IT'S ME, I ATTRACT THEM . . .

For some reason, randoms always seem to want to talk to me. Remember, for example, the guy who wanted to tell me about his anagram "Eureka" moment last month??? Well, it's happened again . . .

As I walked to work this morning, I noticed a window-cleaner who looked to be in his fifties, at an estimate, lazily washing the windows of a shop on Park Road. As I passed him he turned to me and said "If only I had stuck with geo-physics . . ."

What the fuck? I'm assuming it was a joke. Or perhaps he really DID have an amazing future ahead of him as a geo-physicist and threw it all away. I guess I'll never know . . .

Anyway, my default "unfriendly" expression clearly isn't working well these days. I'll need to get that sorted out . . .

NOT RIGHT . . .

You know what's weird? I signed up for NaBloPoMo and I didn't actually think I would find something to post about everyday. But somehow the universe worked in my favour and found me that (very) brief romance with the cute guy to neuroticize (is that a word? If not, I CLAIM it) about and also some weird Facebook encounters to talk about and therefore I've blogged through the month almost as easily as breathing.

(I wonder what the next mega eventful month will be. I had two this year - March and then November. Hmmm...)

ANYWAY, once again I have a Facebook anecdote for you, and one I am keen to get your opinion on, as it involves some basic Facebook friend etiquette.

Last Friday evening I was at a friend's house with some other girls for a girly night. This involved a girl we used to work with coming over to give us facials, manicures, massages, whatever our hearts desired (and our wallets could accommodate). I opted for a facial. That's irrelevant, mind. It was very nice though. My face as felt nearly as soft as a baby's bottom (one of the most WRONG expressions in the world, I'm sure you'll agree) since then. (Seriously. I compared it WITH a baby's bottom. No I didn't. I'm lying. Anyway...)

One of the girls informed me early on in the night that her mother's brother (her uncle surely?) had seen my picture on her page and liked the look of me. Is it wrong that this felt mildly creepy, considering that the reason I knew I liked Cute Guy from the Hallowe'en party was because I'd seen HIS picture on Facebook? Double standards, right? Well, I hold my hands up to that.

She told me about him and I immediately discounted him. Mainly because he was a divorcee with kids. Once again, that's me being all judgey but do you know something? I AM selfish, I will fully admit that, and I have so much of my own baggage (emotionally) that sometimes I'm amazed I'm not charged ridiculous amounts in excess fees everytime I go abroad. I told the girl this at the time.

This is also fairly irrelevant but I thought it was important to have some back story.

Later that night, as we lounged around waiting for our turn at being beautified, I popped onto Facebook to be confronted with a notification telling me I had two friend requests. Now I already KNEW that one of them was the creepy guy who I still haven't accepted or ignored and blocked. But the other one . . . I didn't recognise his name OR his picture. But I did notice we had the aforementioned girl as a mutual friend.

"Who's ------?" I asked her. She looked taken aback at the question.

"That's my mum's brother!" she exclaimed. ("Uncle?" I thought again) "Why?"

"He's just tried to add me as a friend on Facebook," I explained.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have friends on Facebook I haven't met. I am friends with lots of you guys. The difference is, in a lot of ways, I feel like I know you all. Sometimes better than a lot of people I know in real life, and I sometimes feel the reverse applies too.

I also have ended up friends with people I haven't met because we end up getting into a conversation while commenting on people's status updates. But in both these cases - the people I meet online, and the ones where we have mutual friends in common . . . we've actually had SOME SORT OF CONVERSATION AT SOME POINT.

This guy has never met me, knows nothing about me other than what he has read on my Facebook page or seen in my pictures . . . he didn't even have any sort of a MESSAGE alongside his friend request explaining who he WAS . . . I was creeped out, I'll have to admit.

I left the request sitting there next to the other one, kinda hoping it would go away.

Luckily, the next day it had. And I had a private message from him saying:


Sorry.

A few beers and and then I'm adding you in Facebook. Kinda weird of me, huh? Although, since you don't know me, that's sorta hard for you to judge.

Anyway, my apologies. Have fun.



So all's well that ends well. Right? I could breath a sigh of relief that the decision had been taken out of my hands.

Except today the girl emailed me to say that she'd been talking to him and he was really worried now that I thought he was a nutter. So now I feel guilty all over again.

Have any of you been in this situation? Is it just me that thinks it's a bit weird? Was it rude of me not to reply back to his message when I didn't even know him?

SOME "SOUNDS" . . .

So tonight I was meant to be going to a gig at Oran Mor - The Sounds are playing. The reason why I'm not going now is a long story that I can't really be bothered getting into, but they're a pretty good band so you should check them out . . . :)







Here are some other songs stuck in my head at the moment . . .













They're not all completely recent songs but I do like to listen to them, so thought I'd share. What are you listening to right now?

EYE EYE!!!

I've worn contact lenses since I was thirteen yet, weirdly, I haven't tried coloured contact lenses before. Which is a bit weird since I've always wanted to see what I look like with a different eye colour and you'd think I'd have taken advantage of the fact I willingly will stick plastic discs in my eyes to try this out.

But somehow I never got around to it. Until this week.

I ordered grey contacts and brown contacts off a website and they arrived last night. So this morning I decided to give the grey ones a try . . .

Seriously? I couldn't see a difference myself. The website does state that the eye colour you end up with can vary based on what colour your eyes are originally. As my eyes are naturally a fairly dark shade of green, I knew that this was a possibility. That being said, my normal contacts have a blue visibility tint on them and if I only have one in (which I do often) you can definitely see a difference in the colour of both my eyes.

My friend said with the grey contacts in my eyes looked greener. I didn't see a difference at all, except that they looked a bit fake - I looked like I had dolly eyes.

So I took a picture on my phone to see. And they look a COMPLETELY different colour in the picture from the way I see them when I look in the mirror. See for yourself . . .


(I look like I have a bit of a squint here, but it's more to do with the flash than anything else, I think...)

See what I mean about the doll eyes??? But they look a completely different colour from the colour I see.

Kinda makes me think about my hair colour. I'm a lot blonder in pictures than I think I am in real life. I guess cos it isn't my natural colour. Does anyone else get that?

I don't think I suit eyes this colour - the colour in the photo anyway. I'll be interested to see how the brown ones turn out. I'm thinking of getting REALLY blue ones to see what they're like though. Now I have tried coloured contacts, I'd kinda like to experiment. I have a feeling that I'm going to realise my natural eye colour suits me best though.

Do YOU all like your natural eye colour? Have you always thought you might suit a different colour better? Have you tried colour contacts? Feel free to share! :)

DOWNSIZING MYSELF . . .

For months now - nay, YEARS - I have been trying unsuccessfully to diet.

I've never been good at dieting. I love my food waaayyyy too much. And unfortunately it ain't the healthy variety I love. It's chocolate. And crisps. And cheese - oooooh, cheese, how I love thee!!! Could you be my favourite??? :)

Dominos Veg-o-Roma pizza. With the garlic and herb dip, of course. And possibly a starter or two.

Mozzarella cubes from Di Maggios. Macaroni Cheese from the Sandwich Concept.

You get the drift.

On top of that, there is the fact that in the past year or so, I've started to drink way too much wine. It's really REALLY not good for me, and I know this. And I'm convinced this is the reason why my weight has shot up.

Now, I know I'm not fat. But I'm not comfortable in my own skin. I KNOW the weight I should be, and I know I've went beyond it and then some. And that if I don't do something about it soon, then I'm going to comfort eat to make myself feel better, end up feeling worse as I put MORE weight on, and it's going to be one big vicious cycle that gets harder and harder to escape from.

But I've been telling myself this for ages now, and doing precisely fuck all about it. Or starting a diet and lasting a day.

Funnily enough, it was the unexpected events of last weekend that finally gave me the impetus I needed. That guy telling me he couldn't see me again, after one date, was just the push I needed. Because I imagined the fact that, with my friend now living with his friend, there may be the chance I would have to see him again. Perhaps with the re-animated ex in tow. (Quelle horreur, right?)

And if I DO have to face him again, I WILL be looking my best.

So finally I had the motivation to get off my arse and DO something about my body and my health. I know that you're meant to do these things for YOURSELF and I can assure you that I AM. I haven't felt great about myself in a while. I want to get healthier, lose some weight, tone up, improve my skin, perk myself up a bit energy-wise. It's just that FINALLY I have something that has spurred me on. Which can only be a good thing.

So I'm now at day 5 without alcohol (the longest I've been without alcohol since January). I can't promise I won't have some this weekend, but I'm certainly not intending to go on a binge. I've had no chocolate, I've drank shitloads of green tea, tons of pineapple and apples, loads of fish and veg . . . I've cut down pretty significantly on the amount of carbs I'm having AND I've been exercising. Not excessive amounts because I have to build up gradually or I'll scare myself off, but when you add it to my usual four/five mile round trip walk to work and back everyday, I'm pretty sure it will make a bit of a difference.

So I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. For the moment, my willpower is staying on track . . . despite the fact that my Aunt Rose decided to pop along for her monthly visit on Tuesday night and was very demanding re: the need for chocolate. I may not have been a good hostess to her but, hey, I never actually ask her to come!

But anyway . . . the point of this whole post is:

1) Wish me luck with keeping this going.
2) I WILL be skinnier by Christmas. (Positive affirmation and all that)
3) Swine Guy was good for SOMETHING at least. (We'll ignore the other good things - cute, good kisser . . . and remember he's ultimately an ASSHAT.)

That's all.

TMI THURSDAY : OH NO, I SAID TOO MUCH . . . AGAIN . . .

So once again it's Thursday and according to LiLu, that means it's TMI Time (check out her blog for another Post Secret-esque volume today). And to be honest, I've contributed like three times now (I think?) and I'm already running out. So today's attempt is not so much a TMI, as a case of me GIVING TMI to someone else . . .

(Shit. Did that sound rude? It wasn't meant to.)

ANYWAY . . .

So I've lived in my flatshare for over six years now and in that time many girls have come and gone, but my landlord has stayed the same. He doesn't live there, he owns many flats around the west end of Glasgow, but there have been points where he seemed to spend a lot of time hanging out there, especially when the place was getting renovated a few years back (it basically got renovated around me as I refused to move elsewhere). Now, I don't mind my landlord at all; he can annoy the hell out of me at times, and (inadvertently, I think) be a bit sleazy, but overall, he's a nice guy. (Mich would probably tell you a different story though! Especially when she's hiding in my closet cos she's banned from the flat and he's unexpectedly turned up, haha)

Anyway, I used to tell people how he had this great knack for turning up in the flat when I'd just come out of the bath or shower, or was still IN it. And one day I was in the flat, having ran a lovely relaxing bubble bath when . . . sure enough . . . I heard him do his classic "four doorbell rings followed by immediately entering the flat". (Presumably he thinks he's giving time to warn us he's on his way in, but that doesn't really work if he is practically unlocking the door at the same time.)

I could hear him in the kitchen talking to one of my flatmates at the time, a really sweet French girl, and I lay in the bath cringing, hoping that he wouldn't ask if I was around. I couldn't really be bothered trying to conduct some sort of conversation through the bathroom door while I was trying to relax after a tough day . . . and, of course, naked!!!

But within a couple of minutes he was knocking on the bathroom door. "Hi Paula!" he shouted. "How are you?"

Dammit. "I'm fine thanks," I struggled to sound friendly.

"Are you having a nice bath?" he asked me.

How did he know I was in the bath?

(Lucky guess, apparently, there's no cameras in there.)

(I checked)

I felt a bit uncomfortable about this. So I HAD to say something.

But not about how I would prefer not to be talking about how nice my bath was, FROM the bath, through a door to a sixty something man. Oh no, that would be too easy. Too mature.

"How do you know I'm in the bath?" I asked instead. "For all you know, I could be doing a pee!"

There was a brief silence from the other side of the door.

I have to fill silences. So I continued.

"OR . . . I could be doing a number two!"

MAJOR TMI ALERT!!!

The silence continued. I worried if I'd went too far. Then he spoke again.

"No . . . I prefer to think of you in the bath. Enjoying yourself."

Ewwwww!!!

That was a bit of an anti-climax of a TMI. But on reading it back, I'm not sure what's grosser - what I said, or his reply.

I think probably his reply would win that prize . . .

OH NO SHE *DIDN'T* . . .

. . .Oh yes I did!!!!

I bought a top with that horrible, projects-an-unhealthy-body-image, anti-feminism-icon Barbie on it.

But I'm not going to apologise.

I loved Barbie as a kid.

I still think she's pretty.

It's retro. (I think...)

It was always funny that her feet were high-heel-shaped so without them on a real life version of her would obviously fall flat on her face when barefoot.

And . . . most importantly of all?

I needed cheering up.

And it made me happy.

Okay??? :)

MORE "APPS" THAT MIGHT COME IN HANDY . . .

This post has been a long time coming, ever since I wrote the last "app" related post and then met up with Mich a day or two later for some drunken drinking-ness. (Oh, you know what I mean!) We were discussing my post and then realised there were loads of other applications which come in handy . . . you know, in terms of finding men.

Like . . . imagine you're walking down the street and see the most beautiful guy in the world coming towards you. (Or, the most beautiful girl in the word, if you're a guy. Or a lesbian. Don't wanna leave anyone out here!) "Wow," you think (probably to yourself but possibly aloud- sometimes it's out before you can help it.) "I wonder if they're single."

So you hold up your iPhone, load up your newest application and point it in the direction of Hotty. "Oh my god," you blink in disbelief. "He IS single. Praise the Lord!!!"

But wait.

Perhaps there's a reason WHY he's single???

Don't worry, there's an app for THAT too. It will tell you how many relationships he's had, the length of them, the number of one night stands, the time he's told someone he loved them just to get them into bed, the number of hearts he's broken. The number of times he has ACTUALLY been in love.

Perhaps it can even tell you if YOU'RE the one who is going to win his heart.

Whether he is worth your time and effort.

Or if he's just a big TWAT (a la the Cute Boy from the Party) and THAT'S why he's single.

If only, eh???

Quick note to Apple . . . if you CAN produce a successful app like that, then perhaps you will win me over and I'll consider coming over to the Dark Side.

An added hint to have me succumbing absolutely to your power (by which I mean actually BUYING AN iPHONE!!!). . . create an app that when you hold up to the Hotty, strips him of his clothes so you can see what he looks like naked. 'Kay???

After all, even if he IS a twat doesn't mean I shouldn't get a look at the goodies . . . right??? ;P

WORKING IT OUT . . .

It's coming up to Christmas . . . which means it's time for Health Kick attempt number 5821.

Or something like that.

There are two vital problems with me going on a health kick.

The first is that I don't particularly enjoy healthy food.

The second is that I don't particularly like exercise.

Having finally managing to quit the gym, I am now faced with the conundrum of finding some sort of exercise I can do that is actually enjoyable. That I actually WANT to do. But which actually WORKS!

I've been giving this a lot of thought.

I like swimming. BUT I don't like getting my hair wet. (And I don't like wearing a swimming cap.)

I like the IDEA of running. But I can't run for more than about five minutes without, you know, WANTING TO DIE. And I don't have the patience to build up to it gradually. AND I feel like I look really stupid when I run. So that's out too . . .

I thought about investing in some sort of dance mat. That could be fun, I thought. However, I don't really like following dance moves. I lose interest quickly. This is also why me and dance style aerobic dvds don't get along, and why there's no point in me trying out dance classes. (Although pole dancing DOES sort of appeal . . .)

The aforementioned gym. Nope. Never ever again.

Investing in a rebounder. Sounds fun but it doesn't really work all that much when you live above someone else and your floors are a bit creaky.

Some sort of team sport. Hmmm. I like the IDEA of that, but I'd probably lose interest early on due to the fact I would undoubtedly suck and sucking in front of other people is not something I would like to do on a regular basis.

(That last sentence could sooo be taken the wrong way. I take it back . . .)

So my exercise of choice is generally some type of Tae-bo style dvd. It feels like it works and it means I can take out my frustration by pretending to aim punches at someone's head. BUT . . . I feel like there must be more fun ways to lose weight.

Like . . . if I had some sort of Gladiator style assault course nearby. THAT could be fun.

Or a circus type workout. I hear these type of workouts are in fact available these days but I doubt I could afford it . . .

Or my favourite game as a kid. Aeroball, which we always used to play at Pontins. Why can I not play that to lose weight? It would be FABULOUS exercise. All I need is to own my own aeroball thingummyjig to play it in. And some other people to play it with.

And then, of course, there is the most enjoyable exercise option ever. Let's say it together . . .

SEX.

Huh. Chance would be a fine thing. :(

Any other ideas, guys???

BETTER OFF ALONE . . .

It seems fitting that I accompany this post with the song above, its namesake, which is approximately 10 years old.

Why? Because I realised at 19, before I had really had many interactions with the male of the species, that I was probably better off alone.

Any interactions I have had ever since have proved it.

Boyfriend number one, the only one I ever broke up with, who told me about two weeks later, desperately, that he loved me. I found out later he had snogged one of my friends that same night. They went out for far longer than we ever did.

Boyfriend number two, who liked to tell me how much of an ass he had been to girls. At the time, I thought this was an admission of guilt. After I was dumped through a friend, I realised that he was boasting more than anything else. And I was just, to quote Gwen Stefani, "another ex girlfriend on the list." (Yes, I really SHOULD thought of that before we kissed.)

Boyfriend number three, the only one I truly believe thought he loved me at any point. The only one I thought I might love back. The one I lost my virginity to. The one who hates me now.

Boyfriend number four. Who was never really a boyfriend, just in my own head. Just a fling, since he already HAD a girlfriend. Who I'll always regret. I never wanted to be a person who encouraged someone to cheat. I just have to hope he regrets that MORE than I do, given that he was the one who had a significant other waiting at home for him.

Boyfriend number five, who didn't want to admit I existed. Who didn't realise how much it hurts to refuse to hold your girlfriend's hand in public, to panic when you THINK you see someone in a pub that might know both you and your girlfriend. I might as well have been seeing a dude with a girlfriend all over again. (Perhaps I was and didn't make the connection).

Boyfriend number six, a guy who I worshipped in high school and who ten years later admitted he worshipped me too. Yet, after that first heady month of constant texts, dates and facebook chatting had no longer any time for me.

And now Cute Guy who let me down unexpectedly and badly.

Back when I was 19 I decided I would probably be on my own for most of my life. I accepted this fairly happily. I know that I am probably never going to find "the one". It just doesn't seem to be on the cards for me. Even a year ago, I realised this - back when some random from a party asked me out and I realised I was pickier than I realised . . .

I'm not being defeatist here, just realistic. Even if I DID find the perfect guy, who wasn't embarrassed to be seen with me, or didn't want to get back with an ex, I'M going to fuck it up.

Simple fact of the matter is, I generally want to be alone.

I HATE to have to rearrange my life around other people.

I'm far too SELFISH to want a relationship.

The thought of being married chills me inside. Not because I don't like the idea of being with one person forever . . . but because the idea of LIVING with someone else, of having to SHARE A BED WITH THEM . . . freaks me out bigtime.

Right now, I'm happy just sharing my queen sized bed with myself and whatever crap I can't be bothered removing from it before I fall into a drunken stupor.

Maybe one day the one will come along.

But I'm giving up waiting on that happening.