30-Something

I've been putting it off

2008-03-17T19:21:00.001Z

Eat my dust
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

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.

Running out

2007-11-05T19:01:00.000Z

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.

Overheard

2007-10-21T16:09:00.001Z

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.

But the Chinese lady who looks like she weighs no more than 5 stone made chin ups look easy

2007-10-16T19:55:00.000Z

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.

Cycling, books and cooking

2007-10-15T20:48:00.000Z

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.

Oh really?

2007-10-11T17:01:00.000Z

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.

Sunday? Already?

2007-10-07T15:06:00.000Z

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?

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!".

4 statements that made me laugh out loud yesterday

2007-09-24T18:39:00.001Z

1. She recycles to the point of ridiculousness.
Said by Youngestsis as she was bitching about Oldestsis.
2. If God wanted us to keep our feet covered up, he wouldn't have invented Jesus sandals.
Said by Youngestsis as I was bitching about her ugly feet.
3. Geek, the woman you're secretly in love with and her gf does not make for a great group of friends, in my opinion.
Said by Pixie as she was bitching about me not inviting her out on Friday.
4. I'm going to buy you some too, then we'll all have matching pjs. We can all stay in and wear them, no one will know but us. I can't wait.
Said by Housemate as I was bitching about her and Baby Dyke wearing matching pjs.

Who I WLTM doesn't exist

2007-09-23T15:55:00.000Z

I have a really weird stomach "thing" that flares up from time to time. I've blogged about it in the past but to quickly recap, when it happens I can't eat very much as it's agony. Usually, oddly, I also get flu like symptoms too. The doctors did lots of prodding and poking and decided there was something wrong with the way in which my digestive system works but I never really bothered to push for further tests. They gave me pills which worked at the time, which was enough for me. Now though, I've found that just laying off food for a bit helps.

So last weekend I spent the weekend living off lager, cola bottles and the scraps of affection that JustAFriend threw me. This weekend I've gone healthier. I'm living off fruit, exercise and a weird night out with Geek in a pub in the middle of nowhere, watching un-established comedians (I use the term comedians very loosely) with JustAFriend and her gf.

It was the first time I met her new gf and I can't say I was looking forward to it. I'd seen pictures and she looked like she'd kick my head in for daring to sleep her gf before she did. As it turns out, she was proper nice. Very charming and funny and sweet but she had some mannerisms that were just like mine. Which was strange but made for interesting viewing. It's odd how I found her shyness endearing but I hate it in myself, same with the way she initially only answered questions rather than making conversation and when she did answer questions she babbled a little bit and she was very quietly spoken.

Anyway, so now I've met her and actually really like her I feel like I'll be less inclined to be JustAFriend's puppet. In theory. Geek did comment on how she could practically see the strings that JustAFriend pulls to make me do what she wants. And Geek only spent a few hours in her company, so that's not good.

I think what I'm lacking, probably, is a girlfriend. Being single is great but it's quite expensive and all this socialising sure takes it out of me. I think I quite fancy having someone who'll look at me disapprovingly when I say I'm off to the pub with Pixie. As I've had absolutely no luck so far in finding a woman in the real world who meets my requirements, I might have to start taking in applications here. Old boots need not apply, I've heard all about those good looking types and I quite fancy giving one of those a go.

I'd like a girl who likes to do fun stuff. I don't want a couch potato. Oh and I only do filthy sex so if you're a bit vanilla then let's not, eh? Oh and after I've been given the disapproving look when I'm off out to the pub with Pixie, what I then want is to be given £20 and to be told to have a nice time and that if I want a lift home, all I have to do is call. And I don't want none of this moving in after two dates shite. Ever heard the term LATs? Living apart together? It's a great concept; read up on it. When I tickle someones back, it means one of two things - it's either a hint that I want my back tickled/stroked/scratched or massaged or I want fun in the naked sense. Learn to read the signs as I'm not very good at expressing myself.

Other than that, I'm not fussy. Oh apart from the jealousy gene - I don't have one so if you do, please get it removed. And I don't mind hairy armpits as long as they're neat but I don't really do hairy legs. Which includes stubble so either wax or keep on top of the shaving business. Also I like to come and go as I please, I don't share my itinerary with anyone. It's not because I have secrets, because I don't. And I have too much of a conscience to ever be up to no good. But I just like my shit to be my shit. No crossover of shit. Ever. Which includes cds, let's never merge our collections. In addition to this small list, you may have all the baggage in the world, because anyone who says they have none is full of crap, just don't expect me to psychoanalyse it. There's a reason my friends tell me I'm dead inside.

However I don't want to write a full list of criteria because I do believe I slagged off other people for doing that recently.

Although I do feel duty bound to get two final things out of the way now; I'm the funniest out of the two of us, all of our friends will think so (obviously you have to be funny too because no one likes to fuck a fuckwit) and I'm the best driver. Let's never argue about these two pointers because what we're dealing with here is fact.

But that's it. And on that note, I'm off to the pub with Pixie.

Anyone left practising their best disapproving look but reaching for their money, apply in writing.

And I really am off to the pub with Pixie..

Bless the gays

2007-09-18T17:44:00.000Z

T'other boss was telling Pretty Girl some boring story about her nephew doing some sort of training placement.

"Yes, he's really pleased because he's been placed at Chelsea.."

Gay Boy and I suddenly became interested. Both for very different reasons, it seems. We both tried to clarify what she meant at the same time...

"The football club?" I asked.

"The flower show?" Gay Boy asked.

Get a grip and cheer up

2007-09-16T16:01:00.000Z

After all the effort I put into getting my thigh better so that I would be able to do the 3k fun run this morning, on Friday night I fell backwards off the chair in our living room and did something very painful to my left knee. Therefore, no run this morning. And I now have a kneecap sized bruise to go along with the pain. Great.

The weekend has been nice, though. Started with a day off job#1 on Friday. I got up super early and spent a few hours in the gym. I then went for a meeting with my manager from job#2 which ended up being over 3 hours long and resulted in lots of homework for me before he will agree to sign off my shadowing and let me start taking proper shifts. I have just over a week in which I have to complete 6 written assignments. I tried to remind him that I also have a full time job but his attitude was one of "how much do you really want this" so looks like I'm going to be busy.

On Friday night, Gay Boy, Pixie and JustAFriend came over to mine for a few drinks, followed by a big, gay night out. We had a lot of fun. Pixie and JustAFriend came back to mine and stayed over.

I'm not sure if I want to go into what's going round my head about JAF. One thing is for sure, I shouldn't let her make me feel the way she does. I like the way she's 95% ego, I like the way she likes to share a bed with me, I like the way she's one of a very select few I can actually share a bed with, I like the way she'll stay awake talking to me for hours, I like the fact that she listens to me if I'm in the mood to talk. But I hate that she makes me want to be tactile and I hate it when she kisses my shoulder when she first wakes up as if I'm her gf and I hate the way she says things like "I won't want to be monogamous forever" like she's throwing me a fucking bone and I especially hate the way I feel sad when she leaves.

I spent the rest of the day mostly with Pixie. We went to the pub at the bottom of my garden. Well, it's not quite at the bottom of the garden but from locking the front door to sitting down with a pint, we once timed it at 3 minutes. So it's fair to say the pub is very close by. We had lunch, we giggled about puerile things, we tried hair of the dog and it didn't work, I admitted a few things about my feelings for JAF, mostly to myself, we went home and I fell asleep curled up in the comfy chair under a blanket. Apparently my housemate came home and entertained Pixie for a few hours while I was out for the count. Oddly, an ad for Virgin trains startled me out of sleep.

In the evening we went over to Gay Boy's. I've felt out of touch with him over the past few months. I think he's needed time to do some long overdue repair work to his relationship with his bf but I also think he's felt a bit left out that Pixie and I have lived in each others' pockets over the summer. So it was nice to chill out with him for the evening.

After Pixie and Gay Boy's bf couldn't handle the pace and went to bed, Gay Boy and I watched a load of programmes on the on demand bit of Virgin Media. We watched a few episodes of How to Look Good Naked. I do like Gok, I want Gok to make me look good. Naked or otherwise. And I love seeing women semi naked. It's the lesbian in me. I'm not objectifying women, but I'm not ashamed to say that I love looking at womens' bodies. Regardless of shape or size. We then watched a few episodes of Super Nanny and Nigella Lawson, which is pretty much as good as soft porn to me. Jo Frost being all authoritative and Nigella being all sexy AND cooking? Phew! Lush!

Gay Boy and I talked about my ideal woman and we established I typically have two types. One is the androgynous dykey is-she-a-lesbo or-is-he-a-teenage-boy type and the other is the older woman who looks like she'd dominate my brains out.

It was 4am by the time we eventually got to bed. So it's probably a good job we decided that, if I couldn't run this morning, none of us would run.

Today I've spent the day with my mum. On Thursday she had an op on her foot and didn't think to trouble me with this information til after she came out of hospital. I was at work when I got a text message from her saying she'd had minor surgery but she was fine. I had no idea there had been anything wrong with her. I asked her why she didn't think to tell me sooner and she said that she didn't want to bother me because she knows I'm busy. I felt shit. So when she asked me to take her shopping today, I didn't complain once. Ok, so I tried to get out of it by suggesting she shouldn't walk on her foot but she gave me the I'm your mother so don't question me look. She bought me a pair of shoes for my trouble, so it wasn't all bad.

I have another day off tomorrow. I have no work scheduled in for job#2 so I am going to enjoy a day off. I might even see if Mrs M will let me buy her lunch as a thank you for the new shoes.

So, what's next? I feel a bit like all the good stuff I had planned is over with. I have a few social events coming up but nothing that really excites me. I have a charity bike ride planned for a week on Sunday (don't worry, I won't be asking anyone for sponsorship - this one's coming out of my own pocket - I'm aware the whole charity thing gets on peoples' tits in the end). But that's it really.

This weekend was the weekend when I decided that everything that I did that wasn't good for me was out of the window. For a while, at least. I sort of feel like it's New Year. Like all the fun stuff is over and I have to spend the next few months working on me.

Therefore, my autumn resolutions are as follows:
Work hard; earn money.
Stop doing things that are detrimental to my health.
Be a better daughter/sister/auntie/friend.
Take up running. Properly.
Go to bed before midnight each night, preferably before 11pm.
Get a grip and cheer up.

Weeeeee!

2007-09-10T20:16:00.001Z

Dangle dangle dangle
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

No, I didn't wee myself. I didn't shout "weeee" either. In fact, I don't remember making much of a noise. Apparently, my cousin's little boy asked "Is she dead?" after I came to a standstill.

Bungee jumping is fun. Gave me an awful headache that even 6 pints couldn't cure, but it was fun. Weird though.

How odd, to stand on the edge of a bridge, over a very murky river then, when some bloke you've never met before, counts back from 3 you you throw yourself off.

The initial drop was lovely. My brain kinda went "Sod this; I'm off - when you come to your senses, i.e. when that bungee snaps you back up towards the bridge, then we'll discuss what happens next." so I was left feeling a bit deprived of all my senses. I could hear cheers from everyone watching and I remember becoming very aware of the river getting closer. But everything else just seemed not quite real.

The bouncing bit isn't all together unpleasant, either. It's a bit trippy because you go up facing one direction then come back down in another but have spun several times in between. So you kinda loose all sense of direction, which is odd.

Anyway, so yeah. That's all really. What did I do with my weekend? I jumped off a bridge for a larf. Ok it was for charity really but the fact it was a larf too was just a bonus.

I've pulled!

2007-09-03T18:07:00.000Z

Unfortunately it's my left thigh muscle. It fucking hurts. A lot.

My own fault for suddenly deciding to run 3k three times a week and not cool down properly. But don't my muscles know I'm a busy girl? They should cool themselves down and leave me to get on with the important stuff, like earning money to buy jeans to hide the chunky fuckers underneath.

I'd forgotten how much a pulled muscle hurts. It's vomit inducing pain. And I mean that, I know I accuse a lot of things of making me want to vomit (e.g. old women with a shiny tan) but this really does, especially when I first did it on Saturday morning.

Because it's not a really bad strain I can't feel it til I go to run or overstretch it. So when I almost got knocked over on Saturday afternoon and went to sprint out of the way of sure death, a pain ripped right up my leg and said to my stomach "Threaten her with puke, she has an irrational fear of the act of being sick, go on - it'll be a laugh". It happened again when I stepped on one of Baby Dyke's trainers that are a permanent fixture in our hallway and my poor left leg went skidding across the laminate floor while my right leg just looked at it and said "Where the fuck are you going? I'm stopping here. ONE of us has to be the sensible one". Although wandering about the house at 3 in the morning, while drunk and without a single light on is asking for trouble at the best of times.

So I'm pissed off that I can't run or, worse still, I can't play squash til it's better. I'm still doing a bit of light training but I barely broke a sweat in the gym tonight and I feel like a fraud. I feel like one of those women I'm normally very disparaging about. I might as well take a book in there to read while I'm on the spinning bike. Honestly!

On the up side, though, I do have a queue of women offering to massage my thigh better.. Oh wait, no, that's wrong. NO ONE has offered a massage. Silly me, I do get mixed up.

Lesbian doll

2007-08-27T15:05:00.001Z

Lesbo Doll
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

Pixie picked up a doll out of my mother's garden yesterday afternoon and examined it. "Why does this man doll have a woman's swimming costume on?" I was busy playing frisbee with Gay Boy so I didn't bother getting involved. "Oh," said Pixie after a few seconds "it's not a man doll, it's a lesbian. Aw, isn't that p.c. of toy makers these days?".

I've had a very tiring, drunken and expensive weekend. Spent mostly with extended family, in which I now must include Housemate, Baby Dyke and Pixie. We seem to have fallen into this weird, non-sexual, polyamorous relationship. "Isn't it nice when it's just the four of us?" stated Housemate when we got home in the small hours of Saturday night/Sunday morning.

I'm not quite sure when we all got so weirdly close, but it seems to be getting worse. For example; Baby Dyke and I were walking to the club on Saturday night, Housemate and Pixie were behind us. I overheard them talking about my body. "She complains that she's fat but she's got a fairly buff body" said Pixie (please note, it's not anywhere near buff, she was just being kind). "I know," said Housemate "she swans about with a towel round her waist and her bra on, complaining that she's fat but have you seen her back? It's nice." (please note, I do NOT "swan" around like this, I dart from the bathroom to the bedroom or quickly iron in the spare room or dash downstairs for something, I do not linger while I am in a state of semi-undress) "It is nice." agreed Pixie "Mind you, have you seen the spots she gets on it?" At this point I turned round to object to the topic of conversation but Housemate was already animated about it "Oh God yes! They're great, have you seen the one she has at the minute? just below her birthmark, near her right shoulder blade?" Pixie, unfortunately, knew the exact spot Housemate was talking about.

I'm going to have to look for new accommodation soon. And new friends.

Who needs t.v. listings when you have friends to tell you your fav is on the telly

2007-08-24T18:03:00.000Z

"Who is Kate Silvertongue?" asked Pixie as I settled down to watch Ultimate Wild Water on Tuesday night. "And why do we have to watch it?" Pixie was concerned by the sudden interest I had in t.v.

I ignored her in the hopes she would either shut up or go away and leave me to drool over Kate in a wetsuit/kayak/harness (ok it was something to do with scrambling over rocks.. but still).

Once the programme started, the penny dropped. Pixie made her "It's just dawned on me" noise, which is akin to the noise I imagine an angel would make on its ascent to heaven. It's the funniest thing, but I digress. "I can see why you want to watch this - she is so predictably your type. And she's being sporty. This is like porn to you, isn't it?" I continued to ignore her as she wittered on "Oh my God! She is like a mix of Lovely Lady Boss, SSL and.. someone else, I can't quite put my finger on it."

A short while later, Housemate took a break from watching BB in her bedroom and wandered through the living room into the kitchen. As she meandered by she glanced at the t.v. "What you watching?" she asked us both but Pixie piped up first "Fuck knows, mate. SHE'S making me."

Housemate wandered into the kitchen to get a drink. On her way back through the living room, she observed "I know why she's making you watch it, it's because that chick looks like Now Just A Friend." Pixie laughed. A lot.

"Oh. My. God. It's true, 30-Something. She is a weird mix of all three of them, how have you managed to build your own perfect woman? She even acts like all three - she has the enthusiasm and drive of Lovely Lady Boss, she had the quirkiness of SSL and, like Now Just A Friend, she does that thing where she looks at you and you're left wondering if you've just been fucked."

Recap for those of you who give a shit: Lovely Lady Boss is the department manager who is very sexy and very lovely and gets very flirty with me from time to time because she knows she can make me blush. SSL is a scary, serious potential lesbian who is probably actually straight and not that serious (a tiny bit scary but only to me because women intimidate me) but still very fanciable (from time to time anyway). Now Just a Friend is someone who was only ever a friend from the start but the sort you can have naked fun with but now she has a girlfriend we're just friends. Kate Silverton, for you heathen bastards out there, is the reason the word Phwoar was invented.

Grumpy old woman

2007-08-20T19:45:00.000Z

Things that annoy me:

1. Dogs "walking" themselves. What's the point of letting the dog put the lead in its own mouth? If a Rottweiler suddenly decides my leg is a tastier option than its lead then how quickly can its owner stop it?

2. People who take a book to the gym. Really though, if you're on the treadmill or exercise bike and have time to read, you're doing something wrong.

3. Those folk who say their pets are like children. Now I don't have kids, I will never have kids, I don't have the urge to have kids (anymore), I'll never know that all consuming love a mother has for her child. I do, however, have enough common sense to know that loving a pet isn't quite the same as loving a child. Sorry. It's fact.

4. People who make phonecalls from the toilet. Why? I have a hard enough time weeing if there is someone in the next cubicle but if that person is bellowing into a mobile "I don't know what we can have for tea, Dave. Just get something out of the freezer!" then I suddenly feel all inconsiderate for needing a piss.

5. Gaydargirls. Seriously, why write a list of epic proportions of what you're looking for in a woman? If you couldn't pull someone sporty, intelligent, caring, loving, good looking, not too small but not too tall and solvent in real life chances are you won't online either.

6. Straights kissing. It turns my stomach.

7. People who claim animals are nicer than people. Honest ter God! Who fucked you off? Get some faith in mankind, for fucks sake. Do you think for one minute if cats could suddenly grow opposable thumbs some of them wouldn't pick up Mr Stabby The Kitchen Knife and plunge it into your back quicker than that bitch in finance? Wrong.

8. Big Brother. It's like watching all the people you don't like at work flirting/arguing/self obsessing. You wouldn't if you had the choice, would you?

9. Gossips. "..she almost fell asleep at her desk yesterday. I think she's on something but I can't prove it, obviously.." Oh really. Fascinating. I almost fall asleep at my desk most days. I'm ON something - it's called not enough sleep.

10. Women who don't fancy me. I'm short, ginger, shy, chubby, moody, controlling, anal, fickle, permanently skint, no career prospects to speak of and I'll blow you out for a night out with my friends. I don't understand my lack of success with the ladies.

11. Geordies.

12. People who think they live on the edge. "I once ate a dog biscuit because I was really drunk!". Oh my God! I once ate a dog biscuit because I was hungry.

13. The stroppy goth at work. No love, you have NOT got stigmata. You. Fucking. Freak.

14. Tenants who think that as their landlord we can do everything and anything for them. "Please can you issue me with a one of those certificates you need for the incinerator so that I can take a van full of rubbish". What? No! Makes me want to neatly draw out a certificate that says PISS OFF on it.

15. Evolution. I don't need a womb and I don't need leg hair, why do I still have to deal with both?

16. My own pre-conceptions. I've never used the ladies room in the gym because I thought it would probably be full of girly girls, wearing make-up and lifting pink dumb-bells that weigh, like, less than a gnat's chuff. NO! IT'S NOT! I was frowning my way through a 3k run on the treadmill when I glanced through the window. It was full of dykes! Pfft! Obviously, I'll be in there tomorrow morning..

17. TV. Kitchen Criminals? Do fuck off. Some miserable, shouty chef takes a bunch of gobby fuckwits and tries to teach them how to cook. The contestants are all sent to boot camp. Obviously, contestants can't just sit in a fucking green room anymore. No, they all have to live together in a posh pad where their every move is discussed, smelt and anaylsed by Ben Sheppard on ITV2 and a host of reality show winners, now celebrities in their own rights and 'experts' on eye blinking, dump-taking and nose-picking. The winner (or the only numpty not to have faced the public vote because no one can win something these days by the old fashioned method, i.e. by being the best) receives a kebab van of their very own that has been made-over by Colin and Justin to look like a run down housing estate done up as a celebrity tudor wedding. If they haven't made a million by the end of the first financial quarter, Alan Sugar fires them. Out of a cannon and into a jungle full of celebrities, where they have to survive by eating Ant and Dec. By the end of the series they will look 10 years younger. And good naked. Probably.

18. Me and my obsession with even numbers. I so clearly peaked at number 17 but had to think of one last thing that annoyed me because odd numbers are bad. They'll come and strangle you in your sleep if you don't keep them under the control of the even numbers regime.

Two weeks in the life of ME ME ME

2007-08-18T18:46:00.000Z

My sister sent me a text message inviting me for dinner that evening. No can do, was my response, Geek is coming over for dinner tonight. She asked when I could fit her in. Two weeks on Wednesday, I said. You twat, she replied, you're more exclusive than The Ivy.

It's sad but true. My weeks are ridiculous. Completely bloody stupidly busy. I get no downtime whatsoever. Probably for the best because I tend to get bored. But I'm never really sure if that's a by-product of rarely actually having any downtime.

For example:

Saturday I spent the day doing housework and life admin. I continued trying to reach my 70 hours worth of training for my 2nd job. Was appalled to hear the person I was shadowing only did 3 hours, YES 3 HOURS, shadowing before she was let loose on her own.

Sunday I went for a bike ride, went to visit my mother, played with some of the small boys and girls my sisters own, went walking with Dolly, talked about her newly diagnosed depression (fuck me, I did NOT see that one coming), made plans to go for a bike ride later in the week (you'd think I'd learn NOT to announce things like "Friday is the only night I don't have plans").

Monday I contacted the Project Leader assigned as my line manager to arrange a meeting to discuss reducing my target 70 hours of training. He couldn't fit me in for over 3 weeks. I felt like my friends and family do when I say "Sorry. Busy." In the evening I played squash with Gay Boy for the first time in 4 weeks, remembered why I don't wear cycling socks because they're too slippy, something I only remembered as my foot slid inside my shoe and I nearly hobbled myself on the wall, squash certainly will be my demise. Went to my mother's to pick up my post and see if there was anything interesting on the go foodwise. Left at 9pm when I got a phonecall from Pixie saying she was outside my house and could she stay over.

Tuesday I went to see Gay Girl and her gf in their new shag pad. All of my friends are doing grown up things like buying houses and... not acting like someone 10 years younger than they are. Oh well. She is very happy, though. I left feeling very content and reassured that not only will I one day find the domestic bliss that Gay Girl has found but also that one day I will actually WANT to find it.

Wednesday Gay Boy and I were delighted to discover that my hometown is holding a Pride weekend. Crikey! First a Costa Coffee, then a Starbucks, now pride? Fuck me, we're so cosmopolitan we're practically neopolitan. In the evening Geek came over for dinner. She brought flowers. I threatened Housemate and Baby Dyke that the precedent was now set and I would no longer make so much as a bacon sandwich for them without some sort of foliage being presented to me. Watched an old episode of How To Look Good Naked. Decided that well kept hairy armpits are quite sexy. I'm aware it's a very personal thing, though.

Thursday I had a very busy and stressful day at work. I tried talking to SSL at several points throughtout the day. SSL said that she thinks food is the best thing in the world. I said it wasn't quite the best thing. She reiterated that it was to her. I suspect she's not filthy enough for me. In the evening I went to Youngestsister's, as per the Thursday tradition that started many years ago. We have spent almost every Thursday together since the beginning of time. I played with the kids and talked to my nephew about his appointment to see a specialist, he may have tourettes and has to undergo cognitive therapy. He seems fine with it and was more concerned about his wobbly tooth. I left early as I'd been up since stupid o'clock to go to the gym seeing as my evenings are too full to fit it in these days. I layed on my bed listening to chillful tunes wishing I hadn't left because now I was bored. Considered cleaning the bathroom but fell asleep.

Friday was another busy and stressful day at work. Had a set to with t'other boss who complained about something I hadn't done, calmly went through everything I had done, including Jock's workload who is currently on annual leave (oh the peace!). Dolly cancelled on me, part of me was relieved as it meant a free night, part of me was pissed off as it meant I needn't have got my arse out of bed at stupid o'clock again to fit in another session at the gym. Several weeks ago, I had managed an all time p.b. of 3k in 18 minutes. I'm back down to 3k in 20+ minutes. That'll teach me for having a social life instead of spending every night on the treadmill.

Saturday I went camping with Pixie, Gay Boy, Gay Boy's bf and Hairy Boy. Somebody recently described this particular social circle of mine as a group of cartoon characters. We are an odd bunch of people to put together, but it works. Hairy Boy cooked lots of traditional Kurdish food for us and we sat around the campfire getting drunk and laughing til we cried. I love days/nights like those. All five of us slept in the same tent, sometimes our closeness makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. Especially as I am very prickly about physical contact and personal space. I don't mind waking up with Pixie snuggled into my back but I draw the line at waking up under Hairy Boy's duvet.

I was supposed to go walking in the evening with Dolly but, once again, she blew me out. I suppose not wanting to socialise is part of her depression. I was relieved as I am struggling to know what to say when I am around her. Which makes me feel like a cunt. But I don't know if me saying anything about it helps. Or whether she understands my silences are because I think if I haven't got anything useful to say then I can't bring myself to trawl out cliches and bollocks. I was, however, a little irked at her cancelling as I could have been working and earning money. Tsk.

Monday I played squash with Gay Boy. He said I'm getting harder to beat, a compliment indeed from someone who doesn't give out compliments.

Tuesday I went to see Oldestsister. Her husband and her had an almighty row at the dinnertable. I started to think of excuses to leave but 4 hours later I was still there. Painful. Very painful.

Wednesday I had an early morning session in the gym. Did 3k in 21 mins. Need to improve on this as Gay Boy has roped us into a Fun Run. Two words that should never grace the same sentence. In the evening I was supposed to go walking but we got rained off. I went home and lasted all of an hour before my if-Housemate- isn't-going-to-clean-the-house-then-neither-am-I resolve faltered and I cleaned the kitchen and bathroom and half heartedly did the lounge. Flaked out listening to my ipod on my bed. My bedroom is too cosy for its own good.

Thursday I went to Youngestsister's. Had to split the kids up when a fun fight turned bad. Shouted "You" referring to my niece "and you" referring to my nephew "sort your shi.." My nephew, sensing I'd just managed to stop myself from swearing, offered a replacement; "Pigs?" he said. Deciding that was better than facing the wrath of Youngestsister, I agreed. "Yes. The pair of you stop fighting and sort your pigs out."

Friday spent the day at work telling people to sort their pigs out. In the evening a friend with benefits but no longer giving out the benefits so is technically just a friend came over. We went for a jog around the park that's 5 minutes away from my house. I should do that more often. Apart from the fact I hate jogging/running. She cooked me dinnner and stayed for a few beers. After she left, Pixie phoned and asked if she could come over. We got drunk on vodka and stayed up til 3am dancing.

I regretted that a lot this morning as I had to work. Spent the first few hours of the morning feeling drunk. My hangover kicked in around 11ish. It measured 9.9 on the richter scale. Was supposed to be going camping this evening with Youngestsis and the kids but she called it off when it started raining. I think she must have bought the cheaper, non-waterproof version of children. Nevermind though; I'm looking forward to an evening in bed with Harry Potter. He can tickle my back and get me drinks on demand. Maybe even dream up a spell to turn himself into a lovely lady. Who can tickle my back and get me drinks on demand.

As for next week; I'm booked up til a week on Tuesday. Lucky for Cash Point she booked me two weeks in advance, despite her grumblings. I am very kindly allowing her to cook me dinner.

Her arse is so eighties

2007-08-10T17:50:00.000Z

I love the things people say. Other people can say the funniest things and not even realise it. It's possibly only me who finds most of these things funny. Like my housemate's "When she wears white and has her hair tied back like that, she looks like Jesus". I laughed til I cried but she didn't understand why I found it so funny.

No one comes out with statements and one liners that have me in stitches as much as Cowbag. The things she's says are just so.. Cowbag. So here are more Cowbagisms. This time, it's 100% Cowbagisms.

1. I have a skill as I've mentioned before and I could make money from it, but it's not a road I would like to go down.

2. Anyway, enough about you; counsel me on my problems.

3. She's not as funny as you but she plays the drums.

4. The Housemother from *boarding school* has just walked in with one of the pupils and taken out a book to read - Danielle Steele. Am I a book snob?

5. I don't think she's your type. For a start she's not athletic with a boyish figure and short hair. Plus she has red hair and freckly skin.

6. I imagined you being a high flyer and earning loads of money so I could be a free loading friend.

7. I'm always a glutton for anybody being even half decent to me.

8. Research? This is the person that went to India with £100 for a return flight which cost £400 and was only earning 12 rupees (£1) a day.

9. You're a heartless Life Coach.

10. I think that is what I really want - to have virtual sex without having to do anything that actually involves someone putting their unmentionables anywhere near my unmentionables.

11. Actually, since I've been on that conflict resolution course, I can't believe how serene, calm, friendly and smiley I have been.

12. I just want someone to fancy me and to get the hots for me and want to do dirty things with me. Is that too much to ask for at age 45?

13. I had natural yoghurt, strawberries, sunflower seeds, grapes, walnuts and brazils for my lunch and it wasn't that bad.

14. You're so bossy, Obi.

15. I remember when we were close, before you went funny and came out, you stroked my arm and a frisson of something happened.

16. Having said that blackmail is a bit drastic, even though he deserves it. The cunt.

17. I thought lesbians just used sex toys and snogged, but I can see there's a lot more to it than I realised.

18. I know you scorn my French film watching, but it was ace and there were lesbians in it as well.

19. It'll probably be Friday unless I'm going to my cheese and wine shindig for the am dram.

20. If no one has sent me a message, I am going to be pesticidal.

21. I think I came out of the experience of working with you mainly in one piece. I only got the sneer.

22. I can't have sex with someone unless I fancy them but you have no scruples.

23. Sent an email to you know who so that fucked up my resolve. You weren't able to stop me so how selfish are you.

24. If you've had a more exciting week then I don't want to hear about it but I do really.

25. Her photo looked ok even though she had a pint in her hand.

26. I was thinking it would be nice to be the star for once but it's bound to backfire on me, these things always do.

27. I didn't realise in 8 years that you had mild ocd. Although I should have guessed from paperclipgate.

28. I'm impressed, Obi.

Fuckface

2007-08-05T16:12:00.000Z

What IS Facebook and why do people keep adding me to their list of friends? And what's the point in it? Why did it make me add friends to it when I kept trying to skip that bit? And why don't I have more friends? And.. and.. and..

I'm not getting it, I have to say. But then I didn't used to "get" blogging either so give me a few years and I'll be all over it like a rash.

Small boys are a bit grim

2007-08-02T22:32:00.000Z

Youngestsister was trying to explain to her son, my oldest nephew, that him being mean to his little sister, my youngest niece, while completely natural as a sibling and an older one at that, would have an affect on her.

To illustrate the point, she gave an example of how mean her 3 older sisters were when she was a small girl. Oldestnephew is very protective of his mother and has, on more than one occasion, slapped and punched me upon arrival when hearing tales of the nasty and cruel things I did to his mother when we were young.

"Aunty 30-Something, Aunty Cash Point and Aunty Oldestsister used to tell me that I wasn't their real sister. They told me they found me under the bramble bush at the bottom of the garden."

The true story didn't have the desired affect. It just gave Oldestnephew a great idea.

"I'm going to tell *little sister* that I found a pig and had to drag her out of its belly."

Ambivalence, actually

2007-07-31T20:34:00.000Z

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Leeds Bradford International Airport. General opinion makes out that we live in a world of hatred and greed. I don't see that. Seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy but it's always there. Just NOT at Leeds Bradford International Airport. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends - all greeting each other with complete friggin apathy.

People in West Yorkshire are odd.

Things of note from this week

2007-07-26T21:31:00.000Z

1. I have noticed that if you call someone a dirty bitch it never fails to raise a smutty smile in response. No matter what it's an answer to. It should, I must point out, be meant in the smutty sense and not in the get-a-friggin-wash sense. There's no fun to be had in a smelly cow.

2. Men flirt with me more than women. Well, women flirt with me but they're usually straight co-workers looking for an ego massage to make a boring afternoon at work go by a bit quicker. Anyway, a guy at work told me today that he wished he could make me "take a pill that would make us more mutual". It made me laugh out loud. And then made me wish I'd not worn the top that shows a bit of cleavage.

3. My youngest sister's soon to be ex husband has come out as not quite straight but not quite gay (so bisexual then, twat). I didn't handle it well when my sister got upset about it - I got all defend-the-minorities (i.e. "The kids won't care what he does with his arse, he's their dad and it doesn't matter if you don't want him to be gay, he's GAY"). We did manage to have a laugh about it eventually though. Mainly about the time I asked him to either come out to her or tone it down (he was turning up to pick the kids up with whatever the male version of a baby dyke is) til he was ready to tell her. His response to this was to throw a complete queeny hissy fit on me and threaten to sue me for slander.

4. I still find Jock pointless. Since my last post about her I felt completely twat like and decided to make more of an effort. We did a yoga class together one night. Another night I went round to her house to show her how to use iTunes and her new iPod. I've tried. I really have. But she calls herself a vegetarian yet eats chicken. How can someone like that NOT annoy me?

See what I mean?

2007-07-18T20:02:00.000Z

Pixie and I decided to hang out on Saturday. We're gonna go for a run in the morning, I'm going to let her have another attempt at colouring my hair in the afternoon (the last attempt didn't work, absolutely nothing happened), we're going to go shopping for.. something, I can't remember what she wanted to go shopping for. And in the evening, as long as the weather's fine, we're going to sit in the garden and have a few drinks.

I sent her an email today to ask what time she was coming to mine on Saturday morning.

The reply I got was:

"Friday night after work. Knit me some dinner."

She goes away on holiday on Monday. The break for us both is overdue.

Sacking my Baby Dyke

2007-07-16T21:27:00.000Z

"Where's Pixie tonight?" asked Housemate last night.

"Er.. dunno, at her house, I presume" I was puzzled. Not by the question but puzzled because suddenly I realised that Pixie wasn't actually there and she'd spent the past few weeks more or less living at our house.

This morning I told Pixie that she's my version of Housemate's Baby Dyke. Ya know, Housemate is straight with an unofficial live-in friend who is gay. I'm gay with an unofficial live-in friend who is straight. Pixie understood my logic without it having to be explained. It's why I like her.

She pointed out the major difference being that one of us does not have an unreciprocated crush on the other that the other then uses to her advantage to treat the other like her bitch. If you know what I mean..?

Tonight we argued over who is the tallest. We're both the same height but Pixie likes to claim she's taller. She's not. It started by her asking me to grow a cock so that we could just get it over and done with and get married. I said to all intent and purpose we were a married lesbian couple and just had a really bad case of LBD. She then stated that she doesn't normally like her "fellas" to be shorter than her.

We're spending too much time together.

Too worn out to even bother dreaming up an interesting title

2007-07-15T16:39:00.000Z

I was on annual leave from work last week. The Friday before I went off I found out that I got the relief support workers job. Yay. Go me. After a quick risk assessment, they let me schedule in some hours to start doing my shadowing rather than wait for my crb check. Yay. Go them.

So with the exception of Monday and Friday afternoon, I was working all week. Three days doing shadowing and one day doing some training for a charity I volunteered for ages ago (despite what I may previously led you to believe, I wasn't just doing it to impress the girl, I actually did go ahead and volunteer). Both were interesting and I actually didn't mind giving up any of my leave time to do either.

Well, mostly because I didn't have much planned for the weekend so thought I could catch up on stuff then. That didn't work out so well as I ended up running about all day yesterday and today hasn't been much better. Youngestsis wanted to join me on a bike ride this morning which meant I couldn't go as far and had to put up with her whinging about this hill and that hill. This afternoon I had one of my smaller nephews while the people who own him went to the cinema.

Don't you love those cross wired messages that go "You free Sunday, we're going to the cinema?", thinking you're being invited along you tell the truth and reply "Free in the afternoon, not in the evening." Then you're kinda left rolling your eyes at yourself when the next message reads "Great. Can you watch the kid for us?".

Obviously my sister does not really refer to the boy she owns as "the kid".

As it turns out, we had a nice time. He only got a bit bored with me towards the end of the afternoon and kept asking where his mum was. Being a twat I told him she'd ran off with the milkman. Kinda backfired on me when she came home and small boy asked where the milkman was. She just eyed me suspiciously.

So back to work tomorrow, not a sniff of any more leave til October and I now have 2 jobs (3 if you include me being a right-on charitable type). Oh well. Who needs spare time anyway? I'll be burnt out by the time I'm 35 but at least then I'll have a reason for looking crap.

Who knew?

2007-07-07T04:07:00.000Z

Gay Boy and I have so little in common it's completely amazing that we a) like each other and b) spend any time together.

Our common ground lies in us both a) being sexual deviants and b) being rather filthy in that pursuit. Obviously not with each other.

Not an awful lot to base an amazing friendship on. We had a moment a few weeks ago when he spent an hour trying to tell me to get over myself and I spent an hour trying to justify why I need to be so far up my own arse. But that's the closest we have ever come to a serious conversation.

We argue about everything. How much is TOO much alcohol, usually when he's bought me another pint and I am dancing away going "but I won't drink it; I'll just spill it down my top..". How mardy I am at work "but I'm paid to work; not to socialise.." How he shouldn't be letting just any old old queer stick their bits up his bits "but *bf*loves you; you should treat him with more respect..".

Nothing. NOTHING can get us both incensed like each other's taste in music can though.

We have the occasional crossover. Not very often. But it happens.

Tonight, however, we both finally found common ground in Carole King. I had nooooo idea....

It's not big and it's certainly not clever

2007-07-04T20:00:00.001Z

Drunken ramblings
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

Last night I went mountain biking, had dinner bought for me, had a couple of pints in the smoke free pub (yay!) and still had time to come home, get hammered at my one-person party and write the most amazing load of bollocks I have ever seen.

But this morning it was great fun going through what I'd written. Most of it was written in my little GreatIdeasAndLifeAdminNotebook that I am growing to love. Some of it, oddly, was written across the bottom of my training shoe. My brand new training shoe. I vaguely recall thinking that it would be a good idea to do it but I couldn't remember why. Til I read my GreatIdeasAndLifeAdminNotebook. It seems the idea behind it was that if I ever got knocked over (and I think this came from the fact that I was planning to cycle to work the following morning) then at least one person might actually read it and know what I felt in that moment.

Which seems wanky and as if I'm down but I'm not. It was actually really funny, confident stuff. To the outsider it would look like I died comfortable in my own skin, which doesn't happen often. But I must have felt it last night because I'm far too honest with myself when I'm drunk.

The fact that the writing will eventually wear off the shoe and I only ever wear cycling shoes to cycle in escaped me at the time. But still, it was a nice idea. For a pissed person.

Anyway, so when I woke up this morning I decided that cycling to work would still be a good idea, despite having the shakes and feeling like my stomach was full of battery acid. It didn't, as planned, blow the cobwebs off.

Sometimes all a hangover needs is a kill or cure bacon butty or such. At lunchtime, I wandered to the local coffee shop hoping to find the kill or cure to my galeforce hangover.

The smell of a freshly baked bacon and brie quiche was enough to tempt me so I asked for a slice of that and some salad. I asked the very nice lady behind the counter if they had any coleslaw. She said they didn't.

I was very upset. When I have a hangover I have no resistance to my emotions and the lack of coleslaw situation was unbearable.

So, in my smallest, most vulnerable and pathetic hung over voice, I said "aw.. really? please could you make me some?" and then gave her my bestest, most charmingest smile that I normally reserve for pretty ladies in uniforms.

She went to make me some coleslaw.

The quiche, salad and coleslaw was more kill than cure and almost saw me off for the rest of the day. But from now on I am going to use any future hangovers to their fullest potential to get what I want. Even if it's only coleslaw.

Something that's been lying dormant in the west wing of my mind

2007-07-01T14:44:00.000Z

My social circle is small and select. I mostly tend to hang about with Gay Boy and Pixie because I see them on a daily basis and it's easier to be around the people that I see most of.

When I ultimately move on from this job, I do hope that they will both remain in my small and select social circle because they both have a lot to offer. Pixie appeals to my inner child and is good for the odd insightful conversation, I am closer to her than I am to Gay Boy. Gay Boy is good for getting pissed with (as is Pixie, actually) and going gay clubbing (again, so is Pixie - a few weeks ago she got told off for smoking at the bar in the local gay bar - the barmaid said to me "You'd think she'd learn, I tell her EVERY WEEK!"). He's also very funny and makes me feel carefree - he doesn't tolerate a "lesbian with issues".

As I've mentioned before, with the odd exception, most of my friends are people I once worked with. I am very lucky to have worked with some very cool people.

As with most colleagues though, the vast majority of them are fucking idiots you wouldn't choose to spend a minute with outside of work.

I make no secret of the fact that I find Jock tiresome and pointless. I try not to make an issue out of it at work because we get along ok enough for it not to be a problem. But I realised recently that unless we're talking about work (she is, I must add, very good at what she does and I aspire to know as much as she does when it comes to our job) our conversations are a series of her saying stuff that annoys me; me being petty and sarcastic at whatever pointless, fluffy thing that has escaped her mouth; her being hurt and then me trying to justify it because for all she is pointless and fluffy she doesn't really deserve my cruelty.

Example 1
Jock: Will you sponsor me? I'm doing the Race for Life.
Me: Cool. 5k or 3k?
Jock: 5k
She pauses while she waits for me to answer her original question. I'm pausing because all is not well with scenario and I can't put my finger on it.
Me: But you said you can't run because of your knees.
The biggest thing that annoys me about her is that she's a hypochondriac. I don't have sympathy for genuine illness.
Jock: Yeah, I can't.
Me: So...?
Jock: Well, I'll power walk it.
Me: Buuuut walking 5k isn't that... impressive.
Jock: Well, I'll run for a bit.
Me: You said you ran for a bus the other day and that hurt your knees.
It drives me mad that she uses this crappy excuse to not exercise.
Jock is getting tired of me at this point.
Jock: Will you sponsor me or not?
Me: No.
Jock: I sponsored you to do your bungee jump.
Me: Yes but I will actually be doing a bungee jump. NOT dangling my toe over the edge and decide to walk back down the bridge in case it hurts my knee.
I am actually shitting myself in case it snaps my back in half but I am putting a brave face on.

Jock goes quiet. I feel bad. I promise to sponsor her on pay day, 3 of which pass and I don't part with my cash. I do actually sponsor 8 other people to do the Race for Life so Cancer Research are still benefitting. I feel vindicated.

Example 2
Jock: When I pass my driving test, I want to get a Beetle.
Me: That does not surprise me.
Jock: What do you mean by that?
Me: Oh. Nothing. You just strike me as the type to want a Beetle.
Jock: Is that a bad thing?
Me: No *lying*
Jock: I'll also get big daisy stickers on it.
Me: Oh for fuck's sake.
Jock: What?
Me: Nothing. *biting tongue*
Jock: I probably can't afford one anyway. I'll just get a Corsa instead - they look the same.
I finally snap at this last statement.
Me: I'm not talking to you anymore about this.
She looks hurt. I feel bad.
Me: Look, it's not a bad thing that you clearly don't know the first thing about cars. It's just.. well, you wouldn't talk to me about... any number of things.

She agrees. I feel vindicated.

Example 3
Jock: My husband claims you don't like cats because you're ginger.
Me: It's true. I also don't like your husband because he's bald.
She laughs a nervous laugh.
Jock: You'd like MY cat though, it only has 3 legs.
I am appalled at how little she knows me given we've spent 35 hours per week together for the past 2 and a half years.
Me: Why the fuck would I like a less than perfect cat?
She continues to try and make me like her defective cat.
Jock: Do you want to see a picture of it?
She doesn't actually refer to it as it, it's a he or a she but I don't see the point in storing this specific information in my memory.
Me: Do you want to see a picture of my bike?

She gets the point. I feel vindicated.

Example 4 (hang in there, it's the last one)
She makes me a good luck card for the bungee jump and writes a note in it that has me genuinely choked. The jump gets cancelled due to bad weather and has to be rearranged. I spend the day on the verge of tears because it's a logistic nightmare to reorganise, given the amount of friends and family that were travelling into the area to watch the jump and then attend the aftershow party. I was also trying to be positive for Gay Boy and Pixie who both had tears in their eyes. I felt wrung out because it's hard enough organising myself but I also have to organise GB and P. Jock recognised this and was completely lovely to me.

Cut to a week later, I completly forget she's doing the Waddle for Life. She sends me a text message to say she did it in 38 minutes. I don't believe her but feel like a complete twat for not, at the very least, remembering to wish her luck. I reply and congratulate her.

I don't feel remotely vindicated and resolve to be less mean to/about her.

It lasts as long as the following Monday when there is a new teddy bear on her desk. I roll my eyes and throw myself down in my chair wishing I worked with 8 Pixies and Gay Boys. I open up Outlook and read an email from Pixie stating that she doesn't like the term "with regards" and "kind regards" and decides from now on she will end all emails "evil regards". I quietly chuckle and forget that most of my other colleagues are numpties.

Real life gets in the way

2007-06-24T12:34:00.001Z

Long way from home
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

It's early afternoon and already I've eaten 3 meals, along with 2 bars of chocolate.

I got up at 6am this morning to have a carb and sugar rich brekkie of porridge and pineapple. Not in the same bowl as that would be gross. I climbed back into bed and daydreamed for an hour to give my tummy time to work out why I was making it work at such a ridiculous hour.

I was on my bike by 7.30 and heading out towards the North Yorks Moors National Park.

I did a 1:5 climb followed by a 30 second break and then a 1:4 climb. For those of you who drive, you will know what I'm on about. For those of you who don't, imagine someone has set fire to your thighs and that's the feeling you get after something so steep.

I got to Commondale after 2 hours cycling, which isn't great. But it is pretty much uphill most of the way. It took me only 45 minutes to get home, to put it in perspective.

32 miles in under 3 hours which isn't fantastic but not so bad. The downside to putting a computer back on my bike is that I'm back to being a complete bitch to myself about timing etc.

So when I got back I made Housemate and Baby Dyke a bacon and mushroom butty. I ate a bowl of cereal and a bar of chocolate while I was waiting for the bacon to grill.

After a bath and a bit of pottering around, I came to my mum's for lunch. And another bar of chocolate.

And I'm ready to eat again.

But it's ok, I'll work it off when I go play squash with Gay Boy later this afternoon.

So this long and boring story is basically my way of saying I'm a bit busy being Action Dyke at the mo to blog.

If something sets my world on fire, I'll pop by to share.

In the meantime, check my flickr account for pics - that gets more of an update these days and my life in pictures is more interesting anyway. Actually, that's not true - it's mostly just pictures of my crotch but still..

My friends are twats

2007-06-13T20:24:00.000Z

Example 1:
Pixie: "I'm not being funny right but my b.o. smells like kebab"
Me: "I often wonder why you're single, kidda."
Pixie: "I often wonder that too but usually conclude it's because I hang around with you."

Example 2:
Today Pixie and Pretty Girl were discussing sex toys, Pretty Girl was asking Pixie's advice on vibrators. Gay Boy pipes up and shouts across the office "If you need to know anything about sex toys ask the lesbian - she might even loan you her Black and Decker Power Rammer."

Trust your friends

2007-06-10T11:28:00.001Z

The next time someone tells me they know someone who wants my number but that they don't think they're my type, I'll believe them. I won't throw a hissy fit and get all "ooooh I'll be the judge of that..".

Well, I will probably still throw a hissy fit as really there's only me who knows if someone is right for me. I had a date yesterday afternoon with a I-know-someone-who-wants-
your-number type. Nice lass 'n all that but just not my cup of tea. Not even as friends, to be honest. We may, should she actually be serious about her offer, have a game of squash or badminton at some point. I don't mind opening a can of whoop ass on her on the court or doing any other manner of physical activity (in the clothed sense) that doesn't require too much conversation. But that's it. And yes, I did make my intentions clear to her in a most tactful manner. But, for all I know or care, she could have been sat thinking the same about me. Even though I don't think she was. Bless.

Interestingly enough (to me it is), I have realised that I am still very much happy being single. The thought of having to think of another person and their wellbeing just isn't working for me. I know I covered this in another post but I did sorta wonder if that was just borne out of me being fearful of meeting new women. But I'm not. Bring it on. Just not women who are looking to become invested in me as I certainly won't be investing myself in them.

Even t'other lady friend I've been out with - I'm not sure when that'll run its course but when it does, and it will, that'll be fine with me. She's not even getting a nickname made up for her. Mostly because YouCouldBounceAPoundCoinoffherArse isn't that catchy and is a little bit crass.

All change

2007-06-08T21:12:00.000Z

I've changed my phone, my bike (eventually, I will not be going into how much I felt Evans Cycles were trying to make my eyes bleed) and my gym.

I really didn't want to swap gyms but I did it for three main reasons. One being that it's Gay Boy's gym and, unlike Pixie, if he says he's going to join you for Pilates he won't turn up 3 days late a bit pissed. The second is that their spinning bikes are enough to make me want to lick them. Well, if they weren't covered in other peoples' dried on sweat. Obviously. So the third reason is the main one and that is that my mother said she would join this gym (it's closer to her house and they do discount for the over 55s) if I joined and I feel duty bound to help her get fit. Cos, like, I loves her and stuff.

So it's costing me more money, it's in a completely different town and so far out of my way it's not even funny and, from what I've seen so far, there is no one like Scary Gym Instructor.

Pixie said she saw SGI out in a pub last week. She told Pixie that she "buzzes off us" when we're in her classes. She said she loves the way we put loads of effort into the classes but don't take ourselves too seriously. Aw. That's nice. Shame I've left..

The upside to moving gyms is that I can now avoid Raggy Towel who had started saying hello to me. She must've realised that the water bottle right next to mine trick was getting her nowhere. I could just tell she was moving in for the kill. Another 2 years there and she might have actually got round to asking "So.. d'ya come 'ere often?".

"Er.. yeah, Raggy Towel, I'm in here as much as you are. Stalker."

That said, I walked into the bank mid week and she was in there. *thinks* She really IS stalking me, isn't she?

If she turns up at this new gym then I am really in trouble. Mind you, I'll have me mother with me some of the time so that should well and truly cramp my style.

So, yeah. I'm really hating the new gym. It's too big and family orientated and has more ponces per square inch than should be allowed. It's saving grace is that it also seems to have more lesbians per square inch too. Baby Dyke (the one who unofficially lives at our house and is in love with my very straight and slightly homophobic housemate) said that the local womens' footie team she plays for do their out of training training there. They all get their membership for free. She also said that most of the staff are gay. She's probably slept with half of them. If not more. It's really rather depressing when a woman 13 years younger puts it about more than me.

Since officially joining, I've been 3 times. Twice I have bumped into people I would rather not have bumped into.

The first is a friend of my cousin's. He's a nice lad. We have a laugh whenever we all go out together. He was at the charity do the week before last. When he was drunk he told me that he fancies me with a very resigned tone in his voice. He's one of those good looking types that would never have looked twice at me in my straight days so I suspect he suffers from a touch of the old wanting-what-you-can't-have syndrome that I seem to get. I told him that he was totally my type, he's short, has dark hair, an athletic body but just has the wrong equipment.

He was more embarrassed to see me in the gym than I was him but I just don't want to be puffing my fat arse off on the treadmill with his eyes scorching into the back of me like they were on Monday.

The second person I bumped into was the oldest friend I have. Oldest in as much as we've known each other since we were 4 or 5. The reason I kinda inwardly winced when she came over to me was that 7 years ago she phoned me and I said "I'm just about to jump in the shower, I'll phone you back.."

I am quite relieved to see she's still not sat waiting for that phone call and has got out and done something productive during those 7 years.

I found it extremely hard to come out to her, probably because I'd known her for so long. So I just avoided her. Eventually I told her by email and apologised for being a crap friend. But we've both had stuff going on over the past few years and haven't really made time for each other. Probably me more so because I feel so crap about it all.

She was completely lovely though and seemed very pleased to see me. I said that she should let me know which days she was coming in on and maybe we could work out together every now and then and have a coffee after in the very swish coffee shop my new swish and expensive gym has.

After all this bloody effort and stress and lots of me sulking privately to myself and pouting and supressing foot stampage and going to the trouble of purchasing many items for my mother to NOT give her an excuse to get out of it (i.e. mp3 player, trainers, toiletry bag WITH toiletries, water bottle, sweat towel blah blah blah AND a rucksack to put it all in, it cost me a small fortune) she said she'll not be joining til the end of the month. That so better not be the start of many excuses or she'd best get them running shoes on..

Lesbian in the grass

2007-06-03T16:11:00.001Z

Lesbian in the grass
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

Gay Boy took Pixie down to show her the river. I stayed by the tent as we'd already scouted the area out a few hours before looking for a good place to camp. I laid back on the grass and stared up at a big tree that was making a soothing swishy swishy noise in the ever so slight breeze. I drifted off to sleep and suddenly became aware of two people looking over me. "There's a lesbian in the grass" I heard Gay Boy say to Pixie. "No. Don't poke it; it might like it."

I've had a week off work and I've crammed a lot into it. It's been a bit up and down but mostly that was down to me being in a pissy mood for most of it due to pms. Not that I realised that til I'd bitten most peoples' heads off or randomly burst into tears for no apparent reason.

While I was laying in the grass yesterday, I was thinking about blogging the week's events - mostly when I write it's off the cuff but sometimes I do put a little bit of effort into it. Mainly I was actually thinking how other people's comments about my blog can put me off what or how I write. If someone tells me I'm funny then, suddenly, I don't feel funny and everything I write sounds contrived. If someone tells me I'm interesting then, quick as a flash, I can't think of a single thing to say. Recently I've had a few people give me feedback on my blog, which is completely fine and I don't just mean the nice stuff. I can take constructive criticism. But both positive and negative comments can sometimes mean I find it hard to write a post out without trying to people please.

Which is a long and boring way of saying this is what I did with my week off and I'm not trying to impress anyone with it so if you love it, cool. If you don't, cool.

Last Friday I went out with Dolly to the cinema. She's just split with her bf and is basically where I was at a year ago. I felt like I couldn't help her feel better. Anything I said just sounded like advice I got and I remember at the time thinking "Oh do fuck off and let me be miserable, you chirpy bastard." so I'm sure she was feeling the same. A memorable comment from that evening was when we were on our way home and she said "You know, initially you come across to people as stand-offish and grumpy but really you're very much a glass-is-half-full person." I love back handed compliments. No, I really do. They do make me chuckle.

On Saturday I went to they gym, met Pixie, went shopping and bought new trainers and then we had lunch like proper ladies. In the evening had the house to myself while my housemate and the Baby Dyke were at a wedding. So I stayed in, watched crappy telly and got drunk as is my want of a Saturday evening if housemate and BD are out. I went to bed at midnight and flaked out til half 9 the next morning.

On Sunday we did the charity thing as per previous post and on Monday I didn't get out of my pj's. Well, that's a lie - I got out of them to get into the bath and then I put them back on again. Sometimes I do treat myself to a day of rest.

On Tuesday my new bike came. I couldn't be arsed dealing with it as I had a ton of other stuff I also couldn't be arsed dealing with so I had to prioritise which I could be less arsed with. The bike,unfortunately, came way down the list.

In the evening I had a date. A proper one with smalltalk and flirting and everything. She was completely lovey and reminded me of few different people I know. Like she had the good points from a few friends and it was a nice mix. A major plus point with me is that she is older and it's nice to be reminded that older women can always teach you a new trick or two. We might/we might not see each other again. We'll see how it works out.

On Wednesday I attempted to put my bike together. There were hex keys and swear words all over the place. And the upshot of it is that it has to go back. Oh and I have the wrong type of cleats. I needed the two hole cleats and not the three hole. The amount of stress a cleat can cause. Honestly. At one point I justlaid on the couch and sulked.

In the afternoon I had to go to my nephew's birthday party. Oh joy. I'd had very little sleep, I was pissed off over the bike and I had a million other things I could have been doing. Stuff I knew that I'd end up cramming into my last day off or just not getting round to doing. I would like to say it was a laugh but it just follows the same format every other party does that I am obliged to attend. Noise/food/noise/cake/noise. I don't like noise. Or cake.

Later that night my housemate, the Baby Dyke and I watched BB and the last episode of Lost together which meant we had to order Mexican takeaway and eat sweets. I love it when I feel obliged to eat bad stuff. I especially love it that the BD now knows about my thing for having 2 Kinder Buenos at a time. Even though often I can only manage to eat one, I like the other one there just as a reserve. Because she is a kind, thoughtful Baby Dyke, she now buys me 2 Kinder Buenos whenever she goes to the shop.

On Thursday Cowbag and I went to Scarborough for the day. We ate a picnic on the beach, pondered our navels and, due to haphazard application of suncream, I got what can only be described as a bright, red racing stripe down the middle of my nose and a wine stain on the forehead. Or, in other words, fucking stupid looking sunburn.

We have a very low maintenance friendship and that suits us both. We see each other a handful of times in any given year and we take up where we left off. It's nice. Memorable comment from that day? "You seem to like making people fall in love with you and then you get bored. Don't come crying to me when that happens." I love the way Cowbag pretends she can resist indulging me in my self obsessing.

Friday I had an interview for a job I mentioned in a previous post and got shortlisted into the next phase, which is good. S'pose I'll hear about that next week. I also wasted the day waiting for the courier company to swap my bike but no one turned up. Being on my own all day was a blessing in disguise really considering the mood I was in, especially as the bike saga continues into next week and God only knows when I'll get it sorted now I am going back to work. I've lost the will to fight with Evans Cycles over it all and the bike remains in the box (which I had to reassemble after dismantling ready for recycling, I am such a good citizen) in our lounge.

Saturday I came over all Ray Mears and went camping with Gay Boy, Pixie and Hairy Boy who suddenly seems to be part of our social circle. Honestly, I leave those two alone for one week and they start recruiting. Hairy Boy is actually a really sweet guy we work with. He's from Iraq and is due to return there soon so he was really touched he got invited and kept taking pictures and videos of us just having random conversations just for his memories. As he put it. Memorable comment from that day? "There's a lesbian in the grass. No, don't poke it; it might like it."

We had a rather grand afternoon and evening but I couldn't wait to get home and get into the bath. The sweat patches on my t-shirt had sweat patches on them and my legs are covered in nettle stings and scratches which, apparently, is my own fault for wearing a pair of shorts. How silly of me given that the weather was scorching hot.

So that's my week off in a massive nutshell. I'm feeling ok about going back to work, I feel quite rejuvenated and refreshed and ready to face the fookwits again. There's talk of take overs or mergers and I'm even ready to deal with that.

Oh also during my week off I turned another year older and grew some more grey hairs. But the grey hairs might be to do with the fact that, during my first week's leave of the year, the atm ate my bank card in error so I didn't have access to my salary all week. Marvellous.

I'm surprised I don't try and kill more people.

Plenty of pics on flickr for flickr friends, less so for others.

The company of my sisters

2007-05-28T20:15:00.000Z

Yesterday my 3 sisters and I went to my aunty's in Lincs for a charity event she'd organised.

I quite like the way we all interact when it's just us 4. If we're forced together then one or more of us tend to be bothered by one or more of the rest of us. But when we're together through choice, and especially without the distraction of children, we all get on well. The dynamics of the group is quite interesting, I find.

It's nice to hold a conversation with them because they all know me so well and are genuinely interested in what I have to say. Which sounds obvious but this is one of the reasons I can find it hard to make conversation with people - I generally feel that I don't really have anything to say that another person would seem interested in. That can make being around me quite hard work unless it's a person comfortable with silence or the ability to do all the legwork on the smalltalk front.

It was good to see them all together in a social setting and I haven't had them all to myself like that for any great length of time since before the first nipper was born. Which is over 6 years ago.

They can sometimes overdo it on the child-talk. During the journey there they talked about upcoming birthday parties and what was going into party bags and which venue had the best bouncey castle. At that point I tuned them out and concentrated on the music I had carefully selected for our journey. Oh and obviously concentrated on driving too.

We got drunk and helped my mum and aunty work cash out of the pockets of people in the room in the name of charity and generally had a nice time.

Youngestsister grabbed me at one point in the night and asked "What have I got?". It sounded like it was about to be a deep and meaningful so I put my pint on the table and sat down next to her, fully expecting to remind her about her beautiful children, her home, her family and friends etc etc etc. But when I asked her to clarify she said "Well, Oldestsister has the body, Cashpoint has the sense of humour and you can dance." I was quietly chuffed at this compliment and felt it was even better than the last one I got which was from a total stranger who, during a telephone conversation, said "You don't sound old enough to have a D Unit class on your driving licence".

"I have a good sense of humour too." I whinged after I'd decided I preferred Cashpoint's compliment.

"Well, yes you are funny but Cashpoint is funnier. Anyway we're not talking about you, I want to know what I've got." I thought long and hard and said "You've got great legs and perky tits." She seemed happy enough with this.

"But you don't make enough of your cleavage" I said pulling her shirt open a little at the top. Well, that's what was meant to happen in theory but I was a bit heavy handed and actually ripped it open, 3 or 4 buttons went flying across the room and her shirt was left gaping with her perky boobs certainly now being made the most of.

"Ooops" I said. And then left her to sort it out while I went for a dance.

We stayed up too late and drank too much. Well, Cashpoint and I stayed up too late and drank too much. Youngestsister and Oldestsister were sensible and went to bed before the sun came up.

On the way home in the car today the tiredness meant that tension started to creep in. Youngestsister was mad at Oldestsister because she'd spent too long drying her hair which delayed us leaving by a whole 5 minutes. I was mad at Cashpoint because she wouldn't lend me her pillow to rest on, stating that it would be wasteful if I wasn't going to use it to sleep on (I can't sleep in a car). I couldn't see her point. Caspoint was tetchy with Youngestsister because of the palaver she made about Oldestsister drying her hair. This just made me mad a them all because I had a galeforce hangover and just wanted to be in bed and not trapped in a car for the next 2 hours.

By the time we were back home everyone was talking again. Well, everyone who had a child was talking again. I was trying to tune them out and hang onto the contents of my stomach.

I loved being with them for a full 24 hours but I'm glad it came to an end just as the potty training conversations started. I was queasy enough without having to listen to stories about small people pooing at the dinner table and big logs having to be cleaned off seats and emptied out of underpants.

Things of note

2007-05-20T15:53:00.000Z

1. I fell asleep at my sister's house on Thursday evening. I woke up, suddenly aware that someone was looking at me. My youngest niece's face was an inch away from mine. "I love you more than sausages" she said, and then poked me in the eye.

2. I overheard the best piece of advice recently and feel duty bound to pass it on. Never drink Smart Price Vodka - after half a bottle, apparently, you won't be able to feel your legs.

3. My youngest nephew came back from the park rather excited about a girl he saw. He told her "Swit Swoo" and said she made him feel like he wanted to buy her chocolates. I too have encountered girls who made me feel the same way.

4. Referring to certain activities of a couple at work, SSL declared "If I had that level of devotion from anyone, I'd have to leave. I prefer to be treated mean." Sometimes I think I could be perfect for her.

Always nowhere near the mark

2007-05-16T20:39:00.000Z

T'other boss made me go to a roadshow work were doing this afternoon. I whinged and whined but I've managed to get out of doing one for two years now so even I can't justify any more excuses.

It meant I was trapped in a room with TheGirlIDon'tLike and tenants who might smell bad. One tenant, who didn't smell bad, kept invading my personal space. This I do not like. Out of all the things I do not like, of which there are many, this is one I do not like the most. Even if it's close friends and family I do not like it. The difference there being that with close friends and family you can shove them the fuck away and tell them not to do it again. With not-close friends and family you just have to lean back like you're about to attempt an impressive limbo and hope the personal space invader gets the hint.

It was a multi agency thing which meant there were freebies galore. Nothing worth having but free shit is free shit. I was semi impressed by the pencil made from recycled vending machine cups and the pens made from recycled car parts and the wheelie bin shaped pencil sharpner. But then again I can be very easily semi impressed.

There was a stand for the volunteering people who I coincidentally mentioned in a previous post. The woman running it looked familiar. She was cute so I must have noticed her before. Then it came back to me. It was around Christmas time and Pixie and I were in the world's longest queue in the Post Office. Pixie was whinging about how long it was taking to move up the queue so I told her about my secret game to pass time when stood in queues. I look along the queue at each person and decide would I sleep with them (please note that this is a secret game so don't tell anyone I do this as it's a bit sad and also a bit unnecessary as these poor people are just queuing, blissfully unaware I am going "No. No. No. Not for money. No. Hmm.. No. No. Jesus No."). Obviously 99% of people are a no. And in the Post Office it's usually 100% but on this day I spotted a dykey looking woman who had a pair of jeans on that made her bottom look rather lovely. It was the same woman.

So this afternoon I decided to go over and spend half an hour or so charming her. Which only ever happens in my head and, as it turns out, I mostly babbled on about volunteering and she almost had me signed up for gardening for the National Trust (or something, I wasn't paying attention). I only held back on the grounds that I wasn't committing to anything til I knew if a) she was gay, b) she was single and c) she was interested. Being inept around women the chances of me finding any of this out were remote so I said I'd have to think about it and would let her know. She gave me a leaflet with her office number on.

I went back to continue taunting TheGirlIDon'tLike with statements like "Oh so THIS is what you do for a living then?" as I caught her colouring in pictures that were left out on the off chance any children would turn up to this child-unfriendly event.

A clown turned up and the event organiser greeted him with "Hi *Clown*, how are you? Are those new shoes?". Apparently, his old clown shoes weren't as shiny.

The tenant who kept invading my personal space wouldn't leave me alone. I decided to join TheGirlIDon'tLike around the back of the stand at colouring in.

Being a master at colouring in and not liking TheGirlIDon'tLike, I couldn't help but point out that my colouring in was better than hers. It quickly descended into a competition over whose was the best picture.

Initially she had a distinct advantage because she did not have issue with touching pritt stick and glitter. I lost time when trying to get the glitter stuck on the picture of the toy box without actually getting any on my hands. But my careful glue work paid off as mine was far neater and I had not only used pencils but also crayons because I have a flair for activities for the under tens.

We tried to get some colleagues to judge our finished products but no one was interested in finding an overall winner in who-did-the-best-picture but-it-really-means-who-is-the-better-person competition. Oddly.

Until we spotted the bored looking clown. He judged mine to be better because a) one of the balloons I coloured in was brighter and b) I didn't go outside the lines. Ha. I am a better person AND I earn more than she does.

That killed an hour or so but by this time the woman at the volunteer stand had packed up and gone home. Oh well, I had her number, should I ever grow a pair and find courage to ring her.

I decided I'd had enough and left. On the way out, one of the housing officers asked if I'd seen the woman on the volunteer stand. "I noticed her, yes" I said casually. "She goes out with one of my ex boyfriends" she said. "Oh really?" I said and threw the leaflet with her office number on in the bin.

I don't have time to do voluntary work anyway.

Children are a marketer's dream. Children and me.

2007-05-14T21:25:00.000Z

My mother is a constant source of amusement to me. She cooks meals on the off-chance I'm calling in. Tonight I walked in unannounced after the gym and she was preparing a feast "just in case", while humming the Venga Bus. Only stopping to mutter that she's not sure she trusts drying her slippers on the radiator since that time she lost one slipper for two weeks.

Both my parents can drive me nuts. I have stomped out on many an occasion because they simply won't listen to any one else's opinion. Especially not mine. But they're good folks.

My old man can really piss me off but, at the same time, he can have a heart of gold. My youngest niece has been desperate for a pair of Lelli Kelly shoes for ages. Lelli Kelly shoes, for those not in the know (me included til yesterday), are overpriced, garish childrens' shoes that come with free makeup. The shoes are the best part of £40 so I suspect the make up isn't that "free".

My sister, who is no fool, refused to spend that sort of money on a pair of shoes that looked a bit odd and would have the same battered look that all kids' shoes have within days anyway. So my sis bought the little nipper some other, more sensible shoes recently and my niece asked if they were Lelli Kellys. My sis said that they weren't and she wouldn't be getting any. My niece said "Oh, well I will just call these shoes my Lelli Kelly's anyway". This story got back to my Dad who went out and bought her some anyway.

He was well excited to give her them and asked me to take him to my sister's house yesterday as my sister had his car (honestly, the man is a carpet sometimes). He presented the shoes to my niece who took them out of the box, chucked them on the floor and ran off with the free makeup. He was a bit disappointed.

I briefly considered consoling him but instead asked "Are my shoes Red or Dead? No? I'll just call them Red or Dead, Dad..."

Vegetarian Weakly

2007-05-13T16:54:00.000Z

I've had a rather lazy weekend. I didn't intend to, I had planned to go for a run yesterday morning but my hip isn't completely recovered. So I stayed in bed instead. I planned to paint the bathroom last night but my housemate hadn't bought the paint so I had a little one person party and got drunk instead. And it was rather fun too. I went on a rampage across the internet and am unsure if I left any comments anywhere but I'll apologise now if I have and they're not funny. I did go through my flickr account and add notes to some of my pictures, which I've looked at in the cold light of day and I can see my train of thought on some of them. Not so much on others. A lot of pictures are set to friends only, so if you're not a friend.. then there's probably a reason for that. Har har. If you wanna be a flickr friend (ooer) then ask.

I was still up when my housemate and the Baby Dyke (the one who unofficially blah blah blah) came home, drunk and barely able to walk in a straight line. The Baby Dyke can hardly make eye contact with me when she's sober but she was giving me a load of lip last night. In the gobby sense, that's not a euphemism. I was looking for Ginch Gonch undies. She loitered over my shoulder admiring the models' front bums. Her words, btw. We argued about flat tummies versus pot bellies. I go for a pot belly every time, she showed me hers. I reminded her about it this morning.

Bless her. She is young enough to be my daughter so I don't encourage this type of behaviour. I really don't.

Anyway, I was supposed to be going for a walk this morning but I went to bed feeling a bit tipsy and didn't bother setting an alarm. For the first time in ages I slept til 10am so didn't bother racing out of bed to try and catch up with the others who were walking. It's done nothing but rain all day anyway so I'm not feeling too bad about missing out.

So it's been nice to just chill out and not really get up to an awful lot. Work has been a bit crap, as per usual. The low light of the week being that Pixie let slip to someone that her nickname for me is Foxy and now loads of people think it's funny to use it. Ages ago she asked me, in one of those hypothetical, pointless questions type of way, if I had to change my name by deed poll what would it be. I said, in a pointless answer type of way, Foxy McMuff. She's called me Foxy ever since which is funny but it kinda loses its humour when everyone is calling me it.

The highlight of the week was when the girl I don't like had one of her usual snipes at me about something irrelevant while I was on tea wench duties. I had a snipe back and, long story short, she retorted with "Yes but you earn more than me". It's true, I do. I shall never let her little barbs get to me because I am smug in the knowledge that I get paid more than she does. And my imaginary cock is bigger than her imaginary cock.

I also had a rather pleasant lunch break on Friday. I was looking for something to read as I had finished the one book I have read so far this year. There were 50 She magazines left in the communal kitchen. The one usually with Nigella Lawson on the cover, not the American lesbo mag. I picked one up and a feature on the cover asked "Are pashminas still fashionable?" - I decided this probably wasn't good reading material for me so I purposefully strode off to Pixie's desk to see if she had anything interesting to read.

As it turns out, I was in luck as, in amongst the used coffee mugs and unprocessed paperwork, I found that she had taken the day off but left this month's copy of Zest behind. It can be a bit "Which bikini?" but I can rarely read a magazine cover to cover anyway and it has enough features to keep me entertained for a while.

Like the one on ab crunches. Apparently doing 30+ in a minute is average, 40+ is above average and 50 or 60+ (can't remember the scale that clearly, to be honest) is excellent. So at the very next available opportunity, being the kinda girl I am, I almost made myself sick doing 75. I may well have a 6 pack but it's hidden beneath a barrel.

Anyway, it had a feature on motivation and listed all these little right-on ways in which you can improve your life. Nothing to set the world on fire, but it was enough to have me oo-ing and ah-ing. Like "Spruce up last summer's leather sandals with a banana peel. The oils on the inside of a banana skin give great natural shine. Rub the inside of the banana peel on the leather, then buff with a cloth." Which is a bit Woman's Weekly but I find myself dying to give it a go. Not on sandals as I don't own any but I have a pair of brown leather trainers that are in desperate need of bananaing.

Other things of note in this feature were Green Gyms, voluntary work, recycling books, Freecycle which I've heard lots about but never got round to looking at the website til now, using locally produced honey to prevent the symptoms of hay fever, which again I'd heard about but hadn't really been arsed to look into, and Munchy Seeds for no reason other than I like its name.

In bringing you these wonderful websites I have probably fallen into one of the many stereotypes I can be a tad disdainful of. Sat eating a vegetarian lunch of cous cous salad while reading about alternative ways to destress and clean shoes to avoid joining in conversations with the morons I work with about shoes, men, make up and is shredded beetroot really just shredded beetroot? Definite lesbo.

Why I hate being single and why don't lesbians fancy me?

2007-05-12T22:39:00.001Z

Eurovision not pictured
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

Is it because I am spending a Saturday night in on my own, surfin the net, watching crappy tv and gerren drunk? Mebbe.

The fickleness of me

2007-05-08T21:43:00.000Z

It's all over for Scary Gym Instructor.

Reason 1: She stripped off in the changing rooms. She wears a thong. How can anyone find a piece of string stuck up someone's arse attractive? I'd rather find her stood in a pair of mummy pants, frankly.

Reason 2: There is a leader board up for people who've taken the bleep test. I beat her. How can I respect her as a Scary Gym Instructor if I can out-run her?

Something else I simply must get off my chest today. Over the weekend it dawned on me that it's probably coming up to or has recently been a year since I became single. For the 21 seconds I was interested in finding out if this special anniversary had passed I went trawling through my old posts to see if I could establish a dumping date.

I didn't ever find out as I got sidetracked reading my old crap. Or trying to. Seriously, how DOES anyone understand what I write? Some of my grammar, ok most of my grammar, is woeful and I don't explain things very clearly. Honestly, some stuff even I didn't get so I'm not sure how anyone else works it out.

p.s. that is a rhetorical question, please don't damage my already wounded ego by pointing out how you're not really keeping up you just pop by to see if I've fallen face first into a wooden floor recently.

Er.. what else was I going to say? Oh yeah, being single.. my thoughts on it. (I can see you sneaking out at the back..)

One thing that has struck me about the old stuff I read is that I don't half bang on about being single. I would like to point out that for all I whinge and whine about it I do actually rather like being single.

I believe I once said that being single doesn't have any advantages only consolations. But I do also believe I once said that relationships are a series of compromises and arguments about not having sex.

Ultimately we're all (on the most part) looking for that special someone (or special sum1, if you're 19 and on gaydar) because it's basic human nature to hunt down a mate, club her over the head and drag her back to your cave (or, in my case, the rock I rent in the cave) by the hair.

But until that happens I feel quite happy to potter along and do what I've been doing for the past year. I hate having to let people know my whereabouts anyway and have always been much more of a come and go as I please kinda lady. And I am yet to be convinced otherwise that it's anything other than a rarity for two people to be completely compatible and, frankly, just now I can't really be arsed trying to pretend I give a fuck about someone else's hobbies, pets and interests. Which might come across as a tad cynical but it's honestly not meant to be. I'm just proving the point that I quite like things the way they are.

So there you have it. I make throw away remarks like "All lesbians are bastards" and "I hate all lesbians" and "Is it too much to ask for a shag?" but don't always mean them. Sometimes I do. But not always. And I just wanted to make that clear.

And in my usual style, I'm sure that everything I've said is crystal clear and haven't contradicted myself once.

Please look out for the upcoming post "Why I hate being single and why don't lesbians fancy me?" where I will ponder is it too much to ask for a shag and conclude that it's because all lesbians are bastards.

A ho for a freebie

2007-05-07T11:37:00.000Z

I was in Holland and Barrett last week buying.. well, the usual shit you get from there. The lady at the checkout asked if I wanted to buy a magazine. I can't remember what it was called, probably Vegetarian Monthly (or Vegetarian Weakly.. heh heh) or something. I said no but she said I would get a free bar of crap that I would never eat in a million years and I was sold on it.

As it turned out, the magazine was actually quite interesting. Well, mostly it was shite - did you know apparently scientists are closer than ever to being able to read your mind? "A study published in Current Biology claims that by using a special type of magnetic imaging to look at blood flow, researchers could predict peoples' intentions to either subtract or add two numbers with 70% accuracy."

I apologise that I fail to be impressed by that.

But something that got me fairly excited in the magazine was this. Got no one to join you? Try this. (Where do you think you're going? You haven't finished reading my blog first.)

In other news I went out with Gay Boy again last night. As I couldn't face alcohol, along with not wanting to waste today with a hangover, I decided to drive. Normally I don't like being around pissed people if I'm not one of them but we had a good night. Well, up until his sister and her missus had an almighty falling out. I hate being in the middle of someone else's drama. Especially a lesbian drama. Gay Boy's boyfriend stropped off (because he had actually caused the argument, albeit unwittingly) leaving Gay Boy without any money which meant I had to wait til he was ready to go to give him a lift home. So there was no escaping the tension.

At some points it was entertaining to watch the drunken argument. Womens' logic can be seriously flawed at the best of times but after 8 pints it was downright ridiculous. Eventually I had to do my best to tune it out for fear I may laugh and have to tell them both that they needed to get some perspective and arguing very loudly in a pub about breasts was absurd.

I have a pain in my hip. It's killing me. I picked it up when out running on Saturday morning - I thought I would be able to run it off in the gym this morning but that, oddly, didn't work. Ah well, I'm probably due a hip replacement in a few years anyway.

Right, I'm off to see if any of the small people want to go to the field at the bottom of my Mum's road and fly my kite with me.

I've done my best

2007-05-06T13:09:00.000Z

to cope with the inconvenience and mess of having no bathroom or kitchen. The kitchen was started a few weeks late because when the workmen came to replace the ceiling they had to rearrange as apparently us having kitchen cupboards was suddenly a surprise to them. Bloody workmen.

So everything that was in the kitchen is now in the dining room. Like I need further excuse to not cook for myself. Jaffa cakes and toast is about as well balanced as my diet has been over the past few days.

The bathroom has been a mess for weeks now and the spare room that we use as a bit of an ironing/dressing room has turned into a tool shed.

However, last Saturday afternoon the bathroom was finally a functioning bathroom. As long as no one minded bathing in amongst rubble and dust. There was a lot of mind over matter going on with me, I have to say.

Yesterday my housemate said that the floor tiles were being laid, the last bit of tiling was to be done, the shower would be reattached to the wall and all that would remain by the end of the day would be to do the frilly, girly things that she likes to do, i.e. buy shower curtains and mirrors and pictures.

She failed to mention that the door would be off the bathroom til after the bank holiday. I have to concentrate really hard to pee at the best of times so it's fair to say not having a door on the bathroom is going to make that task a whole lot harder.

Most people I've whinged to about the lack of bathroom don't really seem to understand why it bothers me so much. It seems I hang about with a bunch of smelly bastards. No one, apart from Gay Boy, seems to shower before work. Some of them even go a few days without a bath or a shower. Seriously, how? I went walking with Geek a few weeks ago and we discussed it. She said that not only does she not shower before work but she operates a "no bathing on a Sunday" rule. She claims it's an eco-friendly thing. I claim she is a crusty.

I decided to give it a go today but it got to 1.30pm and I just couldn't last any longer. I came to my mothers and asked to use her bathing facilities.

I have put up with mess, inconvenience, 4 holes appearing in my bedroom wall after the towel rail was reattached in the bathroom and my housemate's ridiculously bad attempt at filling them. But I have had enough today. All I wanted to do was lay in bed, watch tv, let my hangover wash over me and mope about how crap my life is.

My life isn't really that crap, I just have an impending birthday and I think I always get a bit like this. It's like birthday pms. I've realised that it's not the getting older that bothers me, it's the under achieving that bothers me. I'm almost 34 and the only piece of furniture I own is a set of drawers. Most of my belongings live in the garage and the only thing I can consider an asset is my car. Surely by my age most people have a mortgage. Not that I pine for that particular mill stone. I just believe I should be more.. well, just more.

With all that moaning out of the way, I have an interview for a second job. I'm trying to get ahead of myself financially, I have absolutely no savings whatsoever and if anything major happened I would be screwed. It's working for the same company doing relief support work. Not something I have a great urge to do and my only motivation IS financial but it sounds doable. The hours would be on my terms and it pays more than a bar job would so I can't see any reason for not doing it. Other than I might be crap at it or hate it. While we were out last night we bumped into a girl I work with and she does relief support work. She told me that one of the full time support workers got stabbed by a service user recently. So that's sorta a reason for not doing it but I presume it wasn't fatal as it's the first I heard of it and a death of a member of staff would have been big news. I hope.

So I'll be interviewing for that on my birthday. Which, I have to say, isn't really how I planned to spend the day but it could be worse, I suppose.

Hands, sausage, whistling

2007-04-30T21:41:00.000Z

"I think I secretly fancy *scary gym instructor*" I announced to Pixie this afternoon, quietly enjoying my secret world of secret fancying.

"It's no secret, mate" Pixie pissed on my bonfire sufficiently enough to extinguish it. "You're always checking her out."

"I'm not. I look at her woman to woman, not lesbian to woman. I think she has an amazing body but til now I didn't fancy her. Anyway today I've been thinking about her hands and her sausage and that two fingered whistle thing she does to make us work harder." I declared. A sausage, btw, is a little roll of fat that hangs over the top of trousers.

This afternoon I recalled the moment when she did the two fingered whistle thing and I decided that I would secretly fancy her. And no one would know apart from me. Oh and Pixie but she doesn't count as she never remembers stuff anyway.

So Scary Gym Instructor was doing two new classes tonight, a circuit class and a Pilates class. We decided to try them.

I am an expert in circuit classes as I go to them all the time. Pixie is not. Scary Gym Instructor's class would definitely be harder than the classes I'd tried up to now because she is Scary Gym Instructor and she would blend you up into a protein shake if she thought you weren't working hard enough. But still, I knew the ropes, I was feeling confident.

She made us pair off into.. er.. well pairs. Thank God Pixie was with me, I thought. Raggy Towel was lurking around in the class and I wouldn't want to be paired off with her. Crikey. I already foiled her plot to put her water bottle RIGHT next to mine by losing my water bottle at the weekend.

On each station I kept telling Pixie that her technique on the military press was wrong or that her lunges weren't deep enough. But she wouldn't listen to me. She would, however, listen to Scary Gym Instructor when she spotted Pixie's poor technique she would come over to show her how it should be done. Mostly by standing behind Pixie and putting her hands all over her arse and hips.

Damn my cocking perfect technique on the plank and my ability to skip non stop for a minute (it's hard, can I just point out before you go "oh for Gawd's sake, small girls skip").

"Get your bum up" said Scary Gym Instructor to Pixie while she was doing tricep dips. Pixie got another free feel up.

"She keeps touching your arse!" I said, getting rather cross.

"I'd rather she didn't" said Pixie who is used to doing everything better than me.

At the second from last station, Pixie was doing chest presses while I was doing push ups. Pixie was laughing at how I ran out of steam after doing 5 and doing them rather badly.

"You stick your arse in the air, you need to keep your back straight or you're just wasting your time." Pixie offered her advice on my poo push ups.

"Fuck off and do your chest presses." I said, sweat dripping off my face.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my arse, I looked round to find Scary Gym Instructor looking down at me. My arms unlocked and I collapsed, smashing my face into the wooden floor.

"Oh shit, are you ok? I was only coming over to tell you to keep your bum down and your back straight!" said Scary Gym Instructor, whose hands were now on my shoulders.

I was fine but I hit my nose so hard it made my eyes water. When she saw I was ok, she made me do a few more push ups correctly before she moved on.

"I definitely secretly fancy her" I said to Pixie.

"It's definitely no secret, mate" she replied.

That explains the wanking and the bad mood then

2007-04-29T19:56:00.000Z

I've been dowloading music all afternoon and it's been a fun journey. I went looking for Country Mile by Camera Obscura which is that song off of the Tesco ad. The one where she has two dresses, one for riding a horse in and an identical one for wearing to a party. Because that would happen. *tutt* Why not just ride the friggin horse in a pair of tracky bottoms like the rest of us would and change into your nice new dress when you get there? And how does she get all the mud off her legs eh? They missed an opportunity to advertise baby wipes in the same 30 seconds there.

I should have been in advertising. Or not, actually. My approach to every product would be "buy it if you need it, or whatever.." so that'll be why I stick to crappy jobs.

Anyway, it seems I am years and years behind the rest of the world and Camera Obscura have tons of material out there for me to go get. Which is quite exciting. Well, I think it is.

In non-mucky-leg related news, I have eye rot again. This time I think it's an infection or something as my eye is very blood shot, watery and feels a bit sticky and icky. Still, at least it distracts from the huge time of the month spot that has appeared on my flawless (as if) face.

Right, I'm off to sit in a corner and feel sorry for myself that I have no one to pin me down and force eye drops into my gammy eye.

Is it just me?

2007-04-28T18:49:00.000Z

When you walk into an office containing several middle aged women and one declares "I know all the hip bands, me", you just don't quite believe her, do you?

And that is all I will say on the remainder of this working week, I am sure you are all relieved to hear.

So a few weeks ago I dragged Pixie out for a walk. She protested and said she wasn't old enough that type of hobby just yet but I waved her protests away. As it turned out, she enjoyed it and agreed to do a different walk the following week. The downside to this was that I agreed to run the same route as the first week's walk with her this weekend.

Now I don't DO running well at all. I manage 15/20 minutes on the treadmill if I give myself a severe talking to beforehand. If I do an extra second more than I plan to it can ruin my day for wasting that second of my life which could have been spent doing something fun.

I only do it because it's the best way I can increase my fitness levels, before someone asks.

And I haven't actually ran outdoors for years. So it was probably silly of me to agree to go for a 3 mile cross country run as a starter. Is it even called cross country anymore? It was when I was in school but a cooking class was called a cooking class and not... food technology or oven science or whatever it's called these days.

Anyway, as it turns out I really enjoyed it. Much like cycling, the first bit is the hardest while you're warming up and getting into a rhythm. A few times I had to ask myself why I'd agreed to it and did, at one point, try to talk Pixie into a shorter route. But she was having none of it.

Again like cycling, you have to take the rough with the smooth. Going uphill on a bike can be hard work, I get down low and lean forward as I stand up to use any sort of advantage to make a climb easier. But coming back down the other side is worth every bit of effort. And it's moments like those that make it all worth while.

While today I found some of the terrain really hard going the last downhill bit was worth all the effort. I was laughing and singing along to my ipod (we were in the middle of nowhere, so no one could hear me) as I was jumping over rocks that could quite easily have hobbled my feet right off my ankles. I was gaining speed to the point where I felt on the edge of total loss of control over my legs. It was scary trying to find the best place for each step with a split second's notice but it was fun. And I am very pleased that we did it.

I was less pleased when I got home and my housemate asked me to help her with the garden. Her idea of me helping her is for me to do all the work while she screams and runs around the garden at the sight of any living thing. I was quite pleased that she dragged the Baby Dyke out of bed (not the one from the gym, the one who unofficially blah blah blah..) to help with the helping.

My housemate's brother is a gardener and he normally does it all so I am not sure why, all of a sudden, we had to start getting involved but I didn't think to ask.

So after a 50 minute run and 3 hours of gardening, I smelt fairly bad. But my work was not done. Oh no. Clearing a patch of ground of its weeds, paving slabs, litter and various other items that don't belong in a garden wasn't enough. I had to mow the front lawn. Well, I didn't have to but I watched my housemate do the back garden and she mows a lawn like she hoovers the front room, imagine a bored teenager during a P.E. lesson (if that's what they're still called) and that's the look she has. So I decided that it would be quicker and would look better if I did it. And I was right.

So after that, I thought perhaps I would finally be able to take a bath in our newly plumbed in bath. Nope. The garage had to be cleaned out. In fairness, mostly it's my shit in there and she has dropped enough hints that it's a bit of a mess. So I suppose she had a small right to press me today.

While I was being productive in the cleaning and clearing department I washed my bike. And cleaned the poo off my walking boots that I've been putting off doing since our last walk on Wednesday.

Now the garden looks neat(ish), the garage looks like we could almost fit a car in it, my bike is slightly less cruddy than it previously was and my walking boots.. er.. aren't that great actually but I'm not used to cleaning my own boots. I used to have a woman that did that sort of thing for me.

Honestly, it's a good job I'm sexually frustrated or I'd have no energy for such things.

Straws

2007-04-27T19:01:00.000Z

My family are going on holiday without me. My mother claims to have invited me and I turned my nose up at it (her words). I don't recall any of this. But I am aware that I have selective memory as well as selective hearing. "So you're all leaving me?" I whined. "Yes well you could have come but you said that you didn't want to 'waste' your annual leave" she said with that particular I-told-you-so tone mothers do so well. "But that must have been ages ago," there was only me understood that particular logic "and I'll end up having to eat poached eggs on toast every night because cooking for one SUCKS".

So I'm going to have to be a proper grown up and manage for a week without a mother or father or sister feeding me or entertaining me. Or letting me use their electricity while I ignore them for most of the evening while I play online at their house.

I'll be responsible for the routine checking of 3 houses, watering of several plants and feeding of one goldfish while they're all away.

The upside of that is that I'll have access to 3 fridge/freezers worth of food. So I won't have to conveniently turn up at mealtimes, rubbing my tummy and looking hungry and hoping subtley isn't as lost on them as it is on me. I can just steam right in there and help myself. Not that I can't anyway, I just choose not to.

I probably spend far too much time with my family anyway. Especially my mum. But she's lovely and good fun. And I can laugh at her as well as with her.

She made me take her to Asda earlier in the week. She said all she needed was a book or two so wouldn't be long. She's the sorta woman who reads non-stop and has a book done in a matter of days. Not something I've inherited from her, I must say. I knew she was lying as she had a shopping list with her that had more than one (or two) items on it.

Sometimes it can amuse me to watch her shop. Her quest for a good book was quite impressive and she even stopped to read the back of a book that had been dumped in one of the freezers. Her find amongst the frozen peas wasn't for her though and she put it back.

She then started talking to herself, which I think is the norm for most people over a certain age, myself included. But she talks about things like "Straws. Straws. Straws. Where will I find the straws? A pack of 50? 50? They won't last 5 minutes in our house." She picked up the 50 pack of straws and I offered her the basket to throw them in. She declined stating she wouldn't commit them to the basket til she was sure she couldn't get a bigger packet. I was secretly relieved. She made me choose a basket over a trolley to carry on the elaborate lie that she was only going for a book or two but then ladened it down with goods to the point I felt like Stretch Armstrong. Monkey-length arms on someone who is only 5'4" is not a good look.

"Straws. Straws. Straws." she continued to mutter with the occasional "Oooh this candle's only a pound but after saying that it's tatt.." thrown in. "Straws. Straws. Straws. Where will I find straws?" I told her to ask a member of staff but this was like asking a man to read a map.

"Which ham do you think looks nicer?" she asked and I blinked suddenly noticing we were no longer in the aisles that may or may not have contained straws. "Er.. that one" I pointed at one packet and she picked the other. "Why did you bother asking me then?" I whinged. "To test you and, frankly, you failed." she threw the packet of ham into the basket and wandered off muttering "Straws.."

More Cowbagisms

2007-04-24T17:04:00.000Z

It's like part 2 of this post. So if you see anything you recognise, it's because you made me laugh, so shut it. M'kay?

1. I'm concerned she's gambled her house away - I haven't heard from her for a while and I've had 2 haircuts inbetween. Cowbagism

2. Hallelujah sister, amen. Not a Cowbagism

3. She claims the flat is haunted so I told her it was because the block was built on an ancient Indian burial ground. Seriously, what am I supposed to do with a query like that? Not a Cowbagism

4. In the end the sharp shooter got on the roof of the stable and shot it between the eyes. Cowbagism

5. It was nice to see her but after about 3 minutes we ran out of things to say to each other. Not a Cowbagism

6. My back hurts right in the place where my fairy wings would be attached if I was a fairy. Not a Cowbagism

7. The bloke at the counter said I had to pay a pound deposit for it but that I wouldn't get my money back. I pointed out this made it a charge rather than a deposit but he clearly didn't care. Not a Cowbagism

8. I can quite see how you would be able to be a prozzie as you have no conscience whatsoever. Cowbagism

9. I can't get that wicked tune out of my head but that's ok because it's completely wicked. Not a Cowbagism

10. Sex isn't overrated, sex with someone you don't fancy is overrated. Not a Cowbagism

11. There's a fine line between constructive criticism and just being a bitch. Not a Cowbagism

12. The man in the bike shop thinks I am a very bad bike owner. Cowbagism

13. Since I lived the big brother life in Iceland I avoid groups of women like the plague. Cowbagism

14. My breasts are ample but they need scaffolding to stop them crushing my toes. Not a Cowbagism

15. She said the last four nights in a row she's had some bloke knocking on her door trying to sell her smack. I thought I had it bad being bothered by the Betterware man. Not a Cowbagism

16. My pants keep falling down, it's making me feel skinny. Not a Cowbagism

17. Do you know all the moves to Steps' Tragedy? And if so, why? Not a Cowbagism

18. I read it about 7 years ago but I seem to be forgetting stuff lately so it's like reading a new book. Cowbagism

19. What's the proper term for blow job? I can't write in an official document "she was sucking him off in the middle of the street", can I? Not a Cowbagism

20. No I don't need to see you today, it's not urgent. In fact it's not really that important. To be honest, it's sorted now so it doesn't matter anymore. Not a Cowbagism

21. Well, as per usual, it's my version of depression which means I'm just bored. Also, when I said I wasn't eating, I just meant not in between meals. Cowbagism

Hi honey, how was your day?

2007-04-23T19:08:00.000Z

Yeah enough about you; my day was crap.

It started at the gym this morning. Our bathroom is still not fully functional, i.e. we have a toilet and a wash hand basin aaaaaaaand that's it. This will not do. I must have a shower before work, it's the law. Therefore I have been going to the gym each day to get showered. Even over the weekend when I was feeling like shit. Not the best idea yet but there ya go. Anyways, it was noted by my instructor lady (well, she's a child actually but I try not to patronise her or pat her on the head as she gives me good advice) that I was in they gym an awful lot and also in an awful lot before work so I told her that I was getting my arse out of bed at a ridiculous hour mostly to utilise their shower facilities while ours was lying in 87 parts in the bottom of the bath that's not yet plumbed in.

Imagine my joy when I stumbled into the gym this morning and she bellowed across the room "Morning 30-something, you come for a wash again?".

Bastard.

So then I had to contend with work. T'other boss, in her unique management style, has made us all shift desks purely because she says Gay Boy and I talk to each other too much. I tried to reason we're not 6 and at school but that didn't work. I tried to reason that we work better if we're happy people but that didn't work either. I even tried a hissy fit but that definitely didn't work. So now we're at opposite ends of our portion of the office. Gay Boy is too sociable to let something minor like 5 desks in between us spoil our little chats so now he just stands up and shouts "Oi! Lesbo!" to attract my attention and I reply with "Yo! Homo!". We are the only people who laugh.

I'm really not liking my new desk. Like, really really not liking it. I have my back to the office for one, which is fine because I have nothing to hide, I work very hard and feel this justifies the odd personal email. But I just hate the fact that people come and stand behind me and talk or do things in the cupboards near me. It's just unsettling to have someone stood behind you, isn't it? Or is it? Am I being.. er me about this?

It also means that I can't see when SSL walks down the office. Which she does a million times a day. I like to watch her to gauge whether or not I'm in a "she's definitely family" type of mood. It makes my day to base her sexuality on how she walks or what jewellery she's wearing or whether or not her hair does that thing where it goes into a point at the nape of her neck (such is the flawlessness of my gaydar). Seriously, I have to do all this AND fit in a heavy workload. Can you imagine what it's like being me? Tough, I'll tell you.

Actually, I had a dream the other night that she goaded me and played with me and then told me that she wasn't gay after several dates and me buying her dinner lots. AND I don't even fancy her anymore. I blame work related stress.

I also hate that the desk I have now is Pixie's old desk. It was frigging filthy when I took it over. There were all manner of dead animals and penicillin farms on and under the desk. And I don't even want to relive the state of the drawers *shudder*.

But the very worst thing of all is that I am now sat right next to Foghorn. We both breathe oxygen and that's where our common ground ends. The way I see it is we have very little to talk about, I don't do small talk well, so let's just leave it, eh? The way she sees it is to complain to t'other boss about me at every available opportunity for not talking to her. I greet her on a morning, I say bye on an evening, if I am feeling in a particularly good mood I will ask about her kids but usually live to regret it, I'm not rude to her. I just *shrug* don't really see the point.

It's not all bad though, the keyboard (once it had been jetwashed) at my new desk is very plippy plippy and I like that. I can type super fast on it too. And the plippy plippyness of it makes me smile. A smile which was then mostly wiped off my face by Foghorn opening her enormous gob.

Honestly, I work with morons.

Point in case being Pixie, I love her most of the time. But she's not right in the head. On Saturday I was horrified that Baby Dyke (the one who goes in the gym, not the one who unofficially lives at our house and is in love with my very straight and ever so slightly homophobic housemate) and Raggy Towel (seriously, why don't people take nice, clean, presentable towels to the gym? I'm aware that this is probably something that bothers only me) caught an eyeful of my tits.

I'm not particularly shy in the changing rooms. Which is odd given that I would rather gouge my own eyes out with a spoon than let most people see my body. I don't wander about naked or anything, but I don't try and put my clothes on while still wearing my towel either. That just looks like one futile exercise to me. Anyway, so I had my (non-raggy) towel tied round my waist as I was rolling sanex on my underpits - arms in the air, tits roaming free when BD and RT walked past. Neither of them made any attempt to hide the fact that they caught a good eyeful either. Which I wouldn't particularly mind if I had a decent set to show off but they're heading south with no plans to move back.

Pixie found this highly amusing when I told her but then stated she thinks that RT fancies me. I would be flattered but a) she follows me around the gym in quite an unnerving way and b) she's just not my cup of tea at all. B shouldn't make me less flattered but A kinda ruins it all anyway. But that's not the point. The point is that Pixie then got all indignant about RT fancying me on the basis that for all RT knows, Pixie and I might be an item.

"But we're not an item" I said.

"Yeah but she doesn't know that." said Pixie.

"Pixie, love; does it matter?" I said.

"Yes it does. How does she know you're not my girlfriend? Doesn't she know there's etiquette about such matters?" said Pixie.

"Etiquette? What when it comes to a straight girl and a gay girl NOT being in a relationship with each other? No, I don't think there is." I said.

"Yeah well I'm sending her 'keep your hands off my bitch' vibes next time I see her." said Pixie.

Secretly I hope it works. And I must admit it's not just because of the way she puts her water bottle RIGHT next to mine in Body Combat, so close they're touching (freak!) it's also because I really can't get past the state of her towel.

I should point out I am really talking about her towel here. It's not a euphemism. Although if she's prepared to let her towel get into such a state, I dread to think..

While I am aware that I am turning into one very grumpy old lady, I do feel that there is one last rant left in me for today.

Over the past few months, and today included, I am sick of hearing "I know someone who wants your number". Not something a single girl should be sick of hearing apart from it is then, without exception, followed up with "but I don't think she's your type". Oh really. Well thanks for making that decision for me.

When my current options are an old lesbian who stalks me round the gym or a straight colleague who refers to me as her bitch I would say that I'm open to suggestions.

What's another word for thesaurus?

2007-04-22T15:00:00.000Z

Does taking Andrews that's passed its sell by date make your stomach worse or better?

I've got a friggin stomach bug. Seriously, I am sick of being ill. It's doing me nut in. It seems I've handed round everything I've caught lately too so I feel somewhat vindicated for being such a wuss. My sisters aren't the type of women to complain when they're ill but I came to my Mum's earlier in the week to find them lying about like dead dogs while their kids ran rings round my Dad in the garden.

So I spent most of yesterday in bed. Great. Still, it's keeping me out of trouble, I suppose.

I managed to wake up to watch Match of the Day last night and had forgotten the palaver made about this earlier in the week on BBC Breakfast. While I initially found it quite odd to hear a female voice doing the commentary, I think her interpretation of the game and enthusiasm was as good as the next commentator's. Judging by initial reaction, she's got her work cut out for her and the misogynists of the sports world will be willing her to fail. I hope she proves them all wrong, good luck to her.

In other news, Gay Boy arranged for us to climb to the top of the bridge we'll be bungeeing off this morning. He reasoned it was better to face our fears now and get up there to see what it's like. Crikey. It was high. I don't have a fear of hights as such, more a healthy respect for them. The first flight of stairs took us quite high up and I could feel the change in wind instantly, it made my heart race and I had to give myself a bit of a talking to in order to carry on climbing. Once we were up there though I felt fine and could laugh at Pixie and Gay Boy who wouldn't let go of the side. I went into butch lesbo mode and walked out onto the platform we will bungee off, jumped up and down and declared "It's a bit wobbly" much to their (non)amusement. Coming back down was the worst bit - not that on the day we'll have to worry about climbing back down. Oh no, far better to throw ourselves off rather than clamber down some rickety steps.

The man who works there who accompanied us reassured us that there's not been any injuries from any event taking place on the bridge (they also do abseiling and zip lines). The closest anyone has ever come to an "incident" was when they dipped their head in the river. Apparently. So worst case scenario is I might get mild concusion from twatting my head off a shopping trolley or the toxic river might melt my face off. I can live with that. Sorta.

Anyways, pictures on flickr for flickr friends only, I'm 'fraid. Or if you know your way to the blog, there are a few on there too.

Right

2007-04-20T19:46:00.000Z

You pack of bastards. Seeing as there were only two offerings of blog sharing (not that I don't appreciate those two) I am taking my ball home. It's my ball and you pack of bastards can't play with it.

I've done ALL the donkey work myself and found myself some new blogs. So yeah. Updated links and things to the left to the left everything you own in a box to the left. Ok, so it's to the right but I hang about with a Beyonce-lovin gay boy a bit too much.

Shopping with girls

2007-04-15T14:01:00.000Z

Yesterday morning, I went into town with Cashpoint and the small boy she owns. I needed a new top to wear for last night and she needed.. *shrug* dunno, girly stuff. I was all sorted in less than 15 minutes. Great.

Cashpoint said she needed a new necklace. So I left her looking at the jewellery while I went off to play Pushchair Rally round the shop with the small boy she owns. We did two circuits of the shop and came back to find Cashpoint still pondering over jewells. "This," she held one bit of something up to her neck, "or this?" she held up something that looked very similar. I shrugged and said that they were both very her and would she be long as I think there was only me enjoying the Pushchair Rally. "Sorry yes, I'll pick this one." she said, lying out of her teeth.

So off me and the small boy she owns went again. "Shall we go look at the underwear?" I asked the small boy. "No, I wanna look at dwesses." he replied. "Oh." said I, a bit bewildered. I took him on a few more circuits of the shop, as soon as we stopped moving he starting whinging and whining and wanting to get out of the push chair and walk so I had to keep him moving.

I came back to find Cashpoint hadn't chosen a necklace but was talking to her friend. "Well, it depends on what your top's like.." I heard her friend asking. Oh. My. God. Cashpoint went onto describe the top she was going to be wearing and they discussed, at great length, which necklace would suit it better. After what seemed like a lifetime she picked a necklace and stood in the queue. I turned my back for 30 seconds while me and the small boy she owns went to try on some sunglasses and she was back out of the queue looking at watches.

I'm not sure who was getting rattier by now, me or the small boy she owns. I think it was me and I think he felt he needed to distract and started singing Naive by The Kooks. Which was very cute.

Once she'd finally decided on a watch, her necklace and some other random thing she bought while I was clearly not looking, we left. Then all we had to do was to go to Boots and buy some nail polish and perfume. *sigh*

She picked up random bottles and started sniffing. "Have you ever smelt Kylie Minogue's?"

"Er.. no. But I'd like to."

We both laughed a very dirty laugh.

We went out last night to celebrate her birthday. We're getting far too old for such shenigans but it was a right larf. One of those nights where you just larf and larf. And then larf a bit more. Then fall down drunk. Although I didn't actually fall down. Mind, my housemate did say that I couldn't stand straight when I got it, there was lots of swaying as I tried to stay upright.

My sister works with a baby dyke who plays for our local womens' footie team. She's a bit of a celebrity among the other baby dykes. I was getting daggers all night for dancing with her. I found this amusing as neither of us would touch the other with a crappy stick.

I keep forgetting huge chunks of a night out. This is a bit worrying. I should drink less.

Like last week a girl in the club kept laughing at me. It could have just been because that's the reaction my face provokes. But I got the feeling it was something more. Having not seen Gay Boy til last night, he told me it was because he was stood talking to her at the bar while he was waiting to get served, I came up to them both and said to this complete STRANGER "C'mon cocker, let's dance." and then ran off, leaving her behind.

I don't recall a minute of it. Although it DOES sound like something I'd say.

Last night we bumped into Pixie in the club. I say "bumped into her", I mean I was dancing one minute and wearing Pixie the next. That much I do remember. But as far as I knew we danced for a bit and that was it. After speaking to her this morning, turns out she was with us for the rest of the night and was talking to me and my sis for ages.

Crikey. It's a good job I can't afford to go out every weekend.

Anyway, I am still patiently awaiting favourite blogs. As I'm not a selfish girl, this is one of my favs, with this being one of my favest posts, I do love a blog that can make me laugh out loud. And on the subject of blogs that can make me laugh out loud I can't not mention this cos it's also rather good and new(ish).

So, don't be shy. As they say round these parts, c'mon cocker.

Ok so I didn't go to work today

2007-04-13T09:47:00.000Z

But it was more to do with not being able to face it rather than not being well enough to go.

Anyway, my link list needs a right good overhaul. I've been on a quest for ages for new blogs to read. Not that there's anything wrong with the ones on my sidebar, it's just no one blogs that much anymore. You pack of bastards.

So feel free to share your favourite blogs. Ok, 2nd favourite what with ME being your favourite. Obviously.

Go on, I insist.

Right, I'm off to counteract the affects of lying down for 4 consecutive days.

p.s. anyone who hasn't blogged in ages is getting booted off the sidebar

How do you eat yours?

2007-04-12T12:22:00.000Z

I've been in bed with Catherine Tate all morning. It's been great. Last night I went to bed armed with a pile of dvds to keep me out of trouble should I wake up at stupid o'clock for the 3rd day in a row. I mean, it's not GMTV's fault I'm ill, so I shouldn't take it out on them.

I kept drifting in and out of sleep which was quite nice til I started dreaming. Won't bore you with the details, you know my opinions on other peoples' dreams. All I will say is that a few things are clearly getting on my nerves.

We're getting a new bathroom fitted, but my housemate (who owns the house) isn't very organised and this has actually been going on for a few weeks. Well, it started with a drip from the shower tray that leaked through the kitchen ceiling almost a year ago. And it's only getting sorted now. And each morning I have to remove bits of the ceiling from the kitchen worktop. The ceiling that has been tested positive for asbestsos, I might add. Asbestos on toast anyone?

The thing that's narking me the most is that the shower needed to be resealed before the kitchen got closed off, all of the old, asbestos filled ceiling removed and then replaced. This is happening next Monday and the bathroom is no where near finished.

Basically instead of just resealing an inch or so of sealant on the shower tray we're now getting a completely new bathroom. Complete with black floor tiles and dark red walls. Apparently. We'll be know as the local prozzies, I'm sure.

I think because I've been trapped here for a few days it's all started to really get on my teacakes. So I think I really need to consider going back into work tomorrow before I crack up.

I am feeling much better today. Although I do still have a lump each side of my throat. It was just on the right side but last night I noticed it was on the left too. Looks gross, feels grosserer. Feels like a little egg each side of my throat.

Maybe a couple of creme eggs got lodged there. I was eating them at a rate of knots last week at work. Maybe I am being punished for grossing the gang out by telling them eating creme eggs is what got me started on being a lesbian...

Anyway, it's another beautiful day so I reckon I can manage to leave the house to go post my Aunty's birthday card. Which I haven't actually bought yet. So I might as well go buy Cash Point's birthday present too while I'm out. And then visit my little sister and let her feed me now my appetite is on its way back.

I'm bored

2007-04-11T07:50:00.000Z

I'm currently trying to decide if I can be arsed doing some housework. Pissoffmeg has gone home so one of us needs to clear up the dog hairs and get rid of the smell of old dog. Might as well be me seeing as I am still off work.

I've been up for hours. I'd forgotten the joys of waking up super early because I only have crappy vertical blinds in my bedroom that do nothing to keep the light out. Although, it was actually still dark when I woke up this morning so I can't really blame the blinds.

Since the weekend I've been thinking about the change in weather and how it can provoke powerful memories for me. It's probably the same for everyone though, I'm guessing?

The weather and smells. Because I have such a poor sense of smell, when I do catch a good whiff of something then it has my senses on overload.

On Friday I was in such high spirits because it was such a beautiful day, it felt like summer rather than spring. It reminded me of last summer when I first moved in with my housemate. While it was a crappy time I did feel a great sense of freedom, and that was quite a nice contrast to everything else I was feeling. I quite like change but am sometimes resistant to it and I shouldn't be.

So the weather has cheered me up today. That and the smell of the t-shirt I'm wearing. It smells of the washing powder I started buying at the same time.

However, there is a complaint on its way, I am a bit peeved that not only have I had to replace my winter clothes (twice, I might add) now I am going to have to replace my summer clothes again. By the end of last summer I only had one pair of shorts that fit me and now they're no good either.

Losing weight is good but buying new clothes isn't my favourite pasttime. In fact, it's my least favourite pasttime. I'd rather scoop up Pissoffmeg's poo than go shopping for clothes.

How Daytime TV is your Celebrity Home?

2007-04-10T11:43:00.000Z

I'm off work due to previously mentioned lurgy. I've spent the past two days in bed, wishing I had the energy to leave my bedroom.

I've just been to the docs. I wouldn't normally go just for a cold but I can't swallow without being in complete agony. It's affecting me eating. It's THAT bad. Although I did manage 3 Ferrero Rocher yesterday. I was in tears by the time I'd reached the 3rd one but I perservered. I'm hard as nails, me.

Anyway, the doc (who looked about 12, a female, asian Doogie bastard Howser) had a root around in me lugs and prodded me throat til I went "ow" (why can't they take your word for it? why do they have to prod til you go "ow"?) and declared I have an ear infection and swollen tonsils.

So she knows I can't swallow without wincing but went on to prescribe me tablets the size of a horse's friggin head. That's helpful.

I'm more than a little tetchy. I've been cooped up for 2 days and I'm not coping well. People and things are pissing me off.

Like the blokes filling some potholes in our road and their relaxed approach to traffic control, i.e. wait til I wind down my window and ask "you gonna let me past?".

I've told the dog to piss off and leave me alone. I didn't even feel guilty when she did.

But, Oh My God, daytime telly does my trolley in. I woke up at 5am and was left with a dilemma; go downstairs and have the full array of Sky channels, with no issue over reception. Or stay in my warm bed and basically watch GMTV as ITV is the only channel that works when my housemate is in her bedroom, for some reason.

I bit the bullet and put GMTV on. Early doors it's really quite newsy. I was surprised. There was a nothern bird presenting too. And they covered a story on nuclear fuel in Iran without mentioning how well trimmed Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's beard is or who designed his suit.

But after 6am they change over to that slimy tennis geezer and the one who used to do the news who all of my exes fancied but I never really saw the attraction.

And it was back to cack.

Scarlett Johannson has the sexiest body in the world according to a new poll. No, really. It's completely true. What do you mean so fuck?

They had a doctor on giving her professional advice on Restless Leg Syndrome. Something she suffers from herself. Apparently, it's a neurological disorder that produces a strong urge to move the legs. It causes havoc, according to the health professional, when using the sleeper carriage on a train. Mmmm-kay. Because so many people have to. That's a real issue.

And then there was the usual sensationalising over the two military personnel who sold their story about their capture by Iran.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think I'd like to see a precedent being set. But it's not up to me or 80% of GMTV viewers who disagreed with them selling their story. I suppose it's easy to be self-righteous when you haven't been held hostage. I wonder how many of that 80% watched Tonight with Trevor McDonald last night?

I bloody hate telly, me. I hate being ill and I hate being trapped inside against my will. But I just got a text off Pixie saying "Take care fudge face, eat cake and be strong". Such words of inspiration.

Spent up. Again!

2007-04-08T15:56:00.001Z

Skint!
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

I'm spent up. This is the sum total of my net worth today. I wonder if anyone actually uses drumstick lollies as currency? Hmm..

Thanks to all two of you who checked to make sure I'm not dead. I have been far too busy living on the edge and sleeping with loads of women to blog. Obviously that's a big, fat lie. I have been a bit busy though. And just not had much to say. Which I know doesn't normally stop me.

Anyway, I've had a rather pleasant couple of days off so far. I took my oldest nephew for a hike on Friday morning. I've been promising him for ages that we would walk up the big hill again but I've been waiting for the weather to get a bit better. Rain and wind doesn't put me off walking but it wouldn't be pleasant for him. Anyway, when he's in his comfort zone, he talks for England. He didn't stop talking all the way up, even when he was out of puff. He complained a lot that he was getting tired but then jumped over big rocks and didn't take any notice of me telling him that was just wasting energy if he was tired. Energy is wasted on the young.

He kept asking me things like "Would you like to climb that tree? How about that one? And that one? This one? Or this one?". Near the top, we passed a fat worm. He was so repulsed by it he shuddered and gave it a wide a berth as possible on the narrow path. On our way back down, he kept asking if I'd seen the worm. We didn't pass it again and he decided that it must have been a secret agent worm and was spying on us. He then made this whole story up about worm armies and racing worms (which, btw, aren't very fast but they don't know that) and I laughed so much my stomach muscles ached for a whole day after.

When I got home later that night, the dog we sometimes dog sit was there. Stinking the house out. She's a cute dog but can you imagine how much it bothers me having her walk past my legs and leave a trail of dog hairs on me.

Anyway, as my housemate doesn't really take the responsibility of looking after the dog seriously, I usually end up walking her. Which I don't mind really as it can be quite a pleasant experience to go for a little meander around the local neighbourhood. Scooping up shit, however, bothers me. I tend to leave her out in the garden for a while before we go in the hopes she'll crap there, which is then not my responsibility to clean up. So far my plan seems to have worked a treat.

So Friday was a very active day, hike in the morning, gym in the afternoon with Pixie and dog walking in the evening. I was knackered by 10pm and went to bed with a DVD (Flushed Away, my younger sister rented it for the kids but I got to watch it first - it was very good). I didn't get up til 9.30am the following morning so I must have been well and truly worn out. I felt like a kid after a busy day playing out.

After doing a bit of washing and ironing I went to get some shopping. When I came back I found my housemate had gone out for the day once again leaving the dog to me. So I took her for a mighty long walk so that I wouldn't feel guilty for leaving her on her own all afternoon. The annoying thing is, my housemate gets a bottle of something brought back from wherever the dog's owners have gone on holiday to and gets taken out for a meal in thanks for her looking after the bloody mutt.

I pottered around at my Mum's in the afternoon and then went out in the evening. Gay Boy and Pixie came over to mine for a few drinks and we went to watch Jo Brand. Who was very funny. But I was a bit pissed at this point so I tend to find most things funny.

Gay Boy has a very loud (and I think very infectious) laugh and a woman sat in front of me kept glaring at him. If it came as a surprise to her that someone might be laughing at a comedy gig, then I think there's something seriously wrong with her. It's like some twat who once told me off for shouting at a football match. Ok, so I was in one of the corporate boxes and had been plied with free booze all afternoon. But we were getting hammered by Chelsea and no one in the posh stand seemed to care apart from me. I wasn't swearing til he told me off so I told him to chill the fuck out, it wasn't fucking cricket we were watching and polite clapping at a football match was frankly more offensive.

Afterwards we took Pixie proper gay clubbing. None of this gay friendly nonesense. She was all wide eyed when we went into the only gay pub in the town. She was even more wide eyed when we went into the club. Especially as some random lesbian snogged the face off me the second we walked through the door. She wasn't really my type but she was a nice kisser and it wasn't an unpleasant experience. I have no idea why she did it although I can rule out the possibility of her finding me so attractive she just couldn't help herself.

This was the first of two snogs. Unfortunately, Pixie was the lucky recipient. She was in a state of panic because a few lesbos cracked onto her so she asked me to make them think we were a couple. What else was I supposed to do? I'm not particularly quick thinking when I'm sober... It wasn't a proper snog or anything. But it was long enough to learn her lips tasted like chocolate milk. Which is odd considering she'd been drinking vodka and coke all night.

I was feeling very sociable and dancing with all manner of strange gay boys. Why is it lesbians don't dance? I'm curious so please, if anyone has any theories, do share. I always seem to be the only lesbian dancing. Which then seems to have the occasional straight man thinking I am up for grabs. I had some knobhead with a hard on rubbing himself up against me for as long as I let him get away with. When he tried sticking his tongue down my throat I broke the news he was barking up the wrong tree.

But we had a great night. And, for once, I left the club feeling quite happy instead of bitter and twisted about lesbians who ignore me because basically I ignore them too. They need to learn to dance.

So I woke up with a monster hangover and also the lurgy as my throat is swollen, my ears ache and I am burning up. Which sucks ass as I'd hoped to spend the remaining few days doing stuff rather than lying around feeling sorry for myself.

I think I'll console myself with some chocolate.

Happy Easter Egg day.

Couldn't have put it better myself

2007-03-28T19:39:00.000Z

Today a woman at work mentioned the whole bungee jump thing. She asked "Are you going to be doing something stupid every year?".

Now that you put it like that, I think I just might..

In other news, I got re-programmed at the gym tonight. Yes, secretly I am Robolesbo. Ha ha, if only - ooooh I'd have more attachments than a Dyson.. Anyways, when I get my programme reviewed I get my fat content measured. I am now 7% less fat - I feel like I should have my own rebranding and advertising campaign. Ya know, to appeal to the more health conscious. Lesbo Lite. Lesbo One Cal. Taste the Difference Lesbo.

Ok, I'll stop now.

The point of no return

2007-03-27T19:19:00.000Z

We've booked our bungee jump. I always wondered how and when I was going to die. Now I know it's on the 16th June 2007 when I throw myself off a rather large bridge over a very deep river. I'm still fuming with Gay Boy for getting us into this.

Anyway, if you so desire to pay for my untimely death, please email me at 30summat@gmail.com or go to my other blog about the bike ride as there are a few links there and you will find your way to my sponsor page in the end. Usual rules; nutters = no access as there will possibly be pictures of me requiring a change of underwear.

I am very proud of myself

2007-03-26T19:34:00.001Z

Sticker fun
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

My chart is full. I have no more space left for stickers. This is a good thing, though. I've gone 3 whole months without smoking. My most successful attempt at quitting in recent years.

The stars are for each day I didn't smoke (every day has a star, you may notice). The thumbs up are for full weeks when I didn't smoke (every week has a thumbs up). The pint stickers are for when I had a drink (not that many, you may notice). And the running man is for each time I did some exercise. I worked out that I exercise, on average, every 1.9 days.

I have only a few patches left. It's time to break out the padlock for the fridge.

But I am very pleased with myself. If only I had loads more money to show for it.

Ha! In your face, cold ears!

2007-03-25T19:03:00.001Z

Wonder if I get arrested for this look on route to work tomorrow..

30-Something caught in Weebeastiality shocker!

2007-03-24T15:01:00.001Z

Wee beastie
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

I had a dream I was kissing someone, not sure who. She had a very nice collarbone, whoever she was. Was a rather lovely dream.

A dream that was ruined when I woke up and was practically snuggling this bloody spider! Now, I'm not a girly girl when it comes to such things, but I just don't want them wandering around my bed while I'm sleeping.

Little fucker didn't even leave its number.. Mind, I suppose I did pick it up with my specs case and throw it out of the window.

They're all fundamentally flawed

2007-03-23T19:44:00.000Z

There are some very nice advantages to having a nice and close family. Unfortunately, to every pro there's a con.

For example, they do nice things. They feed me rather a lot. They lend me money when I'm skint. They take me out for a pint if I am feeling a bit down. Etc etc. The downside to this well intentioned niceness is that sometimes they get it wrong. And I don't have the heart to say so.

My mother sent me a text message the other night saying the training shoes she'd bought me for Christmas were now almost half price. I didn't reply as I didn't really have anything to say to that. It's annoying when that happens, but it's 3 months later. So I didn't really get her point.

Her point was that they were a bargain. So she ordered me them. And I now owe her £40 for a pair of trainers I can't afford and certainly don't need.

The downside to us being a close family is.. well actually there are LOADS of downsides. You can't fart without someone knowing how bad it smelt. Or, in my case, how wonderfully it smelt of a dewy meadow on a fresh, spring morning.

The main one being there has never been a lock on the bathroom door. I suppose it wasn't practical to have only one person in the bathroom at anyone time when there was six of us living here and five of those six were female anyway.

I don't recall ever being bothered if I was in the shower and someone was using the wash hand basin or on the toilet (depending on what they were doing, of course).

It does, however, bother me now. I don't often need to but sometimes I use their shower or bath if I come straight from the gym. Like I did tonight. Given that we only have a shower at home, I used their bath tonight. It's nice and big and my mum always has a really nice selection of bubble baths to choose from.

I put a bit of Otis Redding on my pc and left the bathroom door open slightly so I could still hear it. I let everyone in the household know I was taking a bath so there would be no disturbage.

No. Such. Luck.

My dad walzed in on me. I jumped up and quickly hugged my knees, thus hiding my most important parts. "Daaaaaaaaaaad!" he apologised and left. Then my mother came in and proceeded to have a thunder piss on the toilet. I was really cross but she ignored my protests and started telling me about the cost of Easter Eggs in Tesco compared to Asda.

Honestly, family? Who'd have 'em?

And speaking of family and easter eggs and Asda; an ad came on last night for easter eggs in Asda for £1 each. It said "Easter Eggs are only £1", I shouted at the telly "Only £1?". The ad said "That's right, only £1". Unfortunately, my younger sister was witness to this and couldn't stop taking the piss out of how I'd interacted with the ad. She must have broken her neck to tell Cashpoint as she has also been taking the piss out of me all day by text message.

I think my period must be due. I'm narky with everyone.

Especially my ex bf who has been torturing me for input into which car he should buy. My first advice to him was more of a plea "Please don't buy any Alfa Romeo model, it would be like you marrying a woman I love.". He chooses cars based on whether the dash is cool enough or if the headlights are the right shape. I was always the more butch in THAT relationship.

He has written off his cock extension. I've been trying to talk him into getting rid of it for years as a) it's so blatantly a cock extension and b) it's extremely uneconomical and not very environmentally friendly. Anyway, a few weeks ago he hit a deer. I presume it was a deer and not a dear. Oh how I don't miss living in the countryside.

He asked for my input on several occasions but he didn't agree with any of my suggestions. Basically, he wants me to condone buying yet another cock extension AND get excited about it for him. I declined the offer of going car shopping with him as I'm just not that interested in watching him spend money.

I finally snapped last night when he started sending me text messages banging on about it again. He's not prepared to take my advice because it's not what he wants to hear. And I'm not prepared to say what he wants to hear. Besides which, my car is getting to an age where it's a bit rubbish. Plus, I don't have money to buy myself a new bra with let alone a new friggin car. And just because he can choose a car that will, ultimately, cost him £400 a year to tax and not have to worry about money, doesn't mean I want to hear his justification for spending that sort of money just "because he can". I think it was extremely insensitive for him to keep picking away at me knowing full well I'm permanently skint and that I still owe him £250 for the money he lent me just so I could get my car fixed.

After being as blunt as I could, I got a reply from him asking "Is it ragtime?".

The problem with mens it that they're knob heads. The problem with men with money is that they're knobheads with money.

In the cold light of day, I sent him an email stating this was my final word on the matter.

There is something very wrong with world order

2007-03-20T17:45:00.000Z

My mother has just contradicted me on a football related matter and was correct. This is a women who dislikes teams based on the colour of their socks..

And my dad, who is of the same opinion as me when it comes to tv, has been sat chuntering about a conspiracy going on in Ready Steady Cook as the green peppers are always winning..

Voicing two observations about me me me

2007-03-19T20:00:00.000Z

Why oh why did I choose to cycle to work on the world's coldest day ever in the history of cold days?

I like fresh air first thing of a morning so always open my bedroom window when I get out of bed. This morning when I opened the window the icy wind hit me in the thermal vest and burnt my nipples, I considered going to work in the car. I had to give myself a stern talking to "Look, wimp, are you committed to this or not? Are you going to let the chance of a bit of snow put you off? Are you a lesbo or a mouse? A northerner or a southerner?"

It worked and off I went. Fucking hell that was one brisk start to the day!

It dawned on me, during my nippy journey to work, that I argue with myself a lot. There's the sensible, adventurous, tough side to me that argues with the lazy, silly-billy side to me. "I wish I'd remembered my buff" I thought when my ears felt like they'd been dipped in liquid nitrogen. "Oh shut it, fanny - you'll be in work in less than 15 minutes." was my reply to myself. "Aw but I was gonna get it out last night and then didn't and now I wish I had. Damn that sun for misleading me." I started whining again. "Jesus, you whine a lot. Give it a rest. Look at all this traffic you're passing. Bet all those saddos sat in their cars are looking at you wishing they'd come on their bike." "Noooo, I bet they're thinking 'fat twat, she looks cold, especially her ears'."

And on it went til I got to work.

The only thing worse than the journey in was the journey home. Hailstones, wind, road-crap being thrown up off the wheels of my bike and cars, a bus nearly knocking me off despite me wearing my bright yellow "you have no reason to say you didn't see me" waterproof.

I do apologise to any readers who have to cycle to work everyday. Please feel free to call me a fair weather pile of wank. Although, I do think that would be perhaps a tad harsh.

I've had a rather relaxing weekend. My first week of implementing some fundamental changes to prevent stress seems to have been ok and done the trick. Possibly only short term but I'll take that.

Yesterday my sisters, my mum and I all went out for lunch. Just us 5 girls. I don't know if we've ever done that before. There's usually partners or kids or.. Dad spoiling it.

It was completely lovely but I noticed that it's apparent I am very low down in the pecking order in our family. In a relationship, the one who loves the other the least has all the power. According to Cowbag. I think those were her words of wisdom, anyway. Not sure. Anyway, I don't know how the power works in my family. But I have no sway whatsoever.

I'm sure it's probably because I have no kids or mortgage or perceived responsibility and therefore my opinions don't count. Or, if they are heard, someone has a better one.

Not that I have an issue with this. This is obviously the way it's always been, I've probably just never noticed.

Obviously my mother is the boss of the family. Possibly even the world. I wouldn't argue with that. Or her, for that matter. The odd thing is, next in the pecking order comes my younger sister. What she says, goes. As long as my mum agrees with her, obviously. Then it's Cashpoint. Followed by my oldest sister, even if it's only from the point of view that no one else wants to do whatever it is she is doing and decisions are formed on this basis alone. Then it's my dad. He does, on the odd occasion, put his foot down. Then it's the dog. Who's been dead 7 years. Then it's me.

Over lunch, we (I use the word loosely, obviously I had no part in it whatsoever) were planning a trip that we're going on for a charity event at the end of May. Again, it's female only thing due to kids needing to be looked after by partners and my dad, etc. My mother was organising the time we'd have to leave to be there on time and everyone was asked what worked for them. Apart from me.

Ok, so I don't generally have to plan that far ahead in my life. But that's not the point. Not sure what the point is as I'm not really complaining.

Then it was decided I would have to do all the driving. Which is fine as I am officially the bestest driver in the world. My younger sister, Bossybloodyboots, decided that she simply must choose all the music in the car (such was the finest detail in these plans). I DO take exception to this as the last cd she bought was Salt with a Deadly Pepa...

There were other decisions and discussions and plans made, none of which concerned me given that I do as I am told. Or face the wrath of 4 very fiesty women.

I'm not complaining as such about having no power in my family or the arguing in my head. Merely voicing observations.

Anyway, sod off - the football is about to start.

I'm so fickle

2007-03-16T19:36:00.000Z

I've lost interest in the SSL. She didn't take the bait and all it acheived was to out me to the few remaining colleagues that Gay Boy hasn't already outted me to. He refers to me as "that dirty dyke" or "the lesbo" rather than use my name, you see.

Anyway, people kept wandering past our desks and picking up the dvd. They'd read the synopsis on the back and then ask who's dvd it was..

So yeah, I'm bit bored with trying to work out whether she's gay because my life won't be any further enriched for knowing. And, if I'm honest, she's probably not my type and I sincerely doubt I'm hers. Besides which, she wears skirts and has small breasts. Not that I mind small breasts, I'm more of an arse girl anyway. I'm just not sure I could be the one in the relationship with the biggest tits.

Don't ask why. I couldn't tell ya.

But I'm a Scary, Serious Lesbo

2007-03-14T19:44:00.000Z

I hatched a fool proof plan to work out whether or not SSL is actually a lesbo.

Ages ago, I loaned Gay Boy my dvd of But I'm a Cheerleader. Finally, today he returned it to me. He tried to give it back to me but I said "Keep it on your desk in case SSL comes by". He didn't get my point straight away. "Look, if she comes by for a chat and spots it on your desk she's either going to say she's seen it, in which case: LESBO, or she's going to ask you what it is. And that is your opportunity to tell her what it is and that it's MY dvd. If she asks to borrow it, then: LESBO."

See? Foolproof.

Ok, so not quite foolproof. But the best either of us has come up with so far.

Gay Boy doesn't usually beat around the bush (that's why he's a gay man.. ha ha ha.. poor, I know) and anyone else he would just more or less ask outright. But I think even he finds her a bit serious. Probably doesn't find her scary. The scary bit is all my own doing.

She's yet to take the bait. Oooh now I know how Roy Scheider felt in Jaws.. Ok, so it's nothing remotely like waiting for a shark to come and nibble your legs off. But I am still filled with anticipation. But in a good way. Not in an imminent death way or floating about in the ocean after you've just blown up a shark way.

In other LGBT (I wanted to write BLT there.. must be hungry) work related news; Bi Boy has been given the heave-ho. That's where not turning up for work on a daily basis gets you. He had his issues and work accommodated him to the point they actually realised he was probably taking the piss. Well, maybe he wasn't. But his issues aren't the company's issues and there's only so much a business can take, regardless of ones mental illness.

I have to say I feel relieved. He was starting to get on my nerves. Through no fault of his own, I must add. He was weird and annoying from day one and made no apology for it. It was my conscience that got the better of me in the end and I started to really regret our drunken.. er, thing. I tried not to dwell on it but I found myself avoiding him or, when I couldn't, being snippy with him.

As soon as I heard the news he wasn't coming back, I actually started to get a sense of humour about it. I was writing my PDP this afternoon - it's that time of year again, where you have to pretend you meet the criteria for the job you're doing and plan pointless additional tasks you haven't got time to do and haven't even started the ones you agreed to last year. I'm hoping t'other boss and Lovely Lady Boss don't notice I've just re-hashed my PDP from last year.

Anyway, I was reading Pixie's PDP for her (I do all of her grammar and spelling). She asked if she could help me with mine. I declined, given that this is a young lady who spells words like "keesh" and "tuma" (not in her PDP, I should clarify) but said she could read over it if she wanted. I quickly edited the "Working with People" section from the usual guff about endeavouring to share information with the team, encouraging others to work to procedure and targets, mentoring new members of the team and always inputting new ideas and suggestions to improve the overall performance of not only individuals but the team as a whole blah blah blah.

The edited-for-Pixie's-eyes-only version now read "I believe I work well with all of my colleagues and this was evidenced during a drunken team night out when I had a naked, sexual encounter with the office weirdo. I feel that in sharing my bed with the least-liked member of the team I was able to get a better understanding of how difficult working relationships can form and learned a valuable lesson that most people will not tell you of their mental disorders until after they've got you undressed."

Must remember to un-edit it before t'other boss and Lovely Lady Boss see it. Not sure they'd sign that one off. Or, if they did, I dread to think how they'd want me to improve on it. I'd probably have to spend the next 12 months sleeping with more office morons..

Crikey.

Buddha Says Relax!

2007-03-12T20:06:00.001Z

Buddha says relax!
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

Or was it Choose Life? Both sound bits of advice, I feel.

Anyway, I did go to work on my bike this morning. It was lovely pelting it to work, I actually smiled. Several times. I never smile on a Monday. Or I haven't for a long time. Unless I'm off work.. but you get the picture.

I'm really trying my best to slow down and chill the fuck out.

I started the day with natural yogurt, raspberries and honey. For some reason, this always puts me in a good mood. There'll be something in the honey or something that's a mood lifter, I'm sure. Perhaps a bit of valium or morphine. I love morphine, me. Ha ha - I really did just drift off there while remembering the feeling morphine racing through my body after my back op - ah, happy days.

Anyway, so that was destresser # 1 (breakfast, not morphine). Cycling to work was destresser # 2. Spending my lunch break away from my desk was the 3rd. It backfired on me because there is a potential lesbo at work and I find her a bit scary and serious and she was in the communal kitchen. Even though she's not that scary or serious with anyone but me. So I may just be misconstruing my ever present intimidation of women.

But I'll try again tomorrow. And if she is in there again, I won't just mumble a very small "hello" as I put my head down and sit at the opposite end of the kitchen, reading a 3 day old newspaper.

My 4th destresser is to spend more time at home. Normally I would be out, at the gym, at my mother's or at one of my sister's or various other places. But I came straight home tonight. I got showered and changed out of my work clothes (destresser # 5). Usually I don't get home til after 9pm at the earliest and change from my work clothes straight into my pjs. Tonight I made a delicious and nutritious stir fry and watched the 6 o'clock news on my own.

I did a bit of washing and tidied away my cycling gear. And this was all before 7pm. And I have the rest of the night to do nothing but relax...

It's only been 50 minutes and already I am bored. I've turned the house upside down looking for something to read but not being a bookworm I don't have anything. And the only book my housemate appears to own is the Cadbury's World of Chocolate Cookbook. Which is fine but I've read that from cover to cover a million times already.

So, I've broken destresser # 6 and come online. Surfin t'internet isn't exactly stressful but I stare at a screen all day, as I am multi tasking my fat, nothern arse off so to come home and stare at a screen for a further few hours isn't very good.

But I can't cope with the boredom relaxing brings. I'll be in bed by 9pm at this rate. Or, worse, watching telly. Blech!

Gawd, I'm off to do something more interesting.

Cash it in and throw it all away

2007-03-11T16:47:00.001Z

That time of year again
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

I've been busy. I'm always busy, actually. I think this has contributed to my recent mini meltdown. I work at a 100mph. Then I leave work and do a million other things when I should just take a load off and relax. I need to relax without feeling lazy. Other people manage this so it can't be that hard for me to work out.

Anyway so yeah, I've had another busy week at work. It was split up in the middle by a training course Pixie, t'other boss and I went on. It was an away day so it felt like a little bit of a road trip. The course itself was useful in terms of work but Effective Repairs Reporting and Ordering isn't the most rivetting subject. We made the most of it and spent the whole journey home cracking jokes about penetrating internal dampness and parting ones cheeks (a cheek is the side bit of a dormer, you really do learn something new every day even if it's not that interesting).

Actually, a large part of the journey home was spent marvelling at Pixie's edge. She decided the bloke in the van behind was cute and wrote "r u single?" on a piece of paper up to the back window of the car. He flashed his lights. She then held up her mobile number. And got mad at me every time I drove too fast and started to create a gap between us and him. I have no idea if he has called her yet but he happens to work for a contractor we use and Pixie made sure she got the registration to help bag her a man. She has no shame. Still, shy bairns get nowt. As they say round these parts. Which goes a long way to explain why I'm single.

I was worn out again by Friday and left work at 4pm, which was a rare treat. I went over to Gay Boy's, we got drunk and I stayed over. They're both completely lovely blokes and I enjoy unwinding with them. Gay Boy's bf plays the piano and they have this huge electric piano/organ thingy in their spare room. I have visions of them both playing Stars in their Eyes of a weekend and pretending to be Erasure. Well, I could until I noticed the sheet music propped up on the sheet-music-proper-upper for the theme tune to Murder She Wrote..

We didn't go to bed til 4am and in my drunkenness I fell asleep with my phone right next to my ear. When I received a text message at 7.30am it woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep as I started thinking about all the things I wanted to cram into my day. By 8.30am I couldn't take it any longer and wanted to get up and do something. So I did. I called to Asda on my way home to pick a few things up.

I called in to pick my post from my Mother's and to say hi to her and Dad as I hadn't seen them all week. I then went home and did housework and some washing and ironing. By the afternoon I was worn out and my head was throbbing from my late night drinking session. But it was too late to go back to bed as my Dad had bought me a ticket for the FA Cup quarter final. There's nothing like 35,000 screaming football fans to soothe ones hangover.

And when we got back from the match, I had to babysit for Cash Point. Which was fine as it's not exactly hard work to sit in front of the tv, eating chocolate and buying music on ntl's on demand service.

I know I'm about 8 years behind the rest of the world but how sexy is the Summer Son video, btw?

So Cash Point didn't get back home til after 1.30 and I was really starting to regret only have 3 and a half hours sleep the previous night.

But did I have a lie in this morning? No. I did not. I got up and went out on my bike. The past week's weather being quite spring like had inspired me to go out for a ride. Even though it was grey and freezing this morning.

But it gave me the opportunity to contemplate a few things. And I do find cycling mentally relaxing. Even though, after over 3 months of no cycling, it's not remotely physically relaxing.

Anyway, I decided to start cycling to work at least once a week again. It's not practical for me to do it every day because of other commitments. But cyclists have a healthier body and mind and while my body is certainly healthier than it used to be, my mind is heading for meltdown.

When I got back and had a hot shower I felt great. I felt like I had really earned a shower. There are very few simple pleasures in life but a hot shower after a cold bike ride are one of them. There are pros and cons to cycling but the pros make you so much more positive about the cons. For example, no amount of soap gets rid of the vaseline from your lady bits and rear end. But that means you pretty much walk around all day fully prepared for any unexpected anal sex..

Even though I only had a short bike ride this morning, I felt so much less stressed about stuff. After I got showered and changed, I made breakfast for me, my housemate and her baby dyke best friend who seems to spend more time at our house than her own. I then went for a lie down on my bed and had a power nap. When I woke up I felt all refreshed and quite normal again.

While I was feeling chilled out I made the phonecall I'd been putting off all week. My special weekend friend phoned me each night last week just to see "how you're doing" or "how your day was". I had been ignoring each call and found it hard to even listen to the full voicemail message she left me. I've only slept with her twice and I felt needed to lay it on the line (again) about what I wanted (or didn't want) from it all.

So I did. And I apologised for not responding sooner as it completely annoys me when people ignore me. But I do think she needed the reminder that we don't have anything going on. And there is nothing going to happen in the future. No matter what. And that we're not even fuck buddies as that implies more of a commitment than I want to give.

I think I handled it well. And I do feel so much better about a lot of things.

But we'll see how long the cyclist in me can keep the stresshead in me at bay. I'll give it til 9am tomorrow morning.

Stresshead

2007-03-04T16:36:00.001Z

I'm Frazzled
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

I'm still stressed. Mainly with work. Reducing my patch strength down to 5mg is also taking its toll.

I've had a boy in my bed all weekend so I have spent the weekend in someone else's bed.

On Friday evening, my cousin came to stay for the weekend, so I let him use my room instead of living out of a bag in our living room. I went to my Mother's.

I slept in what is now the spare room, decorated for the kids with dinosaurs and ticking clocks and plinky plinky jewellery boxes. The noise of a ticking clock and a plinky plinky jewellery box is enough to send the most patient woman over the edge. After a hard week at work, it didn't take long for me to be tearing the bedroom apart trying to find the ticking clock and pillaging it of its battery. The ticking continued though.

The ticking was coming from a clock in the plinky plinky jewellery box. I was demented. I couldn't work out how to make it stop ticking and in my haste, I set the plinky plinky ballerinas (yes, there were two - double stress) going. I took it into the bathroom and left it there. I could still here the plinky plinky ballerinas, but they slowly wound down and then stopped.

Now all I had to contend with was the alarm clock with the bright red digits burning their firey numbers into my very soul. I dug out some socks from my gym back and threw them over the clock.

They were white. It didn't work. The bright red alarm clock now just looked like and angry crab.

It's no wonder I had several anxiety attacks through the night. Or whatever it is that happens when I wake up with my heart racing and feeling like I'm about to be murdered in my sleep.

I'd burst a blood vessel in my eye at some point through the night. I look very odd. I think it's scaring the kids.

I got up early on Saturday morning and went to the spinning class at the gym. I felt slightly better. Afterwards, I went to the beach with my family and made sandcastles in the wet sand and ate chips from the wrapper and had hot chocolate to warm me up. I felt much better.

I spent the afternoon on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep. My housemate came home and started hassling me to go out with her. We get on well. But only because our social circles don't cross paths. It suits me. She had ulterior motives to ask me and I didn't like it. I started to feel stressed again.

Luckily, I had a better offer from someone who wanted to spend the night with me in that special way. I told no one of my plans and disappeared for the evening. I put my phone to the bottom of my rucksack and forgot the rest of the world.

We went to a country pub and I drove. It smacked of a date. I didn't like the feeling. Afterwards, we curled up on the couch and I drifted off to sleep again. When we went to bed, there were issues over orgasms. It smacked of Lesbian Bed Death. I didn't like the feeling.

The first time it was uncomplicated and nice and lovely. I have made my feelings known about wanting nothing more than what we have already had but threw caution to the wind and went back for more. And now there may be a "next time" and I'm not sure I want there to be.

I made my excuses and left early this morning.

I went to my Mother's and the whole family grilled me on my whereabouts and why had I ignored the phone when my cousin had been trying to get hold of me to find out the alarm code to get into the house and texts from my Mother asking me what time I was coming for lunch and texts from two of my sisters asking me what I was doing with my Saturday evening.

I once set my hair on fire because my sisters were grilling me about a past relationship. Not in protest. Just because they were all sat around the dinner table staring at me and asking me pointed questions and I felt backed into a corner. I like to give information away on my own terms. I rocked back on my chair and there was candle behind me. I didn't notice my hair was on fire until I smelt it. My sisters would have let it burn til I gave them the information I wanted, I'm sure.

So I gave nothing away this time and said that I was with Gay Boy. I don't like lying to them but it was a means to an end. And I don't want to complicate something that could already be complicated enough.

When did the weekends become as stressful as weekdays?

Picture borrowed from deviantart.

I've been meaning to say for ages

2007-02-28T19:51:00.000Z

I had no idea at all that when Amy Whinehouse speaks she sounds like Kathy Burke. I didn't see that one coming and it made me larf.

That's all.

1, 2, 3.. bungeeeeee!

2007-02-27T20:33:00.000Z

Last month I treated myself to a cd and a top as a well done for not smoking. This month I "treated" myself to a bungee jump. A cocking bungee jump. Seriously. I use the word treated very loosely as I had to be talked into it. By Gay Boy.

His bf bought him one for Christmas and Gay Boy didn't want to do it alone. He asked me if I wanted to go along and I politely but firmly declined. The problem with Gay Boy is that he always knows how he can talk me round. He mentioned the word "charity". He knows I wouldn't say no if we did it for charidee.

Fucker.

I'm glad my certain death will raise a few quid, though. Would have been a shame to waste a (relatively) young life for NO REASON AT ALL!

Honestly! Why do I put myself through such things? I can honestly say that I would rather do the London to Paris trip all over again than throw myself off a crane with nothing but a bit of chuffin elastic tucked in me socks.

I sure have been living on the edge this week though. Last night, I actually went into an Aldi. I rubbed shoulders with poor people. I decided to give it a go as I pass it every night on my way home but go miles out of my way to get to a Tesco.

Spend a little, live a lot? Spend a little because there's fuck all in there apart from aisles and aisles of biscuits and kids' ski suits. I have no idea what was with the ski suits because I'm guessing the clientele of Aldi ain't rushing out to book a late winter holiday to Whistler.

There was plenty of unruly children in there too. The sort with names like Casey. Which, in my day was one of those rock-hard, leather footballs. NOT a small girl with pierced ears and high street fashion that wouldn't look out of place on a 21 year old.

My snobbery got its comeuppance at the checkout when I was told off for packing my shopping at the til. You have to put all your stuff in the trolley then go to the designated packing area, apparently. Doesn't matter whether you have 1 packet of biscuits or 20 kids' ski suits. Thems the rules.

So, if I can do an Aldi I'm sure I can do a bungee jump. Yes? No? Answers on a postcard addressed to the Will 30-Something Die in the Name of Charity competition.

Spiritualist stuff

2007-02-25T14:56:00.000Z

Ok so I have no frame of reference on such matters, so I can't really comment on whether she was good or not. Well, not as far as being a spiritualist goes. She may have been the best, how would I know? She was a grade A nutter though. I have a huge frame of reference on nutters.

I had my cards read once. The woman took £30 off me and said that she couldn't work me out as I was so confused. I could have told HER that and kept the £30. But that's not how it works, apparently.

I had my palm read once too. She said that I would be married with 3 kids by the time I was 27. I was just coming out by the time I was 27 so she couldn't have been more wrong. But it only cost me £2 and it was in Blackpool so I'm not sure I would have ever held much stock in it anyway, even if I did believe.

So am I less sceptical now I've been to see a spiritualist? No, I am not. With that said, however, I can't deny she didn't talk about some things that I can't explain.

I was talking to my brother in law about it and we decided that there are 3 explanations for this. The first is that she IS a spiritualist and afterlife exists. The second is that she has a gift for reading people, their body language or by drawing on what little is given away in answers to her questions. In which case, she earns her money in my opinion. The third is that she's a conwoman and does her research well.

Anyway, I'm trying not to think about what or who she is too much because then I will fall into the trap of starting to care. And I don't want to.

I won't go into great detail about the things she told me. Not because any of it was personal (and some of it really really was) but because, like other peoples' dreams, it's just plain boring. I found this out when I was trapped in Gay Girl's bedroom with the other people who'd had their reading done and had to listen to their stories about Aunty Fuckface who is sorry for that time she said that mean thing. And she really did once say a mean thing. Fancy Aunty Fuckface coming eh?

The spiritualist did come out with a whole load of crap that I just can't relate to. But she instantly had my attention when I walked in the room and she asked me about the physical activities I do. Not uncommon, I suppose. But it's not like I look like a sporty girl. For all I've lost weight recently, I'm still er.. chunky. I was still cynical at this stage but she asked me about my back and the surgery I had and confirmed that it was all ok now but I do have to be careful with it. Again, back complaints are common but it was the way she knew it was an old health issue but was something I'm cautious about.

She was talking to my Nana for a long time and came up with some stuff that no one would know apart from me. Obviously she could just say this stuff to most people and the way I feel about certain issues could be a common feeling in women of my age. Who knows.

But she did ask me about someone I slept with recently and told me that I was only doing it to stave off lonliness. My initial thought was "Shit! My Nana saw that?" and my second thought was "Ha! You're wrong, I did it because I was horny and a woman has needs." She told me that I need to be more disciplined in the future and I won't move on if I'm not.

Christ, you can't even have casual sex these days without the dead nagging you about it.

She told me some stuff about my cousin that was extremely accurate, i.e. how he died, when he died, that he died shortly after my Dad's birthday etc. But it was big local news at the time. So I suppose she could have done her research. But she did tell me that someone cut his hair and he was really pissed off because it wouldn't spike up properly. I checked this with my housemate (his gf) and she said she'd done it. It's probably something that happens a lot though.

She told me about a scar he had on his knee and described it. I checked this again with my housemate and she described it the same way. She said some words to a fairly obscure song he used to sing and act out as a kid and mentioned the name of a kid who used to live next door to us that my cousin hated. She said that he was trying to find something to tell me that would make me laugh.

I did get caught up in it all though. Briefly. She taped the reading and when I listened to it again, there were things I'd missed. And even in the cold light of day, they made me shiver. But there was a whole load of crap too.

She reckons I'm moving abroad in two years time. I fucking hope Scotland counts as I'm not the kind of girl who would stray too far from oop north.

She kept coming up with names of people I'd never heard of. And situations I'd never been in. And then waved them away with "Watch out for them", which was a get out clause if ever I'd heard one.

The one that I found really interesting though was when she asked me about my blog. In a roundabout way. She said that I regularly wrote something. Not wanting to give anything away, and actually not thinking about my blog I said I didn't write anything. She was very insistent and kept saying "You do, you write something regularly. Not a diary. Something that other people read. You get a buzz from people reading it, you enjoy it."

She kept on at me about it until I admitted I wrote a blog (although I called it an online journal as this was a woman who took 20 minutes trying to reverse park, I'm sure technology isn't her thing).

So that was a bit freaky. But then she ruined it by telling me I'd write a book one day.

In preperation for this I have decided my pen name will be J.K.30-Something. So watch out for 30-Something the novel. Followed by 30-Something the movie. Hopefully with a lucrative tie-in deal with a fast food chain. The Mc30something fur burger. Although to have it appeal to my lesbo audience I will insist on McTofu Nuggets and a soya milk milkshake, with a toy buddha for the happy meals.

I'm not as dismissive about it all as I first was. She definitely has some sort of gift. I'm just not sure she sees dead people.

Despite all my hard work

2007-02-23T21:15:00.000Z

forty minutes before I left the office tonight, I stood up to go to the toilet. Arse cheeks had barely left the fabric of the seat when t'other boss scowled over the top of her glasses and said "Where do you think you're going?".

I stared back and calmly said "Can a girl change her tampax in peace without the whole team having to know?" and then strode off before I shoved the fucking tammy up her nose. Everyone quickly put their heads down as I walked past and pretended not to have heard.

It's just come back to me and I got all indignant about it again. I expect you all to do the same too.

Frazzled

2007-02-23T20:47:00.001Z

Bad Day -- Frazzled
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

I will blog about my experience with the spiritualist. But not right now.

I have had the work week from hell and my poor little eyes can't cope with staring at a computer screen anymore. I'm too used to doing a 35 hour week. Yes, only 35 hours. Easy life, I know. But I've worked 80 trillion this week and I've worked very hard and I am feeling very sorry for myself.

Gawd only knows how I used to pull 60 and 70 hour weeks at ntl, doing 12 and 13 hour shifts. I have turned into a lightweight.

I'm off to put my eyeballs on ice.

Picture nicked from deviantart.

Did anyone see

2007-02-19T18:17:00.000Z

Kate Silverton trying on dresses this morning for her job of reporting on the Oscars next week? I don't normally crack a smile of a morning.. And I NEVER take note of red carpet crap. But I will this time around.

Anyway, there are more pressing matters than Kate Silverton's well defined back for me to post about. Hang on while I just have a little think about that statement and reflect on the truth of the matter.. It's probably not true but I just can't keep banging on the lovliness that is Kate. Can I?

Ok so a while back one of my friends, Gay Girl, sent me an email telling me all about a weekend she'd had with some friends in Newcastle. I asked her where my invitation was. She said that she'd asked me months ago and I declined. "In fact, " she added "I always invite you out and you always say no. It's getting to the point that I'm going to stop asking you to come to stuff."

I couldn't deny it wasn't true (although I don't recall the invitation to Newcastle) and I admitted I only say no if Wonky Fringe, one of her closest friends, is going. And she normally is. "I know she's your friend and I'm not going to slag her off for that reason. But it does put me off going." She asked me why and I said that I found her hard work and could we just leave it at that.

The truth is, she's rude, obnoxious and obsessed with not looking like a lesbian. And her fringe really pisses me off. I get the feeling that she thinks I'm just not cool enough to even look in her direction. So I decided, rather than end up having an awful confrontation with her, I would just avoid her. And I've managed it rather well for a long time.

So Gay Girl said that she understood and that she would try and make more plans that involved more me and less her. I felt bad at this stage and backtracked, saying that I would get over it and would try and make more of an effort to come out more. And she completely had a point as it pisses me off when you keep asking people to do things and they keep turning you down.

So I made a mental note to self to say yes to the next thing she invited me to. Regardless of who was going out or where it was. And that I had to stick to it or it would mean a breach in my integrity. Even though only I knew of this solemn promise I had made.

Therefore, can you imagine my horror when I got a text message off Gay Girl inviting me to see a spiritualist tomorrow night.

The text exchange went along the lines of:
GG: "Do you want to come see a spiritualist tuesday night?"
Me: "Er.. Not really my thing. How much she charge?"
GG: "£25, let me know if this is too steep"
Me seeing my get out clause: "Tis a bit for this side of pay day, kidda"
GG: "How about £20?"
Me seeing my get out clause running off, swiftly: "Oh well yeah. If that's ok??"
GG: "Yeah, we're struggling to fill the 5th place"
Me shouting after my get out clause to come back, THIS instance: "People won't be pissed off I'm getting it cheaper?? Let me know if you're still struggling by Tuesday and I will defo come."
GG: "We are struggling, I'll tell you now."
Me resigning myself to my get out clause never coming back: "Oh ok. I don't believe in that sort of shit but yeah, why not."
GG: "Am I pushing you into this?"
A resigned me: "No but I'll make the wench work for her £20"
GG: "You sure you wanna come?"
Me: "Yeah, worth £20 just to spend an evening in your company. Obviously"
GG: "Great, be here before 7pm"
Me accepting the final nail in the coffin: "Will she know how Lost is going to end?"
GG: "I wouldn't count on it"
Me trying to cheer myself up more than anything: "Does she see dead people? Am I going to find out that I am really dead and that's why no one talks to me?"
GG: "Lol. Will email you tomorrow."

Yes, I have more than one email ho at work to keep me company.

*sigh*

So a fucking spiritualist. FFS! I emailed her today to ask who else was going. The one saving grace is that at least Wonky Fringe isn't going.

I shall try and report in on what a load of guff it was later on this week. Or maybe she'll convert me. "OH. MY. GOD. She only asked me if I'd known someone who'd once died who may or may not be related to me or may or may not have possibly known me in some or no capacity whatsoever. And did I once have a pet that may or may not have possibly been a cat or a dog. But it sends it love and tells me to look down the back of the couch as there may or may not be a hidden treasure but will probably just be a 50 pence piece. I tell yer, the hairs on the back of me neck were standing up."

And at this point I will ask someone to shave my neck for me. Then stab me in the eye with a blunt pencil.

The problem with sleep

2007-02-17T21:03:00.001Z

Sore ear
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

is too much and you wake up feeling like you've had a frontal lobotomy, too little and you wander around all day wanting to cry and threatening to perform a frontal lobotomy on anyone who crosses you. Til you've had a power nap and then you wake up feeling like you've had a frontal lobotomy.

I have issues with sleep.

And I've just woken up at my mother's, not remembering falling asleep. I set my nephew a game up on the pc and then climbed onto the bed to watch him play it...

Anyway, now I'm in a foul mood because I have had too much sleep. And also because I have a hangover. And my ear hurts like buggery. And we all know how much buggery hurts. That small red slice on my ear (bad picture but it's hard to take a picture of your own ear, try it) is from an incident with my hair straightners. I clamped it down on my poor, little ear lobe last night as I was doing my hair.

I blame my father for making me inherit his unruly, red hair and then giving me a square face that apparently prevents me from suiting short hair.

My poor ears go through hell. I've had to have earrings surgically removed on more than one occasion. I defy anyone to disagree that an injection to the ear is the most painful place to have one. In fact, on one occasion I had to have 3 injections to the ear. Tears trickled down my face and I actually said "ow". I'm not the sort of woman who expresses pain often so this was bad.

Anyway, I have an announcement; I am officially a twat. Officially. Up to now it's been open to debate.

Earlier this week my pocket rang the emergency services. It was probably trying to dial the fashion police for me. Or something.

I was crouched down looking in the fridge, trying to find an errant tub of cottage cheese. Btw, how odd is cottage cheese? It's so liquidy yet so lumpy. Those lumps are just plain odd. But so nice. Something so lumpy yet liquidy should not be that nice. Anyway, next thing I heard a muffled voice asking me something. I looked around our kitchen to see if the radio we don't have had been left on. It hadn't.

The muffled voice carried on asking me things. I then actually stared into the fridge to try and find the source of this muffled voice. Really. What WAS I thinking? That the open pack of bacon my housemate seems to have forgotten about had gone off that much it was asking me to put it out of its misery? Or that the half used pack of parma ham my housemate bought was reminding me that I needed to replace it before my she realised I'd used it without asking her? Or was it really going to be my housemate's creme egg asking me to eat it? Because chocolate often does that to me.

At the third time of asking, I realised the words "emergency services" and "can I help you" were now being shouted into the phone. I shit myself. Not literally. But I panicked and took my mobile out of my pocket and hung up.

In hindsight, I should have just spoken to the guy and profusely apologised. But not spent too long doing so in case other members of the public who were in real danger were trying to get through.

But no fucker rang me back. Thankfully, I suppose because that would have been terrible to waste more of their time and resources. But what if I had actually been in terrible danger and not been able to speak into the phone? For all they know, my cottage cheese might have been stolen and I may have been so gobsmacked, I had become catatonic.

A few days later, my niece rang me. She sounded really distressed and I instantly went into panic mode. She's only 3 but she knows the speedials on their phone and I thought that something bad had happened. The sort of bad you daren't speak or even think about in case the mere act of thinking it or speaking it will somehow make it happen.

It hadn't. She had done something so terrible she simply had to share it with someone. She's very honest like that.

"I pressed the policeman's button" she said, and started crying. "He asked me to put mummy or daddy on but I told him daddy doesn't live here" (my eyes filled up with those words, God love her) "I won't do it again." She then went onto to describe the worst case scenario being the only time she should press the policeman's button, which had obviously been drilled into her by my sister after the whole incident.

"You know what, sweetie? The other day, I pressed the policeman's button too." I admitted. "We'll both be more careful in the future, eh?"

Yeah yeah yeah, we ALL know what day it is

2007-02-14T20:02:00.000Z

It is, of course, this day in 1779 that Captain James Cook, celebrated explorer, navigator and all round good north eastern lad, was brutally beaten, not outside a pub in Middlesbrough but by Hawaiian natives. Rumour has it, with surf boards and grass skirts. Savage bastards.

But that'll teach him for turning up without a dozen red roses and a "cute" teddy bear holding a heart with the words "I wuv you" stitched onto it.

I fucking hate Valentines Day, me. Actually, no I don't. It's the first time since being a teenager I've been single on a Valentine's Day (to my recollection) so I've always been guaranteed at least a card. So I'm not going to get all "Poor me, no one sent me flowers or a card" because that's just a pile of wank and stuff like that doesn't really bother me. I'm still single the rest of the time so why should I be more bothered today? (It's rhetorical, don't answer)

What I DO hate is smug cunts at work who ask how many cards you got. Not IF you got any. But HOW MANY. Knowing full well you're single and unfanciable. Smug twats. And then their husbands arrange to have flowers delivered to work. Why? Save it til she gets home, mate. Or give her them before work. Don't show off. It just pisses people off. I'm not jealous (and I am aware this sounds like I am protesting too much), it just gets right on me tit ends when you see these fucking women strolling down the office with a big bunch of summat, going "Ach, he shouldna bothered, God LOVE HIM" and then muttering under their breath "It only took him 7 fucking years to get the hint.."

Yeah yeah, whatever. Put the weeds down and get on with some work, like the rest of us. Oh no, you can't just yet can you. You have to phone him and thank him. Very loudly. "Oh darling, they're so beautiful. I was so surprised. You do know how to treat me... What? Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. Uh-huh. Yep. Yep. Up the arse you say? Mmm-hmm. We'll see baby. See you tonight. Love you. Yeah, love you too baby. Mmm-hmm. No, I think we have enough lube baby. Yeah. Love you. Bye."

Pixie shared half a Twirl with me. It was left on my desk with a post it note on it stating it was a Valentine's present. I felt obliged to make her a card that said "Roses are red, violets are the shits, stop your fucking yapping and show us yer.. smile".

She wins the naff Valentine's Day poem contest though. She emailed one of our maintenance lads with "Roses are red, violets are blue, my boiler's broken, come look at my flue."

Today I have mostly been listening to

2007-02-11T17:47:00.000Z

Breathe Me by Sia. For those of you in the know, yes it's from the last scene in the last episode of Six Feet Under.

If I had a cock, it would be a very big cock

2007-02-10T15:54:00.000Z

This I know to be fact and I felt like sharing.

Earlier in the week I asked Gay Boy if he wanted to come over for a few drinks on Friday. I said that I didn't have much cash and couldn't afford a night out but it would be nice to get a little tipsy and hang out. He said yes and then asked if I was cooking for him. I said I would if he wanted to. So it started out as just a few drinks and somehow turned into a dinner party for him, his boyfriend and Pixie (who caught wind of it midweek and was most upset she hadn't been asked so invited herself).

As it happened, I'm glad it turned into something else as we had a completely lovely night and Gay Boy's boyfriend has had a very hard time lately and needed the distraction. Plus he's very good company once he's relaxed a little bit.

Pixie and Gay Boy insisted we play lots of stupid games which I was generally a bit rubbish at. For example, the yes and no game. Pixie "Are you a lesbian?", Me "Yes.. oh crap." The celebrity name game; GB's bf "Cameron Diaz", Me "Er.. oh crap".

Oh how I wished the forfeit wasn't a shot of neat vodka.

I did ok at charades though and still chuckle at "sounds-like bath and quim" for Kath and Kim. I am aware that it is extremely sad to laugh at ones own jokes. I can't help it though, I find myself very funny. Someone has to.

The problem when everyone is staying at your house is though that as the host you can't go to bed til everyone else has. And everyone else is younger than me and don't seem to have a problem staying up til 4am drinking.

But it helped blow off a bit of steam as I'd had a really shit week. One of my sisters shared the news with me that she's had an illness for the past 10 years and hadn't told anyone til now. She says she's ok but I'm not convinced. In fact, I'm really worried about her and her refusal to admit that the long term affects, which are largely unknown, may be serious. The whole way she's handling it worries me and I really don't know what to do for the best.

Because she's asked me not to tell or discuss it with anyone then I'm not going into the details of it. Besides which I am generally quite respectful of other peoples' personal stuff on this blog anyway and try not to give out too much information.

So I'm just going to have to try and deal with it as best I can. Which probably won't be very good but I'll have a go.

But let's get back onto the topic of me as we wandered off it for far too long there.

My fucking car still isn't fixed. I got the rocker thingy gasket thingy fixed a few months ago and finally got my sump replaced the week before last. The garage who replaced the sump said the rocker thingy gasket thingy was still leaking. So I took it back to the garage who did that and they said that the sump was still leaking. Why oh why did I choose to get two different places to fix each leak?

Garages have your eyes out and it's so hard to know who you can trust. And in the meantime my housemate's driveway is a fucking mess with all the oil that's been pissing out my car since I moved in. She doesn't seem to mind but I would be miffed if it was my driveway.

Maybe if I told these mechanics my theory on my imaginary cock they would start showing me a bit of respect.

Fresh pineapples are not worth the effort

2007-02-05T19:59:00.000Z

Now I've got that off my chest, I can move onto a different topic to rant on about..

I can't get BBC1 on my tv in the bedroom for some reason. So this morning I decided to put GMTV on for a bit of company while I got ready. How bad can it really be, I thought. In the past, I've dismissed it for being a bit too.. colourful of a morning. A bit too cheerful and.. GMTV-y. If you know what I mean.

So I thought that maybe I was being a bit hard on it. And I gave it a chance. Fuck me, why did I bother? What a load of gash.

They were discussing the H5N1 business. "Oooh.. topical" I thought. Obviously, initially I presumed they were talking about the postcode of perhaps some poor unsuspecting council house tenant who was about to be descended on by Keith Chegwin and a 6 foot cheque. But I realised I wasn't giving the show enough credit. Silly me.

"Here to discuss your concerns is celebrity tv chef.. er I mean Doctor, Dr Hilary Capillary" said either the bright and bubbly female presenter or that slimy tennis geezer.

Now hang on a mo, how is celebrity tv chef.. er Doctor suddenly an expert in avian flu? He ain't no vet, or important environmental type person. And anyway, the BBC covered all this days ago and had proper experts on who sat in lab coats and used big words that I didn't understand. Mind you, one of them DID say that this virus can only be caught by close physical contact to chickens and other poultry and then went on to give examples, one of which being HUGGING A CHICKEN.

After my brief amusement at the thought of hugging a chicken (possibly in a hoodie), I went into wanting-what-I-can't have mode and eyed up the frozen chicken breasts in our freezer.

Er.. so yeah. Perhaps I'm being a bit hard on GMTV, I thought and continued watching. While moisturising and making myself look semi presentable for work, of course.

So this tart and the slimy tennis player geezer started banging on about "public concern" and "outrage" and "hysteria" (well, maybe not hysteria or even outrage but they were fucking sensationalising like there's no tomorrow). "Let's get some opinions of the general public" and it cut to some bloke stood outside a Tesco in Watford who interviewed a handful of randoms.

NONE of whom showed any signs of concern. "I've heard the advice," said one bloke "and I don't think it's a threat. Unless I hug an infected chicken." (I may have added that last bit myself) "It won't put me off buying chicken and turkey" said another person. "I've just bought some chicken actually" said someone else. "I was concerned yesterday," said one fella and I perked up thinking that it was about to get controversial "but I'm not today." Crikey, that was a close shave.

Cut back to the studio "So," said the tart or the slimy tennis player geezer "there you have it, a mixed reaction" ???? "Dr Hilary Capillary, how can we appease the fears of the public?"

He went onto trawl out the advice that we've heard over and over and over from everyone else. Then I think he had to dash off to prepare for LK Today where his expert advice was needed on this season's must-have handbag.

I rolled my eyes and turned off the tv. I went downstairs and made myself some breakfast. My housemate had left the tv on which was still on GMTV. "Pffft" said I and turned it onto BBC1 and spooned natural yogurt into my gob while drooling at Kate Silverton. Make your own innuendo.

They too were banging on about the H5N1 virus. But wait, this seemed more serious. Bill Turnbull was OUTSIDE. In the fog, the damp air was playing havoc with his hairdo. He had pieces of paper in his hand. He was talking to an expert. She wasn't a celebrity anything.

While it was still the same old fucking scaremongering, at least the BBC had made the effort and sent Bill to the Bernard Matthews factory for processed turkey shite. Even if you couldn't see it through the fog and ever increasing frizz that was poor, old Bill's barnet. I feel his pain, that happens to my hair too. All GMTV could do was to send some poor sod to Tesco to interview a few ambivalent passers by.

So, I gave it a chance but it continues to get on my tits. Now all that's left to decide which is more annoying, GMTV or cutting up a fresh pineapple.

I could NOT be more cross

2007-02-04T16:54:00.000Z

I was going to write a long and lovely post about my weekend. But my mother has gone to visit her sister in Cleethorpes and I've just discovered she's taken my fucking, twatting keys with her by mistake. House keys and car key. The cock-sucking, mother-fucking lot. Fucking pile of fucking wank.

I only called in to see her before she left. And now I'm trapped here with my Dad til I can get hold of my sister who has my spare car key. And then I'll have to hunt down my housemate to let me into the house.

There aren't enough swear words around right now.

Don't you just hate it when

2007-01-31T14:09:00.000Z

the Chief Exec joins you for Body Pump? I do.

She's a very nice lady 'n all. But a bit too nice, y'know? She once came into the kitchen to join us mortals for lunch because she just doesn't get enough chance to chat to us. I've never seen smalltalk clear a room so quickly.

So I quietly groaned when she came into the dance studio at the gym. And double groaned when she spotted me and set up next to me. I briefly considered clubbing her to death with a dumbbell to prevent any smalltalkage. But thought better of it what with so many witnesses, 'n all.

The worst thing is, now she knows I go to the gym, she's going to talk to me about it each time she sees me. Oh joy.

Anyway, I went out with Dolly last night. It's gay night on a Tuesday, apparently. I don't know why I bother. Well, I went out because we wanted to go out and as I am off work today (car's being fixed) we decided to go all out and go clubbing too. So that's why I bothered. But I don't know why I bother going to gay clubs. I just end up resenting each and every lesbo in there because of my inability to talk to women. It's all THEIR fault that I don't take rejection well so don't take the risk.

Apart from not being able to talk to women, another stumbling block is my concerns about most people being potential mongs. Initially it's all about attraction, isn't it. So if you find someone you're attracted to, what if you've wasted your time and charm on someone who turns out to be a fucking moron? It's a legitimate concern, I feel. And something that has me sat in the corner sulking because everyone is having a far better time than me. Even though I was actually having a great time with Dolly.

She said that I'm not a bad dancer for a lesbo. My frame of reference of lesbos who dance is quite small so, as a straight girl, I think hers would be even smaller. Therefore I'm not taking it as a compliment.

*sigh* I'm two steps away from speed dating. But I still don't think that 3 minutes is enough time to establish whether someone's a bit mental.

Not that I'm looking for anyone else. I'm happy not having anyone to answer to. Which is frankly what a relationship is, just a series of compromises and arguments over not having sex.

But a snog every now and then would be nice. At the minute even a smile in my direction would be enough. Or a kind word...

Oh God, I'm such a fucking loser.

I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself. It's not getting me anywhere.

We had a great night. I'd heard rumours that the place we went to had been refurbished which was odd considering it hadn't closed down for any period of time. Dolly and I speculated that they had probably just swept the broken glass up and called it a re-fit. Turns out they had done the place up but pretty much just put a few stickers on the toilet doors and one of the barmaids had brushed her hair.

They hadn't, however, swept up the broken glass.

Pay day

2007-01-29T18:53:00.000Z

could not have come quick enough for me this month. I was getting very bored with the go to work, go to the gym, come home and go to bed routine.

It was the same for all of our team and the tension at work was palpable.

Jock gets on my tits most of the time for a million reasons. Even though she's actually quite a kind hearted girl. I can't help it - she has too many fluffy things on her desk. One is too many in my opinion, though. But she's just.. that sort of person. You know the type. Talks about her cats like they were children, has a photo of Orlando Bloom in her purse. Does the worst impression of a north eastern accent when she's taking the piss out the rest of us. These things all add up and there are times I have to count to 10 with my back to her. Anyway, by Friday I'd had enough and snapped when I found a post it note stuck to a standard form that said "I am the original document, please do not use me, please photocopy me."

I couldn't understand why a grown woman would find it cute to humanise a piece of fucking paper. These are the things at work that get right on my tit ends. Personally, I find sticking a post it to such things with a terse message like "Don't be a selfish tosser and use the last copy of this without photocopying more" has more of an impact.

Anyway, I was a bit mean to her about it and there was no need really. But Gay Boy went one better and reduced t'other boss to tears during a disagreement over a squatter in one of our empty properties.

At work, sometimes it's like me and Gay Boy against the rest of them. Honestly, they're a bunch of morons.

Just a shame then that we had to go out with them all on Friday night.

I didn't quite manage to reach the end of January without having a drink but I did get 26 days into it. Which is more than I expected to. And I did manage to get through the night without even coming close to smoking. So that means I got to put a pint sticker on my chart. :)

Anyway, we went to a comedy club. It wasn't very funny. In fact, one of the comedians was just plain fucking offensive. And I can't even begin to remember his name to brandish about, more's the pity. It wasn't helped by the whole group looking and laughing at me and Gay Boy each time there was a gay or lesbian joke. And I got extra special attention from the arseholes I work with when there was a whole 5 minute barrage of ginger jokes. I can laugh at myself. I really can. I don't mind people taking the piss because I take the piss back. If you give it, you gotta take it. But seriously, I've heard every ginger joke under the sun and you're welcome to laugh if you find it funny but if I'm not laughing, it's cos it's not funny. NOT because I'm a stick in the mud. I didn't see Jock laughing at the fat jokes.

So that, combined with paying £12 for 3 pints of lager and a glass of wine, made me and Gay Boy want to get the flock out of there as soon as we possibly could and ditch those fucking losers.

We were in *shit neighbouring town that I fucking hate* so our choice of drinking establishments was somewhat limited. We went to the Star Wars bar. That's not what it's really called, obviously. I just call it that because the people who go in there look like the critters in that bar in Star Wars (I'm sure there'll be some geek out there who can tell me what the Star Wars bar is called - you all know the one I mean, I'm sure). So that indicates the type of customer the place attracts. I'm sure you can imagine my horror when they wouldn't let us in because my jacket had a hood on it.

I make no secret of the fact I am more than a little obnoxious when I'm drunk so obviously this didn't go down too well. I ranted at the doorman for a good 10 minutes about how they didn't seem so picky whenever I've been in there in the past and how if I'd come in my tracky bottoms tucked into my socks, wearing a pair of filthy Reebock Classics I'm sure I'd have been let in. And how on earth a bar that once had a pint glass with a shit in it left outside the men's toilet really shouldn't be turning business away. Needless to say we still didn't get in and had to find another shithole to drink in.

I stayed over at GB's and woke up the following morning feeling fine. "Cool," I thought "a hangover as a non smoker is so much easier to cope with". So I got up and went food shopping. Looking like a bag lady, still wearing the clothes I'd gone out in the night before. My hangover eventually kicked in around 10am so I went home and crawled straight into bed.

I got back up later in the afternoon and still wasn't feeling tip top but I had plans for the evening so I did my best to make myself look presentable.

Geek and I went up to Newcastle to see Ray Lamontagne, who was fantastic. His support, Leona Naess, was also quite good - if you like that sort of thing - girly, guitar, vagina music.

We went up early in the evening to get something to eat and have a few drinks (non-alcoholic for me as I had volunteered to drive). For all I bang on about disliking Geordies, it's mostly a football thing and the city of Newcastle is actually really nice. As much as it pains me to say that. We went into a funky cafe/bar place that charged through the nose for a load of bourgois, poncey bollocks. Like fish finger sandwiches that was nothing like the sort of fish finger sandwiches I've eaten in the past. I don't recall my fish finger sandwich having goujons of anything and certainly wasn't served on foccacia. I paid £10 for the privelage of egg and chips. Which, pleasantly, was just regular egg and chips. And was a welcome cure for my hangover.

So yeah, the concert was great but other people don't half get on my teacakes. You may have noticed. I think in some circumstances, i.e. people crammed in on top of each other, people need to be a bit more aware of other people. And they're just not. I mean, why do other people have to have heads? They get in my way. Although Geek got the worst deal by being sat behind a man who was 20 foot tall and had very wide eyebrow hair. Although, this geezer with the landing strip eyebrow hair got his comeupance when the village fuckwit came and sat next to him. He was wearing the biggest puffa jacket I have ever seen in my life and then went onto complain every 10 minutes about how hot it was. And kept trying to whistle through his fingers but couldn't. But that didn't stop him trying. And sticking his elbows out to the side an awful lot wasn't helping. I really felt for the people sat next to him. Even the eyebrow hair man.

So it got very hot and stuffy and I was wearing a jumper. Like a mong. And then I started having this knee jerk reaction to Ray's songs because I listen to the quiet section of my ipod when I can't sleep which has a lot of his songs on and in a Pavlov's dog type response my eyes slowly started to close. I can't be sure but I may have briefly drifted off to sleep at one point because I just suddenly became aware that a song had ended and everyone but me was clapping.

But it was a nice night. Even if we didn't end up getting home til late and I ended up staying up watching 3 episodes of season 5 of Six Feet Under. I can't believe Nate died. Why didn't someone tell me?? I was actually crying during his funeral and here was me thinking I didn't have a heart.

The following morning I took my Mother to the biggest Tesco in the stratosphere and I bought some new work clothes. The woman at the checkout said something about putting some vouchers through for me and I ended up getting a load of money off. I got 3 tops and 2 bras for £22, which was a bargain.

Although, oddly, I didn't question the false economy of buying a pack of 2 bras for £3 until I got home and tried them on and it looked like my tits had been in fatal bungee jumping accident. But we live and learn.

I lounged around at my Mum's all afternoon and then went to the gym in the early evening.

Afterwards, I met Cash Point Lil in the pub over the road from the gym which is conveniently next door to the cinema and then we went to see In The Pursuit of Happyness. Which was ok but at least it wasn't Miss fucking Potter.

And that's my very busy weekend in a nutshell. But without the nutshell and with a very long and drawn out post instead.

So obviously I am spent up again after 3 nights out in a row and buying myself a few treats for going a month without smoking. If you can call one cd and a jacket with a hood on that will get you stopped by doormen in scrotey pubs a treat.

I agree with

2007-01-27T15:23:00.000Z

The Cynic, why not take the time to sign this petition. Ruth Kelly may not be a lesbo but her hair certainly is.

I'm trying lots of new classes

2007-01-24T21:57:00.000Z

The leaflet says:
"Body Combat - A pre-choreographed, fun packed, cardiovascular workout incorporating punches, kicks, knees and elbows."

Should read:
"Body Combat - The instructor kills people for fun at the weekend. If you don't get your kicks high enough; you're next, chump."

Ah, that explains it

2007-01-22T18:54:00.000Z

"D'ya know who really gets on my tits lately?" I randomly asked t'other boss on Friday.

Without waiting for a response, I launched into who it was and my reasons why without even coming up for air. "I mean, I walked passed her desk yesterday and she was eating a kiwi fruit. I walked passed again an hour later and she was eating another kiwi fruit. WITHOUT ONE PIECE OF BLOODY PAPER ON HER DESK. As if that's not annoying enough, and that's really fucking annoying, she then made some pointless comment about how she could do with an afternoon nap. For God's sake, is eating two kiwi fruit in the space of an hour really such a strain on her energy resource? Now I come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen her work since she moved to that job. She used to be really nice but all she does now is complain about how tired she and make snippy comments about how stressed out I am just to hide the fact that she doesn't actually do anything. Apart from consume fruit."

T'other boss just continued looking over the top of her glasses at me, as she does, for a few minutes and then said "Just ignore her". She belittled my rant perfectly. I wasn't happy so I turned to Pixie who pre-empted any potential venting heading her way with "30-Something, are you due on?".

I was but I never really recognise that's the reason for my hideous mood swings until I actually get my period.

By the time I got home, went back out to Tesco, foiled the plot of our neighbour to flatten my tyre with that cocking nail he (probably) planted on our drive I was in a world of hate. It carried over into Saturday morning and I bit Pixie's head off when she phoned me while I was sleeping on Saturday morning just to check what time we were meeting at the gym. Even though I'd told her several times the evening before that it was 9.30. "Oh, I thought we were meeting at 8.00" she said, with her gormless little voice. "Shit, you're not in the gym now are you?" I jumped out of bed as it was 8.20am. "No, I'm still getting ready." "So why the fuck are you late if you think we're meeting at 8.00?" I made her go all quiet.

I'd chilled out a bit by the time we met at the correct time. I'd decided that we were going to do 3 consecutive classes. Mostly because I wanted to do the spinning class and the sculpt class (which is just another way of calling it body pump) but there was a burn class in between the two and I didn't want to hang about for 45 minutes between classes.

We were having fun. Well, I was. I enjoyed the spinning class and I soon forgot all about my runaway temper. Til we got into the burn class. Why do fucking poncey gyms call it anything other than an aerobics class. It lulls me into a false sense of security. It makes it sound like I'm not going to need coordination. Which I don't have. It makes it sound like I'm not going to be crashing around into people as I turn in the wrong direction, doing the wrong move. It doesn't matter how many times I go to these classes, I will never, ever master the art of the Grapevine, the Mambo or the fucking Box Step. I. Just. Don't. Get. It.

Luckily, neither does Pixie. I turned around (in the wrong direction, as per usual) to find her jumping up and down in the corner, waving her arms about. Later, she explained that she didn't have a clue what was going on so thought it best to keep moving to prevent standing out. I didn't tell her that there were a few holes in her plan.

It wouldn't be so bad if the gym's explanation of the classes was more accurate. But it never is. And it's not just my gym, it's gyms and leisure centres the world over.

For example: "Spinning - for people of all fitness levels, a great cardiovascular workout set to the beat of music and concentrating on breathing techniques." Should actually read: "Spinning - if you're out of shape, still come, it'll be a laugh for the rest of us. Music is playing but the pounding of your heart will drown it out and you'll be too busy fighting for each and every bit of oxygen your body needs to worry about it anyway."

The burn class said something along the lines of "Burn - a great way to have fun and burn calories at the same time." Wish it had said "Burn - if you have two left feet, don't bother."

By the time we'd finished all three classes, I had the shakes. I'd probably overdone it but at least my mind was mostly occupied by something other than how much other people piss me off.

On Sunday, Gay Boy got me a guest pass for his gym. He's really annoyingly fit and chatted merrily away about anything and everything. While I got steadily more red and sweatier and just had to keep nodding and smiling whenever he asked me a question. I've probably agreed to play Badminton with him and the lesbians again. Did I blog about this? In brief, I played Badminton with him, his sister in law (his sister is also gay) and one of her lesbo colleagues, of which there are many, according to Gay Boy. Apparently being a post woman is the job to have if you're a dyke. It was good, but fucking hell, those bitches weren't half competitive. Coming from me, yes I know. Mind, so is Gay Boy. Probably more so than the rest of us put together. So determined to get the shuttlecock back over the net, despite me being in very close proximity to it, he went for the shot and blasted the shuttlecock, at point blank range, straight into my forehead. He got loads of mileage out of telling people the red mark on my forehead was where he'd bounced his cock off my head.

Er.. where was I? Oh.. yeah. So, when I left the gym, I was almost in tears at how much nicer and bigger his gym was and how much I wished I could join it. Even though it's way more expensive and completely out of my way (my gym is within walking distance from work and only a few miles from home) and I could overlook the fact that the changing rooms weren't as nice for their brand new spinning bikes alone..

And I really couldn't understand why I was in such a state over something so trivial. Until I got home and realise I'd got my period.

Despite all the warning signs. And even people pointing it out to me, I never see it coming.

Just look at it!

2007-01-19T21:15:00.001Z

Just look at it!
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

I came back from Tesco and parked my car on the drive. Two inches in front of the nearside front tyre was this fucking nail. I blame the neighbour who's been building an extension, apparently single handedly, since I moved in.

Honestly! It's no wonder I get so many fucking flat tyres when so many bastards are conspiring against me.

I was already angry at the world because my dvd player broke and I had to take it back, complete with DVD INSIDE. Dvd that ISN'T MINE. Dvd that is part of a BOX SET.

They swapped my dvd player and are going to try and get the dvd out for me tomorrow.

Nails, neighbours and fucking dvd players, I hate them all.

Jo Super Nanny is onto something

2007-01-17T18:46:00.000Z

My sister has problems getting her little girl to stay in bed. I'm sure it's something all parents have problems with.

So my niece has a bed chart and gets stickers each morning if she manages to go to bed and stay there all night. Obviously she's allowed up for a wee. But standing at the top of the stairs shouting for her mother with that tone of "come quick, I'm a small child and something bad may have happened to me", only to say "night night" for the 17th time is not allowed.

I queried the bed chart and asked if it worked. My sister said it worked a treat. I found this really odd and wondered if kids were really THAT simple that a poxy sticker really was enough to make them conform each day.

I always had my doubts whenever Jo Super Nanny used this tactic. I would roll my eyes at the stickers and think "C'mon, it's a bloody sticker. WHO is going to get excited over a sticker?".

*****

I now have 16 star stickers and 2 thumbs up stickers on my no smoking chart. *clapping hands with glee*

To satisfy any further curiosity

2007-01-14T16:28:00.000Z

Several people have now asked me about Bi Boy and what happened when I went back to work. I have been meaning to blog about it but I tend to go off on a tangent and never get back to the original point. And then, 2 weeks later, it's no longer on my mind.

I have probably only had to work with him for about 4 or 5 days since we went back to work. As I said, he's doing some sort of training initiative and isn't actually employed by us as such. So it's been ok.

The first day I knew I was going to see him I was nervous. But I had nothing to worry about. Things are fine. I actually think we're getting on better now. Pre non-shag I found him weird and hard work. While I still find him weird (very weird) we now have a bit of banter that we never would have had.

Only when there's no one else around though. When we are around colleagues, we still get on. We chat in the same way all of our team chat. But if it's just the two of us, he accuses of me being a man-hater and I patronise him because of his age. And it's not at all odd. It's just the way it has happened to evolve.

Obviously I haven't got a clue what's going round in his mind. But it seems he understands my position on the whole thing. And from what I remember of our night together, he was as much not into me as I wasn't into him. Does that sentence make any sense at all?

Yeah, so anyway..

The lettuce-drying girl was in the gym tonight. She said hello to me. She has a foreign accent. And I don't just mean something that's not north-eastern. Proper foreign, like. Sounded a bit eastern European. But she did just say hello, so I could have mistaken it for anything really.

But in a strange twist of fortune (oh God! I sounded like the voice-over man off The Weakest Link..) she caught me wearing nothing but my work pants and the most disgusting colour bra I own. It's one of those cream/flesh type colours. I bought it to go under a top that was a similar colour and no matter whether I chose a black or a white bra, it was just too see through to do anything other than give in and buy a granny bra.

And now it's the only bra I have that gives me remotely anything like support. All of my other bras lay limply in my underwear drawer, looking pathetic and tired. And I yell "You never support me anymore. There is nothing I do where you give me your support! I'm trying my best here and the only support I get is from that fucking awful granny-bra. I can't believe that I have to put my trust in something even my mother would disapprove of! Honestly! Look at you all, you inadequate, pitiful, useless bunch of saggy, greying bras! LOOK AT YOU!"

But then my sports bras get all fiesty and shout back "We give you support, you ungrateful bitch. We give you nothing but support. But do we get anything back? No, we do not. We get thrown into the bottom of your gym back with your sweaty underthings and soggy towel. Do you know how unpleasant that is? We give you fantastic cleavage. But is it on display for all to see? No, it is not. It's hidden away under a sweaty t-shirt, which will later be bundled on top of us til you have time to empty your sweaty, soggy gym back and wash us all."

I really must get some more bras at the end of the month.

So I changed as quickly as I could. Before possibly-eastern-European-girl could dwell on the fact I have some very choice pieces of underwear (I think I got away without her seeing I had a pair of white knickers with black spots on them - seriously, WHO does my underwear shopping? Oh... actually, it's me). Just as I was starting to obsess about the fact this girl, who may or may not be gay (it could go either way) and could or could not one day like me in THAT way (obviously we all know she won't), had experienced the loss of mystery, I noticed her knickers. They were the same fucking colour as my bra. Except they had a huge hole in them at the top where the seam is.

I sort of feel bad blogging about a complete stranger's underwear and drying methods so much. But, once again, the loss of mystery ball is back in my court.

Next time I must dig out my "Trendy Cow" socks that my mother bought me. They have a cow on each sock. And the feet are patterned like a cow's skin...

3 day weekend

2007-01-12T20:00:00.000Z

This is how I left my desk tonight, all nice and tidy ready for a long weekend. I am now in bed, sending this from my phone. Am watching dvds, in my pjs without feeling obliged to fill my time with anything other than me time. Is that just a bit special or not..

Stop messing about!

2007-01-09T19:51:00.000Z

There are three main reasons I like Gay Boy. One is that he never shirks getting a round in. I hate those twats who don't follow proper form and skip their turn at the bar. Or get a glass of water when they're paying and a pint of gold when it's your round.

The second is that he's reliable, unlike Pixie who's flakey as fuck and will drop me the second something better comes along. If Gay Boy makes plans, he sticks to them and I like that in a person.

The third thing is that he is quite possibly the funniest person I have ever met. Well, Cash Point Lil is the funniest but she's my big sis so I may be a little biased.

One of Gay Boy's things is to make innuendo out of anything. Anything. He doesn't really say much either, it's more the face he pulls. It's so.. Kenneth Williams. Here are this week's top 5 completely innocent statements that Gay Boy sniggered at:

1. It's throbbing.
2. Cherry Charger or Mango, Lemon and Ginger Infusion?
3. Show me your shiny bits.
4. Join us for a game of doubles.
5. I've just been to wash my peach.

The one where I rant a bit

2007-01-08T18:48:00.000Z

Tyre repaired, for the extortionate sum of £17.50. Honestly! How can Kwik Fit justify that to fix a bloody puncture when their local rivals can do it for £7.50? But I didn't want to take it to the other place after they made such a hash of my exhaust. That'll teach 'em.

Anyway, I'm over my strop.

So, first week of giving up smoking is over and I've done well. I recommend patches to anyone wishing to try as they sure take the edge off all the nasty cravings and side effects of packing in. I'm not half as ratty as I normally am (I'm still ratty but that's got nothing to do with not smoking), I'm not pigging out on food as I am still getting a dosage, albeit lower, of nicotene which is an appetite suppressant (lock up your Jaffa Cakes once I'm off the patches though) and my sleep is no more interrupted than usual.

I am, however, having nightmares. Which the nurse said may happen. Although, I go through phases of having bad nightmares anyway. So it could just be coincidence. I won't bore you with the details as there is nothing worse than someone saying "Oh, I had this really weird dream..", that's the point I tune out. Or have been known to say "Don't bother, I'll not be listening anyway..".

Is it just me or are other peoples' dream the most boring subject in the world? Unless it's a hot and horny one and involves me. Then I'll quite happily listen to it. As long as it's less a dream and more a fantasy. Dreams are generally too weird anyway and even the hot and horny ones end up being fucked up and involving giant spiders gnawing your nipples off or something right before everyone turns into dolls. Or along those lines.

Although I will say last night I had a particularly vivid nightmare about a plane crash that I was witness to. So perhaps my positivity about perhaps this time being THE time I crack my filthy little habit is only surface deep. God damn mother fucking subconcious. I hate you.

But I have to say that I am quite enjoying being a non smoker. I usually do though. I like not stinking. I like not coughing up a lung each day. I like that running at the gym doesn't almost kill me after 10 minutes (it almost kills me after 15 instead but.. baby steps etc etc). I liked being all self righteous when someone in the pub last night asked me for a cigarette and I said "Sorry, I don't smoke". I like that I've increased my chances of not dying somewhat (go here or here for exact statistics as I can't be arsed).

I like not having to wash my hair everyday. Because I'm a bit lazy like that and opt for an extra 15 minutes in bed. I left the gym last night, after washing, drying and straightening it and a gust of wind blew it across my face. Yum. It smelt lovely. Well, it always did straight after I'd washed it but then after a few smokes it was horrible and I couldn't wait to wash it again.

Life's hard being boderline obsessive compulsive.

So now I can leave it a day or two and all it will smell slightly of is bed. But I quite like it when you can smell bed on someone. Not in a crusty way. Thinking about it though; am I explaining this properly? Does everyone know what I mean about the smell of bed? It's actually probably just sweat I'm smelling. But sweat starts to smell bad once it's decomposed and I should imagine that happens quite quickly over the course of a day but the smell of bed seems to last.

There'll be someone out there who can set me straight on this if the urge takes them. But I know what I mean and I quite like it.

Well, that's not strictly true. I only like it if I catch a whiff of bed on someone I actually enjoying picture just getting out of bed. Looking all crumpled and sweet and sleepy. And in my mind they meander off into the bathroom all sleepily and then go make me breakfast.

Obviously the reality of people on a morning is that they bite your fucking head off for being alive, look at you through their piggy-swollen sleep-filled eyes and wander off to the bathroom for a thunder piss, pulling things out of their bird's nest hair that weren't even in the bed to start off with.

So, the downside to not smoking - yes, there are some. Actually, only one I can think of. I've never, ever had a good sense of smell. I get it off my Dad. I've always quite liked it, to be honest. Not being able to smell bad smells far outweighs not being able to smell good smells. Extreme smells are a bit of a sensory overload anyway. If something is shoved under my nose, I can smell it. And I do catch the odd whiff of something now and then anyway. But obviously smoking makes it worse. After not smoking for a week, I am already noticing smells I wouldn't normally.

Like Fog Horn's fruity tea. Fruit OR tea. Not fruit AND tea. One or the other, please. It's just wrong to have a fruity beverage that's hot. And it stinks. Coffee - OMG coffee! The smell turns my stomach. Brown sauce. A sauce that is named after its colour! Wrong, wrong, wrong on any level but FUCKING STINKS! And my housemate eats rather a lot of it.

And, absolutely the worst of all, other peoples' farts. I used to live in a world of bliss where I had no idea I was consuming the deadly gas that had escaped from someone else's arse. Now I know when I'm walking through something I should be slicing my way through instead.

I met my sister, who I'm going to call Cash Point Lil from now on because it was a nick name I gave her over Christmas and it makes me giggle like mad to call her it, after I left the gym last night to go to the cinema which is just a few doors down. As I was walking to the pub we were meeting in (I had a diet coke therefore didn't break my NY's resolution), she drove past so I waved my arms about like a mad lady and jumped in her car so that we could walk over together after she'd parked up.

*sniff* "Jesus, Cash Point, have you shit?" I was balking.

"Oh God, does it still smell. I dropped one ages ago." she said winding the window down.

Seriously. Other peoples' farts should not be allowed. I'm thinking of complaining to.. my local MP or summat.

While I'm in ranting mode, we went to see Miss fucking Potter last night. Cash Point Lil sent me a text asking if I wanted to go see it. It didn't strike me as the sort of movie she would like but I later realised she had probably suggested it because she knows I love Beatrix Potter. Which should have been reason enough to NOT suggest it as these things are usually enough to send you into a rage with their inaccurate portrayals of people. And it wouldn't ever be helped, not in a million years, by the fact that Renee Stickfigure was playing the lead.

Beatrix Potter? Beatrix bloody Potter? Bridget fucking Potter, more like. Oh my good fucking God, how her face, voice and BEING gets me mad. Possibly it has a little to do with the fact she has a slight resemblance to Ex-flingette's wife - who can't stand being within a 100 hundred mile radius of me (understandably but that's not the point).

So needless to say I didn't like the movie. Stickfigure does nothing for me anyway but I hated the way Beatrix was played as a cutesy, gentle spirited eccentric rather than the more unhinged and interesting oddball I always imagine she was. And it spent way too much time focusing on her childhood and the opposition she faced to become a respected artist and published author (valid points but make them and move on, thanks) and not enough time on the farmer and environmentalist she became later in life. It was thrown in at the end as a p.s., which irked me as she achieved so much more for the National Trust and local landowners that most people know about.

Bah! Even though I didn't pay (Cash Point doesn't take "I haven't got any cash" as an excuse, obviously - that's why she's called Cash Point Lil) I'm still complaining. Next time it's my treat and I'm picking the movie.

And I'll be picking the sweets, Minstrels burn my throat.

Cocking flat cocking tyre

2007-01-07T16:40:00.001Z

Cocking flat tyre
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

And it's not even the one that needs replacing. I'm fucking fuming.

The problem with the gym

2007-01-05T20:07:00.001Z

Workout by StudioErebus
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

is that the ladies changing room takes away all of the mystery.

Not that I objectify women in any way. Really truly, I don't. And I am usually too busy trying to get dressed under a towel to bother checking out other women. But sometimes it's just unavoidable.

A few months ago I walked in and was instantly faced with Baby Dyke's naked upper half. My first thought was what a stroke of luck, my second was nice ti.. er abs.

Last night I also got an eyeful of another cute girl I've noticed in there (oddly, only ever in the changing rooms, never in the gym). I walked in and went straight to the lockers nearest the showers, as usual and as I turned the corner of one of the blocks of lockers, I couldn't help but notice this girl, who was completely naked.

My first thought, again, was crikey; how fortunate. My second thought was what a kissable tummy she had. Not too flat, a little bit chubby, but not hanging over her muff like a tractor innertube. Just as I was admiring her ti.. lack of inhibition, she slapped her towel between her legs and gave her lettuce a bloody good drying off..

Honestly! How can I possibly fancy this woman now the mystery's gone? Her loss.. I'm sure.

Picture originally nicked from deviantart.

Special tv events

2007-01-03T21:35:00.000Z

I do complain about my housemate. Perhaps not always here. I have my issues, which are many and multi layered. But ultimately, she's a good lass. Just young and a little misguided.

And for all we have little common ground; we do have our little get togethers now and then where we just kick back and spend a few hours in each others' company.

We consider certain televisual events "special occasions" and eat chocolate or get takeaway. Or if it's really, really special, we do both. They are few and far between because her choice in tv pleasure is usually the sort of thing that makes me want to rip the house apart.

Tonight I was ironing in the spare room. She was stood on the landing drying her hair. She made her usual jokes about how anal I am for ironing as soon as my clothes are dry and I retorted with the usual jokes about how her ironing is an annual event only.

We both pottered about the house in our usual manner. Chatting when our paths crossed. But still doing our own thing.

Then, at 8pm we both convened in the lounge and took up our usual positions. Hers on the couch that's bigger than a single bed and mine in the comfy arm chair, with my legs hung over the side. For all I'm a lounger and usually prefer the sofa, I can't be trusted on this sofa for it is too comfy and I am usually found, several hours later, drooling into one of the 80 kajillion cushions, fast asleep.

The BB intro music started and the lovliness that is Davina "she secretly wants my body" McCall appeared on screen.

I quickly dashed into the kitchen and got us Pepsi and a family bag of Maltesers to share. She gave me her "I shouldn't really" look but I announced that this was one of those televisual special occasions and she agreed and began munching on Maltesers.

We both went quiet and watched the tellybox, happily eating chocolate and drinking sugary soft drinks.

"When Lost comes back on in February, shall we get a takeaway for the first episode?" she asked once all the Maltesers had gone.

I like our special tv occasions.

A depressing sight if ever there was one..

2007-01-01T21:54:00.000Z

My work bag, gym kit and work shoes ready for tomorrow. Right next to my trainers that are now retired til the weekend..

Oh and

2007-01-01T14:11:00.000Z

3 things that have amused me no end this Christmas:

1. My oldest niece stating, with some authority, that she got 3 dee-vees for Christmas, one being Breadbox and Spoonsticks (Bedknobs and Broomsticks).

2. Overhearing a conversation in the pub toilet between 2 dollies, one declaring that her hair was "very depressed". I know the feeling.

3. Falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon on my mum's couch only to be woken by my oldest nephew stroking the scar on my back after my t-shirt must have rode up. "Are you tinkering with my scar, son?" I asked. "Yes," he replied "I thought it was some fur." ...??

Bloody 'ell, it's 2007

2007-01-01T13:46:00.001Z

Aw..
Originally uploaded by 30 Something.

Doesn't the time fly when you get old?

Anyway, happy New Year to you all. Please feel free to enjoy this delicious picture of Kate Silverton with someone else's baby. Cute though.

*daydreaming*

Right-o, where was I?

Can't really remember what I came here to witter on about, to be honest.

I've had a nice enough festive period. Long periods of being tortured by family peppered with smaller periods of hanging out with friends and the like.

I saw my ex bf on Friday afternoon. I allowed him to take me out for a late lunch/early dinner and even let him pay. I'm nice like that. It was nice to see him and he's looking very but I am a little worried about him - he's very grumpy these days. He's always been a cynical old fucker but he always used to have a little glint in his eye that he seems to have lost. We talked for a while about his stuff but I don't think any of it really helped. Although he did say I'd been a nice distraction for the day.

On Friday evening I went out with some friends. I suppose to compensate for the fact I rarely go out on New Year's Eve anymore. I've always tended to hang out with my sisters on NYE so once they started breeding and stopped going out, so did I. It's still fun though, we hung out with my Mum and played games. My older sister is as competitive as I am so we teamed up for triv and wiped the floor with the others. We're equally as obnoxious about these things and kept singing "Chubby Little Losers" David Bowie/Extras style just to rub it in.

I did, however, have to spend the night on the couch again. Which I just can't get away with. I couldn't sleep for hours. Possibly as Bi Boy rang me at about 2am to wish me happy new year and to remind me that he claims he will start referring to me as Mrs Robinson at work. *hanging head* I have no idea how he got my number but I'll kill the twat who gave it to him..

Although it could possibly have been me as I seem to recall asking Gay Boy for it on Friday night but I don't recall actually getting round to sending the text. And there was nothing in my sent items the following morning. But I do have a habit of deleting texts once they're sent to stop the sensible side of me punishing the wanker in me the following morning.

Ho hum.

Oh yeah so on Friday night we went out for a few pints. Well, that was the idea but as usual we stayed out too long and drank far too much. There was a nasty incident involving me and a mate dancing. I don't remember how, but she fell on top of me and both went down like a sack of shit. I fell backwards and she fell forward, landing face down on me. Normally I would find this quite pleasant but I cracked my head on the bar on the way down and she cracked her face, splitting it wide open.

My sister said she looked over and saw me laying on my back with blood all over my face. I was then stood outside the pub with Gay Boy and don't recall the events in between. Apparently, I'd gone to the bathroom to wash the blood off my hands and face and had to have a member of staff inspect my head. My friend definitely came off worse and split her mouth and nose open. Poor cow.

Que the 'women falling for me/throwing themselves at me' jokes. If only it were true and didn't result in the battered wife look the following morning.

A night out with me these days seems to usually end in some sort of mini drama. I should learn from that..

So resolutions? I do try and make some because I think it's a time of year people will be more tolerant of you trying to do something new. Amongst other reasons.

First one being I intend to stay in for the whole of January. Reasons being a) I am skint, b) it'll do me good and c) I'm trying, yet again, to stop smoking (having a pint without a smoke is like having a sandwich without bread). Which is obviously my second resolution. I've had 6 failed attempts this year but this time I'm doing it with help. Did you know you can get all sorts on prescription? Gay Boy's bf paid £18 for a week's worth of nicotene patches and I got 2 week's worth for the cost of a prescription, which is what? £6 or £7?

So that's pretty much it on the resolution front because I've been fairly well motivated to do other stuff before the year's end. A la previous post.

Although, I do resolve to try and be more light hearted and at least attempt humour on my blog as I know last year it was mostly shite.

Photo originally uploaded from BBC News In Pictures.

The end of year post

2006-12-27T20:41:00.000Z

I've been trying to compose a post that sums up this year in a few short, mildly amusing paragraphs. But it's too hard. So I've composed one where I bang on about how shit this year has been instead. Feel free to leave now..

First on today's agenda is t'other blog. I've deleted it. There was only a few people that were privy to such information anyway. But mostly it was cack. And never really served its purpose. Well, it did in the beginning but I had to go open my big gob and give the url out to a few people. Which was fine because it gave me the opportunity to say some things that I would never have said to some people in a million years. And I felt better for getting some things off my chest.

So I won't go on about it as most readers didn't get the chance to point and laugh at it. But that's it, it's gone forever.

Ok, moving swiftly on.

Yeah 2006 hasn't been great. But as it ends, I am actually feeling fairly optimistic about things.

I've always thought I was quite laid back about life. But that was because life's realities hadn't happened to me. And when they did I didn't handle it all very well. But, I'm hoping my saving grace is that I realise this now and am learning from it all.

Which sounds a bit of a cliche and all a bit cryptic. But you've all been there, you've read the posts. You know what's gone on. Sort of.

I'm trying to get back to that laid back person who was extremely pragmatic about the shittiness of life. The crapness of other people. And the appalling things that can happen. And I really am trying to be a better person. In doing so, I've found that I care less and less about what other people think of me. Not because I'm not caring. Just because I'm sick of thinking about what I mean to other people. I can't control what other people think of you or say about me. But if I'm a good person then there should be no need to give it another thought. Mostly.

The year started off with me trying and failing to deal with grief. In clutching at ways to do that, I signed up for a bit of a life changer in the charity bike ride thing I did. And that consumed me for 6 months of the year, what with fundraising and training. At the time, I didn't realise just how much it did consume me. But when it was all over, suddenly I realised that I was dealing with my grief much better.

It was also once I'd completed the ride that I realised how big it was for my family for me to do it too. For me, it was just something I was doing. It was no big deal. But actually it was a big deal. It took organisation, dedication, motivation and a big bit of courage to do it. And it's nice to know that I have some of those things when I need to.

Around the same time, obviously B-chops (wwdd for any latecomers) and I split up. Again, I didn't deal with it particularly well. The initial split I think I dealt with in a grown up way, I was as pragmatic as anyone could have been in that situation. But in the following months I went a bit off kilter.

It's hard to find middle ground between enjoying new found freedom and dealing with the fact you didn't actually want to be there in the first place. So I found that I treated some people very oddly indeed.

I took things out on people I liked, people I loved and people (read=person) I developed a crush on. And acted like a bit of a twat. Luckily, most people either didn't notice (probably because I was always a twat, just a different type of twat) or forgave me. Some relationships appear to have gone beyond repair. No amount of me trying to fix that is going to help. Which is fine, I can't expect anything else really. I'm not being blase about that, just realistic.

Ex-flingette and I have ceased all contact. Which wasn't actually too much to do with any way in which I was treating her. She had just had enough of talking to me when her wife had expressed a wish for her not to, many years ago. Well, it kinda came about because I was too busy to bother replying to her texts or emails because I was usually either busy at work, or out having a social life. Or, more to the point, just bored with her. And, it turned out, she enjoyed the break from me too. And I don't think either of us felt that sad about it. It was more a "Oh.. oh well ok, I understand" type situation. Reality is actually quite incomplex. Harsh and unforgiving at times, but plain and simple.

Which is how I've managed to get myself out of feeling, at times, extremely low. A good reality check from time to time does you the world of good. I've not been one to tolerate those who sit about complaining and won't do anything to change that.

Even though, for a while, I turned into one those people.

I was talking to Dolly (friend formely known as wm#1) last week. She's now a mental health nurse and we discussed my current and past state of mind. While she's in no position to diagnose anything, she did appease my fears and said it didn't sound like I'd been suffering with depression. Which makes it sound like a bit of a 30 second prognosis. It wasn't. We spent the whole night talking about me and my crap. Which, for anyone who remotely knows me, is a big deal - I don't sit and talk about myself at length. Ever. Information usually has to be prized from me with a big stick. Or just by asking nicely. One or t'other.

Anyway, the point is I can look forward without having to look back in case something is always going to be nipping at my heels. I CAN deal with things, possibly not in the best way, but I can also come out the other side.

There are always going to be things that can be improved upon. Big time! Like my job - could do better. My living arrangements, they're ok - could be better. Being single, it's fun - room for improvement. Etc etc. But that's just stuff. Some of it I can change, some of it I can't. But me, I'm ok. Definitely could do better. But I'm alright. I have a loving family. I have nieces and nephews who actually love spending time with me. Small people who are actually influenced in a very good way by me. I have a good circle of friends. Most of my exes still speak to me, which is always a good sign.

So yeah. 2006 not fantastic but bit of an eye opener. 2007? Who knows, but I'm not really bothered by the unknown. In fact, bring it on.

Oh thank God

2006-12-26T13:08:00.000Z

it's all over! Christmas is lovely 'n all that, but what a fucking palava.

My family, as completely lovely as they are, are just a little.. well, I'm not going to say annoying because they are no more annoying than I'm sure I am. But, it all just gets a bit too much after a while.

From my Dad who has taken to read my text messages (my phone previews new messages, who or what would that possibly be handy for??) and read B-chops' "Ha ha, you did man sex" text. To my younger sister who stayed over with the kids and rules the roost on what goes on the tv, the heating, what time we eat, what we eat and whether or not you can take a bath after the kids go to bed. The final straw was when she turned the tv down so low I couldn't hear it so as not to wake the kids (no matter, she had ruled we must watch The Vicar of fucking bastard Dibley anyway) but then proceeded to crunch her way through the biggest bag of crisps. Those bloody Walkers Sensations that are as big as a small child. And she is the noisiest crisp eater I have ever heard.

Oh God, it's going through me just thinking about it.

And once all that was over and everyone had gone to bed. I had to sleep on the couch. No room at the chuffin inn.

*sigh*

One last family get together later on this afternoon. Then home.

Praise friggin be. Peace on earth but mostly in the tranquility of my bedroom at home, please. Thanks.