works.
We decided that the loser will have to do a forfeit. As we're both a pair of bastards, the forfeit will be nasty, no doubt.
Mine are:
1. To lose 18 pounds (in weight, I could lose 18 pounds sterling within a few hours at the pub).
2. To cycle 200 miles on my bike between now and then.
3. To be able to run 3k in under 20 minutes (I am aware this is not a fast time but I am built for comfort, not for speed).
4. To be able to do 5 unassisted chin ups.
The last one may seem odd. It is. We set ourselves three tarjays (hers are different to mine but of a similar ilk) and then we had to set a final one for each other. I said that Pixie had to do 150 miles on a bike in the gym, she won't do it because she is a lazy fucker, she is also disorganised and won't remember to add it all up. She said that I had to do 5 unassisted chin ups because she knows I can't lift my own weight. I scowled.
I have my work cut out for me but have resisted all sweets at work. I even resisted a Wispa someone bought me, can you believe that the only thing that out chocolated the chocolatey goodness of a Twirl is now back on the shelves? And I am power dieting? Swines!
The bike thing is a piece of piss. The run thing I'll do eventually, I'm just lazy when it comes to running. The weight thing.. hmmm.. it'll be hard, mostly because of the amount of alcohol I'll have to cut out to make it possible. But the chin ups. Oh God! They're hard. Tonight I had a go at assisted chin ups (you add weight, which is some sort of counter balancey thing, the more weight you add, the easier it is) - I managed 10 with almost 60kg assisting me. I took the weight down a notch to just under 50kg and managed 5 before feeling like someone had ripped my arms out of their sockets and set my biceps on fire.
I can only hope I win by default when Pixie loses count of how many miles she's done on the bike.
In unrelated news, my ability to be so completely inept around women continues. SSL came over to ask me something today, I answered her with a pen in my mouth. She asked if she could write my answer down and I offered her my spit covered pen. Bless her, she took it saying "Er.. ok, it's covered in saliva but I don't mind.." Later in the day, I phoned her with a query - she said I'd caught her with a mouthful of chocolate. Just as I was thinking "my kinda girl" she said "can you wait til I've finished masticating", I sniggered like a teenage boy. She didn't. I'm definitely giving that one up as a bad job.
Anyway, Pixie and I have set ourselves some tarjays to acheive within the next 10 weeks. I shall detail them here because the more people who know, the less chance I have at failing. I don't know why - it's just the way my brian works.
We decided that the loser will have to do a forfeit. As we're both a pair of bastards, the forfeit will be nasty, no doubt.
Mine are:
1. To lose 18 pounds (in weight, I could lose 18 pounds sterling within a few hours at the pub).
2. To cycle 200 miles on my bike between now and then.
3. To be able to run 3k in under 20 minutes (I am aware this is not a fast time but I am built for comfort, not for speed).
4. To be able to do 5 unassisted chin ups.
The last one may seem odd. It is. We set ourselves three tarjays (hers are different to mine but of a similar ilk) and then we had to set a final one for each other. I said that Pixie had to do 150 miles on a bike in the gym, she won't do it because she is a lazy fucker, she is also disorganised and won't remember to add it all up. She said that I had to do 5 unassisted chin ups because she knows I can't lift my own weight. I scowled.
I have my work cut out for me but have resisted all sweets at work. I even resisted a Wispa someone bought me, can you believe that the only thing that out chocolated the chocolatey goodness of a Twirl is now back on the shelves? And I am power dieting? Swines!
The bike thing is a piece of piss. The run thing I'll do eventually, I'm just lazy when it comes to running. The weight thing.. hmmm.. it'll be hard, mostly because of the amount of alcohol I'll have to cut out to make it possible. But the chin ups. Oh God! They're hard. Tonight I had a go at assisted chin ups (you add weight, which is some sort of counter balancey thing, the more weight you add, the easier it is) - I managed 10 with almost 60kg assisting me. I took the weight down a notch to just under 50kg and managed 5 before feeling like someone had ripped my arms out of their sockets and set my biceps on fire.
I can only hope I win by default when Pixie loses count of how many miles she's done on the bike.
In unrelated news, my ability to be so completely inept around women continues. SSL came over to ask me something today, I answered her with a pen in my mouth. She asked if she could write my answer down and I offered her my spit covered pen. Bless her, she took it saying "Er.. ok, it's covered in saliva but I don't mind.." Later in the day, I phoned her with a query - she said I'd caught her with a mouthful of chocolate. Just as I was thinking "my kinda girl" she said "can you wait til I've finished masticating", I sniggered like a teenage boy. She didn't. I'm definitely giving that one up as a bad job.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Cycling, books and cooking
Between you and me, I downloaded that Phil Collins tune to put on me ipod, ya know - for in t'gym 'n all that. Turns out that I still think Phil Collins is crap and what I really wanted was the gorilla to come to the gym with me. Along with his drum kit, of course.
*sigh* Honestly.
So yeah, I've fallen in love with cycling again. I'm not sure when I fell out of love with it, to be honest. Or if I did at all - I think that over the past few months my priorities have been different, is all. I've spent too many weekends doing other stuff. Usually lying in bed on a Sunday morning with a stinking hangover. Or looking out of the window and letting the weather decide for me - and I never used to let the weather put me off. So after the bike ride thing I did a few weekends ago, me and my bike are hanging out again. I did a quick 15 mile loop on Sunday and loved every minute of it - which is new because normally my legs do nothing for the first 5 miles except send signals to my brain that they're not fucking happy. But I realised that I'm actually quite good at cycling, I've had to work hard at it because nothing ever comes easy to me (well, not the good stuff - I'm a natural at being a twat), but I'm finally able to measure my improvement and think yeah, I'm doing alright.
Books. Now there's another revelation to me. I've mentioned several times in the past that I'm not a big book person. I never really have been. But since the start of the year, one of my stress busters was to make sure I had something to do during my lunch break to keep me from working. So I started reading books, mostly on the recommendation of Youngestsis. And I think that's been my problem, I can't pick a book myself. I pick one up and read the synopsis and think that it sounds dull as fuck or the most innocuous of things will put me off. For example, if someone has a name that I don't like, there's no way on earth I would read it. And I can't stand any sort of heterosexual love story. So I kind of limited myself somewhat on the type of book I could read - I pretty much had to stick to Meg and Mog (I love Meg and Mog - the stories are great and the illustrations are sweet and it's about a Witch and her cat for God's sake, a real live Witch!). But for the past 10 months I've been reading pretty much one book a week, and I've loved it. So if you're stuck for what to get me for Christmas...
Cooking is the last thing I wish to bore you with this evening. Cooking for one sucks. Big time. Ooooh, I'll take my little single person loaf of bread and toast it and buy some single person sized marmite and have single person marmite on toast. Or a box of jaffa cakes. However, in Housemate, Baby Dyke and Pixie, I have 3 girls who love their food but can't cook to save their lives. A winning combination, in my eyes. So I've started to cook for them a few times a week. And they clean their plates and have second helpings and fight over leftovers to take to work for their lunch the following day. Baby Dyke sometimes even sits at the dinner table ages before it's ready, looking hungry and shouting through to the kitchen "Can I help?" which I know roughly translates to "Hurry up". It's lovely and even on days when I am feeling very content, it makes me feel a little bit happier.
That's all.
Oh, apart from to say that Gay Boy is trying to make me go camping this weekend. Camping. A gay man wants to go camping at this time of year. I thought gay men were all L'Oreal Men Expert and soft furnishings not pitching tents in the middle of bloody autumn.
*sigh* Honestly.
So yeah, I've fallen in love with cycling again. I'm not sure when I fell out of love with it, to be honest. Or if I did at all - I think that over the past few months my priorities have been different, is all. I've spent too many weekends doing other stuff. Usually lying in bed on a Sunday morning with a stinking hangover. Or looking out of the window and letting the weather decide for me - and I never used to let the weather put me off. So after the bike ride thing I did a few weekends ago, me and my bike are hanging out again. I did a quick 15 mile loop on Sunday and loved every minute of it - which is new because normally my legs do nothing for the first 5 miles except send signals to my brain that they're not fucking happy. But I realised that I'm actually quite good at cycling, I've had to work hard at it because nothing ever comes easy to me (well, not the good stuff - I'm a natural at being a twat), but I'm finally able to measure my improvement and think yeah, I'm doing alright.
Books. Now there's another revelation to me. I've mentioned several times in the past that I'm not a big book person. I never really have been. But since the start of the year, one of my stress busters was to make sure I had something to do during my lunch break to keep me from working. So I started reading books, mostly on the recommendation of Youngestsis. And I think that's been my problem, I can't pick a book myself. I pick one up and read the synopsis and think that it sounds dull as fuck or the most innocuous of things will put me off. For example, if someone has a name that I don't like, there's no way on earth I would read it. And I can't stand any sort of heterosexual love story. So I kind of limited myself somewhat on the type of book I could read - I pretty much had to stick to Meg and Mog (I love Meg and Mog - the stories are great and the illustrations are sweet and it's about a Witch and her cat for God's sake, a real live Witch!). But for the past 10 months I've been reading pretty much one book a week, and I've loved it. So if you're stuck for what to get me for Christmas...
Cooking is the last thing I wish to bore you with this evening. Cooking for one sucks. Big time. Ooooh, I'll take my little single person loaf of bread and toast it and buy some single person sized marmite and have single person marmite on toast. Or a box of jaffa cakes. However, in Housemate, Baby Dyke and Pixie, I have 3 girls who love their food but can't cook to save their lives. A winning combination, in my eyes. So I've started to cook for them a few times a week. And they clean their plates and have second helpings and fight over leftovers to take to work for their lunch the following day. Baby Dyke sometimes even sits at the dinner table ages before it's ready, looking hungry and shouting through to the kitchen "Can I help?" which I know roughly translates to "Hurry up". It's lovely and even on days when I am feeling very content, it makes me feel a little bit happier.
That's all.
Oh, apart from to say that Gay Boy is trying to make me go camping this weekend. Camping. A gay man wants to go camping at this time of year. I thought gay men were all L'Oreal Men Expert and soft furnishings not pitching tents in the middle of bloody autumn.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Oh really?
This month's nugget of joy from Zest magazine is as follows:
People with positive initials, such as A.C.E. or V.I.P., live over 4 years longer than other folk.
I was going to change my name to Bethany Rachel India Lucy Logan but settled instead for Wanda Honeyblossom Allegra Tallulah Amelia Lilly Olivia Abigail Daisy Olga Francesca Brittany Olive Lucy Layla Oona Carmen Kitty Smith.
People with positive initials, such as A.C.E. or V.I.P., live over 4 years longer than other folk.
I was going to change my name to Bethany Rachel India Lucy Logan but settled instead for Wanda Honeyblossom Allegra Tallulah Amelia Lilly Olivia Abigail Daisy Olga Francesca Brittany Olive Lucy Layla Oona Carmen Kitty Smith.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Sunday? Already?
There's nothing like a week off work to help serve up an extra portion of IHateMyFuckingJob, is there? At first I was a bit concerned about taking time off without anything planned but then I scheduled in some work for job#2 so I felt better.
And after the day from hell the last Friday at work, followed by a very energetic game of squash, followed by a quick visit to my mother's, followed by a trip to the cinema, followed by just getting home at midnight ready for bed and then having Pixie turning up on my doorstep and having to entertain her til 3am, I was ready for it.
Cash Point, NiceCousin and I went to see Atonement, which was good but fuck me why can't a British movie have a happy ending if Hugh Grant isn't in it?
Cash Point, NiceCousin and I went to see Atonement, which was good but fuck me why can't a British movie have a happy ending if Hugh Grant isn't in it?
Because I am a bit anal I spent the day on Saturday cleaning. I can't start a week off unless all of my work clothes are washed and ironed, my work shoes cleaned and polished, my bedroom dug out and cleaned and junk thrown out or recycled in a better home. After a long session in the gym in the afternoon and a trolley dash around the supermarket, I came home and zonked out on the couch, still wearing my jacket.
On Sunday Gay Boy and I did the charity bike ride thing, which I managed in record time and now has me looking at my sparkly new bike thinking "Aw, I want a racing bike..". It also has me thinking that maybe I won't take up running and should just concentrate on cycling. I know I'm changeable but I don't care.
In the evening, Cash Point and I went over to Gay Boy's house for a few drinks. When we got a taxi back, I got out with Cash Point who looked at me, then watched the taxi drive off and said "You got a key to Mum's?" (she lives next door to my mum and dad). Luckily, I did. Also luckily, me ricocheting off the walls on my way to bed didn't wake them up. Or did it as they didn't seem remotely surprised when I surfaced the following morning?
I spent the rest of the day lounging around their house, waiting to feel less hungover in order to go pick my car up from outside Gay Boy's house.
In the evening, Pixie and I were supposed to be going out to a student night with Dolly (£1 a pint, I can't imagine me lasting longer than a tenner's worth) but, as usual, she cancelled on us. As she was the one with the nus card, Pixie and I settled for the PubAtTheBottomOfTheGarden. Housemate and Baby Dyke joined us later on, Housemate and Pixie played on the fruit machines all night while Baby Dyke and I talked about wimmin and cars and how unsociable the wives were being. (Not really)
On Tuesday I lunched with Cash Point and then spent the afternoon with my mother. She was being really boring and wouldn't do anything fun so after I let her feed me, I went to the gym. I should have waited a while as after I did a 20 minute jog on the treadmill, said food worked its way back up again. Silly fucker.
On Wednesday I took to the garden with the lawnmower and some latex gloves. My mum found out recently about the extent of my hand-thing, in as much as I can't stand touching certain things. Like newspaper or mud and the feeling of dust on my fingertips makes me feel very ill. So she bought me some latex gloves. I can only presume because they were cheaper than therapy. I got on a roll and even cleaned all the gunky, wet grass that builds up underneath the lawnmower. There was something really satisfying about raking my hands all around this crud but it not being able to get to my skin. A bit like taunting a lion at the zoo, I should imagine. But not as cruel.
I also cleaned out my car, went to the gym - worked out with the old people who frequent it during the day, and cooked dinner for Housemate, BD and Pixie. Fuck Nigella (yes please), I'M the domestic Goddess round these parts.
On Thursday I spent hours and hours at the gym, mostly in the steam room and sauna, I have to say. In the afternoon I trailed the town looking for a branch of HSBC which is harder than it sounds, I eventually had to go to the one in town centre I'd been putting off going to as it's all computerised paying in systems, which is lovely and convenient and very quick and user friendly unless you want to pay in coins. Then you have to hunt down a member of staff and ask them to open up the counter, at which point they look at you like you've just asked if you can shit on the the floor.
I then had the more pleasurable task of going for a check up at the dentist. Even that pisses me off because I'm rarely in the seat for longer than 60 seconds at the most before the dentist declares I have a lovely set of gnashers and he'll see me again in 6 months. All well and good but the new pricing system means he's getting the equivalent of £964 per hour. So I told him that a 12 month check up would be better for me and I would come back in the meantime should I encounter any problems, what with me being an adult 'n all. I know, I know, I shouldn't complain about the cost of my dentist seeing as I am one of the lucky few with an nhs dentist. I still hate their poxy new pricing system though.
In the evening I went to see Youngestsis and the kids and, as I was not going to work, I finally relented to the kids' persistent badgering and stayed over. It was worth being woke up at 7am the following morning and being forced to play a simultaneous game of Yu-Gi-Oh with my nephew and something doll related with my niece just for their sleepy faces when they woke up. Kids somehow get an extra layer of cute painted over their faces during the night which just makes me wanna squeeze them in the way only an auntie can. Unlike some of my exes who seem to get an extra layer of angrybitch painted over their faces and a film of whatever it is that makes cheese pasties shine painted over their bodies. I don't understand that; go to bed clean but wake up all filmy and shiny and a bit.. wrong. I never get the cheese pastie film, it seems I am one of the lucky ones.
In the afternoon I went for a supervision meeting with my line manager from job#2, Mr Loud. I had no idea what one was but I had a feeling it was going to be irrelevant what with me not actually doing anything but shadowing up until that point. And I was right. But I got paid 2 hours for repeating myself over and over in answer to such questions as "do you have any issues with other staff?" er.. no, I haven't worked a shift yet, Mr Loud "do you have any issues with residents?" er.. no, I haven't worked a shift yet, Mr Loud "Any other business?" er.. no, I'm just raring to get to work a shift, Mr Loud.
I was supposed to go play squash with Gay Boy afterwards, but he cancelled on me. Over the past few months, he's gained over 2 and a half stone. Due to his bf finding out about him hawking his mutton all over gaydar and putting an end to it, Pixie and I came to the conclusion he probably feels he doesn't have to impress anyone anymore. Downside to that is that he rarely comes to the gym with me and pinning him down to a game of squash is nearly impossible. Extra flab or not, though, when he does play he still wipes the floor with me. Pixie renamed him Fat Jack. This came from a drunken conversation one night when Pixie declared she was like a younger version of Karen, I was an unsophisticated, female Will and Gay Boy a fat Jack.
So I gave myself the day off from exercise and spent my last evening officially still on leave having a few drinks in the house, surfin the net and playing music. For all I love hanging out with friends and family, I also really like my one person parties. They're the best. Housemate came in later on and joined me for a few sociables, as she calls them. We sat up chatting for hours, which was nice. I can count on one hand the amount of time we've spent any great length of time solely in each others' company. Well, I could probably count on two fingers how many times we've done it, to be honest! She stayed up and watched The L Word with me, she even asked about the characters and quite got into the storyline. There was only one comment of "But I just don't understand how you would prefer to kiss a woman", which is an improvement. Mine and Baby Dyke's tireless campaigning (i.e. watching Pink videos over and over) of trying to make her understand the mind of a lesbian is slowly working.
The rest of the weekend I was working my first sleepover shift for job#2. I went off duty at 11am this morning after being there almost 24 hours so I'm pretty knackered. It remains to be seen how well I'll cope with shifts like that when I've also done a full week for job#1. But I suppose the point of it is to a) earn more money, 2) be at work instead of out spending money and iii) the whole thing about adding feathers to.. the kite.. thingy or whatever the cliche is.
So back to the grindstone tomorrow *scowl* but on the plus side I do actually still have another week's leave to use and a Christmas shutdown to look forward to. Weirdly enough, I find myself thinking with all that time off work I could actually.. work!
When I pointed this out to my mother she said "All work.." and left it at that. I thought about it and said "But I'm dull anyway, mother!".
In the evening, Cash Point and I went over to Gay Boy's house for a few drinks. When we got a taxi back, I got out with Cash Point who looked at me, then watched the taxi drive off and said "You got a key to Mum's?" (she lives next door to my mum and dad). Luckily, I did. Also luckily, me ricocheting off the walls on my way to bed didn't wake them up. Or did it as they didn't seem remotely surprised when I surfaced the following morning?
I spent the rest of the day lounging around their house, waiting to feel less hungover in order to go pick my car up from outside Gay Boy's house.
In the evening, Pixie and I were supposed to be going out to a student night with Dolly (£1 a pint, I can't imagine me lasting longer than a tenner's worth) but, as usual, she cancelled on us. As she was the one with the nus card, Pixie and I settled for the PubAtTheBottomOfTheGarden. Housemate and Baby Dyke joined us later on, Housemate and Pixie played on the fruit machines all night while Baby Dyke and I talked about wimmin and cars and how unsociable the wives were being. (Not really)
On Tuesday I lunched with Cash Point and then spent the afternoon with my mother. She was being really boring and wouldn't do anything fun so after I let her feed me, I went to the gym. I should have waited a while as after I did a 20 minute jog on the treadmill, said food worked its way back up again. Silly fucker.
On Wednesday I took to the garden with the lawnmower and some latex gloves. My mum found out recently about the extent of my hand-thing, in as much as I can't stand touching certain things. Like newspaper or mud and the feeling of dust on my fingertips makes me feel very ill. So she bought me some latex gloves. I can only presume because they were cheaper than therapy. I got on a roll and even cleaned all the gunky, wet grass that builds up underneath the lawnmower. There was something really satisfying about raking my hands all around this crud but it not being able to get to my skin. A bit like taunting a lion at the zoo, I should imagine. But not as cruel.
I also cleaned out my car, went to the gym - worked out with the old people who frequent it during the day, and cooked dinner for Housemate, BD and Pixie. Fuck Nigella (yes please), I'M the domestic Goddess round these parts.
On Thursday I spent hours and hours at the gym, mostly in the steam room and sauna, I have to say. In the afternoon I trailed the town looking for a branch of HSBC which is harder than it sounds, I eventually had to go to the one in town centre I'd been putting off going to as it's all computerised paying in systems, which is lovely and convenient and very quick and user friendly unless you want to pay in coins. Then you have to hunt down a member of staff and ask them to open up the counter, at which point they look at you like you've just asked if you can shit on the the floor.
I then had the more pleasurable task of going for a check up at the dentist. Even that pisses me off because I'm rarely in the seat for longer than 60 seconds at the most before the dentist declares I have a lovely set of gnashers and he'll see me again in 6 months. All well and good but the new pricing system means he's getting the equivalent of £964 per hour. So I told him that a 12 month check up would be better for me and I would come back in the meantime should I encounter any problems, what with me being an adult 'n all. I know, I know, I shouldn't complain about the cost of my dentist seeing as I am one of the lucky few with an nhs dentist. I still hate their poxy new pricing system though.
In the evening I went to see Youngestsis and the kids and, as I was not going to work, I finally relented to the kids' persistent badgering and stayed over. It was worth being woke up at 7am the following morning and being forced to play a simultaneous game of Yu-Gi-Oh with my nephew and something doll related with my niece just for their sleepy faces when they woke up. Kids somehow get an extra layer of cute painted over their faces during the night which just makes me wanna squeeze them in the way only an auntie can. Unlike some of my exes who seem to get an extra layer of angrybitch painted over their faces and a film of whatever it is that makes cheese pasties shine painted over their bodies. I don't understand that; go to bed clean but wake up all filmy and shiny and a bit.. wrong. I never get the cheese pastie film, it seems I am one of the lucky ones.
In the afternoon I went for a supervision meeting with my line manager from job#2, Mr Loud. I had no idea what one was but I had a feeling it was going to be irrelevant what with me not actually doing anything but shadowing up until that point. And I was right. But I got paid 2 hours for repeating myself over and over in answer to such questions as "do you have any issues with other staff?" er.. no, I haven't worked a shift yet, Mr Loud "do you have any issues with residents?" er.. no, I haven't worked a shift yet, Mr Loud "Any other business?" er.. no, I'm just raring to get to work a shift, Mr Loud.
I was supposed to go play squash with Gay Boy afterwards, but he cancelled on me. Over the past few months, he's gained over 2 and a half stone. Due to his bf finding out about him hawking his mutton all over gaydar and putting an end to it, Pixie and I came to the conclusion he probably feels he doesn't have to impress anyone anymore. Downside to that is that he rarely comes to the gym with me and pinning him down to a game of squash is nearly impossible. Extra flab or not, though, when he does play he still wipes the floor with me. Pixie renamed him Fat Jack. This came from a drunken conversation one night when Pixie declared she was like a younger version of Karen, I was an unsophisticated, female Will and Gay Boy a fat Jack.
So I gave myself the day off from exercise and spent my last evening officially still on leave having a few drinks in the house, surfin the net and playing music. For all I love hanging out with friends and family, I also really like my one person parties. They're the best. Housemate came in later on and joined me for a few sociables, as she calls them. We sat up chatting for hours, which was nice. I can count on one hand the amount of time we've spent any great length of time solely in each others' company. Well, I could probably count on two fingers how many times we've done it, to be honest! She stayed up and watched The L Word with me, she even asked about the characters and quite got into the storyline. There was only one comment of "But I just don't understand how you would prefer to kiss a woman", which is an improvement. Mine and Baby Dyke's tireless campaigning (i.e. watching Pink videos over and over) of trying to make her understand the mind of a lesbian is slowly working.
The rest of the weekend I was working my first sleepover shift for job#2. I went off duty at 11am this morning after being there almost 24 hours so I'm pretty knackered. It remains to be seen how well I'll cope with shifts like that when I've also done a full week for job#1. But I suppose the point of it is to a) earn more money, 2) be at work instead of out spending money and iii) the whole thing about adding feathers to.. the kite.. thingy or whatever the cliche is.
So back to the grindstone tomorrow *scowl* but on the plus side I do actually still have another week's leave to use and a Christmas shutdown to look forward to. Weirdly enough, I find myself thinking with all that time off work I could actually.. work!
When I pointed this out to my mother she said "All work.." and left it at that. I thought about it and said "But I'm dull anyway, mother!".
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